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Daylight had arrived, flooding the arena in a harsh, blinding brightness that pierced through Estella's weary eyes. The world felt unbearably bright to her now, tied tightly to a tree trunk with thick, skin-tearing rope. Her leg trembled beneath her, struggling to hold up her weight after a night suspended with little rest.
But despite the pain and fatigue surging through her limbs, Estella refused to falter. Her composure remained unbroken, her spine straight, her eyes locked into a cold, unwavering glare fixed directly at the Careers. No emotion. No weakness.
Just rage—and a promise she wasn't going down without dragging someone with her.
The Careers had been having their fun. They laughed, jeered, and took turns torturing her with jabs of knives and repeated punches—testing how far they could push her before she broke. But the game quickly began to lose its luster.
Estella didn't scream or cry or beg. She simply laughed. Every stab was met with a smirk, every bruise accompanied by a mocking chuckle. "Getting exhausted? Oh, poor baby," she cooed in mock sympathy, blood dripping from her mouth before she spat it onto the ground. Her grin widened as her leg banged excitedly against the dirt, pure defiance radiating from her body as she cackled up at Cato, who stood in front of her with fists clenched.
Furious and humiliated by her insolence, Cato roared and delivered a brutal punch to her jaw, snapping her head sideways.
The day was growing long and tedious, not just for Estella, but likely for the Gamemakers, too. She wouldn't be surprised if they were growing as bored as the Careers. No cannon had sounded in over eight hours. No screams. No deaths.
The arena had gone quiet—a lull that promised an inevitable, violent shift. And that shift came with a thunderous boom that snapped Estella's head toward the horizon. Her blood turned to ice.
"Fuck," she muttered, a rare crack in her usual control slipping through. She regretted thinking things were quiet, regretted letting herself feel even a sliver of relief, because now the sound of panicked shrieking filled the air as terrified animals burst from the treeline in a frantic stampede, charging toward them.
Behind them roared a monstrous wall of flames—towering, vicious, and moving fast. A forest fire was barreling toward them with terrifying intensity.
The Careers stopped. For once, their eyes were not on Estella, but on each other. "Fuck you!" she screamed, already knowing what they were about to do. Their decision came without hesitation. They scrambled for their gear, grabbed what they needed, and without a backward glance, they left her—still bound, still bleeding—laughing among themselves as they ran.
"I'll fucking get you! And you stupid Gamemakers too!" she shrieked after them, her voice raw.
She didn't have long. Estella quickly scanned her surroundings. Fifty seconds—if that—before the fire reached her. She had no time to think, only to act. Ignoring every ounce of pain screaming through her body, she pressed her weight outward, gritting her teeth as the rope bit deeper into her wounds. The burn was unbearable, but the alternative was death.
