As Gloss held his sister's hand at the Reaping, he knew he wouldn't set eyes on his district again. If he was meant to live, he wouldn't have been reaped - Snow sent him back into the arena for a reason. He knew Cash wouldn't get out either - but he could hope - he could try.
He had always imagined dying in a soft bed, surrounded by family, with his wife on one side and his children on the other. He had imagined a long life, a happy one, a life where he would eventually forget what he had done in the arena. He deserved it, after all - he had sacrificed everything to get to where he was.
He didn't want to kill anyone in the Quell - they were his friends, after all. But he knew from experience, that if he didn't play along, he would pay - he would pay dearly. So slitting Wiress' throat didn't take much thought - it was just another task that had to be done, just another obstacle in the way of Cash getting home.
He hadn't planned on dying so soon, but he knew it wasn't Everdeen's fault - she had people too, after all, people she loved just like he did.
It was unfair. He had lost his life, playing these Games - not just the living, breathing life, but the life he craved so dearly.
And in the split second before Gloss drowned in his own blood, he was angry.
It wasn't supposed to be this way. He wasn't supposed to die like this.