First things first. 

1000 views!!! Wow! Thank you so much! Thank you to all my loyal readers and the people who have taken the opportunity to read my story. You're continued patience and support mean so much to me. I hope you will continue to follow me to the end, and believe me, there is so much more to follow. 

Second thing second, of course.

If you have been reading this book then you have probably noticed the change of Title and book cover. The contents are the same, so you do not need to worry about rereading the story or any plot changes. The reason being, is that there will be a second book coming soon! After several thorough conversations  and several critiques, I have decided to do this. 

The second book will focus on Scarlet as a mentor and her budding friendship and blossoming relationship with Finnick. This first book, she's just too young to get any romance vibes. (I truly promise that Finnick and Scarlet have romance and love). I'm asking that if you have been reading, to keep reading and following their story. When this book ends, I will continue with the bi-weekly updates, starting the 2nd book right away. 

Third things third.

I know I'm a day late on my promised bi-weekly update. To make amends, I will be doing a double update today. I truly hope you enjoy these two updates. Feel free to reread the last chapter to gain your baring's. Remember Scarlet is at the Capitol Feast nearing the end of her Victory Tour. 

And Last but certainly not least. 

I would love to hear from all of you reading. Please tell me your thoughts, feelings, comments and questions or opinions. I would love to hear critiques as long as they are not hate. If you don't like something, tell me, but make a suggestion on how to make it better :) Remember to vote or like the chapter if you enjoyed (Your support means the world!)

Stay safe and take care of yourself! ~CANGEL

***

Scarlet Wolfe

     Scarlet stood at the edge of the Feast Celebration nursing a drink that she wasn't sure she should even have, or that she actually wanted. But in a room with drunken, powerful people, and in a place where scheming people were a dime a dozen, a drink seemed like the least harmful thing. As long as she was sure to not get drunk.

     The drink itself was red in color, encased in a tall, dainty looking glass, and tasted of the sweet red berries she'd only recently discovered existed.

     Strawberries.

     From District 11.

     She could still recall the taste of the apple she had accepted from the Mayor during her stop in that District. The overwhelming sweetness that bordered on sour, managing to light every taste bud up and leave her hungering for more was not something easily forgotten.

     That was what each sip of this red drink tasted like, and it was so easy to convince herself it was necessary to keep in her hand.

     Since her Victory in the Arena, Scarlet and her family had been rewarded well in terms of money and luxury. For the past six months, Scarlet had never gone hungry for even a meal—unless she had chosen to skip it—but even so, the food provided in District 14—even to those with money—were nothing compared to the food served here in the Capitol.

     As with her first visit to the Capitol, the food that she consumed was delicious and filling, delighting her tastebuds and overwhelming to her nose, but the longer she stood there, the heavier it sat in her stomach, as if her body was not quite sure how to feel about the food that was actually nourishing.

     Scarlet watched over the rim of the frosted glass held precariously between her clawed fingers as a drunken young fool approached her on clumsy feet. She tracked him as he looked over his shoulder at his entourage—a gaggle of giggling Capitol youth—who urged him onward with laughter and slurred cheers.

     After being coerced into a dance with Alistair Paine, Scarlet's nerves were shredded and her relatively good mood soured. A throbbing weight settled low in her chest. Now this boy—no, this little Capitol puppy—was practically begging her to snap. She just knew that if the boy did actually find himself in her presence, Scarlet would do something terrible. Could feel it like an itch needing to be scratched, something dark and twisted was rising to the surface.

     His once slicked back brown hair was now mused and messed, his cheeks were flushed and the beard that he had tried to rim and groom, was patchy, like most youthful boys' were, until it was fully grown in.

     The boy was certainly older than her own twelve—nearly thirteen years of age, yet still had quite clearly not reached adulthood. Even if he had, it still would be hard for Scarlet to think of him as anything other than a child.

     During her time in the Capitol, most of the adults—apart from a very pointed few—had seemed more ignorant and child-like than most of the children in District 14—and she imagined, it would be the same if she compared them to the rest of the Districts in Panem.

