chapter 3

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━━・❪ 🌸 ❫ ・━━

Daphne's blood froze as she stared back at Azalea. Forget the punch to the gut, the wrecking ball. It was like she'd been blown off the face of the Earth.

She vaguely registered the outraged shriek that erupted from Esther's throat somewhere in the crowd. Bile rose up from Daphne's stomach, threatening to choke her. No, she couldn't vomit. Not here, when the eyes of every citizen of District Ten were upon her.

Azalea's face revealed nothing of her intentions as Daphne made her way up to the stage, the crowd clearing a path for her. Daphne suddenly became hyperconscious of her appearance; from the way she walked to the flecks of dust on her overalls.

As she stood on the stage, her head spun and her vision swam. The faces below blended together. All she could hear was the pounding of her own heart, her quickened breaths. A strange numbness overcame her mind. Her knees began to feel weak with stage fright.

Stage fright! Daphne was just elected by her worst enemy to fight to the death and she was concerned about stage fright.

Daphne stood there beside Azalea, hollow and emotionless, as if her brain were confused as to how she should be reacting. Azalea wouldn't meet her eyes as Daphne turned towards her. That's when Daphne made the single most impulsive decision of her life.

She rammed her fist across Azalea Espinoza's cheekbone with all the strength she could muster.

She would've probably gotten in a few more blows if Peacekeepers hadn't swarmed her in a heartbeat. Before she could blink, two of them had her arms in their steel grips, tight enough to make her fingertips begin to buzz. She felt the harsh, icy cold rim of a gun barrel press against the nape of her neck and instantly froze.

At first, Daphne thought they'd end her right here. Blow her head right off and force Azalea to pick someone else. Maybe it would be more painless this way, rather than whatever surely gruesome fate awaited her in the arena now.

The Peacekeepers apparently decided that she wasn't worth wasting a bullet on, for Daphne was still alive to hear Iskra attempt to bring the attention of the murmuring crowd back to the Reaping and force a brief introduction out of her. And Daphne was still alive to see Caelum choose Theron Dahir as the fourth and final tribute.

Caelum and Theron were acquaintances; not particularly close friends but still tight enough to acknowledge each other in the hallways at school. It was a smart choice on Caelum's part; Theron was charismatic and trustworthy. He would be a worthy ally in the Games.

Azalea, on the other hand, better sleep with one eye open.

Theron took his place beside Caelum, the boys flicking each other knowing glances that made Daphne think this was a preplanned arrangement. Upon Caelum's face was that mask of indifference that every tribute wore. The less emotion you show, the less leverage you give to your competitors.

Upon Theron's, however, was a wide, triumphant smile. He even waved and blew kisses to the crowd like he was going up to accept an award.

Alvarez and Iskra both stated a few more words, and soon the four tributes were forced to join hands and pretend it was something prestigious to represent District Ten in the Games. The Peacekeepers released Daphne and she stumbled forward, shaking out the soreness that had begun creeping into her arms. She contemplated hitting Azalea again, but she wasn't stupid. She didn't have a death wish quite yet.

Daphne forced a grim smile upon her face as her hand found Azalea's, clamping down a bit harder than necessary. Azalea's palm was clammy, slick with sweat as Daphne's was. Together, the four of them lifted their arms as if they'd already emerged victorious.

𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐒 | hunger games ✓Where stories live. Discover now