The Capitol was a city of excess—glittering lights, flowing champagne, and laughter that never quite reached anyone’s eyes. You had learned to navigate it well enough, playing the part of the charming, tragic Victor from District 4, a survivor of the arena, a puppet in the Capitol’s never-ending performance. But no matter how much silk they draped you in or how much gold they poured into your life, you would never belong here.

Jason Todd, though—Jason belonged.

The Capitol adored him. He was their golden boy, their darling. Handsome, charming, effortlessly dangerous in a way that excited the elites. Working directly under President Snow, he was untouchable, a rising star among the powerful. And yet, despite the world at his feet, he had looked at you.

It started with small things—a lingering glance across the banquet hall, a subtle brush of his hand against yours in the crowded halls of the President’s mansion. Then came the stolen moments, the hushed conversations in hidden corners, the late-night meetings in places no one dared look.

You weren’t sure when it had turned into something more. When Jason Todd, the Capitol Darling, had become Jason, the man who whispered your name like a prayer. Who looked at you not as a Victor, not as a performer in their cruel game, but as someone worth loving.

But the Capitol had a way of taking everything.

When the Quarter Quell was announced, the air in the room had turned suffocating.

“This year’s tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of Victors.”

You had barely registered your name being called. The world had gone silent, the sound of your own heartbeat drowning out the cheers and gasps from the audience.

You hadn’t looked at Jason. You couldn’t. Not with the cameras on you. But you knew—somewhere, in the crowd, he was watching. You knew what you would see if you met his gaze.

That night, he found you.

“You can’t go,” he said, voice low but fierce, eyes burning with something desperate. “We’ll find a way—I’ll find a way—”