A Victor's Secret

eight

Chapter 8 – Luke

Snow sat before me, his cold eyes unwavering. He sat on a large velvet chair in the center of the room, surrounded by a few candles and a heavy scent of roses. Dark, purple curtains were strung across the large windows, blocking my view of the party below.

"What do you want?" I spat, unable to completely hide the venom in my voice.

It didn't faze him. The corner of his lips turned up in amusement. "Is that how you treat your President?"

"My apologies. It's my tribute's Victory Tour party and I want to be sure I'm there to celebrate." It was eerily quiet. The room must have been sound proofed, considering the sheer amount of people milling about below.

"Please, take a seat." He gestured toward another chair across from him. I shuffled closer, but remained standing. Fortunately, he didn't insist.

"You're scheduled appointments have all been terminated for the time being."

His words took a minute to sink in. A feeling of wide spread relief rushed through my body. I was free? How did this happen?

"Instead, I have something more important I need you do to for me."

Whatever feeling of relief I had was short lived. Of course, his words came with a catch. Snow was always one step ahead and he always had something else up his sleeve.

"I've received news of various meetings, rebellious in nature. I cannot allow this. It needs to be put to rest as soon as possible, preferably by the 74th Games. These men, I need them to be eliminated." He stood up and walked closer to me, his steps punctuating every word he spoke.

"I could send my own men, of course, but it would cause too much disruption and I prefer to draw as little attention to this as possible. This is where you come in."

He stopped right before me, close enough that I could feel his breath on my face. My muscles tensed but I willed myself not to take a step back.

"I need you, Luke, to be my assassin. It shouldn't be too difficult, you have experience, after all."

My vision blurred, and by the time my eyes refocused, I was standing in front of a small, brick house. The house stood alone in the middle of a wide field, stretching as far as I can see and illuminated by the full moon. I stepped through the front door, crossbow tucked tightly by my side. It was eerily quiet; I couldn't even hear my own footsteps.

There was only one door at the end of the upstairs hallway. I snuck closer, slowly turning the knob and pushing it open. A sleeping figure laid on the bed, but it was too dark to see anything but a dark shape.

I took a step into the room, and the figure shot upright. I let the arrow fly.

She stared at me in shock, gasping for air as her hands fumbled for the arrow lodged in her chest.

Juliet stared back at me, a look of utter betrayal frozen across her face. Her eyes glinted in the moonlight, giving me one last accusatory glare before she collapsed backwards onto the bed.

I woke up in a pool of my own sweat. My body shuddered as I took heaving breaths in, trying to get air back into my lungs. I stared up at the ceiling in shock, trying to ground myself in reality.

It wasn't real, it was just a dream. An extremely realistic one, but just a dream.

The nightmares had been getting worse, especially without Juliet sleeping by my side, but that could never happen again. Not when I was the one killing her in my dreams every night.