The Capitol never slept. It glittered.

A hundred chandeliers spilled gold down the marbled atrium of the Celestine Ballroom, catching on crystal glasses, artificial laughter, and gossip that cut cleaner than any knife. Tonight's gathering celebrated the closing of the annual Tribute Exhibition — a grotesque celebration of the victors' finest kills, lacquered and reframed as Capitol art.

Coriolanus Snow stood near the champagne fountain, nursing a glass of something cold and expensive. His smile was immaculate. So were his intentions.

Across the room, Kyra Malhotra was doing what she did best — commanding attention without ever asking for it.

Her dress, cut in crimson silk and gold-touched netting, was rumored to be inspired by the red-and-yellow songbird from District 12. The nod was subtle, just enough to set tongues wagging but not enough to be accused of sedition. That was her gift — dancing on the edge of a blade.

He watched as she slipped away from a cluster of ministers and sponsors, the polite smile on her face vanishing the moment she turned her back. A cigarette case gleamed briefly in her hand as she exited to the balcony.

Opportunity.

Snow followed with the same deliberate poise he used in the arena of politics — the predator's glide dressed in charm.

Outside, the Capitol skyline bled light into the blackness. Kyra lit her cigarette with a flick of a match, the flame briefly catching in her eyes.

"Didn't think Capitol girls smoked," he said casually, stepping up beside her.

Kyra didn't look at him. "Then you've never looked very hard."

Snow smiled, smooth and practiced. "I look plenty. Especially when something... captivating crosses my line of sight."

She exhaled, slowly. "Are you here to flirt or make a deal, Coriolanus?"

He blinked. "Now why would you think those are mutually exclusive?"

Finally, she turned her eyes on him — striking, unreadable. "Because men like you don't waste charm without purpose. And you're too smart to think I'd fall for it without asking what it costs."

There it was — no coy games, no false modesty. He admired that about her, even as it irritated him. "I only came for the view," he said, leaning on the railing, his profile to hers.

She gave a dry laugh, a sound like silk tearing. "And which one is more useful to you — the city beneath us, or me?"

He looked at her fully now, studying the sharp intelligence behind her beauty. "Why not both?"

Kyra let the silence stretch, then flicked ash into the wind. "You want something, Coriolanus. You always do. But if you're hoping to dress your ambition in a designer label, you'll need more than flattery. I don't work for free."

He tilted his head, smile still intact, but his eyes had cooled. She had him figured out — not completely, but enough to make this interesting.

Kyra dropped the cigarette, grinding it out beneath her stiletto heel. She began to walk past him, then paused, leaning in slightly — not close enough to touch, but close enough to sting.

"If you want something, Coriolanus," she said, "you'll have to ask for it properly. Without the act."

Then she was gone — trailing confidence and smoke in her wake.

He watched her disappear into the crowd, tension tightening his jaw. He'd need a new strategy.

And he hated that it made him admire her more.

✶.ᐟ SELENA SPEAKS: I'm running out of pre-written chapters so updates might slow down a bit! But I'm still locked in and I plan on writing as many chapters as I can before the procrastinating monster strikes again.

I began reading SOTR and now my hate towards Snow has grown tenfold. He's evil embodied and I can't wait to have Kyra make his life even more miserable than it already is. I plan on making her 1000x worse, just so he can taste his own venom.

Anyways, thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed meeting the new version of my gorgeous -- and slightly sociopathic -- Kyra. Hopefully we'll see each other soon! MWAH <3