Wow! 1200 views on my story!! Thank you so much for everyone who has taken the time to read. Thank you to everyone who has voted and commented and given me support! 

This journey that I have been on while writing this book up until this point has been amazing. Frustrating, heartbreaking, and healing. 

I hope that you continue to follow Scarlet on her journey.

Take care and stay safe!~CANGEL

***

Finnick Odair

      As Finnick stood side by side with Scarlet, there was a part of Finnick that wished he had never approached Scarlet Wolfe this evening.

     He'd only intended to tease her a bit before leaving with his evening activities having long since been arranged. Scarlet had never failed in the past to respond to his teasing words with a witty or scathing remark that made him smile or laugh.

     Laughing and smiling were things that he did all the time. It seemed that everywhere he went, that was what he had to do. In fact, he did it so much that it was just a robotic action. With Scarlet it was different. She was different.

     There was no eagerness in her voice or a desire to please his every whim. She said what she thought and did as she wished—even if it was at his expense. His emotions, from annoyed to delighted to happy were just that. Real and sincere.

     But the witty remark he'd been counting on to lighten his mood wasn't what he got tonight.

     Finnick wasn't sure if it was because of the drinks she'd had, or simply because she'd been worn down by the Victory Tour and this never-ending evening was wearing down on her.

     But he knew that Scarlet Wolfe had never seemed more genuine than she was in this moment, when talking about her brothers. The brother that she still had back home, Cadmium. And the brother that she had killed in the Arena.

     Finnick had not liked Crimson—not from the beginning and not even a little at the end. But Scarlet was slowly humanizing the manipulative boy to him—making him see him as a brother—making him think about what he would have done if Rio had been sent into his games with Finnick.

     The obvious—and easiest answer, was that Finnick would die for him. But would he have? Could he have? No one wins the games by accident. Finnick had won...because he'd wanted to. Desperately.

     Finnick glanced down at the top of Scarlet's head, with her gaze locked on the remaining crowd of the celebratory feast, he felt a surge of admiration for her strength.

     Despite the darkness that haunted her past, she stood tall, facing the fear and desire of the Capitol, and the hatred and dislike of every District with an unwavering resilience and determination.

     With a smile. A smirk. A laugh.

     But despite the act that she performed, nearly to perfection, Scarlet still felt.

     She felt everything that the Wicked Wolfe of District 14 kept hidden and secreted away.

     She felt pain. She felt love. She felt loss.

    Finnick could hear the sadness in her voice at the mention of her twin. He could hear the relief she felt when she talked about her younger brother Cadmium, still trusting her.

    "What are you thinking about?" Finnick asked.

    Scarlet neither turned nor responded.

     He started to repeat himself when he remembered.

     She's deaf.

     Rolling his eyes at himself, he tapped her arm once, drawing her immediate attention. Her golden eyes landed on his for a moment before looking down to his mouth, waiting to read his lips. When he was watching, it was obvious, but in a normal conversation, he always forgot. Scarlet made it easy to forget that she was missing one sense.

     "What are you thinking about?" He repeated his question.

     The mask concealed the lower half of her face, veiling the subtle cues that normally gave her away. Scarlet sometimes acted as though he could read her mind, but Finnick knew her smile held the truth. A master of smiles himself, he understood how a single twitch, a faint curve, or the softest sound could reveal a hidden meaning or feeling, shedding light on the emotion her words otherwise kept hidden.

    Despite this, her eyes were less harsh as she met his. Less guarded and calculating. Finnick knew he would get something real from her again and not a defensive answer meant to keep him and everyone else at a distance.

     "I was thinking that you were right."

     Finnick's chin popped upward automatically at the compliment. It wasn't too often that Finnick was admired for more than his good looks. It felt too good not to react. Finnick wasn't perfect either—something only he could admit to a few people.

     Still, he couldn't help but tease, "I normally am, but what about in specific?"

