𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐀 | 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬

𝟎𝟐. 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐯𝐮𝐥𝐜𝐚𝐧

— 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐮𝐬 —

━━━━━━ ☽【❖】☾ ━━━━━━

Rex's fist collided with my jaw the second Juneaux was out of earshot. Pain rippled down the side of my face while it collided with the stone floor beneath us. My vision blurred, jumping back and forth between clarity as if it were a camera lens trying to focus. I choked on the saliva gathering at the back of my throat, but as I spat onto the ground the color red greeted me.

I cut you. The thought echoed as if a distant whisper. The sight of my own blood only served as a reminder of my fault. She'd been holding back and her mercy angered me. Her compassion made my blood boil, but not for the reason one might think. Because with every warm smile, every extended hand, and every second chance only narrowed the certainty that I could complete the mission. From the start of these games, I was meant to do whatever was necessary to bring honor to my family name and return home. Every day that passed in the presence of such a blinding light forced me to see through that illusion and face reality.

At first, I called it a curiosity. One that grew into infatuation as a challenge had been posed. I found the cracks and knew how to attack her flaws. I was the stronger soldier. But what is a soldier if not molded to follow the orders of his queen?

I shouldn't have hesitated at the cornucopia. I knew who she was. How could I mistake her when she were a crown of flames above her head? I had the advantage. I'd taken her by surprise, but I insisted that I should play with my food and draw out the moment to gain favor with the Capitol. I should have known then that I wouldn't be able to taint the snow with even a drop of her blood.

I was sure that I could handle the emotional weight of the games. I'd been trained to maintain a stone-cold exterior. But ice melts in the presence of fire, and melt I did. Because that's what she was, warmth that I believe might never be extinguished.

My hands trembled as I pushed up from the ground. The truth weighed heavily. I could have killed her during that sparring session. I should have killed her. In any other situation, that final blow would have been fatal. I merely left a scratch. It was her smile afterward that made my knees weak because despite my outburst she still had faith that I wasn't a danger.

Perhaps she was just getting inside my head. Mocking my incompetence. But one thing was now certain: I could not kill Juneaux Kirchoff. No matter how much I claimed that I wanted to, she would not die by my hand and not for want of trying. I had fallen victim to her glowing charm, and like a good soldier, my sword had sworn itself as her protector.

Blood continued to pool in my mouth and I spat once more to clear the metallic taste. As I looked at the tribute before me, his brow was furrowed and his eyes were narrowed. His fists remained raised and his stance was meant to intimidate me.

"If you even think about touching her again," Rex growled in a low tone, "You won't walk away."

Like an involuntary reaction, I scoffed while wiping my bottom lip. "Because you'll kill me?"

"Without hesitation," he agreed, ignoring my derisive tone. "You should've died on that mountainside."

"The first sign of good judgement you've had." I dusted off my hands, then gently massaged my jaw to ensure nothing was broken. It was tender to the touch, but otherwise alright. "Too bad you were still desperately seeking validation from her."