Cato:

It's too late to think about if it's right or not. It's done. Not yelling at Clove, oh no, not that. I did something else to her.

You see, Clove keeps three pictures in her room, right next to her bed. She's got one of her mother, one of her father, and one of her sister.

So while she was out training I destroyed them. It's that simple. I'm not sure what I'd hoped to achieve with the act of maliciousness, but I suppose all I was thinking of was the rage that a fourteen-year-old is as good as I am.

When I saw a dark haired head coming up the way to the Hadley mansion, I duck into the deep closet (which Clove never uses) and wait.

A few minutes later, the door opens and Clove enters. She takes off her coat, throws it onto the bed and catches sight of the ruined pictures. She freezes. I shattered the glass frame containing her mother's image, dented the strong iron frame with the picture of her father, and sliced apart the innocent wood frame that held the photo of her little sister.

Clove drops to her knees by her nightstand and grabs at the fragments, starting to shake. Even through the small crack between the closet door and the doorframe I can see the blood blossoming on her palms. She rocks back on her heels, presses her bloody hands to her face and screams. It's miserable and sad.

Though she's arrogant and rude sometimes, I start doubting that she deserves such a thing done to her. Then I shake it off because I'm an arrogant prick and I really don't care about anything except winning.

I'm starting to develop a cramp, crammed into the closet like so. After several minutes, Clove makes a move, salvaging what little paper she can from the mess, and leaves the room. I practically fall out of the closet, get up, and stagger toward the door.

Then the worst thing possible happens. Clove comes back. Her door swings open when I touch the handle, and suddenly a pair of hazel eyes is staring up at me with the worst mixture of pain and anger in them.

"What. The. Hell. Are you doing here?" Clove says in the smallest but deadliest voice ever.

"I- uh- I- I wanted to, um," I stammer. If there's one thing I'm bad at, it's lying my way out of situations. I blurt out the first thing that pops into my head. "I was waiting for you. I wanted to apologize."

"Why?" she demands. "You're CATO. You hate my guts, because my mom died and I had to come live with you, you little shit. You think you're all high and mighty, but you have equals. You just can't acknowledge them. And you don't apologize."

She's got a point. I tell myself to focus. "But if you're going to live here until you get your own place, we might as well make peace. For now."

Clove narrows her eyes. "I'll think about it. Get out."

I head down the hall, whistling casually. I got myself out of that one. I don't ever consider how it could come back to bite me in the ass.

The next day I'm at training, slicing back to back with my normal sparring partner, Julius, when Britannicus, the devil, stops me.

"Actually, Cato, you'll be working with Clove again today," he says, marking something on his clipboard.

I open my mouth to object, but he holds up a hand. "No. I know you and Julius are fine partners, but you must learn to work with everyone. I told her to use a sword today. Go help her. You're the best chance she has. Then I want you to fight with her."

"But…"

"No buts, Cato. You won't get picked for the Games if you can't fight in sync with your district partner, whoever she may be." Bloody Britannicus.

"Fine."

"Good, that's what I like to hear."

Clove is wielding a huge sword at a trainer a few meters away. She's short, barely clearing 5 feet, and the sword is at least half her height.

She swings at his head. It's messy and she almost falls down with the momentum. In a flash he's shoved her to the mat with the sword over her heart.

"Kitten," I say loudly. "You need help."

She glares at me. "Thanks."

"And," I continue, "I have been assigned to help. No need to thank me, there'll be plenty of time for that later."

"I'll help," Julius interrupts. "You can fight Cato and I'll help you." I know he just wants to help Clove because he likes her.

"Julius…" Britannicus has somehow learned to teleport, and he appears by me. "You're working with Raina today."

I can practically see the lightbulb go off, because Raina is a pretty but deadly girl as well. Before he leaves, he mutters something in my ear. "Invite Clove to the squad."

The squad is a group of us who frequently hunt at night. We call ourselves the Wolves. It's pretty secret and only the best of fighters make it in. I was nominated for leader by the previous head. Julius is my second-in-command. Nobody outside of it is supposed to know I'm the captain. Everyone knows it exists, and it breaks all the laws, but it's a District 2 thing, and the motto is "only the worthy survive." Everybody respects that.

I drag a dummy over to Clove. "Cut its arm off." I say.

She swings. While she's bringing the blade back, I press one hand to her waste and one to her stomach. "Keep it tight. You'll get more control."

She stiffens, but manages to slice the other arm off and reset faster.

I keep my hands where they are, feeling the muscles taut under the skin. Clove manages to decapitate the dummy and cut its legs off with moderately neat form.

"Keep going," I tell her. "Tomorrow I'll duel you."

She flashes me a smirk. "Don't go easy on me."

I grin back. "As if I'd ever."

"Bring it, Pretty Boy."

A/N: 3 3 3 in the airrr! Jk jk. Make your own assumptions. *wiggle eyebrows* PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW! Criticism gladly accepted. :)