I promised I would have a 2nd update today and I kept it!!! 

If you do like this chapter, remember to vote and comment!

As always, take care and stay safe! ~ CANGEL

***

Scarlet Wolfe

     Scarlet should have braced herself for his inevitable approach. Tonight, as they found themselves in the same vicinity yet again, she should have anticipated his presence at her side at some point tonight. They always seemed to find themselves face to face as if unable to stay apart.

     Though Scarlet couldn't exactly say that their exchanges were unpleasant, and, when considering the more recent ones, Scarlet might have been tempted to say that they were friendly and playful in nature. Regardless, the encounters always left her feeling more unsettled than before, leaving her to wish that they had never occurred in the first place.

     That was why she'd hoped to avoid him tonight.

     But as Finnick Odair quickly closed the distance between them, Scarlet realized that in the passing time, she'd thought they wouldn't cross paths tonight and now she was no where near ready for their normal verbal sparing match.

     Finnick carried himself as he normally did, his wide smile showcasing his pearly white teeth and his head up with his chest out confidently. With his flawless golden skin on display for the Capitol guests present tonight, much to their delight.

     For once this evening, he wasn't accompanied by anyone else as he carried a drink with him in each hand as he headed in her direction.

     She could turn and walk away. Though her eyes had met his seconds ago and there was no pretending she hadn't seen him. He'd let her. But choice itself held her there, rooted, the weight of it pressing as he stopped beside her, a respectable distance between them, holding out one of the drinks he carried.

     Her gaze flickered up to his before lowering to the drink held out to hers. She took it without a protest, though she had no intention of drinking it. Her body still buzzed from the last drink she'd consumed, and she could not afford to lose any more control.

      "Now that you've scared away the last emboldened drunk admirer of yours, is there anyone left who likes you?"

     Scarlet read the words on his lips with ease, despite the fact that she could recall him nearly always having a drink in hand throughout the entire evening. Either some of those drinks weren't alcoholic, or Finnick's tolerance was just well built. Annoyance flickered in, with the realization that she'd apparently kept track of his whereabouts more than she'd thought.

     Now that Finnick was in front of her, Scarlet could see that something was not quite right with him. He smiled, his back straight and his chin held high with pride and arrogance, and nothing he did was particularly un-Finnick-like, yet all of him seemed not exactly right and a bit off.

     She wasn't sure if it was for this reason, or if it was the drink still buzzing through her own veins, but she found herself answering him with far more honesty than she ever would have any other day.

     "I have a younger brother back home that does."

      Tension crackled between them, thick with her truthful words hanging between them. Finnick's smile faltered for the briefest moment, his green eyes betraying a flicker of something raw beneath the carefully crafted façade reminding her that Finnick wore a mask. He was so much better than her about keeping it in place. Was the wrongness she felt coming from him, a glimmer of something stirring underneath? Something he was trying hard to hide?

     For a heartbeat, neither of them spoke.

     And then Scarlet's lips curled, almost on their own under the mask she wore, needing to relieve the heaviness her admission had brought. "I know, right? You'd think he wouldn't...trust me that is." Scarlet brought her free hand up to her neck and skimmed her sharpened nails across her throat. There was no mistaking her meaning, and there was no doubt of the image that flashed through both their minds. Crimson's headless body laying in bloodied snow. She forced herself to continue even though she could feel all traces of faux humor slipping from her roughening voice. "After what happened in the games, you'd think that he'd be worried about losing his own head...But Cadmium isn't. He even shares a room with me." She'd have laughed, had it not been so damned tragic.

     Finnick's expression softened, and Scarlet hated it. Normally, Finnick had an uncanny ability read her, like he could see straight into her mind, which drove her mad. But this time, something in her gut told her that whatever he was about to say, she wasn't going to like it.

     "It wasn't your fault, Scarlet. You had no choice."

     She scoffed, hating his words to her very core and fighting hard against the urge to lash out at the person who'd uttered them. It wasn't Finnick that she was mad at—she reminded herself.

     "Of course, I had a choice."

     Finnick's eyes narrowed, and his mouth opened to argue, but Scarlet cut him off speaking before he could utter a word.

      "You've been in there, Finnick. You know just as well as I do that everyone makes choices. Everyone in the arena has choices." Scarlet's lips curled up, though it wasn't because anything she said was funny. "Crimson and I..." She started, trying to find the words. She wanted Finnick to understand. She wanted him to know that her words said in anger back in District 14 in front of all Panem were the truth. She had no regrets. But his death was an unyielding ache that had never left her. "We were never the type to sacrifice for one another. Help each other, sure, but not sacrifice. We both wanted to live. That was our choice. To fight. Even against each other. I can't regret."

     Finnick's mouth closed, his face drawn as his own thoughts coursed through his mind. After a few breaths, his eyes met hers, but she didn't know what the look on his face meant.

     She let out a breath. "You probably think it's stup—"

      His hand pressed against her lips beneath her mask, stopping her words. She stared up at him, stunned. Finnick to his credit, seemed just as taken aback by his actions as she had. His arm returned to his side and he looked away for a brief moment before meeting her gaze.

     "I think, that if I had to kill my brother in the Arena, I would be a fucking shattered mess." She could feel the sincerity in his words. Under the intensity of his green gaze, there was no doubt. "And I don't think anyone—myself included—should get to tell you how to feel about something they don't know anything about."