     Regardless of their economic status, prominence, significance, or prosperity, every district of Panem, apart from the Capitol, participated in the Hunger Games each year. Every child had to grow up before reaching twelve years old. How could they not after being forced to face their potential death, year after year?

     It made it hard to hate them—because children don't often understand the things around them—yet equally infuriating to be around—when reminded that they were not children—simply childlike.

     From under her snarling wolf mask, Scarlet intentionally curled her lips while figuratively putting her Wicked Wolfe mask in place as the boy closed the distance between them, stopping just a few feet away.

     "Hey there, you're the Victor from that one District, right?" The boy slurred. Or at least that is what she thought he said. Between the accent of the Capitol citizens, and the effects of the alcohol—his and her own—his words were nearly unintelligible.

     The fact that she could read the words at all could probably be attributed to her father, Bash Wolfe and his near perpetual drunken state when he was home, but the fact that she could distinguish garbled drunken words didn't really feel like something to be thankful for.

     However, one fact remained very crystal clear. Her first assessment had been spot on. This boy was a fool.

    The boy squinted his eyes as he stared at her, before they widened near comically, glistening with drunken awe, as if he'd discovered a long-lost wonder. "You...You're the Wicked Wolfe, right?!"

     The amount of pride emanating from the boy at being able to formulate those two sentences was unbelievable, but she supposed that even the smallest accomplishment could seem like winning the world if a person were drunk enough.

     "I am." Scarlet answered the question matter-of-factly, keeping her voice as indifferent as possible. Her mask had been slightly altered, in lieu of District 4 feast, she thought, where she'd been forced to go without her mask in order to enjoy.

     This mask was metal and shaped like the snout and jaw of a wolf, showcasing sharp gleaming metal fangs, however instead of forming around the shape of her jaw, it stood open allowing her access to the food and drink being served.

     "You're like a star! Haha! What a night, am I right?" he leaned in, reeking of the sweetened wine. "I'm Marcus, by the way. Marcus Evergreen. My dad's like, super, important, you know? But hey, who cares about that now?"

     The boy, Marcus Evergreen stumbled forward a step, and Scarlet took a covert step to the side in order to maintain the distance between them. She didn't want to be any closer to this idiot than she had to be.

     "You're exquisite." He said, his eyes widened and his already red face flushing even harder. He may not have meant to say that out loud.

     Though she was sure that he had meant them, and despite his embarrassment, thought she would be moved by his admission, she wasn't. His words fell short and there wasn't even a flutter in her stomach, or a shift in her pulse that would normally accompany words of praise.

      She knew she looked exquisite this evening, because anything less than perfect would have been unacceptable.

     Her scarlet red dress was silken and smooth, wrapped around her corseted body like a thin blanket, trailing along the floor every so slightly thanks to the silver heels strapped to the bottom of her feet. Her long black hair was curled and let loose down her back in thick cascades of waves. Her makeup, a smoky black veil was expertly shaded, contouring with her face and contrasting with her rounded wolf eyes and the metal mask adorning her lower face.

     Everything about her had been refined to perfection. The image of the Wicked Wolfe of District 14 demanded it. Scarlet didn't dislike the image thrust upon her, but she hated the compliments—hated the reinforcement it instilled in others. And in herself.

     "You're very drunk." She commented after the pause between them had grown awkward but he'd made no move to leave.

     He laughed at her words, so full-heartedly that he nearly tumbled sideways careening toward the ground and Scarlet had the horror-filled image in her mind that she was going to be blamed for yet another person cracking their skulls against the ground while being in her presence.

      Haymitch...well, Haymitch deserved it, and no one would punish her for that. Even had she actually been the cause for his swan dive off the stage. No one liked Haymitch.

     Somehow, she thought that they would be rather less accepting of the situation if the person was the son of a prominent Capitol figure, instead of an aging drunken Victor.

     Relief filled her though, as he just barely managed to stay on his unsteady feet, impressing Scarlet by a very slim margin.