     Scarlet scoffed, looking away briefly, before her eyes found his face once more, and her eyes were still soft, so Finnick knew that she hadn't taken his teasing to heart. Something else that wasn't typical of the little wolf beside him.

     "About Victors understanding other Victors."

      He forced his smile to remain on his face, even as the humor and playfulness faded. He was too sober to deal with this Scarlet. Real and open. And even though he wanted to see what she kept hidden beneath her Wicked Wolf mask, today, he had wanted nothing more than the surface level banter they normally exchanged.

     He recalled the conversation between them so clearly. Right after she'd woken up in the hospital after making it out of the Arena.

     She had been closed off and numb and Finnick had been there. He'd told her it had been because she didn't have a mentor and he had volunteered, but the truth was much simpler. And much more complicated.

     He hadn't volunteered. He hadn't even been asked. Finnick had snuck in there in secret. And he'd done that because he hadn't wanted her to have to wake up alone.

     Finnick remembered thinking that Scarlet had seemed dull, waking up in the Hospital. Listless. Almost lifeless.

     The changes in her appearance. The warnings that Finnick had given about her new identity. She hadn't seemed to process any of it. Given how she had become a Victor, it hadn't been a complete surprise that she would shut down afterwards.

    But seeing the fiery and bold girl reduced to such...to such a low wasn't something that Finnick wanted to see.

     So Finnick had tried to give her something to hold on too.

     Finnick had told her that she wasn't alone. That Victors only had each other.

     She had rejected his words then. Shutting the door between them so firmly that he had practically heard the lock latch. And each time they had met afterwards, it had felt like she had put another lock on the door intending to never letting him in.

     So why...why on earth was today the day that Scarlet Wolfe had decided to open up? Why was it today that Scarlet had decided that Finnick would understand her?

     As Finnick pondered this question, he couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that settled in his chest.

     It couldn't be the Capitol kid that had gotten to her, right?

     Finnick watched her dance with Alistair Paine. He was sure that everyone had. Though Alistair had a dark reputation, even he wouldn't try anything in front of all the eyes and camera's present.

     Was it something that had happened earlier?

     He glanced around the room, doing his best to keep the smile on his face light and easygoing, before looking back to her. There was no one near by them, but Finnick wasn't naïve.

     The Capitol was filled with spies, eager to catch any hint of dissent or vulnerability floating around, especially with the Victors, who were held in such high regards by the people of Panem. Even with no one around, the truth could only ever be half-spoken. True thoughts and feelings could never be shared with honesty.

     That was the real reason that Scarlet caused so many emotions to stir throughout the Capitol.

     They hated her because of what she does and says. They hated her because Scarlet Wolfe was simply so unlikeable. Because she would say what she wants and thinks without holding back or moderating herself. They hated her because they could never understand her. She didn't try to be likeable or sugar-coat the truth.

     Scarlet Wolfe, was real.

     And there was a certain freedom in that, that they could not get enough of. That they themselves could only dream of having. For most, seeing the Wicked Wolfe in all her glorious outlandish behavior was the closest that they would ever come.

     "What made you change your mind?" He asked her, keeping his voice lower so it wouldn't carry throughout the room.

     "Do you ever feel regret, Finnick?"

     "Doesn't everyone?" Finnick asked, confusion flickered inside of him at where she was headed with her words.

     "That's not the way I choose to live."

    Bold words.

     From a bold girl.

     But Finnick didn't think that Scarlet was yet aware of what could happen, should she step out of line. So far, she had toed the line, dancing on it, but hadn't yet crossed it.

     Her punishments seemed to be localized to herself. The lashing before her games, the modifications to her body, the wolf pelts given to her in the after interviews. They were all punishments that Scarlet would feel herself.

     But those punishments could morph into so much worse.

     And they would, should Scarlet disobey or disrupt the plans in place for her.

     Finnick's own heart was bruised and barely beating in his chest. After Finnick had won, he had been full of arrogance and pride. Finnick had relished the attention and the adoration.

