𝔸𝕤𝕤𝕒𝕤𝕤𝕚𝕟 ⟢ 𝔽𝕚𝕟𝕟𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕆𝕕𝕒𝕚𝕣

- ռɨռɛȶɛɛռ

Willa sat on Finnick's bed as he paced around his room. There weren't any cameras in their bedrooms, that would be too far - even for the Capitol. He was telling her everything - how Katniss needed to get out the arena alive and would only cooperate if they got Peeta out too, how only a select group of the tributes were in on it, Willa not being one of them, and how the focus was simply keeping the District 12 tributes alive. Willa sat still, absorbing everything Finnick was finally revealing. The weight of his words settled heavily on her shoulders, pressing down with a force she wasn't sure she could bear. Her fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket on his bed, the soft fabric bunching up in her grip. The room felt smaller, suffocating, and her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to process what he was saying.

"So, that's it?" she asked, her voice quiet, almost fragile. "Everything—the alliances, the strategies, the lies—it's all been about keeping them alive?"

She looked up at Finnick, her pale blue eyes searching his face for any sign that this was some sort of cruel joke, but his expression was serious, almost haunted. Finnick stopped pacing and turned to face her, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"It's bigger than just them," he said, his voice tight. "Katniss is the symbol of the rebellion, Willa. If she doesn't make it out, if Peeta doesn't make it out, the rebellion falls apart before it even begins. We're fighting for something much bigger than ourselves."

Willa's stomach churned. She felt like the floor was shifting beneath her, like everything she thought she understood about the Games and the alliances was unraveling before her eyes.

"So, I'm just... expendable, then?" she asked, her voice rising, anger flaring up to mask the hurt. "Is that what this is? I'm not part of your secret little rebellion plan, so I'm just here to play my role and hope I survive?"

Finnick's face twisted with guilt, and he took a step toward her, but she flinched, the movement almost imperceptible, but enough for him to stop in his tracks.

"It's not like that," he said, his voice breaking. "I didn't want to leave you in the dark. I didn't want to make you feel like you didn't matter."

"But you did," Willa snapped, her eyes blazing. "You did leave me in the dark. You let me believe we were fighting for the same things, that we were on the same side, but the whole time you were just playing another part, making sure your precious rebellion went off without a hitch."

Finnick's shoulders slumped, and for a moment, he looked defeated, his usual confidence stripped away.

"I didn't have a choice," he whispered. "I had to protect you. I had to protect everyone. If the Capitol even suspected that you knew what was going on—"

"Don't you dare use that excuse," Willa interrupted, standing up from the bed. Her voice was shaking now, not just with anger but with something deeper, something more vulnerable. "Don't you dare say this was about protecting me when all it did was make me feel more alone. You think I haven't been scared? You think I haven't felt every single day like my life was a game to the Capitol? Like I'm just a pawn they can use and throw away when I'm no longer useful?"

Finnick's face crumpled, and he took another step closer, desperation in his eyes.

"Willa, I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I never wanted you to feel that way. I never wanted you to be a pawn. But I was trying to keep you out of it so you could have a chance—a real chance—at surviving."

Willa's throat tightened, and she shook her head, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes.

"Surviving?" she echoed, her voice cracking. "What kind of survival is this, Finnick? Watching people I care about die, knowing I'm just a distraction, a side piece in some bigger plan that I'll never be a part of? Some of the people I care about here are people you need to kill for her safety."