      Still, the boy did not leave.

     Her darkened mood after dancing with Alistair Paine had seemed to ward off most people. And even Penelope had left her to her own devices, though Scarlet had still been able to catch sight of her sour-faced escort here and there, making her way from person to person over the span of several hours never seeming to run out of energy or things to talk about.

      And though Scarlet could not hear the conversation between Penelope and the other guests, and she was too far away to read their lips, Scarlet had seen enough earlier to know that Penelope had taken this Celebratory Feast as a golden opportunity to brag about the swift and decisive victory from District 14 and not so subtly musing about all the Victor's that would be sure to follow. After all, if a little twelve-year-old girl could win...

     It wasn't that simple. But Scarlet had kept her mouth shut, figuring that since they had been talking about future Victors, the conversations technically fell under their Escort/Mentor mutually agreed upon truce, in which they would work together to get as many tributes as possible back home to District 14. Scarlet was, reluctantly, glad that Penelope was there to do all of the underlying groundwork, expecting little from Scarlet at this point.

     Now, however, the feast attendees that weren't completely drunk, were headed to bed, or other private locations, and Scarlet was left to deal with drunkards who couldn't quite make out that big red Go, Fuck Off vibe, that had worked so well to ward off the people she hadn't wanted to deal with at all.

     Marcus was not the first inebriated person to wander over, but he was by far the most persistent and the most aggravating.

     "Hey, myself and I—I mean, my friends and I, had a question."

     "Ask away." Scarlet said, taking a small sip of her drink. Staring into the face of this boy made her want to put the glass down. If she'd been near a table, Scarlet would have. The possibility of becoming as drunk as this boy and acting as foolish made the sweetness of the wine turn bitter in her gut.

     "Do, do you...like..." He leaned in a little closer and narrowed his eyes, signifying his words were of utmost importance. "Eat...wolf's in your District?"

     It took a minute, to interrupt his slurred words through his Capitol accent, that has only gotten more exaggerated that longer he stood in front of Scarlet, and then another moment for her to process the words.

     With the full implication of his words, all ease left her.

     Her entire body tensed. Her spine straightened painfully as memories sliced through Scarlet's mind—faces contorted in pain. Her blades slicked with blood. White and golden fur—Her heart thudded in her chest, threatening to overwhelm her—all she could feel was the soft, smoothness of their furs as she had pulled them out one by one out of that damned box in front of the Capitol's audience and all of Panem. The audience had cooed and laughed, and Scarlet had too, even as the pain of what she'd been gifted had ripped her apart inside.

     For a split second, her smirk wavered beneath her wolf mask, her fingers gripping the glass so tightly she thought it might shatter. With every ounce of strength, Scarlet forced her mask back into place, a small crack now sealed along with the memories that had been released.

     She forced out, "no" between tightened lips that was probably more of a grimace than a smirk. She could not relax the muscles in her body, or the tension held.

     "Because, I heard something." The boy continued, as if she wasn't two seconds away from snapping in a way that would end with her claws dripping red and him laid out on the floor in a way far worse than a bump on the head.

     "Oh?" She questioned back in careful calmness. She needed to get away from him.

      As Scarlet debated on whether or not to just walk away from him, he continued, "I heard that there was going to be something special added to your feast menu."

     The barest of interest prickled at her brain—she had heard nothing about the welcome she was to receive in District 14—but it wasn't enough to push past the anger and pain. The alcohol in her own drink was finally starting to course through her veins and she could feel the buzzing and the thickness in her own tongue as she spoke.

     "Anything is better than normal."

     If she had been paying more attention to his words, she never would have agreed with him.

     "Soo, do you miss being inside of the Arena?"

     Scarlet's grip on the glass tightened further, her knuckles turning white against the cool glass stem.

     His words dragged her back, to cold nights in the Arena, to the metallic taste of survival. For a split second, the smirk beneath her mask wavered, and she was sure that the boy had to notice the shift from reluctant correspondence to hostile adversary.

