Gamble of Wits || Finnick Odair

Chapter 46: Power and Control

He sat up and turned his cold gaze on Seneca, his scarred face facing him like a weapon. "Your optimism." He echoed. "You forget that the ratings have been on a downward spiral for years—what makes you think you'll boost them up to match the peaks of Plutarch's run."

She noted Finnick's amused grin and she almost groaned. She just wanted to go back to the training center, already tired of it all.

His grin faded once he caught sight of her hairpin. He stared at the pin intently, his lips twitching.

"I think you're hardly being fair to Seneca." She settled her gaze on Seneca whose face once again turned pink like the roses she had in her garden. "The ratings have been in decline since before he took charge. If I recall, the ratings actually dipped during my games and Plutarch was in charge then."

"It was still higher than any recent games," Plutarch interjected.

"I'm not saying it wasn't but it was a very long game." One of the longest in the history of the games. It was a miracle that Sera didn't die of the cold.

"Don't act like you didn't enjoy it."

Sera raised her brow and drew her lips into a thin smile. She would gladly sow the seeds of his and the rebellion's downfall if he did something like that again.

"I did think Sera would have enjoyed it even more if she wasn't so sick." Scarus interjected, drawing her attention and ire away from Plutarch. "Looking back, you were more like a spider than a flower."

Every word spoken by him reminded Sera that maybe she should've taken care of him years ago.

"A spider?" Sera echoed with a forced but shy laugh and he nodded. "Are you insulting me, Consul?"

It was like the two were back on the train, the first time they met, a chessboard separating the two.

"You can call me Icarus like you usually do, Sera." He corrected her and Finnick held back the urge to laugh at him. "I wasn't insulting you at all." He didn't look away from her. "I think spiders are intelligent creatures, they're good at...hiding."

"Except I didn't hide—well, I did." She did hide. She couldn't lie about that. "But I think you're giving me too much credit. I got lucky."

"Didn't we all?" Finnick chimed in, trying to ease the tension. "I mean, that's the beauty of the games—it's part skill and part luck."

"Is it?" Scarus questioned. "Is it really luck or..." His gaze flickered to the Gamemakers, lingering on Plutarch who only smiled in return. "Or maybe it's something more."

"A divine act, maybe?" Plutarch joked.

"Maybe some god or goddess of luck is making sure their chosen tribute wins." Finnick added in. "Someone like a Gamemaker." Plutarch chuckled and even Seneca joined in. President Snow just nodded his head dismissively.

Sera let out a rehearsed laugh and turned her attention back to her meal, Seneca did the same, neither wanted to be there anymore.

But Scarus wasn't laughing.

The games being rigged was an open secret in the Capitol—something both Sera and Finnick painfully found out in their first years as victors. She had her guesses on who really won and who got lucky that they caught the eye of the Gamemaker or some powerful sponsor or maybe even the President.

She was sure that the only reason she was sitting on Snow's left was because of him and Plutarch. She knew it even though neither said it out loud—they didn't have to.

Her survival was because of the man at the head of the table or the one opposite her—the real spider.

It wasn't a secret that the games were rigged but why was Scarus—