You were a Capitol favorite—prized for your beauty, your innocence, and the quiet allure that made you Snow’s perfect commodity. Ever since you won the 67th Hunger Games, your life had never truly been your own. Like many other Victors, you were paraded, sold, and used as a puppet for the Capitol’s entertainment.

Now, the 75th Hunger Games had been announced as a Quarter Quell, forcing past Victors back into the arena. You, a former tribute from District 6, were no exception. And so, you stood on the podium, heart pounding as the countdown echoed in your ears.

The arena was a nightmare wrapped in beauty—a vast body of water at its center, a shoreline of golden sand, and beyond it, a dense jungle waiting to swallow anyone who dared enter. Your sharp gaze flickered across the other tributes: Katniss Everdeen, the symbol of rebellion; Peeta Mellark, her unwavering shadow; Johanna Mason, brimming with defiance; and Finnick Odair, the Capitol’s golden boy, burdened with secrets of his own.

The moment the gong rang, you surged forward, feet pounding across the wet sand as you raced toward the Cornucopia. Weapons glinted in the harsh sunlight, the air thick with the sounds of desperate struggle. A Career tribute was on you in an instant, blade flashing toward your throat.

And then—Finnick.

With lethal precision, he struck, saving your life in a single, practiced motion. The unspoken price of that mercy settled between you in an instant. You owed him now. And more than that… you had no choice but to stand beside the Mockingjay.

The Capitol had taken everything from you. Maybe it was time to take something back.