     But he did. Seeming enthralled by her and subdued by the alcohol he had consumed. Bit by bit, Scarlet collected herself, forcing her lips into a curling smirk with thoughts turning toward how to get even with this drunken idiot.

     This answer was easier to find, despite the anger rippling through her veins. The Wicked Wolfe. "Of course." She lied and the boy laughed.

     Marcus laughed at the idea of watching her enter the Arena once again. Of her fighting for her life and being forced to kill others just for the chance to survive. He laughs at the idea of her being hurt, injured, alone, and afraid.

     "That's not so surprising. What do you miss most?"

     "I miss death. I miss killing. I miss the blood dripping from my fingertips." Scarlet answered silkily, keeping her mask in place and giving no hint of the sarcasm coating her tongue.

    Marcus paused. Somewhere in his intoxicated brain, a part of him must have recognized the words that had just come from her mouth were not that of a normal response and that he should at least be a little afraid of her.

    But then his fear, worry, and doubts are dismissed, and he relaxes once more. Grinning at her as if they shared some sort of joke. It would be comical, she mused, how they all adored her as the Wicked Wolfe—their pet killer, fresh from the Arena, fully trained to entertain, if it wasn't so damned tragic.

     Her eyes skirted around the decadent open-aired ballroom and the intoxicated people surrounding her, catching on a few Victors.

     We are reality standing among fools who thought death was a game.

     As Marcus continued on his drunken tirade about this past Hunger Games and the excitement of the Games, Scarlet found herself retreating into the recesses of her mind. She couldn't escape the memories, the nightmares that haunted her heart in secret.

     No one—not even Cadmium, knew just how much it hurt her or how the memories haunted her. She didn't regret winning. She couldn't ever regret it. Not when the cost of winning had been so high.

     She took another sip of her drink, the sweet taste of strawberries doing little to numb the ache and rising wave of emotions inside of her.

     Scarlet suddenly understood why so many of the Victors seemed to be drunks or wastes of themselves. She too, wished that she could drown her sorrows in alcohol, like so many others in the room. It was only that she didn't dare let down her guard in a place as treacherous as this that kept her from surrendering to the urge.

     Marcus's shifting body drew her focus back toward the boy. Pay attention. Her eyes go to his lips. "...want to get out of here?"

     More than you could ever guess. Scarlet answered silently inside her brain.

     She didn't dare say it out loud. His offer—and no doubt, the true intention behind his approach—was crude and his lewd expression left no doubt to his meaning.

     "I appreciate the offer, Marcus," she said, attempting to let disappointment she didn't feel saturate a voice she couldn't hear. "But I'll have to decline. I have other...arrangements already made for the evening." Namely, getting herself back on the train and headed home to District 14.

     Marcus's expression fell, his disappointment exaggerated with his drunken stupor, making it near comical. If she'd been witnessing this, instead of a participator, she would have laughed.

     "Oh, come on, Wolf," he slurred, "don't be like that. I can show you a good time."

     Even as she held Marcus' gaze, the shadow of Alistair Pain's grip seemed to pulse against her waist, cold and controlling. The searing burn of his lips against the back of her hand given so long ago, yet lingered with potency so long. The boy before her now was young and drunk and perhaps not that intelligent to begin with, but even he was filled with entitlement and expectations, thinking that he could have whatever he wanted, simply because he wanted it.

     "I'm sure you could, Marcus..." she said, her voice as smooth as honey as an idea began to form. She couldn't hurt this boy. But she could teach him a lesson. After all, if the boy wanted to act like a fool, she might as well treat him like one. "But I'm afraid my idea of a good time wouldn't match yours. I'm not sure you'd be willing to do what I want..."

     Scarlet raised a brow suggestively, leaning her body closer to him, while maintaining a careful amount of distance.

     Marcus seemed to take the bait as his eyes widened, taking in Scarlet's suggestive words. A slow, lopsided grin began to spread across his face as he leaned in close enough that she could smell the wet heat of his breath. Soured alcohol permeated the air around them, as if expunged by his pores as if in a final attempt to cleanse his body of the poison.

