Day 4, Part 1:


Early in the morning, the halls of the Victor tower were no better than a cemetery. As Rusk returned from a meeting at the Gamemaker Center, he winced at the rustling of his field jacket or the inevitable dull thump of his heavy boots despite his best efforts to tread softly, as if they'd awaken some slumbering monster hidden behind the doors on either side of him. He caught a passing glimpse of his disheveled self in a mirror. The drab greens and browns he wore were an ugly stain against the backdrop of the opulence around him, no more at home than a beggar who'd sneaked into a palace. But that was okay. He had never fit in here anyway.

He jumped at the ding of the arriving elevator. The doors slid open; he stared at the ground as another victor exited—District Two, possibly? His ignorance towards his "fellow" victors was embarrassing, yet he'd never felt a need to get to know them, not when he found himself overwhelmed by the few victors from Nine. Now with Darah and Avisa in the mix, he had even less desire to meet new people.

The doors closed behind him. The elevator rose. He let himself breathe, comforted by the four solid walls on all sides. His watch read six o'clock in the morning—time to rise and work and be a functional adult—yet he craved the warmth of his blankets. Given that he'd already had a meeting this morning, he figured it'd be fine to relieve himself of the pressure to do, though even he had to admit that the meeting had been a total waste of time. The District Four lead stylist hadn't told him anything useful about Acacio, though she'd been on the same prep team as the guy years ago—whether she didn't know or wouldn't tell, he couldn't say for sure. Like everyone he'd talked to over the past two days, she'd had no clue as to where the man was nowadays, let alone that he was now the prime suspect in the murder of a Victor.

He needed a new approach. A new contact—someone that could tell him something he didn't know. But who? Not a single self-absorbed Capitolite knew or cared about some irrelevant prep team member from years past who'd disappeared due to "mental instability," as Avisa had put it. Not a single government official would give a lick of attention or information to the most pathetic victor from the most rebellious district, even if he asked them. He needed someone who cared enough to do some digging of their own but also wouldn't reject him outright.

He only knew one person that fit that description. The other Nines wouldn't be happy. He wasn't sure if he liked the idea either, but what other option did he have?

Matza's voice interrupted him as he stepped out onto the District Nine floor.

"Good morning," she said, waiting in the hall. "What are you doing up so early?"

"Mornin'. Just taking care of some business, that's all. What about you?"

She grinned. "Van and I are returning to the Mentor Center," she said, as Van's door opened and the man stepped out, holding a cup of coffee. "Unfinished business?"

"W-Well—" His nerves pushed his mouth into an awkward smile. "Sponsorship funds. Mati had a little extra and I have to take care of it before I go home."

"I'm sorry." She gave him a look of sympathy. "I know it's hard for you to stay here in the Capitol. Why don't you just send the funds over to us and be done with it?"

He hoped they couldn't see the redness creeping up his face. Truthfully, he hadn't given the money much thought since the phone call, among all the meetings he'd had. But if there was one person he wouldn't send the money to, it was Clarke. She hadn't treated the boy well—none of the other Nine mentors had, whether they'd intended to or not—and only Rusk was left to preserve these few denarii that belonged to the now-deceased boy.

Of course, he wouldn't say that, not to their faces. They'd just tell him that they "had to stick together, no matter what." Matza meant well; she always did. Van did too, even if Rusk never felt at ease around the man. But they wouldn't understand. They'd both eventually find out if he sent the money somewhere else, but he'd be safe at home by that point and he wouldn't have to deal with the fallout.

"I appreciate the thought," he said, mentally running through the remaining tributes. "I'll figure it out."

The Star Alliance obviously wouldn't do, nor would Clarke's mega-alliance. That was already ten of the fourteen left. He doubted he could provide justification for the Fours, though it'd be a nice gesture of homage to Faridah. That left the Eight boy and…

Yggdrasil Kane.

They'd never signed formal alliance papers, yet Mati had spent much of his training time with the little girl, enough to justify an unusual request to send sponsor funds out of the district's accounts.

Matza nodded as Van caught up to her. "If you ever need anything, please don't hesitate to let us know."

"Thank you."

"We Nines…"

Have to stick together. He silently finished the oft-heard statement along with her, even as he mentally rehearsed how he'd explain the sponsor money situation to the lady at the Sponsorship Office. Could the funds be sent to the account of Yggdrasil Kane? Yes, I'm sure. I know Clarke is still alive. Let me show you the footage from training. He noticed Van staring at him; he gave the man a smile, hoping to ease any worries.

Matza and Van disappeared into the elevator and were gone, clearing the air once more for Rusk to breathe easy. He wondered how they would've reacted had he told them about his early morning meeting. He could already see Van shaking his head, Matza frowning in disapproval.

No, it wouldn't do. None of it would do, from his sponsor plans to his independent investigation, the latter of which still had yet to yield results, which reminded him…

He ducked in his room and scrolled through the pre-approved contact list on his mobile holoscreen, staring briefly at the name before he pushed the "Call" button, giving himself no chance to back out.

A yawn came from the other side, followed by a female "Hello?"

"Hey, Darah. This is Rusk," he said, voice low though there was no one around to hear him. "Could we talk sometime in person? It's about Faridah."


The sun rose particularly slowly this morning over the shambles of the old town. It seemed haggard, as if it'd seen enough and now hesitated to shine its light down on the remaining tributes of the 140th Hunger Games.

