I hate it here.

The walls of the Victor's Village are too clean, too perfect. Every corner, every polished surface, screams the same thing: you're a winner. You're special.

But that's all a lie, isn't it?

I run my fingers through my blonde hair, staring at the reflection in the window. The blue eyes staring back at me don't feel like mine, not anymore. They feel foreign, like something the Capitol put there. Something they can control.

The wolf ears on my head twitch as I hear the faint sound of birds in the distance. I feel them before I see them—the sharpness, the heightened senses I can never turn off. Even now, as I sit alone in this perfect cage, I can hear every breath of the night wind, every movement of leaves.

But none of it feels real.

Not when I know what I've done.

I curl my tail around my waist, trying to make myself feel smaller, less like the thing I've become. A victor. Emerald.

I should feel proud. The Capitol should be applauding me. Instead, I feel suffocated by it all, like my whole life has been decided for me by people who don't even know me. I was meant to be a tribute. Meant to die. I wasn't meant to survive.

But I did.

I close my eyes and hear his voice in my head. Xander. The way he smiled at me before everything turned to blood and fire. The way his eyes searched for me, even as the world around him crumbled. I couldn't save him.

My hands shake, but I hide them in the folds of my sleeve. I can still feel the snakes beneath my skin, writhing, though I haven't seen them since the Games. They were part of me, but so was the rage. The fury. The thing I can't forget. The power I didn't control. The destruction I caused.

"Emerald?" The voice cuts through the fog of my thoughts. It's Honey, my Capitol stylist. Her words are always so gentle, but I can hear the underlying concern. "Dinner's ready."

I don't want dinner. I don't want anything they offer. But I force myself to stand and walk to the table.

I keep my ears down, my tail tucked behind me, like I can hide the parts of me that the Capitol doesn't want to see.

The table is set before me—fine, delicate silverware, pristine plates of food I can't bring myself to eat. Poppy says something, but I don't really hear it. She's trying to make me feel like I'm still human, but I can't swallow the lies.

I keep my gaze fixed on the plate, but I know what I've done. The faces of the tributes. Xander's face.

I can't stop hearing him. The way his blood mixed with the earth beneath us. I was supposed to protect him.

I was supposed to save him.

The sound of the television in the other room catches my attention, the Capitol's feed coming to life with their Reaping ceremonies.

I don't want to watch, but it's like a pull I can't resist. Maybe, if I keep watching, I can understand. Maybe it'll stop hurting.

I stand and walk outside into the night, needing the cool air to drown out the constant buzz of my thoughts. I take a deep breath, my ears flicking instinctively to pick up the smallest sound—nothing but wind and distant crickets.

But nothing brings me peace.

I lean against the railing, staring out over the forest, the shadows of the trees dancing in the moonlight.

"You should eat," Honey says softly behind me. But I don't answer. I just keep staring at the endless dark, trying to push the weight of what's inside me somewhere far away.

I feel Raven before I hear him. He lands beside me, his sharp eyes glowing in the night. He's the only one who truly understands what I feel, but I still hate him for it. For being so close, so cold.

The snakes are with me too. I can feel them—slithering beneath my skin, coiling at the edges of my thoughts. They haven't left me since the Games. They don't trust the Capitol, and they don't trust anyone. Not even Raven, though he's always there, watching over me. Keeping me safe.

"Emerald," Raven says quietly. "It's time."

Time. I know what he means. Time to leave. Time to stop hiding. Time to face it.

I close my eyes, feeling the bitterness, the rage, rising in me like a storm that's been too long contained. The Capitol might have tried to control me once, but they didn't break me.

I will not be their pawn.

The next morning, I make my decision. The 74th Hunger Games will be my chance, my way out of this gilded cage they've put me in. The Capitol can try to control me again, but they won't succeed.

I won't be Emerald. I won't be their perfect victor. I will be someone else.

A new name. A new identity.

I change everything. I dye my hair a dark chestnut brown, let it grow out into a sleek bob that hides the wolf ears under a perfect disguise. I wear blue contacts, a stark contrast to my natural eyes, so no one will notice the change. My tail, always an impossible thing to hide, is tucked securely beneath a special suit, designed to conceal my every shape and movement. I don't want anyone recognizing me. I don't want anyone to see through my act.

My new name? Mira Voltaire.

I'm no longer the girl who killed. I'm no longer Emerald. I'm Mira. And Mira is someone the Capitol doesn't know. Someone who will play their game, but not on their terms.

The Justice Building is cold, sterile. A prison wrapped in gold. It smells of disinfectant and fear. I walk down the hall, my footsteps echoing in the empty space. The world doesn't know it yet, but I've made my choice. I'm leaving. I'm stepping back into the arena, not as the girl they remember, but as someone new.

No one will know who I am. No one will care.

I stand before the mirror, staring at the stranger looking back at me. Mira Voltaire, she's called now. Not Emerald. Not the girl who killed.

I'm ready.

I sit in the waiting room, my heart pounding, and the Reaping ceremony flickers to life on a nearby screen. I try to ignore it, but my eyes are drawn to the screen like they have a mind of their own.

Katniss Everdeen. The name is suddenly everywhere. She's there, in front of the crowd, standing tall, her face set in stone.

And then I hear it.

"I volunteer as tribute."

A jolt of electricity runs through me.

She's doing it. She's doing what I couldn't do. She's sacrificing herself.

I lean forward, my breath catching. Her sister. She's volunteering for her sister.

I don't know why, but I'm suddenly drawn to her. To Katniss Everdeen. The girl who volunteered. The girl who made the choice. I understand her.

I wonder if she's like me. A survivor. Someone who's been shaped by the Capitol's cruelty. Someone who can't be controlled.

The screen cuts away, but the image of Katniss lingers in my mind. I need to know her. There's something in her—something fierce, something real.

The train to the Capitol is waiting for me. I board it, knowing the Games are approaching. But something else has shifted inside me.

As the feed continues to play, I see Katniss's face, and for the first time in years, I feel something other than rage.

I want to see how far she'll go. And I want to know if she can survive like I did.