     "Oh, I'm willing to do anything you want."

     "Anything?" Scarlet asked as she took a sip from her glass, her eyes locked on his. Her clawed fingers, delicate but deadly, reached up to her slender throat, wiping a stray drop of the berry wine as she swallowed. His eyes locked on the action, his desire warring with the drunken haze he was in. Scarlet fought to rein in her amusement, least she gave away her true intentions and ruined her own fun.

       Belatedly, he nodded, his desire taking a desperate turn. "Anything." He confirmed once more.

     Scarlet leaned in close, keeping her drink strategically placed between them, as the nose of her metal wolf mask brushed against his ear. His breath was warm, wet and uneven as it skated across her neck.

     And with him fully captivated with her and Scarlet fully invested in this lesson, Scarlet whispered words that turned her own cheeks a faint red, though her reaction was safely guarded by the mask adorning her face.

     The boy jerked back the moment his brain processed her request. Unfortunately for him, he didn't have layers of makeup on his face or a mask to hide his reaction, and she watched in secret delight as his embarrassment turned his face as scarlet as her name's sake.

     He looked over his shoulder. Scarlet allowed her eyes to follow his gaze, seeing that same group of boys around a similar age—perhaps slightly older, watched with obvious delight, seeing her small advancement as a show of Marcus' success.

     Marcus turned back, his back a little straighter and his chin tipped up, feeling emboldened by his entourage.

      "You...really...want...something like that?" Not even able to say the words without losing some of his newly found bravado.

     Scarlet widened her smirk, the prospect of succeeding in this, making it easy for her to act interested, despite her disgust. "Didn't you say you watched the Games?" Scarlet asked in a teasing tone. "You know there is nothing I like better than a well-trained puppy."

     The words taste bitter in her mouth, but she buried it deep inside of herself. Marcus nodded slowly as he considered her words.

      Then Marcus slowly sank to his hands and knees. His face was flushed a deeper red, but it seemed he was determined to do this. Probably imagining the reward for a good performance.

     And he barked.

     Just like a well-trained puppy.

     But his mouth barely moved, and Scarlet knew even without hearing it, that he was trying to be as quiet as possible. However, it was far too late for that as this spectacle was already drawing attention.

      Scarlet kept her expression stoic as she watched his little group of friends stumbling and laughing, their expressions a mixture of disbelief, shock and amusement.

     She gestured with her claw tipped finger for him to move around. Marcus began to move, crawling around on the polished floor of the Capitol Feast in front of so many others.

     Marcus looked back at her once, seeking approval from her.

     Scarlet gave it to him, curling her lips and winking at him.

     And with that, his fate was sealed. Marcus turned away from her, happy to endure this humiliation for her in order to secure her favor.

     It was too bad for Marcus that he had never had a chance to secure her favor. And if he wasn't drunk, it was highly likely that he never would have tried.

     Scarlet was the Wicked Wolfe. 

     Whatever could he have expected from her?

     Scarlet didn't wait longer than another breath. She emptied the rest of her drink, swallowing the sour-sweet contents in full, and turned on her heels, walking away without a single glance back at the drunken little fool puppy.

     Scarlet savored her victory as she let the taste of strawberries linger on her tongue, leaving the Capitol puppy in his own tangle of shame. Maybe he'd think twice before laughing at the pain of another—or more likely, the amount of alcohol he consumed while mingling among others. 

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I'm really curious as to your thoughts on this? Do you think Scarlet was right, wrong? Was it better than ripping his face to shreds with her claws? I'm pretty sure her decision was impaired more than she realizes by the drink she's consumed.

And I'm also sure that at some point, she will feel...a brief bout of short lived shame... before she forgets about poor Marcus entirely, while I doubt Marcus will ever forget this. 
I wonder if her actions will come back to haunt her...?

Share your thoughts, comments, and opinions!

As promised, there is more to come soon! 

Stay safe and take care!~CANGEL