The breakfast table was a sprawling display of Capitol excess—bowls of chilled grapes, crystal carafes of orange juice, and a silver platter piled high with thick-cut bacon. But despite the luxury, the air in the dining room was thick with the reality of the 70th Hunger Games.
"Strategy," Haymitch grunted, stabbing a piece of ham. "Today is about the 'Public' in public training. The Careers are going to spend their time trying to make everyone else feel like they're already dead. They want you to fear them."
"I don't want them to fear me," I said, my voice calm as I spread jam over a piece of bread. "And I don't want to hide from them, either. David, can you handle the others? The ones the Careers usually step over?"
David nodded, a determined light in his eyes. "I'll talk to the kids from Three and Five. I can help Seven with their knots. If they see us helping, they won't see us as enemies."
The descent to the Training Center was a blur of gleaming chrome. When the elevator doors finally slid open, the air was thick with the scent of ozone and the rhythmic thud of weapons.
Before the training could begin, a tall, gaunt man stepped onto the central podium. It was a Victor from District 4, a man whose skin looked like weathered parchment and whose eyes were perpetually hooded. His voice crackled over the intercom, dry and sharp as breaking glass.
"Tributes," he announced, his gaze sweeping the room. "A reminder of the rules. There is to be no physical combat between you during these sessions. No fighting, no wounding, no blood. The Capitol has invested a great deal in your presentation. Save the killing for the arena."
He paused, a ghost of a bitter smile touching his lips. "And remember—the weapons aren't your only enemy. Most of you won't die from a blade. You'll die from the cold when the sun goes down. You'll die because you drank stagnant water or because your body simply gives up from malnutrition and hunger. The arena is designed to consume you. Act accordingly."
He stepped down, leaving a heavy silence in his wake. To the Careers, it was a challenge to their strength. To me, it was an invitation.
I saw David split off immediately. He moved toward the station for Districts 3 and 5. By the time I reached the center of the gym, David was already sitting with the girl from District 7, helping her sharpen an axe. He shared a smuggled piece of bread with the boy from 11. He moved between 6, 8, 9, and 10, showing them how to identify edible roots—the very things the Victor said they would starve without.
I focused on the "Pack." Organza and Chiffon from District 1 were examining gilded swords. Bellona and Rufus from District 2 were intimidating everyone near the weights. And at the water-simulation tanks, Cordelia and the younger boy, Doris, were checking their tridents.
"Looking for a way out, Twelve?" Organza asked as I approached.
"I was looking at your stance," I said, picking up a blade. "You're leaning into your leading foot too much. It's elegant, Organza, but if the ground in the arena is uneven, you'll lose your balance."
I moved into the center of the pack. Bellona was mid-lunge when I spoke. "Bellona, your center of gravity is too high. Rufus, you're holding your breath when you lift."
"Who do you think you are?" Rufus growled, dropping a massive weight that shook the floor.
I stepped closer, until I was deep within their personal space. I leaned in, my lips inches from his ear, and let my voice drop to a breathy, dangerous whisper.
"I'm the person who wants to see you make it home," I whispered, a small, easy smile playing on my lips. "We're in the 70th Games, and the Capitol wants a show. Why don't we give them a story they didn't write? One where the wolves and the ghosts walk out together."
I pulled back, looking at each of them. They were frozen, the Victor's warning about hunger and cold still ringing in their ears. They realized then that I wasn't just a girl from the Seam; I was the one who knew how to survive the very things the Victor said would kill them.
High above us, the Gamemakers were laughing, drinking wine, and watching us through the glass. Because of Victor's announcement, they thought my proximity to the Careers was harmless—that I was just a terrified girl clinging to the strongest people in the room to avoid the 'malnutrition' Victor spoke of.
They saw everything, and yet they noticed nothing. They thought the rules and the environment would tear us apart. They didn't realize that the fear of the arena was the very thing stitching us together.
I caught David's eye across the crowded floor and gave him a tiny nod. The "wolves" were listening, and the "ghosts" were ready