At least, that was how Ellis saw it, as a weak sunbeam fell across his face. Or perhaps he was projecting, because his limbs felt like putty and he didn't want to move from his little corner. He raised the bottle of water to his lips and allowed himself a single sip, just enough to wet his lips, for the Four girl's generosity still wouldn't last him long if he didn't take it slowly.

He instinctively looked around the room, searching for another figure before quickly realizing that there was no other person here. For the first time since the Games began, he'd woken up alone. Perhaps he was bad luck. Neither of his companions had fared well. He braced at the thought of Iggy, as if a cannon could sound at any moment, for somehow, she was still alive.

He'd expected to see her face in the Fallen broadcast last night, but the afternoon had dragged on without a cannon and there hadn't been a single face in the sky. Unless he'd slept through the cannon—which he wouldn't have, he couldn't have—little Iggy was still alive, somewhere out there in the Arena.

Perhaps the Star Alliance was torturing her. Those trained tributes weren't above that; he'd seen it happen a few times over the past few years. She could be held up in their base, wherever it was, slowly bleeding to death. Maybe they'd locked her in a room to starve her. Or even something worse.

He had to find her.

What he'd do once he got to the Star Alliance, he didn't know. But she'd found him at his lowest point; she'd been a faithful companion, checking on him and doing her best to cheer him up. He rose to his feet, sudden energy coursing through his veins—if she was alive, he couldn't sit back and do nothing. Not when she'd done so much for him.

Just hang in there. I'll find you.


The sun hadn't risen yet when Clarke opened her eyes, her mind still numbed by dreams of fire and ash. In the last one, she'd burned down the Capitol, every last bit of it, only to find that everything she loved had burned with it. She could almost smell the smoke in the still morning air, even as the hard ground beneath her abruptly returned her to the alley they'd set up camp in.

She'd thought that finding more allies and spending more time asleep would give her a better night's rest. Evidently not. Drowsiness burdened her eyelids; she shut them again, hoping in vain for peaceful relief, since she'd evidently spent all night working to set fire to her dream world.

A hushed chuckle dashed any wishes for more sleep. It had to be Zirconia. She couldn't imagine uptight Virginia or controlled Zeph failing to contain their laughter. The thought of her friend put a smile on her face. Just two days ago, she'd thought she'd been abandoned. How quickly everything had changed!

"Okay, real talk," Zirconia whispered, from the end of the alley. "Why don't you like them?"

Clarke immediately shut her eyes again; she felt her arms go stiff. The low voice of worry in the back of her head told her that "them" referred to her and Virginia. But it couldn't be. They were her friends—even Zeph, despite his no-fun-ness.

"We can't talk about this now."

"C'mon. They're asleep. You always tell me these things."

A soft sigh from Zeph. "I don't dislike them."

"You obviously do."

"Not Virginia. But seriously—"

"Wait—why?" Zirconia stifled a gasp.

Clarke's heart sank into her gut. An angry tear welled up under her closed eyelids.

"Not now."

"Please?"

"She's a loose cannon. But let's talk later."

Clarke held her breath, waiting for Zirconia to reply. Zeph had been cool towards her, after all—but she'd assumed he was that way towards everyone. But Zirconia was her friend; the Twelve girl just seemed to get her. Their time together yesterday had brought the first genuine smile to Clarke's face in a long time.

"I… I could see that."

Zirconia's agreement was crushing.

These were her friends—or she'd thought they were. Had they intended to abandon her at the Cornucopia after all? She silently sucked in deep breath after deep breath, trying to calm her pounding heart as she waited for the tears to pass all while betrayal screamed in her mind.

She'd thought they were her friends, though circumstances meant it had to be temporary. She'd thought she found her people, ones that genuinely liked having her around for once.

But nothing had changed. Even here in the Arena, she was unwanted.


The air was filled with the sounds of zippers and buckles, weapons and water bottles, as the Star Alliance prepared once again to hunt. Upon request, Eros tossed Ili's axe to her with a wink, one she returned with a bright-eyed smile.

"Nice catch," he said, as she twirled the weapon in her hand. "Whom are you hoping to catch today?"

She shrugged. "Anyone, really. Maybe not the Eleven girl." She bit her lip and tilted her head. "But that's just because we already caught her yesterday, and it'd be boring to repeat, right?"

"It wouldn't be boring with you around."

"Eros!"

"Only telling you the way it is." He grinned. "Here—don't forget the compass."

She thanked him and shoved it in her bag on top of everything else before zipping up the sides and flinging it on her bag with a swing. "Ready to go, Nevaeh?"

"Yeah," the Ten girl called back from the other side of the room, where she'd been talking with Sostonio. The two of 'em had done a whole lot of whispering since the trial last night, though Eros figured he didn't have much to worry about, considering how averse to conflict the Ten guy was. He couldn't even imagine Sos hurting a fly, the poor guy. But that was all the better for Eros. When things inevitably fell apart, Sos would be a dead weight for Nevaeh.

At any rate, the three of them—Eros, Sostonio, and Adair—were to stay behind on watch today, according to the pattern so far. Eros already found himself restless in his seat; he'd much rather be out and about. If he'd wanted to spend his life sitting around in an old courthouse, he would've become a lawyer. But they'd agreed on the first day that the large building needed more guards, especially with the potential threat of bombs lying around.

