The Life of A Victor || Finnick Odair

CHAPTER 63

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At five o'clock, everyone was up and about, eating the few cans they had left for breakfast and leaving one as thanks for all the things Tigris had done for them. The stylist seemed to appreciate the gesture since she immediately started doing what she did best, dress people up.

Their clothes were changed to conceal their uniforms better. Something similar to furry slippers covered their military boots. She secured their wigs with pins. Cleaned up their faces and reapplied the make-up. Hid their weapons perfectly under their outwear. And finally, gave them handbags and bundles of kick-knacks to carry. With that final touch, they looked exactly like the refugees going to the centre, away from the rebels.

"Never underestimate the power of a brilliant stylist," said Peeta, causing Dove to nod along, touching slightly her wig to admire the weird sight. It was the first time she had paid attention to herself while wearing the wig.

If it had been years, or even months ago, she maybe would have loved the idea of hiding her real hair. The blood-red mess, the source of most of her nightmares, which she hated so wholeheartedly. However, now, she couldn't wait to take the wig off.

She twirled a wig's strand of hair around her finger, watching as it went back to plain straight once she let it go. That type of hair wasn't for her. Such straight, perfect hair just didn't match with who she was.

I've been a mess of a person since I was little. So, I guess my hair is just like me, huh? Uncontrollable. Unpredictable. Complete chaos. Dove thought, turning her back to her reflection to focus on her mission. Not the one she had made everyone think she wanted to follow.

Dove wasn't planning on killing Snow. Not at the moment, to be exact. Her most important mission was her family. To find those who had come to the Capitol, guide them to the rest of their family, and protect them. Snow could wait. And if he couldn't, she didn't care. She had spent all her life fearing for her family's safety. She wouldn't stop worrying now that they were so close to freeing themselves from the life they had been putting up with since they were born.

"No, I'm not leaving her side," Finnick said, making Dove concentrate again on the group's discussion. Something about splitting up into different groups to not attract as much attention. Twelve people all together fleeing from the rebels would look incredibly strange. "I'm her husband. You can't expect me to let her leave my side like that."

"And I'm her brother. Dove is going nowhere. She's coming with the three of us," Melo added, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Dove kept quiet, trying to figure out exactly what was happening. So they were splitting up, and they wanted her to leave her family's side? Holmes did have a point when he said that, if she was with them, they wouldn't concentrate on anything else but her safety, which could inevitably end up in disaster.

"Dove is unstable. She can get triggered at any point. Will you be able to knock her out or tackle her, so she won't do anything that could endanger her life? No, you couldn't. Because you would be too concentrated on what she was going through," Mitchell argued, trying to make the rest understand why they wanted the four of them to split up. "You guys are reliable on your own. But when it comes to family, you're vulnerable. There's a higher chance she'll be safer with us than with you."

"What do you say, Dove?" Johanna asked, turning around to face her friend.

"Mitchell and Holmes are right. You guys would never do anything to stop me," she muttered, sighing loudly before declaring her decision. "Mitchell, Holmes, I'm going with you."

"All right," both replied, nodding to show they were satisfied with her decision. While the rest wished luck to the first group, consisting of Cressida, Pollux and Castor, Dove said her personal goodbyes to her family. After all, her group would be the next to go.