     Until it had crossed from adoration into affection. And affection into desire.

     When Finnick had hesitated in playing his role and complying with the insatiable desires of the Capitol, President Snow had wasted no time asserting his authority over Finnick. And he had had no qualms about showing Finnick the length that he would go to punish Finnick, should he step out of line again.

     Finnick was sure that Scarlet would know the consequences soon enough, but Finnick hoped not. He hoped that she would find herself immune to the corruption spreading throughout the Capitol and all of Panem.

     But that was all it was. Hope. A dream.

     The closer Finnick got to the girl, the more he knew with a growing certainty in his heart. Scarlet was not ever going to fall into line.

     Even now, as they conversed, some of the fire that had seemed dimmed throughout the evening reignited in her eyes. The golden gleam of her gaze sharpened and sparked with fire once more and before his eyes, Scarlet transformed from her real self into the Wicked Wolfe.

     Finnick lifted the flask to his mouth, pulling another mouthful of the drink he'd snuck in here. It burned his throat on the way down and lit a fire in his stomach. His mind was swimming, but still, he was not nearly drunk enough to leave.

    "Someday, you might find that you don't have a choice."

     "There's always a choice." Scarlet snapped back, her voice rising slightly. Frustrated. Irritated. So focused on his words that she was missing the whole point behind them.

     Finnick let out a tired breath. "But every choice has a price."

     "You think I don't know that?"

     "I know you do." Finnick said, trying to get past the defenses that had risen up. "But there might come a time when you don't want to pay the price. Or can't."

      Her eyes shifted down, even as Scarlet's chin never lowers. Ever defiant, that was Scarlet Wolfe. Gods, how he hoped that he did not ever have to witness her come crashing down.

      After a moment, her golden eyes found his. Steely gold determination stared back at him.

     "If I'm willing to do it, then I'm willing to pay for it."

     It was what he expected, and yet Finnick wasn't prepared for the sadness that coursed through him.

     So many Victors had suffered at the hands of President Snow.

     Finnick was only one of them.

     But Scarlet Wolfe was going to be another.

     He couldn't say more than what he already had, so instead, Finnick took another drink to dull the feelings that began to stir within him. Helplessness. Hopelessness. Powerless.

     If Finnick were braver, could he help her? If he were to tell the truth, unhidden and boldly, would she make a different choice? Or would she still hold true to her ideology and beliefs.

     Beliefs that were good. Despite growing up how she had, and despite who she projected herself to be, Scarlet Wolfe had morals. She had values that she upheld. A code that she lived by.

     But good intentions paved the way straight to Hell. And that is exactly where Scarlet would end up going, if she insisted on following her own lead for much longer.

      I wish Mags would have told me. The thought flickered unbidden in his mind. He'd never blame his Mentor, after all, she was the reason that he had survived the Arena. But he had been left in the dark afterwards, and by the time he'd realized that he was stuck as the person he'd created to get through the Games, it was too late to change.

     If someone had warned him, they could have saved a life. They could have spared his family so much pain.

     "Little Wolfe—"

     "—Finnick." A cascade of laughter followed his name, light and airy, as though she shared a secret no one else could know. Finnick held many secrets with many people, and each on was sure that they were special. Only Finnick knew the truth; that was all he could afford. "There you are—I though perhaps you'd slipped away." Her tone was velvet over steel, carrying a subtle suggestion that she was owed his attention.

     At the sound of his name, Finnick had already slipped into a practiced, playful smile, even before he turned and saw her face. Curly white hair framed eyes sharp with amusement and mild disdain, a perfectly sculpted Capitol look that barely masked the faint lines of age around her mouth. She wore a silken dress in bright yellow, ruffled fabric wrapped around her slender arms, her claim on him punctuated by the familiar way she touched his arm, fingers lingering, possessive.

     "Leaving without a proper goodbye?" He murmured smoothly in an effort to soothe any ruffled feathers. "I wouldn't dream of it."

