You Won't Drown: A Hunger Games story

Chapter Six

Finnick POV

"So, Mr. O'Dair, tell me, what exactly is Miss Cresta's life worth to you?"

I clench my hands into fists at my sides, the tips of my fingers digging into the palms of my hand. Here he sits, surrounded by luxury, able to bend the whole world to his will, and yet he cares for nothing except himself. Whatever I tell him, it won't make a difference. There's nothing I could say or do that would convince him to spare Annie, let alone allow the two of us to be together. My words don't make a damn bit of a difference in the grand scheme of things.

He raises an eyebrow at my silence, and when I still don't respond, he folds his hands and puts them on top of his desk, staring at me contemplatively. The look he gives me is one akin to the cat watching the mouse, willing to be as patient as it needs to be since the outcome is clearly inevitable.

"You're a curious man, Mr. O'Dair, I'll give you that much. You say you don't want to start a rebellion, yet you take every opportunity you can to do so. For every claim you make about wanting to stay out of this, you keep making decisions that put you squarely in the middle of this fight. Even keeping all that in mind, I know that love can make people do irrational things. So, I'll ask you again, and I expect an answer this time, what is Miss Cresta's life worth to you?"

Maybe it's because I'm finally fed up with his condescending attitude, maybe it's because a part of me knows that no matter what I say, I'm screwed but this time I don't bother to censor my words. There is no pretend politeness and civility; appearances only count for so much behind closed doors.

"You'll just torture her either way, nothing I can say will change that! I know you're not even close to a decent man but have you ever considered, even for a second, that your cruelty and condescending attitude are just a few more reasons why so many people want you dead?"

His voice turns as sickly sweet as the rose scented perfume he wears to cover up the telltale smell of wounds granted by poison that even his doctors can't cure. "My dear boy, you really should watch your tongue, before you find yourself no longer in possession of it. Of course there are people who want me gone but notice how I still sit right here, deciding your fate. I'm not nearly so easy to get rid of as my enemies wish."

He stares directly at me, analyzing my facial expression and body language for any signs of weakness. There aren't any; I'm angry and heartbroken but I refuse to be weak.

"And yet this time you're afraid. You're afraid this rebellion will succeed, that's why you're so determined to make sure the Everdeen girl from district twelve goes back into the arena. Annie was right, you are scared."

Now I'm the one watching him. The cat's boldness could very well be its downfall. His confidence will come back to bite him, nobody can rule through fear alone forever. If all else fails, President Snow is still human, which means he will die one day. There is no such thing as eternal life, not even for the man in charge of all of Panem.

"And I believe you know where Miss Cresta's honesty got her. She's only ever been the poor, mad girl from back home and that's all she'll ever be. You should know that trying to beat me at my own game is an exercise in futility. Given your insolence, I've decided that both of you will be executed as traitors on the steps of my palace to kick off the Quarter Quell."

My heart drops to my throat and I'm finding it increasingly difficult to breathe. The thought of Annie, here in the Capitol again, subject to that torture is too much. He'll kill her. He'll kill her and force me to watch as the most important person in the world to me dies. I'll be helpless to protect her from this place and the monster who runs it.