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AVEN CONSIDINE KILLED HER BEST FRIEND IN THE 68th ANNUAL HUNGER GAMES . . . or at least it feels that way each time the torturing memory reoccurs. There's no doubt about it: the weight on her shoulders is difficult to live alongside with, a pill that she's yet to allow herself to swallow for seven years and counting. But she can't take it back, she'll never be able to rewind the clock and do something, anything, to stop that idiotic career pack from burning the only person she's ever cared for at the stake. (And burn, they did, when she'd lit a fire upon a leaf pile as they slept.)
FOR A GIRL WHO SPENT FIVE YEARS of her life sitting in a factory sewing together the seams of peacemaker uniforms, Aven is shockingly terrible at sitting still. Her day to day life must remain jam packed. It has to if she wants to make it through the day without falling apart. Whether it be smashing all of the glass she can get her hands on and letting the sharp splints fly across her living room, or pretending as if she isn't being coddled by the Capitol and sewing together her own wardrobe, a numbing agent has always been vital in her survival as a victor. It's either living life as a shell of herself or indefinitely succumbing to the ghosts of her past. Neither are appetizing. Both leave a sour taste in her mouth.
LIFE WILL NEVER BE AS IT ONCE WAS, but one thing remains consistent. Aven isn't made for killing. It's not what's inside of her. The games call for desperate measures, for the greatest sacrifice of all. The Capitol adores death, they cheer for it even . . . yet when it comes knocking at their doorstep the same rules do not apply. Aven hates them with every bone in her body, the people who'd forced her seventeen year old self to trade the sheepskin she'd become so accustomed to for that of a wolf. To trade the innocence of a child for bloodied hands and unspeakable deeds . . .
IF A KILLER IS WHAT THE CAPITOL WANTS, a killer is what the Capitol will get, because Aven Considine wants revenge — and rest assured, she knows who the real enemy is this time around.