It was funny, how quiet the past two days had been, especially after the explosive bloodbath. For Snow's sake, at least half the bombs hadn't been detonated at the end of the first day; one would expect a couple of them to have turned up by now. It didn't help that setting up camp in a large courthouse with a myriad of nooks and crannies was practically asking for the other tributes to come and blow 'em up. Even three guards at all times during the day wasn't enough to fully cover the grounds, let alone the sparser coverage at night.

Yet nothing of the sort had happened. Even the Three girl, the orchestrator of the Cornucopia explosions herself, hadn't had the bombs with her when she released her deranged attack on the very first night of the Games. The other remaining tributes seemed content to play the traditional game of hide-and-seek, only turning to fight when cornered and hopeless.

The other tributes, then, must've not been in possession of the bombs.

But assuming this was the case—why hadn't the person holding the bombs used them yet? It'd be easy too. If Eros had them, he'd set them up while on watch and then blow 'em all up before his biggest competitors in the Arena had a chance to react, easy as pie. Of course, he'd get Ili out of there with him. Possibly Sos too.

Eros sighed at himself. He was getting soft.

"How 'bout you, Ven?" Ili called.

The One boy sat on the benches near the door. His backpack remained unpacked. "I'd like to stay behind today."

She frowned. "C'mon—don't be such a bummer."

"Please," Ven said. It wasn't a question. "Someone else can take my place."

Eros gave Ili a hopeful look, right as she happened to turn back towards him. "I'll go."

She looked towards Ven. "You sure?"

"Absolutely."

"If you insist…" She sighed. "Now hurry up, Eros. We have tributes to find!"

He gave her a high five and checked his bag. All supplies set, still there from the hunt yesterday, with water and first aid and weapons along with some emergency food. But as he picked up his spear from where it leaned against the wall, Nevaeh spoke up.

"Hey—the district balance is messed up," she said, rising to her feet. "I thought we were going to split up district partners. For safety."

Eros raised an eyebrow. He slid on a look of concern, though he'd really been much more concerned when he saw how quickly the girls fixed their friendship after the corrosive water incident. Without bombs of his own, this would have to do.

Ilithyia chuckled. "Come on," she said. "Do you think I'd betray you?"

"It's still the Hunger Games, just saying."

Ili sighed, but she crossed her arms and refused to budge. "What's the big deal anyway? We're all friends now, right?"

"This isn't about friends. It's about basic precautions."

Eros closed his hand around the spear. A "precaution," if you would, though he didn't anticipate this to blow up quite yet. The pressure wasn't high enough.

"No big deal, y'all," Adair said, sliding off the table where he'd been sitting. "I'll go too then. Everyone happy?"

No, Eros wasn't happy, though it had nothing to do with who went hunting today. Adair was a wild card, the only one in the group Eros struggled to read. Not once in a million years would he have predicted that Adair would give the Eleven girl a slight chance at survival. And since when did Adair care so much about keeping the group together? The guy obviously didn't—then what was all this for?

Sos frowned. "That leaves two people to guard, and that ain't enough."

"Not enough?" Adair said.

"Wasn't it in case someone tries to bomb us?" Ven said, rubbing his chin. "Sos and I can guard the supplies, but we can't watch the entire property."

"It should be fine." Eros smiled. "Nothing's happened for a few days, though we've given them the chance. Maybe no one has the bombs at this point."

Ven narrowed his eyes but made no comment.

"Then it's decided," Ilithyia said, clapping her hands. "C'mon! We're wasting time."

"Let's split up into pairs. We'll cover more ground that way," Nevaeh said.

Ilithyia groaned lightly. "Please make this fast…"

"You and Eros can't be paired so…"

"I'll go with Ili," Adair said with a grin as he stepped out the door, already heading out. "You gonna catch up?"

Ili ran out after him, only pausing to give Nevaeh a quick hug. "See you guys tonight!"

The two girls were close. Too close. He might need another late-night conversation with Ili to keep her head in the right place. But he couldn't overlook Adair either. Seven's eagerness to pair with Ili couldn't be a good thing.

With the two gone, Eros turned to Nevaeh. Perhaps this morning hadn't gone as planned, but he wasn't about to waste his day. "Shall we?"

She smiled and flipped her hair back over her shoulder, a knife in her hand and a few more strapped to her belt. "Let's do it."


From his vantage point by the door, Ven watched Nevaeh and Eros leave, his gaze largely fixed on the latter. He wondered if the boy from Two had had the bombs this whole time. How else could he be so confident in their security? Only issue: Eros wasn't dumb. If the guy did have the bombs, he wouldn't risk exposing it so casually to the entire group, which left Ven just as confused as he'd been to start off with.

But finally. If anything, Adair volunteering to go was a blessing, since none of the other four would be around to hear anything Ven and Sos had to say.

"You wanted to stay?" Sos asked, sitting down nearby. "To talk?"

Ven nodded. "Did you get a chance?"

"Yeah. I talked to him the same day. He seems alright."

"Huh." Ven was starting to wonder what Sos' "talked to" meant. He couldn't see how anyone could talk to Eros or Adair and not get a suspicious feeling, but maybe this was just his own suspicions speaking. "Nothing at all?"

"Nada. He told me about his family; I told him about mine. Why are you so suspicious, anyway?"

