Torn: Sequel to Ruthless

Chapter 18

The Capitol gives me three days to recover. Three days to prepare to fight Ashlee. Those three days have already passed. Today is the fourth day. Today is the day I fight Ashlee. At least I have Apollo with me. 

This means today is the last day of the games. Apollo and I wait for Ashlee in the Cornucopia with only our weapons. Who cares about the food anyway? I'll get to eat when I win. I will win. I have my sword, Apollo has his. We have whispered conversations for a couple of hours before Ashlee appears. I see her hair first, a flash of two long braids in the debris. I point it out to Apollo, and together we sneak up on her. 

But she's expecting it. Ashlee whirls around before we can close the distance, a smirk curling on her lips as she holds up an axe in each hand. Her eyes gleam with that same feral intensity I've seen every time she's taken down another tribute, like she's been waiting for this moment. For us.

"So predictable," she sneers, her voice cutting through the tense air. She's circling now, like a predator sizing up its prey. "I knew you two would try something sneaky."

Apollo tightens his grip on his sword, stepping in front of me protectively. My heart pounds, adrenaline surging through my veins. This is it. The final fight. The end of the Games. Only one of us gets to walk out of here alive, and I refuse to let it be her. Ashlee moves first, throwing one of her axes straight at Apollo's chest. He barely manages to deflect it with his sword, but the force of the blow sends him stumbling back a step. I grit my teeth, stepping forward to meet Ashlee head-on, my sword raised and ready. Our blades clash with a loud clang, the force of her strike nearly knocking me off balance. She's strong, stronger than I expected, and she doesn't waste any time pressing her advantage. She swings her other axe toward my side, but I twist away, narrowly avoiding the sharp edge.

"Not bad," Ashlee taunts, her eyes glinting with amusement. "But you're going to have to do better than that if you want to survive."

I don't respond. I can't afford to waste my breath on words. I need to focus—focus on her movements, on her weaknesses, on finding an opening. But Ashlee is relentless, her strikes fast and precise, and for every blow I block, she's already coming at me with another. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Apollo circling around, trying to find an angle to attack. But Ashlee's not letting him get close—she's keeping her distance from him, clearly aware that facing the two of us at once could be her downfall.

"Come on, Octavia," Ashlee says, her voice dripping with mockery as she slashes at me again. "You're supposed to be the last one standing, right? The brave little survivor?"

Her words cut deeper than her blade, and I feel a surge of anger rise inside me. She's toying with me, playing with me like this is just another game. But this isn't a game anymore. This is life or death. With a growl, I lunge forward, swinging my sword toward her with all the strength I can muster. She dodges, but not fast enough—my blade grazes her arm, drawing a thin line of blood. Ashlee hisses, her smirk fading for the first time.

"That's more like it," she spits, but there's a flicker of something in her eyes now. Wariness, maybe. I've finally hit her. I can hurt her.

But before I can press the advantage, Ashlee darts backward, putting distance between us. She tosses another axe in Apollo's direction, forcing him to deflect it again, but this time, he's ready. He steps forward, closing the gap between them in an instant. Ashlee's focus shifts to him, and for a split second, I see an opening. My heart pounds as I take a deep breath, my hands steadying on the hilt of my sword. This is my chance. This is how I win. But then, everything happens so fast. Ashlee spins on her heel, her movement a blur, and she throws her final axe—straight at Apollo's chest.

"No!" I scream, but it's too late. 

The blade sinks into Apollo's chest with a sickening thud, and he staggers backward, his sword slipping from his hand. His eyes meet mine, wide with shock, and for a moment, everything seems to slow down. I run toward him, my heart in my throat, but Ashlee is already moving, already closing in on me. She's grinning now, triumphant, as if she's already won.