Torn: Sequel to Ruthless

Chapter 20

The lights are blinding, the stage so bright it feels like a dream, or maybe a nightmare. The crowd's cheers are deafening, but I can barely hear them. All I can focus on is the knot twisting in my stomach as Caesar Flickerman turns his glittering smile toward me. His eyes glint with curiosity, the same way they always do when he's about to ask something he knows will stir up the audience.

"So, Octavia," he begins, leaning forward in his seat, "your emotional goodbye to Kai has been the talk of the Capitol. Everyone wants to know—what was your relationship with him like? It seemed... so personal."

I stiffen. It's the question I knew was coming. The one I've been dreading. My heart clenches as memories of Kai flash through my mind—his quiet strength, his loyalty, the way he always knew what to say when I was falling apart. But I can't tell the Capitol that. I can't tell them what he really meant to me. They'd twist it, use it against me, make it part of their sick game.

So I lie.

"Kai was like a brother to me," I say, forcing a smile that I hope looks sincere. "He reminded me of my real brother, Rowan, in so many ways. That's why it was so hard to say goodbye."

The words come out smoothly, practiced, like I've rehearsed them a hundred times. Because I have. But inside, every syllable feels like a betrayal. Kai wasn't like Rowan. He wasn't my brother. He was so much more, and yet here I am, reducing him to a memory that doesn't even scratch the surface of who he was to me.

Caesar's eyes light up, and he nods enthusiastically, eating up my answer like it's exactly what he wanted to hear. "Ah, yes, family bonds! The Capitol loves a strong connection like that. It must've been incredibly difficult for you, losing him."

I swallow hard, my throat tight. The lie is bitter on my tongue, but I can't let it show. "It was," I say softly, casting my gaze down for dramatic effect. "It felt like losing a piece of myself."

The crowd coos in sympathy, their empathy as shallow as the smiles plastered on their faces. They love this—the tragedy, the heartbreak. It makes for a better story. They're probably imagining me as the tragic heroine, torn between my 'brother' and Apollo, the star-crossed lovers they're so obsessed with.

But they'll never know the truth. They'll never know that my goodbye to Kai was more than just mourning a friend. That when I kissed his forehead, it wasn't as a sister, but as someone who loved him. That I didn't just lose a brother—I lost something far more precious. And I can never tell anyone. Not without the Capitol twisting it, ruining it, like they do everything.

Caesar doesn't notice the crack in my voice, or if he does, he doesn't care. He leans in closer, eyes gleaming with excitement. "You've been through so much, Octavia. Losing your closest allies, surviving the brutal end of the games... How do you feel now, standing here as a Victor?"

The weight of the word Victor settles over me like a shroud, suffocating and cold. I'm supposed to feel proud, to feel triumphant. But all I feel is hollow.

"I'm... grateful," I manage to say, though the word feels wrong. "Grateful to be alive. But it's hard to celebrate when so many others didn't make it."

It's another half-truth, but at least this one feels closer to reality. Caesar nods solemnly, the perfect picture of empathy, though I know it's all for show. This is all just entertainment for them. A spectacle.

"And Apollo," Caesar says, his tone shifting to something softer, more intimate. "The Capitol has fallen in love with your connection. How does it feel to have him by your side now, after everything?"

I glance over at Apollo, who's sitting just offstage, waiting for his own turn in the spotlight. His eyes meet mine, and for a second, the world feels a little less heavy. He's the only one who understands. The only one who sees through the lies and the masks we've been forced to wear.