"I've heard the way he talks to Ili. Especially when he thinks no one is watching." Ven thought back to the conversations he'd heard. The Two guy's voice had been smooth, far too friendly for comfort, like he was trying to pull Ili into a false sense of truth. "He could make her do whatever he wanted."

Sos furrowed his brow. "But you were watching?"

"That's not the point." He sighed. "He keeps reminding her that they're the 'dream team' or something. I don't know about you, but that's seriously concerning."

"Have you talked to Ili?"

Ven stared incredulously at the Ten guy. "You think she'd listen to me? I don't think anyone could get through to her." This was precisely why he'd told Sos, instead of waiting around and doing nothing. Ven had no intention of passively watching while the alliance burned down around him.

Sos shrugged. "Maybe she would. But I don't know. He didn't seem… malicious. A little frustrated, but not malicious."

"Probably frustrated that Nevaeh and Ili are buddy-buddy again," he mumbled.

"That's a pretty strong statement." Sos kept his steady eyes on him, watching with a critical glint in his eye.

He sighed. "Call it a gut feeling. But forget it."

"You sure?" The Ten boy gave him a funny look. "I'll think about it, but…"

"Don't worry about it."

Ven smiled weakly. He'd hoped Sos would take his side; with Eros and now Adair both spouting nonsense in Ili's ear, he didn't know how much longer the alliance could last. Now it seemed Sos would be no help either. Ven should've known it the moment the guy volunteered to defend the Eleven girl—the guy meant well. Too well for the Games. Not that Ven himself liked any of this killing business much, but he'd been through enough training to shut up and do the necessary violence until he got out of the Arena. Sostonio evidently couldn't.

He didn't want to admit it, but he couldn't see the Tens coming out on top if the alliance collapsed. He'd steer them away from it the best he could, but he couldn't guarantee a thing, especially if Sos stayed dead-set on defending everyone.

These were the Hunger Games, after all.


The wind whistled in the lattice of the belltower in the old church. Ducked under the railing, Zeph peeked over the edge at the street below, with a knife in his hand and Clarke at his side—Zirconia had chosen to wait below, wanting to get to know their new ally. They couldn't have been more than three stories up or so, yet the height provided intel, more crucial than ever before given the new size of their alliance.

The butt of a different knife poked at his leg as he crouched, this one concealed in his boot. Perhaps it'd been unfriendly of him to keep his spare to himself when Clarke had needed a weapon of her own, but he figured that if there was any place where selfishness could be justified, this was it. Either way, Clarke had her gauntlets now, and she wouldn't want his knife anyway.

"Psst. Over there." Clarke pointed through the lattice at an intersection a few blocks down the road, where two figures had just appeared, passing through. Zeph squinted at the two, a girl with long dark hair and a guy with a short blonde cut, which left no question as to their identities. Even if he hadn't recognized their appearances—who else would walk so brazenly into the open?

"Careers," he whispered back, shuffling towards the ladder. "Let's get the other two and hightail it outta here."

She grabbed his arm. "Wait. There's only two of them."

He frowned. This was exactly what he'd meant when Zirconia had nagged him about Clarke this morning. Back home, his job had always been to get Zirconia and himself out of trouble; the two had balanced each other out. Now with Clarke in the mix, the equilibrium had shifted towards the opposite side, towards higher risk, higher reward. But one wrong move could be fatal. And Zeph wasn't sure if this was a risk he was prepared to take.

"Just think about it," she said, causing him to bristle. "We might not ever get a chance like this again. It's the perfect opportunity."

He could hear half the alarms in his head going off in unison. That was exactly what Zirconia had said before that fateful day, when she'd convinced him to break into the mayor's house. That single mistake had doomed one of them already. This one could doom them both.

Of course, the laws of expected value said they were already both doomed, but they'd made it this far, hadn't they? Zirconia would say that they were just too fantastic to not be an outlier. Statistically, she'd be right. Just this once.

But luck could only hold out for so long.

"This is asking for death…"

"Fine. We'll ask Zirconia." Clarke smiled smugly. "Let's see what she says."

He knew exactly what Zirconia would say, and he bit his lip in silent displeasure. He noted that she didn't include Virginia, but it wouldn't have mattered either way. Assuming he'd judged correctly, the poor girl had been too guilt-ridden to have much of an opinion on anything over the past few days, mostly keeping to herself and staring off into nowhere in particular.

This was about to be a huge mistake.


As the two stalked down the deserted roads, Nevaeh couldn't help but notice how Eros' entire demeanor shifted once they wandered off from home base. His usual smile had settled into a natural silence; his wary eyes probed the world around them.

This was to be expected. They were on the hunt.

Not that she wasn't the exact same way. Years of tricky situations had trained her to embrace silence when necessary. More than once had she found herself on the "hunted" end, forced to defend herself from desperate no-goods hoping to gain power over Papá by attacking her. If anything, it felt good to be the hunter this time.

And hunt they would today. Not that she disliked the time she'd gone with Ili, but even she had to admit it hadn't been much of a hunt when the girl spent half the time talking and laughing and the other half trying and struggling to stay quiet. Even now, if she listened carefully, she could occasionally hear a cackle from a few streets over, where Ili and Adair undoubtedly were.