     She let out a shuttered breath. The unexpected kindness in his words stung, tears prickling her eyes, blurring her vision for a brief painful moment.

     No one understood.

     Cadmium tried, but he could only understand her pain, not the choice.

     Finnick...didn't. But he'd offered something that no one else had dared: something that she hadn't known she was searching for.

     Validation.

     In the silence that followed, a new curiosity awakened in her. She wanted to know what haunted him, to glimpse behind his mask as he had a habit of glimpsing beyond hers. What choices from his own Games lingered? What did he keep hidden from everyone else?

     A small huff left his mouth as he shook his head. Instead of words, Finnick pulled out a silver flask from the inside of his shirt, bringing it to his mouth. After taking a full draw he offered it to her and despite the still full drink in her hand, Scarlet accepted the flask from him, her blackened claws tapping against the cool metal as she took hold and brought it to her lips.

      The liquid burned on its way down, settling into the pit of her stomach molten lava. A raspy cough escaped her lips as she passed the flask back.

     Humor lit up Finnick's eyes as she attempted to keep her composure while her body adjusted to the fire now living in her gut. Gah, how could anyone ever drink that stuff? Shudders racked through her body as she tried to rid her brain of the memory.

      "You get used to it." Finnick assured her with a laugh.

     "If I ever do, I'll regret." Scarlet responded in distaste.

     She never wanted to get used to alcohol. She never wanted to become like her father. Dependent on the drink and willing to do anything to get it.

     "Dependency on drink make people weak." Scarlet said, eyeing the flask in Finnick's hand before returning her gaze to Finnick's slightly flushed face. He didn't act drunk, but if he usually drunk a lot, then maybe he wouldn't. She hadn't questioned the flask when she'd accepted the drink, but with her words hanging between them, she could not help but wonder why he'd bother sneaking in a flask when there was free alcohol being served. Did Finnick have a problem with alcohol?

     "Know from personal experience?" Finnick asked her.

      "Yes." She answered flatly.

     Finnick laughed, not taking offense to her implied words. Maybe she was wrong. His eyes closed briefly, as he took another pull from the flask. "Well, it's about all that gets me through, Little Wolfe." Maybe she was right.

     "Is it really so hard to be everyone's favorite?" Genuine curiosity tugged at her as she asked the question out loud, but Finnick's smile faltered and a flicker of vulnerability flashed through his eyes, Scarlet knew that her question had hit harder than intended.

      Everyone knew that Finnick was the Capitol's little darling boy. The golden child that could do no wrong. The lady's man and playboy with golden, sun-kissed skin and a bright smile. A playful, teasing, and laidback nature that could charm anyone into doing anything.

     But Scarlet had never thought much more than that. Scarlet knew there was more to Finnick than meets the eye. She knew he wore a mask just like her. She knew he played a part. A role that had been assigned to him the moment he became a victor.

     She just had never considered if it was that hard for him to step into that role. She had assumed that it was easy, and like hers, a natural extension of himself.

     "It can be." Finnick said at last. With his words though, the last of the cracks in his mask closed up and the easy-going golden boy with no cares or worries returned.

     Scarlet looked away from Finnick to the crowd that lingered still at the Feast. Enobaria was still there, talking to the other party guests. Brutus' face was there as well, his large stature making him easy to spot. Beetee Latier was there in a corner, messing around with a small object in his hand, looking a bit out of place. Cecelia Sanchez, who Scarlet recognized as a Victor from District 8, had been brought here as well. Last years Victor, Jackson Spidell from District 10 had been here, but seemed to have left the room.

     So many more Victors, lingered here. Were they forced? Were they coerced like Scarlet was? Did they enjoy the spotlight? Like so many of those from District 2? Like Enobaria Golding and Brutus Gunn and Septimus Paddick all seemed to?

     Before a person became a Victor, it was said that if they were reaped and if they won, then they would get a life of ease and a life of wealth and fame.

      They didn't talk about the life they'd be granted beyond that. Never was it said that their life would no longer being their own. Or about the mask that they'd be forced to wear. Or the games that they'd be forced to play.

      So many things were not as they seemed.

     So many people pretended to be what they weren't.

     Only one thing was certain.

     Finnick had been right.

      Winning the Hunger Games and leaving the Arena wasn't the end.

     Bound by death.

     Bound by lies and hidden truths.

     Bound by the chains and shackles.

     Bound by the masks they were forced to wear.

     Only Victors could understand and rely on one another. 

-----------------

I just want to say, once again, please be patient with Finnick and Scarlet. Take a moment and really think about the world that they are growing up in. Finnick is being forced to serve President Snow and basically be a prostitute all the while act like being this type of person is who he is. And you know what, maybe he would have enjoyed the freedom, but nothing can make this better when it's not his choice.

And Scarlet is 12 years old and was forced to kill her own brother in the Arena to survive. Neither of them are trusting, and even though Finnick is much more 'open' there is so much that he is hiding. 

In order for love to bloom, they have to learn to trust one another first. 

With that being said, if you enjoyed this chapter, please remember to vote. If you didn't, tell me why. I really want to share the world of Scarlet Wolfe that I have created (based on the world of the Hunger Games) in a way that readers will want to read. :) 

Thank you and take care! ~CANGEL