Torn: Sequel to Ruthless

Chapter 13

Octavia

I jinxed myself again. The morning of the ninth day, the Feast is announced. My stomach churns at the thought. Eleven of us are left—not counting Taylor, whose absence occupies my mind every second. The audience must be craving more action, more death. They want blood.

"A Feast will be held at the Cornucopia at sundown," Claudius Templesmith's voice echoes through the arena. "This time, we plan to be generous hosts."

His words linger, a promise of violence wrapped in a thin veneer of luxury. My heart sinks. A Feast always means supplies—things we need to survive, sometimes even life-saving items. But it also means danger. The Cornucopia is a death trap, and the Capitol knows it. The silence that follows Templesmith's announcement is deafening, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves and the occasional far-off birdcall. I glance at my allies, each deep in thought, calculating the risks and rewards. We all know the stakes.

"We're going, right?" Apollo's voice is low but resolute. He looks around the circle, waiting for confirmation. "It could be something we can't afford to pass up."

Bark, who is still recovering but can now walk, nods slowly. "Risky, yeah, but they wouldn't dangle this unless it was big. We need whatever's there."

Seena, who has barely left Bark's side since his injury, looks torn. Her eyes betray her fear—of what might happen if we go, and what might happen if we don't.

"What if it's a trap?" she asks quietly, glancing at Bark.

"It's always a trap," Kai replies bluntly. "But sitting here isn't safer. Supplies won't just fall into our laps. It's better than waiting to starve or freeze."

He's right. The arena is designed to push us into confrontations, to whittle us down. The thought of fighting again—of seeing someone else die—is overwhelming. But doing nothing might kill us faster.

"We should go," I say, my voice steady despite the growing lump in my throat. "But not without a plan. We can't just walk in blind."

Apollo nods, and one by one, the others agree. Decision made: we're going to the Feast.

The hours leading up to sundown zoom by. Tension hangs in the air as we prepare—sharpening weapons, rationing food, strategizing. Bark insists on coming, despite Seena's protests. His resolve is unshakable, even if his strength isn't fully returned. I exchange glances with Kai as we ready ourselves. I try to keep my focus sharp. There's no room for doubt.

As the sky darkens, we set out, staying in the shadows. The Cornucopia looms ahead, its metallic shape gleaming in the fading light. The closer we get, the heavier the air feels. My heart pounds so loudly I'm sure everyone can hear it. We stop at the edge of the clearing, concealed behind a mound of debris. From here, the Cornucopia is in full view. Spread before it are large crates, each marked with district numbers. My eyes dart to the ones labeled 2, 4, and 7.

"Everyone's here," Apollo whispers, pointing to the distant silhouettes.

He's right. Figures lurk at the edges of the clearing: the girl from District 8 behind a log, the District 3 pair near a boulder, Ashlee tense and alert.

"Now what?" Seena whispers.

"We wait," Kai says, scanning the clearing. "See who moves first."

Minutes stretch into an eternity. No one wants to be the first to move, the first to die. My grip tightens on my sword, palms slick with sweat. Then, the girl from District 8 breaks cover, sprinting for the Cornucopia, her eyes locked on the crates. Chaos erupts. Tributes spring from hiding, weapons drawn. Shouts echo as they converge, desperation fueling every step.

"Move now!" Apollo shouts, and we charge forward.

I fixate on the crate marked 2, dodging bodies and weapons. Just as I reach the clearing's center, the girl from District 8 screams. A trap—spikes clamp around her ankle, blood pooling beneath her. Then, a crack appears in the ground, and she's yanked through it. The Capitol's "generosity" is a lie.

"There are traps everywhere!" Seena yells, but it's too late.

A sickening snap draws my gaze: the boy from District 3, caught by a wire that wraps around his neck and pulls tight. His lifeless body collapses. Panic sets in. The clearing is a minefield of death, but the supplies are so close.

Kai grabs my arm. "We can't stay here!" he shouts over the chaos.

I nod. "We go for it. Split up. Grab what we can and get out."

Kai hesitates but agrees. "Be careful."

"You too."

We dart toward our targets. Every step feels like a gamble. I reach our crate, wrenching the latch open. Inside: food, water, bandages, and—blessedly—knives. I grab as much as I can carry. A scream pierces the air—the girl from District 3, dragged toward the Cornucopia by wires wrapped around her. Her terror is haunting. I force myself to look away.

"Apollo!" I shout, spotting him nearby. "We need to go!"

He nods, weighed down with supplies. Seena and Bark are retreating too, though Bark grimaces with every step. Suddenly, I see her—the girl from District 12—rushing toward Kai. My heart stops.

"Kai, behind you!" I yell, but it's too late.

The girl tackles him, her knife flashing. They struggle, dirt flying. Without thinking, I hurl a knife. It misses her by inches but distracts her enough for Kai to shove her off. He scrambles up, panting.

"Thanks," he mutters, grabbing his weapon. We regroup quickly, retreating as chaos continues to unfold.

The anthem plays just as we reach the trees. The fallen tributes appear in the sky: the girl from 8, the District 3 pair, and the girl from 12. Four more gone. I glance at my allies, relieved none of their faces are up there. But doubt gnaws at me. There are seven tributes left: five in our alliance, two outside—Ashlee and Wonder. I may have to betray them soon.