Their proximity that'd been intentional. Safer to stay nearby in case of an emergency. Forget the glory; forget the adventure. All that mattered was that she found her way home victoriously to District Ten, to her boutique, to Papá and Mamá and the ones she loved the most. She wondered what Papá would do, now that they'd all have enough money to last a lifetime and his cartel would be completely necessary. He could even choose to retire without fear of government retribution, since she'd have the power to protect him.

Being the protector. She liked the sound of that.

Victory would mean leaving Sos behind in the Arena, but she supposed it was always meant to be. As much as she loved him, he simply wasn't built for the Arena, leaving her as the hope of District Ten.

A dry breeze picked up. The two continued on, with Nevaeh in front, closer to the center of the road, and Eros lagging behind, peeking in the buildings to his right, though none they'd checked had shown any signs of disturbance thus far.

That was, until she saw the glimmer of metal coming in from the right.

She lunged at Eros; she shoved him to the side. A metal gauntlet pummeled her shoulder where Eros had been just the moment before, sending splinters of pain through her nerves. With a grunt, she swiped her knife to force the gauntlet's wielder back, a short-haired girl with resolute fire in her eyes. District Nine, if memory served.

Gauntlets. Not a particularly common weapon, from what she remembered from combat training. But it wouldn't be wise for her to dive in and risk a metal fist to the face, especially if she wanted to honor Ili's wishes to bring back captured tributes alive. Eros jabbed at the girl with his spear. She leapt back, barely missing the metal tip, yet didn't run, as if beckoning them after her.

A trap.

Nevaeh whirled around with a shout and kicked. Her boot connected with the Twelve girl, whose upheld hand clenched a knife; the girl fell back, only for the Eight girl to take her place. In the periphery of her vision, Eros fended off the Twelve girl's district partner and the now-returning Nine girl with well-timed jabs and twirls of his spear.

An alliance of four. They shouldn't have split up that morning; the odds were too close for comfort. Forget the trials and capturing tributes alive. She'd hack 'em up if she needed to, whatever it took to get back to base in peace, to not leave Sos alone with this pack of prepared killers—'cause then where would District Ten be?

With her knife extended, she backed away from the two girls to avoid getting sandwiched between them. She bumped into Eros. The two sidled towards the wall; her eyes darted between Eight and Twelve, refusing to show them any fear. One-on-one, neither of the two would be much of a threat. But together, with the backup of Twelve boy and Nine—

Backup.

When Twelve girl stepped a little too close for comfort, Nevaeh's free hand darted into her jacket, pulled out another knife, and flicked it at the girl, where it grazed her shirt and left a trail of blood. Only a scratch, but enough to force the girl back. She kept her breath steady, her shoulders squared, seemingly more in control and at ease than she really was, hoping to intimidate these outliers long enough to keep them from charging in recklessly.

"I'll spear the boy," Eros whispered, from the corner of his mouth. "You get another one, and we'll get away."

Nevaeh looked back and forth among the three girls. She could easily take any one of them down, but there was no guarantee she'd come out alive if the other two simultaneously jumped her—which they certainly would, just like those no-goods off the street that always assumed the woman would be the weaker one.

"No. Trust me," she whispered back, though she herself wasn't the one the trust ultimately rested on. "We can hold them off. Just a little longer."


With her knife held defensively over her chest, Virginia sized up the Ten girl, now backed against the wall. She didn't dare take her eyes off the two trained tributes—"Careers," as the Twelves had called them—to look to her allies for guidance; she just knew that if she lost her focus for a split second, the Ten girl would charge her and stab her and kill her and no—Virginia was not ready to die, not by a long shot, especially not now with adrenaline rushing through her veins and tension wound so tightly in the front of her forehead she felt she'd explode.

When Clarke had introduced the plan, she'd made it sound so easy. It was four against two with surprise on their side; the math had worked out.

But the Ten girl had reacted far quicker than expected. Turns out that the years of unfair training did make a significant difference. Even now, though Ten had her back right up to the wall, the girl's face was a sheet of pure determination. Her upright posture left no room for trembling in the slightest; it was almost as if the girl wasn't scared at all, as if she still remained in control despite being surrounded and cornered.

Virginia didn't know what to make of this confidence. Something was off and she knew it, though if she were honest with herself, she'd felt queasy ever since Clarke suggested the idea. Hadn't Zeph advised them not to attack? If only she'd spoken up then! At the time, she'd kept her mouth shut—the numbers made sense, even if the entire concept of ambushing two Careers never quite sat well in her stomach.

Besides, ambushing Careers rationally seemed less terrible than ambushing Ellis and his ally. If she'd already committed a worse crime, who was she to object to this one?

One could consider killing Careers the least morally questionable kill in the Hunger Games. Clarke seemed to think so. There'd been a gleam in the Nine girl's eyes when she told Zirconia that two of the trained tributes had wandered off alone, easy pickings for anyone bold enough to seize the day. The logic made sense; why wouldn't she want to kill the very ones who'd volunteered to murder?

Her bloodstained hands knew why. It didn't matter that it was the Careers. Virginia simply didn't want to kill anymore.

Too late for that now, as she kept her eyes fixed on the Ten girl, in fear that the Careers might suddenly attack and overwhelm the four of them using their unfairly learned skill. Her legs itched to turn and flee—but what kind of person could abandon their allies to die?

Not stupid enough to charge. Not bloodthirsty enough to kill. Not cowardly enough to flee. Which brought her back to where she'd been all along, stuck in a plan someone else created but she'd agreed to, far too late to turn back.

