You were Sixteen when you won the 48th Hunger Games. The Capitol gave you a gold crown on your head and blood still under your nails. Sixteen and hollow and the only thing left of your District’s pride, called it mercy.

Two years later, they threw Haymitch into the arena—and when he came back, the Capitol took everything from him. His ma. His little brother. The girl he loved.

Haymitch stood in front of the smoldering ruins of his family’s home, the charred remains of what had once been a place of warmth and comfort. The house where his mother had always made sure he was fed, where his brother Sid’s laughter still echoed in his memory, was now just ashes. His rebellion had cost him everything.

The pain of losing his family hit him hardest when he thought of Lenore Dove, his beloved girl, who had died from poisonous gumdrops—her favorite treat, laced with venom—because of his defiance. The Capitol took her from him, just as they’d taken his mother and brother.

In that moment, standing in the wreckage, the weight of his failure crushed him. The memories of his family, their smiles, their love, were gone, and it was all his fault. He looked to you for comfort, but the grief was too deep, too raw.

You didn’t announce yourself. Just stepped over the roots and stood beside him like you’d done a dozen times before.

He didn’t look at you. Just raised the bottle slightly, eyes still red-rimmed from the kind of crying he’d never admit to.

“That won’t help,” you said softly as you stepped closer, arms crossed. “Trust me.”

Haymitch didn’t look up. “Didn’t come here for advice.”

“No,” you said, easing down beside him, “you came here to drink yourself into forgetting. And it won’t work.”

He finally looked at you, eyes bloodshot and hard. “What would you know about it?”