The 'Flower of Panem' or 'The Angel of Mercy', Seraphine Reza is the jewel and pride of Panem. One of their most treasured victors in the history of the Hunger Games and a favorite of President Snow.
While she smiles, comforts and plays her part ev...
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And they were off, the former victors dove into the water, desperately swimming towards the cornucopia.
The watery arena gave Four a natural advantage and Sera was sure Finnick or the District 4 mentors would've been happier if the circumstances weren't so dire.
Reef and Kaia mumbled something in concern. Their focus was not on Finnick and Mags but rather on the door where Peacekeepers had all but barricaded them in the Observation Room.
It would be a lie to say that everyone in the room was focused on the games. No one really was. Augustus tried his best to look at the screen but with a split lip and a blackened bloody eye, it was hard for him to even keep his eyes open.
For some of the Peacekeepers, it was harder to watch Panem's favorite son in that state.
In the midst of the chaos on both sides, Wells reached the shores with ease on the other side of the screen.
District 5 might not have had access to the vast ocean that Four did but they had enough lakes and rivers to swim in. Not far away was Leora, shivering and complaining.
Wells laughed and ran through the shores to reach the bounty in the middle of the small island cornucopia. He barely managed to pick up a sword before a sharp buzzing sound shot through the air.
Blood dyed the sandy floor a vivid red and some splashed onto the water behind him.
The next shot was him sitting on the floor impaled on a...trident.
Finnick's trident.
Wells struggled for only a moment, swinging his sword helplessly. Finnick patted his trident and pulled it out in one motion.
Blood rained down from Wells' open wound, dying the sands a vivid red as he fell. A loud cannon accompanied his fall alongside Leora's muffled screams.
Julian Wells was dead.
One of the first casualties of the Quell.
Counters outside the screen flashed and changed from zero to three.
Three dead victors.
Three.
Cold chilly air blew in from the small dark cracks in the room and Sera pulled up her gloves. A soft weight pressed down on her as Huxley's light coat fell on her back. He didn't say a word and hadn't spoken since Wells had died.
But Sera could see that he had a lot to say. He held it all in and warily eyed his fellow victors. He didn't trust them at all. No, he wouldn't allow himself to lean on them or show them a crack in his mask.
He wouldn't listen to her. Even if she tried to convince him to work with them for the sake of it, for the rebellion or even for her; he wouldn't do it.
Huxley would put his and their family over everything. Panem could burn for all he cared about. Finnick could die for all Huxley cared about as long as she and their family were safe. He didn't care about Panem.