Clarke cackled. "Not so high and mighty now, huh?"

Neither of the Careers reacted in the slightest. The Ten girl kept her steady gaze level with Clarke, even as her wide eyes seemed to observe all directions at once.

"You're disgusting." Clarke spat. "Kissin' up to that den of vipers."

Virginia shuddered; she bit her lip. What did the Nine girl hope to get out of any of this? She glanced at Zeph. His stony face provided no answers. But Zirconia was smiling, as if in support, as the uneasy feeling in Virginia's stomach only rumbled louder—though she could almost swear she heard rumbling from down the street as well.

Now the corner of the Ten girl's lip curled up. A shudder ran down Virginia's spine; this plan was no good; they had to make their escape now or else some unknown disaster would befall them—she just knew it though she frustratingly couldn't put together the words she would need to convince her allies.

It didn't matter, because she never got a chance. Right as she opened her mouth, Zirconia and Clarke looked at each other. The former smiled and nodded. The latter charged.

A shout rang from down the street. Virginia whipped her head around only to see the Two girl and the Seven boy, rapidly bearing down from behind.

They'd thought they'd surrounded the Star Alliance, but the Star Alliance had surrounded them.


"Run! Now!"

Zeph's voice rang distantly in Zirconia's ear. The smile she'd just given Clarke hadn't had time to fade. Part of her was annoyed that he was trying to back out, but if he was yelling, he had to have a good reason.

Yet Clarke had already committed to closing in, and Zirconia wasn't about to abandon her to the wolves, not again. She put him out of mind. Sorry, Zeph.

"No!" she shouted. She lunged for the Ten girl, whose uplifted hand clutched a knife, aimed towards Clarke. She grabbed Ten's arm and yanked it back. A pained gasp escaped Ten's mouth and the knife went flying; the girl twisted her arm out of Zirconia's grasp and Zirconia threw herself into the girl. Ten hit the ground. Zirconia landed on top.

Sharp force suddenly slammed into the back of her head. It was the back of Two's spear, now more staff than spear at this short range. Her sight blanked for a split second, just enough for the Ten girl to push her off and try to regain the high ground. With gritted teeth, she clawed at Ten; she clutched the Career's sleeves, refusing to let the girl's arms go free. Tears of pain blurred her vision, but she caught a glimpse of Clarke swinging her gauntlets wildly at the Two boy. Another spin of his spear and Clarke lost her footing. Virginia was nowhere to be seen.

Zeph appeared behind him, wrestling him for the spear.

"Let go of me!" Ten growled through gritted teeth, violently swinging her arms to fling Zirconia off. The girl kneed her in the gut. Zirconia's vision went blurry again and it was all she could do to not let go. She slammed her head towards Ten's face; it connected with her jaw and the two fell to the ground again.

In the distance, down the street, Zirconia caught a glimpse of two figures, headed for them right now. More Careers. This must've been what Zeph had referenced—but too late now! If they didn't get out now, there would be no getting out. Period.

A glint of light sparkled from inside Ten's vest. Throwing knives. She shot her hand towards where the handles had to be; Ten twisted and a sharp edge bit into Zirconia's fingers. She didn't care. She could barely feel the pain through the panic electrifying her nerves. Her hand slick with sweat and blood closed around a handle. Though the girl thrashed, Zirconia still yanked out the knife, slashing a gash in the fabric.

But before she could swing, Ten pinned her bloody arm to the ground. The girl shifted until she held Zirconia's entire body down under her weight. Zirconia struggled; she twisted and tugged, hoping to break free, but the girl's hands were chains, binding her to the street beneath them.

Was this where she'd die?

She craned her head against the ground, refusing to look back at Ten. Nearby, Two had Zeph pressed against the wall. A scarlet splotch of blood colored Zeph's sleeve; his hands were stuck behind his back as Two forced them into handcuffs. He was stuck. She was stuck. Even she could no longer stay optimistic.

It dawned on her that Clarke was gone.


Nevaeh panted for air as she held the Twelve girl down, who'd finally stilled, though she refused to ease her grip. She couldn't risk the girl breaking free, not with the knife in the girl's hand—and Nevaeh had her own hands full simply holding the girl down. It had already been too close, despite her best efforts at caution.

"Nevaeh!"

"Yeah?" She whipped her head 'round to look at Ilithyia and Adair. It wasn't their fault for arriving when they did, yet Nevaeh felt annoyed at them anyway. "Y'all are finally here."

Ili frowned. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not hurt," Nevaeh said, though she still muttered a curse under her breath. She glanced at Eros, who shook his head. "We're fine. But take the knife from her, will ya?"

The Two girl thankfully complied, easily wresting the knife from Twelve. Now with the captive now disarmed, Nevaeh flipped the girl over and pulled her wrists together behind her back, tying them together real good with a rope from Adair's backpack.

"There we go," she huffed as she got back on her feet. She stepped back from the girl and gave the girl a sharp nudge with her boot. "Get up."

If Sos were here, she knew he'd give her a disappointed look for the kick, but she didn't care, especially not when the girl had just tried to kill her. Of course, he'd probably bring up that they, as the trained group, were a far bigger threat to the Twelves, but that was the nature of Panem, wasn't it? No good worrying about a system she had no choice in.

