𝙰𝚜𝚜𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗 ✪ 𝙵𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚌𝚔 𝙾𝚍𝚊𝚒𝚛

- ȶաɛռȶʏ ȶաօ

The following day, the last day of training, dawned cold and unyielding. The sterile lights of the Capitol training center illuminated the room, but no amount of light could chase away the shadows that clung to Willa's mind. She stood in the center of the room, adjusting the grip on her twin knives as if the familiar weight could steady her racing thoughts. Last night felt like a fragile dream—one she was terrified to examine too closely for fear it might shatter. She had allowed herself to slip, to feel, but now the mask had to return. Willa knew she couldn't afford any more mistakes, not with the private sessions looming. Still, the memory of Finnick's arms around her lingered, a phantom comfort she couldn't quite shake.

Willa's hands tightened on the hilts of her knives as she steadied her breathing. She moved through the motions of her drills with mechanical precision, each strike and twist of her wrist a means to drown out the thoughts clawing at the edges of her mind. The training center buzzed with activity as the other tributes scrambled to make their final preparations, their movements tinged with the desperation of knowing their fates would soon be sealed. Willa kept her focus on the target in front of her, forcing herself to ignore the weight of the cameras that she knew were tracking her every move.

Her reputation demanded perfection today. Not a single misstep, not a hint of vulnerability. The Capitol loved their Assassin, the mysterious tribute who moved like a shadow and struck like a viper. She had cultivated that image carefully, wrapping herself in it like armor. But last night had threatened to crack that armor, and the memory of it burned in her chest like a live ember.

Finnick's arms around her, his words soft but steady, the warmth of his presence anchoring her to the moment. It was everything she couldn't afford to feel—comfort, safety, connection. It was a weakness she couldn't allow herself, no matter how much she craved it.

"Willa," Brutus called. Willa turned at the sound of Brutus's voice, her face slipping effortlessly into its usual blank mask. Her hand tightened on the hilt of her knife as she took in the trio standing across the training center. Brutus had his trademark predatory grin plastered on his face, but his eyes were sharp, calculating. Cashmere leaned casually against a nearby pillar, her golden hair catching the sterile light, while Gloss idly twirled a dagger between his fingers. The three Careers looked every bit the Capitol's darlings—poised, powerful, and utterly dangerous. Willa simply wasn't in the mood to talk to them but it would be suspicious if she didn't.

Willa took a steadying breath before slipping the twin knives back into their rightful place. She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear as she went down the few steps.

"What?" she blankly asked as she neared her allies. Brutus gave her a once-over, his grin widening as if he enjoyed drawing her out of her corner.

"No need to sound so thrilled," he teased, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "We were just wondering your plan is for the private sessions."

Willa resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The Careers always seemed so certain they had the upper hand, especially within their alliance. But they weren't as clever as they thought. Willa felt like she was the odd one out in the alliance. But as long as they didn't turn on her, everything would be fine.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she said dryly. "What's yours?"

Gloss let out a sharp laugh, the sound cutting through the hum of the training center.

"You've got jokes, Willa. I'll give you that." He flipped the dagger in his hand, catching it by the blade without even looking. "But Brutus has a point. You've been quiet. Too quiet. Makes people wonder."

"Let them wonder," Willa replied. "Isn't that the game? Keep them guessing?"

Cashmere's lips curved into a smirk, though her gaze didn't soften.

"You've got a point there. The Capitol loves a mystery. But they love a show even more," she said. Willa shrugged, feigning indifference.

"Mystery is the show," she said, her voice flat but deliberate. She didn't bother to elaborate. Brutus let out a low chuckle, shaking his head.

"You're something else, Assassin. Fine, keep your secrets. But you'd better impress in that session." He leaned in slightly, his tone dropping to something almost conspiratorial. "They're watching for weaknesses, Willa. Don't give them one."

Willa's jaw tightened imperceptibly, but she gave a curt nod. She didn't need Brutus's advice. Weakness wasn't in her vocabulary—not when it came to survival. Gloss tilted his head, still flipping the dagger absently.

"Just don't try too hard to outshine us. The Capitol might love a mystery, but they don't want it to steal the spotlight from their stars," Gloss said. Willa let the faintest smirk tug at the corner of her lips.

"I'm one of there stars too, in case you forgot," Willa said. Cashmere let out a soft laugh, the sound dripping with mock amusement.

"Oh, don't worry, Willa. No one could forget you, wrapped in knives and coated in ice," the blonde said. Willa didn't respond, keeping her expression neutral as she met Cashmere's gaze. The blonde's words weren't a compliment; they were a warning cloaked in sugar. It was a reminder that, despite their alliance, the Careers would never truly trust her.

"Careful, Cashmere," Gloss chimed in, a sly grin spreading across his face. "She might take that as encouragement. Next thing you know, she's cutting our throats just to keep us guessing."

"Wouldn't be much of a twist if you already saw it coming. Besides, we're friends right?" Willa retorted evenly, her tone laced with enough sarcasm to draw a bark of laughter from Brutus. Gloss's grin widened, but his eyes glinted with something darker.

"Fair enough," Gloss said. The uneasy tension that lingered in their alliance settled once more, a constant reminder that their camaraderie was as brittle as glass. Willa gave a slight nod, stepping away from the group. If she stayed too long, they'd pry, and she couldn't afford to let them dig too deep—not today. As she returned to her drills, the hum of the training center became a dull background noise. She threw her knives with measured precision, each strike landing dead center on the target. Her hands moved automatically, muscle memory guiding her actions while her mind drifted. Individual assessments were the next day, and Willa had yet to decide on her strategy. It wasn't just about showcasing her skill—it was about control, about making them see what she wanted them to see. The Game Makers weren't just watching for strengths; they were watching for tells, for weaknesses, for anything they could exploit.

Be careful what you show them, Willa. Sometimes, what you don't reveal is just as powerful. Words she heard nine years prior. Her jaw clenched as she buried the memory.

A flash of gold in her peripheral vision pulled her back to the present. Cashmere was practicing with a set of throwing axes, her movements fluid and deliberate. She caught Willa watching and smirked, raising an eyebrow as if to say, Still keeping tabs?

Willa turned away without acknowledging her. The Careers thrived on attention, on the knowledge that they were always being observed. Willa wasn't one of those people. She refused to give them that satisfaction.

Instead, she turned her focus inward, her mind running through the possibilities for the private session. She could go for intimidation, demonstrate the ruthless precision that earned her a persona. But would that be enough? The Capitol loved spectacle, and subtlety often went unnoticed. Her fingers tightened on the hilt of her knife as she stepped closer to the dummy. The thought struck her suddenly, unbidden but insistent: Maybe I don't need them to notice everything. Maybe I just need them to notice enough. With that resolve, Willa threw her knife, the blade slicing through the air and embedding itself in the exact center of the target.

Let the Game Makers wonder. Let them see what she wanted them to see. The rest could stay hidden, buried beneath the mask she had so carefully crafted. And when the time came, they wouldn't know what hit them.