Dear Lucy Gray Baird,

You told me the snakes were harmless.
You said they wouldn't bite, not if I was gentle. You smiled when you said it. So calm. So convincing. But now I see the truth. Those snakes were tame enough for you to handle, to slip under my mother's scarf like a magician hides a blade.

You knew what would happen.
You wanted it to happen.

You watched me walk into that trap. You watched me reach for that scarf. You watched the strike, the chaos, the pain. And still, you said nothing. You vanished like the coward you are and left me to die. But I survived, and now by meeting you again, I have realized the truth.

You tried to kill me.

Not in self-defense. Not in some desperate scramble for freedom. No—this was methodical. Calculated. Cold. You planned it, you executed it, and you never once looked back. Do you know what that makes you?

It makes you dangerous.

It makes you exactly like me.

And that's what terrifies me the most.

You made me care, Lucy Gray. Even after everything, even now, I care.

That was your true weapon. Not the snake, not the lies: the melody. The way your voice slipped past armor and wrapped around my heart like silk. You didn't poison my blood. You did something far worse:

You made my heart sing.

And now it won't stop screaming.

You were right about one thing, you don't belong in the Capitol. Let's be honest, you don't belong anywhere. But for a moment, I wanted you beside me. I was foolish enough to think I could have both: the girl and the power. I nearly brought you home. I nearly gave you a future, but now I see that your presence is a threat. You are the crack in my armor, the shadow behind my back, the whisper of rebellion dressed in ruffles.

I should hate you. I want to hate you. But I don't. That's your power, isn't it? The song, the smile, the sweet lies. And I fell for it. And I keep falling for it. But I have learned something:

You are not a girl.
You are a song: beautiful, haunting, and meant to lure men to their ruin.
And to succeed, I must silence you.

You see, you have one flaw, you always see the goodness in people. You saw something good in me, and that was your mistake. I didn't just escape your trap, I gave it back to you. I played along. Took what I needed and left you behind. While you trusted me again, I was already planning your end. I secured the transport. I returned to the Capitol. And I told them everything.

Yes. Everything.

This is a confession you will never read. As I write this, The aircraft has departed, their guns at the ready. Your camp, your allies, your little dream of freedom has come to an end. I know that this is the end of us, but part of me still hopes you will understand. That you'll see this for what it is. Not vengeance. Not hatred. Necessity. I'm not doing this because I want to hurt you, I'm doing it because I must. Because if I don't, you'll always be a danger. To me. To everything I've built. And I won't risk that.

Not for a ghost in the woods.
Not for a liar in lace.
Not for a girl who made me feel.

This is just a precaution, ensuring that you will never find your way back to me. Ensuring that we can never be together. I'm doing this for you as much as for myself, saving us both from this hopeless, destructive love. Because I've realized that the things we love don't save us—they break us. They destroy us.

And I won't let you destroy me. Not today. Not if I can end it first.

You should have stayed in the shadows. You should have remained a myth, a song half-sung in the trees. But your song has been sung once more, and I have to be the one to put it out.

This is your last verse, little songbird.

Sing it well.
You won't get another.

Cordially,
Coriolanus Snow

Coriolanus sneaks into the darkened control room and watches the flickering monitors. His eyes are glued to the grainy video feed as the aircrafts soar over the hidden camp. His breath catches in his throat as he sees the people below, like little ants scrambling at the site. He scans the screen for Lucy Gray, but the figures are too small to tell apart.

A part of him is screaming to get up, call it off, stop the planes, but he doesn't move. He just watches, hollow and still, as the guns begin to aim. It's too late now.

A single tear slips from the corner of his eye, carving a slow, agonizing path down his cheek. The weight of his decision presses down, crushing what remains of his humanity, and trapping him in a guilt he can't escape. The room hums with the sterile beeping of machinery as it counts down to the inevitable.

"Three…"
His heart hammers against his ribs like a war drum. He clutches the railing, knuckles bone-white, as if it's the only thing keeping him from breaking apart.

"Two…"
The world blurs and tears sting his eyes, but he doesn't wipe them away. Her voice lingers, her laughter, her song, the one she sang for him. It echoes throughout the mind. He was meant to be unshakable, pure like the snow, but instead he stands frozen, a prisoner of the very plan he set in motion.

"One…"
She won't escape. Not this time. No melody can soften this blow. No wings can carry her through the smoke.

"Fire."

The tears finally fall from his chin, disappearing into the cold, unfeeling floor.