Ili stared at her. "Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be," she said. "Just almost died. But you wouldn't get it. You weren't here."

"C'mon…" Ili gave her a funny look.

Nevaeh bit her lip; her skin rustled uneasily. She wanted to simultaneously fight everyone and everything, which she wouldn't because she wasn't estúpida yet everything was just wrong because it shouldn't have happened like this. They were supposed to be the dominant force in the Arena, not narrow survivors of a clash with a few untrained outer district kids.

But she wouldn't say any of that out loud. She couldn't admit to all of Panem that she wasn't as in control as she wanted to be.

She glared at the Twelve girl, whose challenging eyes stared up from the ground in refusal to move. "Get up. Or we'll kill you now."

"You'll just kill me anyway."

Lip quivering, Nevaeh gave the girl a proper kick in the ribs. She had no intention of killing either of them now, but if this girl didn't start complying, she'd make her comply. She refused to be shown up by some stubborn kid from District Twelve. "Up. Or else—" She pointed to the girl's district partner, who waited in the middle of the road, Eros' spear pointed at him from behind. "He'll die first."

Ili's voice was tense. "Nevaeh—"

"Make up your mind. Get up or he dies," Nevaeh said, pulling another knife from her vest. Some of the Twelve girl's blood smeared the handle, and she wiped it off on the ground. "In three."

The girl glared back at her.

"Two."

The girl cursed and spat. She stiffly rolled onto her side and staggered to her feet, though not without trouble since her hands were still tied behind her back. A twisted smile tugged at the corner of Nevaeh's lips. There was something so satisfying about seeing this girl comply when the girl had tried to kill her just a few minutes ago.

"Let's go," she called, pointing in the direction of the courthouse. "Stay apart from each other, keep your eyes in front of you, and don't try anything funny."

The Twelve girl muttered under her breath. "Or else—"

"Else you'll get my special treatment. Now move!"


Clarke sprinted down the road. Her side still ached; Two had jabbed her with the butt of his spear when she and Zeph had tried to snatch the weapon from him. Her boots pounded against the dusty ground as she stumbled away from the fight—from the Ten girl and her knives, the Two boy and his spear, the other two Careers who'd just arrived on the scene.

She'd left them behind. She had to go back.

Yet she couldn't. She wouldn't. She might've done it if this had happened the day before, but there was no way she was going to risk her life to run after people that'd faked affection for her in the first place.

They didn't want her. They called her a loose cannon; she was just a liability to them. They thought she was too dumb to know—and she wouldn't have, had she not overheard them. Pictures of their time together in training surfaced in her mind; she staggered to a stop, burying her head in her arms against a wall as tears sprung in her eyes. Those times had been so happy; they'd been the perfect team.

They'd all been a lie.

She sucked in a deep breath and forced herself to keep moving. Now the unwanted child was alone, just as the little voice in the back of her head always whispered, just as she'd always really been.

Just as she deserved.


From the opposite side of an old shack, five blocks down, Virginia could still hear the Careers. The Ten girl was the loudest of them all, commanding whomever they'd captured. Though her lungs begged for oxygen, she barely allowed herself to breathe, as if they'd hear the slightest gasp of air. She leaned back against the wall and squeezed her eyes shut. The adrenaline had begun to wear off, leaving behind a pool of tears and a tremor in her throat.

When Zeph had shouted for them to run, it'd given her permission to turn and leave, all she'd wanted since the confrontation began. She'd barely made it two blocks when she'd realized that no one else had followed her, that the other three were locked in combat with the Careers, that she'd essentially abandoned her allies and left them to die. Now she was a murderer and a traitor. Not to mention a coward for not going back.

No matter how hard she tried, nothing she did was right. She couldn't kill; she couldn't roll over and die. She couldn't find it in her heart to flee for good, yet she couldn't force herself to return and help.

Which left her here. Within earshot but too weak to do anything about it. Silently suffocating in her own eternal shame.

Shaky footsteps roused her, from around the corner. She cracked open her eyes. Her hand closed around the handle of the knife in her belt, but she couldn't bring herself to lift it up into the proper defensive position like the trainer had taught her back in the Capitol. She could already see the Capitol man shaking his head as he watched her on television; she couldn't even do this right.

She heard the clink of metal gauntlets before she saw the face. When the other girl finally rounded the corner, Virginia could do nothing but stare.

"You ran," Clarke said. The statement held no accusation. Her voice was too numb to be accusatory.

"You did too."

Clarke averted her eyes. "I… I did."

"What happened to them?"

"Careers tied them up." The girl wiped her eyes. "They're taking them to their base. Who knows what'll happen."

A tiny corner of Virginia's heart wanted to point fingers. It'd been Clarke's plan, after all; it'd been Clarke's rash attack that'd led to the Twelves diving in after her. But Virginia had no right to blame the girl when she herself was such a failure.

It wasn't noon yet. The two girls stood under the sun, ever climbing higher in the sky. The worst was still to come.

"I have to keep moving." Clarke's voice was weary; her brow was furrowed, as if it were the last knot holding her composure together, concealing whatever turmoil lay just below her skin. "Let's go?"

A question, for the first time. Before, it'd just been assumed that wherever Clarke went, Virginia would follow. Somehow it was harder now that she had a choice. She knew Clarke would just keep hunting; it'd only bring more blood on her head. But she also wanted to live. Forget Jakob and his pettiness. Death itself was scary enough.

