The Hunger Games: Entropy (A Clato Fanfiction: NTI Series, Book 2)

Chapter 50

THIRD PERSON POV

Almost instantaneously, Clove detects a threat and tries to kick one of the mysterious men directly in the face, knowing that she doesn’t have any other options or a good set of knives on hand.

However, the intended victim anticipates the attack and grabs her foot in mid-air.

Before she gets the chance to yank her foot free, the other man tries to grab her arms and pin her behind. Clove begins to panic, knowing that she’s dealing with two opponents at the same time.

She takes her efforts off her foot and focuses on her arms. Despite her efforts to resist the hold, the intruder’s brute strength manages to overpower every bit of adrenaline flowing through her system. She tries to tilt her head downward with the intention of biting off the perpetrator’s fingers, but fails get anywhere close to securing her teeth around his seemingly ironclad digits.

Clove subtly winces in dismay, wishing that she could alter herself to become physically stronger in order to avoid these lose-lose combat situations where brute strength alone crowns the winner of the fight.

At the same time, the guy holding her foot grabs her other foot and binds both of her legs together by fastening his arm around her ankles. He hoists Clove up into mid-air and shoves a wet cloth in front of her face, holding his grip on her ankles.

Clove begins to hyperventilate as the sweet scent of a mysterious solution begins to drain her of her consciousness, making her feel more lethargic with every breath she takes.

As she starts to pass out, Clove begins to wonder exactly how a few petty intruders managed to bypass the wall into the Victor’s Village. At the same time, she begins to envy Cato once again, solely because of the physical strength advantage he has over her.

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CLOVE’S POV

I can barely breathe in here. I can’t see or hear a thing.                           

I don’t know it happened. The last thing I remember was the two intruders that showed up at my front door and attacked me without my permission. The district officials seriously need to do something about security around here if a hand scanner and a big wall don’t deter all of the unwanted guests from breaking in.

I’d try to pull off whatever’s on my face, but I can’t do it. Someone bound my hands behind my back. Not to mention that there’s something in both my ears and my mouth. I can barely breathe through my nose alone.

I’ll admit it: I’m scared. I can’t do anything. I can’t see anything. I can’t hear anything. I don’t know what’s going on here.

Help.

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I’m really getting bored of this.

If I’m being kidnapped, I’d really like to see my attacker face to face and not have to deal with any waiting games. If I’m going to die right here and now, I’d rather die trying to escape as opposed to clutching on to dear life for as long as possible.

I still need a weapon. I’ll use my teeth if I absolutely have to. Anything’s better than being imprisoned in a dull train of thought. Besides, I don’t need to be rescued—I’m not a damsel in distress at all. I’ll gut anyone who tries to tell me otherwise.

But then, it hits me: the one limiting factor in this situation that leaves me completely powerless.

I’m pregnant. With Cato’s child.