The Princess of Panem | Finnick Odair x oc

XXII

The arena crackles with tension, every second pulling tighter as if the very air might shatter from it. My stomach churns violently, threatening to spill over as I watch Katniss and Peeta scramble up the Cornucopia. The mutts—those twisted, terrifying creatures—circle below, their growls reverberating through the arena. But it's their eyes that unnerve me most, hollow and haunting, staring with the same vacant expression Rue and Thresh once had.

The sight is unbearable.

"Finnick, I think I might throw up," I whisper, the words barely making it past my tightening throat.

Beside me, Finnick shifts closer, his arm brushing against mine, grounding me. His voice is soft, but there's a firmness beneath it. "No, Princess. It's going to be fine. I promise. It's just Cato now." His hand moves toward mine, taking it gently, as if any sudden movement might break the fragile control I'm barely clinging to.

"But... have you seen their eyes?" My voice cracks, shaking with fear. "They look like Rue's... and Thresh's."

Finnick doesn't flinch. His eyes flicker briefly to the screen, taking in the horrifying scene before us, but his focus remains on me. "I know," he murmurs, his tone sharpening ever so slightly. "That's just part of the Capitol's game. They want them to see the faces of the dead. They want to break them. But it's not real, Ophelia. None of it is."

I nod, though I can't quite believe it. It's hard to remind myself that it's just a trick of the Capitol—because those eyes, those eyes—they're so real. I try to pull in a steadying breath, but my lungs refuse to cooperate. My hands tremble in Finnick's grasp, and I clench my fingers into his, hoping to anchor myself in the moment.

On the screen, Katniss raises her bow. She's aiming at Cato, but her hands are unsteady. Peeta limps beside her, his face pale and strained from the exhaustion and pain. They're running out of time. Cato is circling them, each movement deliberate, almost predatory.

"They're cornered," I murmur, more to myself than anyone else. "He's going to kill them." My heart pounds against my ribs, the fear suffocating me.

Finnick's grip tightens, pulling me closer. "Katniss won't let that happen," he says, though his voice is softer now. There's doubt there. Uncertainty.

The weight of the last few hours presses down on me. It's all been leading to this moment—Peeta's near-death, Katniss's desperate dash for the medicine, the death of the red-haired girl. I still can't believe she died from nightlock poisoning. She was smarter than that. It doesn't sit right with me. She could have outwitted that death. Couldn't she?

I blink away the thought. There's no time to dwell on it. The end is here.

Peeta stumbles slightly, and Katniss reaches out, steadying him. But it's Cato that demands my attention now—he's watching them with a twisted grin, circling like a predator closing in for the kill. His movements are slow, deliberate. He knows they're trapped. He knows they're exhausted.

And then, in a sudden rush of motion, he lunges.

My breath catches in my throat. Cato grabs Peeta, pulling him into a chokehold. Katniss freezes, her bow still raised but trembling. Her eyes dart between them, panic flaring as she tries to find a clear shot. But she can't.

"Oh no... oh no..." The words slip out in a breathless whisper, my nails digging into Finnick's palm as I clutch his hand even tighter. I can barely breathe. She's going to lose him.

"Come on, Peeta," Finnick mutters, his eyes fixed on the screen, his body tense beside me. "Come on..."

But Cato's grip is too strong. Peeta's face is turning red, his struggles weakening by the second. I bite down on my lip so hard I taste blood. My entire body feels like it's being torn apart, each second stretching into an eternity. She can't take the shot. If she misses, Peeta will die.

Katniss's eyes are wild with indecision. She lowers her bow, panic written across her face. For the first time, she looks helpless.

"Do something!" I gasp, my voice too loud, too desperate. Finnick's hand is on my shoulder now, squeezing tightly, trying to calm me, but I'm too far gone. All I can see is Cato crushing Peeta, and Katniss frozen in place.

And then—suddenly—Peeta moves.

With a final burst of strength, Peeta digs his fingers into Cato's arm, pressing down hard. Cato flinches, just for a second, but it's enough. Peeta pulls himself free, stumbling back. I barely have time to process it before Katniss raises her bow again. This is it.

She lets the arrow fly.

It hits Cato, but not fatally. He staggers, clutching his side, and falls backward toward the edge of the Cornucopia. Time slows, and my breath catches in my throat as his body teeters on the edge.

He falls.

The mutts are on him in an instant, their snarls ripping through the air, their claws tearing into his flesh. His screams fill the arena, the sound so raw, so utterly inhuman that I have to cover my mouth to keep from screaming myself. The mutts are relentless, their grotesque forms tearing at him, but the worst part is that it's slow. He's suffering.

I watch, horrified, as Cato's body is slowly devoured. His screams echo through the arena, growing weaker and weaker with each passing second. I can see it on Katniss's face now—the horror, the guilt. She doesn't want to watch this, doesn't want him to die like this. No one deserves this. Not even him.

She notches another arrow, her hands shaking, and pulls back the string.

"She's going to end it," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the sound of Cato's agony.

Finnick squeezes my hand again. "She has to."

I hold my breath, waiting, watching. Katniss hesitates for just a moment, her eyes filled with something that almost looks like pity. Then she releases the arrow.

It strikes Cato cleanly in the heart. His screams stop. The mutts retreat. Silence falls over the arena.

The cannon fires.

I flinch, the sound loud and final, cutting through the silence. It's over. It's finally over.

For a moment, I just sit there, staring at the screen, unable to move. Cato's body lies at the base of the Cornucopia, still, lifeless. The mutts circle around him, but they don't attack. They know he's dead. It's over.

"They did it," I whisper, my voice thick with disbelief. I can hardly comprehend it. Katniss and Peeta survived. They won.

"They did it," Finnick echoes softly. His arm is around my shoulders now, pulling me close, and before I can stop myself, I throw my arms around him, burying my face against his chest. I sob, the tears spilling over, my body shaking with relief, with exhaustion, with everything.

"They won," I choke out between sobs. "They're going home."

Finnick wraps his arms around me, holding me tightly, his hand stroking my hair gently. "Yeah, Princess," he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. "They're going home."

The tears won't stop, but this time, they're not from fear. They're tears of relief, of joy. I've been holding my breath for so long, and now—now I can finally breathe again.

The roar of the Capitol's audience explodes in the background, but it feels distant, like a distant echo. For this moment, it's just me and Finnick, his arms around me, and the knowledge that Katniss and Peeta made it through. They're alive. They're going to make it home. They won.

I clutch onto Finnick as if he's the only thing keeping me grounded, my tears soaking into his shirt. He doesn't pull away. He doesn't say anything. He just holds me, and for now, that's enough.