"I don't know," Virginia replied.

"What do you mean?"

She sighed. "I wish I knew. You go."

"So… this is it."

"Maybe."

Clarke frowned. She turned away; she set her face towards the distance. Without a word, she set off.

And yet, Virginia followed, as she'd always done.


Zeph kept a wary eye on the closed door, right on the other side of the jail cell bars. He could hear indistinct chatter on the other side, where the whole Career pack was, likely scheming up ways to kill him and Zirconia. The Ten girl evidently had no qualms about killing people to make a point; he could only fear what else they might think of.

All the more reason to work fast. His hands, still cuffed behind his back, fumbled with the unseen rope. He picked apart his mind, trying to remember what the knot around Zirconia's wrists had looked like as his fingers ran circles around the surface of the massive knot Ten girl had tied.

"Almost?" Zirconia whispered.

"Maybe." He grunted. "I need to see it again." He turned around; he visually inspected the rope with all its twists and turns, trying to commit it to memory. At the very least, it seemed looser than it'd been at first.

"What's it look like?"

"Intestines of a dead tribute," he muttered. Though he couldn't see Zirconia's face, he was sure she rolled her eyes. "Alright. I'll try again."

It was a redundant statement. What other option did they have? If he didn't keep trying, they would be dead for sure by the end of the day at best. He wondered what torture methods they might have that would leave them still alive by the time the sun came up the next day.

Zirconia sighed, legs restless from having stood in place for so long while Zeph tried to free her arms. "I wonder where Clarke is right now."

He frowned. Just the thought of her rubbed him the wrong way. "I wish she were here instead."

"Don't say that."

"She got us in here."

"No, I did," Zirconia said. "I ran in after her."

"So it's my fault too I couldn't let you die. Got it." He bit his lip. "Stop moving. I keep losing the rope."

He shouldn't have trusted Clarke. Not that he ever did, but he played far nicer with her than he should've. If only he'd insisted against the alliance back in the Capitol, before Zirconia had gotten herself attached to the primary one responsible for their current predicament. Sure, Virginia had run off too, but he didn't blame Virginia. She'd fled when he yelled at 'em all to run, only following instructions.

But Clarke was a different story. When he'd told them all to run, he never thought he would've had to specify which direction, as if it wasn't clear enough that running towards the Careers was counterproductive. Hadn't he told Zirconia the NIne girl was a liability? Not to mention that the two of them were now stuck because Zirconia had tried to save Clarke, but Clarke had disappeared at the first opportunity.

As one who made a living off thievery, Zeph knew he had little right to talk about honor. But even he knew better than to leave a favor unreturned.

A smile broke across his face as the end of the rope slipped through the last hole, freeing Zirconia's hands. She gasped; he shushed her. She beamed at him and pulled him into a hug.

"I can't do anything about the cuffs, sorry," she whispered, scurrying over to the locked cell door. "But when we get out, we'll break 'em somehow."

Zeph ran his foot against the wooden wall. It couldn't be that hard to escape, could it? This place was practically falling apart. His gaze inspected the edges of the window up near the ceiling. Some of the boards around it rustled in the wind. With just a little work, a person might be able to fit through.

It would have to be Zirconia. His hands were tied; he wouldn't be able to get through it, even if he wanted to. How he'd get out afterwards, he didn't know. She'd figure something out, probably something totally absurd that'd somehow work out. But even if she didn't, he'd gotten himself in here because he'd chosen to save her instead of escaping himself. He'd still consider it a success. Not a huge one, but a success nonetheless.

"Hey." He nodded towards the window. "You wanna take a look?"

"You do it," she mumbled, still playing with the lock.

"Can't. It's too high up for me. I could lift you up, though."

After slowly releasing the lock so as to not make any noise, she peered at the window. Zeph moved right underneath it with his back to the wall. He intertwined his fingers, forming a tiny platform with his palms, and he winced as Zirconia stepped up, the weight distributed uncomfortably in his arms and shoulders.

"The wood up here is loose," she said. "I think I could open the hole enough to crawl through."

"Be careful," he said. A crack came from above; his heart pounded faster. Hopefully, the Careers' chatter would keep their attention occupied. "By Snow, that's loud."

"I'm trying!"

"Then you'd better be fast 'cause I swear, they open that door right now and we're dead."

She dislodged another plank, sending down a shower of wood dust. "I know, I know. I can almost fit now."

The muscles in his upper arm were starting to feel the strain; he gritted his teeth, watching the door with narrowed eyes. When he felt his knees start to buckle, he forced them to go rigid, silently wishing her to go faster, though the familiar hole in his gut worried that it would all be for naught, that it was hopeless to try.

Suddenly, without warning, the door to the courtroom flew open. Zeph found himself staring back into the eyes of the boy from Two.


Kill Counter:
Ilithyia Aella (D2F): II
Ace Invidia (D3M): II
Adair Ryder (D7M): II
Adora Noble (D1F): I
Eros Worshire (D2M): I
Virginia Bedford (D8F): I
Clarke Brioche (D9F): I


A/N: It dawned on me that I've been incredibly inconsistent with the kill counter... I guess it's back now? Otherwise, I hope y'all enjoyed (another) deathless chapter. I wonder how long this streak will last.

I'd love to know y'all's thoughts!