     The starlet's gaze drifted over to Scarlet, lingering a beat too long, her mouth twisting ever so slightly before she masked it with a tinkling laugh that grated on his ears. "Ah, the newest little Victor. How...delightful," she said, her mile thin but polished. "So, this is what's kept you entertained." Her eyes returned to him with the barest arch of a brow, as if questioning his taste in company.

     Finnick tensed, sensing the barb in her words, knowing how easily a harmless conversation could turn into Capitol whispers and gossip. It was he who'd approached Scarlet, after all, and he didn't want to leave her exposed to any Capitol malice.

      Scarlet's gaze flickered between him and the woman to her hold on his arm, her expression unreadable for a moment, before settling into her Wicked Wolfe persona.

     "Don't be like..." his words, intended to head off what he was sure to be an utter disaster in the making, trailed off as Scarlet emptied the glass of berry wine he'd brought her, swallowing the contents in one long chug. A hiccup escaped, as she lowered the glass, teetering on her heels.

     "Excuse me," Scarlet said, her voice cool as she offered Finnick a half-hearted salute, stepping away from the both of them. "Thanks for the congratulations, Goldenboy. But it's well past my bedtime, so I'll be off now."

     Finnick was surprised by her sudden departure and easy compliance given the less than gracious behavior from the starlet, but then he saw a flicker of mischief dancing in her eyes. He was about to reply when she stumbled forward, body and empty glass slamming squarely into the woman's silken dress, staining the bright yellow fabric with the remnants of the deep berry red wine.

     "Oh, you too, please enjoy," she murmured with exaggerated politeness, as if granting them her blessing.

     When Scarlet stepped back, her hand was empty, leaving the Capitol starlet holding the stained glass in horror, more like a servant rather than like an important guest attending it.

     His eyes followed Scarlet as she took a few more steps away, stumbling slightly. He knew he should turn back to the starlet and soothe her, but concern held his eyes to the young Victor. He didn't know if it was a continuation of her little performance, or if the alcohol had hit her harder than he'd thought it would. Should not offered her my flask. Guilt welled up inside. You know it's much more potent, Finnick. That's why you brought it.

     He quickly stepped forward, catching her arm to steady her and drawing her attention before releasing her. She looked back, her golden eyes meeting his as she steadied herself. He saw then, the glassiness of her eyes that the golden hues hid well.

     "I saw your escort near the stage area before I came over this way. She was engaged in a heated discussion, so she may still be there." He said quietly, offering her assistance in the only way he could.

     Scarlet nodded, giving him a brief, appreciative smile, before she turned and slipped toward the stage.

     As he turned back, he found the starlet still clutching his arm, her fingers gripping tighter now, eyes blazing as she attempted to smooth over her now-spoiled dress with her free hand, while still holding the empty glass.

     With no one else around, he could now turn the starlet down of her advances. Her feelings would be hurt, but her pride would not be. Wounded feelings could be healed and soothed with a few pointed words and touches, but a wounded pride required a bit more finesse and normally a hit on his own in return.

     "Sorry, darling," he murmured, still not able to recall her name, as he peeled her hand off his arm with a gentle touch, "but I've got plans for tonight that cannot be changed. You understand."

     Her eyes narrowed, lips pressed in a feigned smile. He offered her a light graze of his fingers across her cheek, a Capitol consolation and validation he knew she craved, despite her simmering resentment at being told she wasn't to have him this night.

     "Perhaps next time," he offered, but in his offer was finality. It would not happen tonight, no matter her actions or words, but if she didn't control herself, it could affect his answer the next time she approached.

     As Finnick walked away, a sense of resignation settled over him like a heavy cloak. He had plans tonight, yes, but they were plans dictated by forces far beyond his control.

     Once again, he found himself bending to the will of President Snow. A puppet dancing on strings by the Master's hand.

      Taking another sip from his flask, Finnick felt the bitter taste of reality mingling with the burn of the alcohol. He wasn't naïve; he knew that this nightmare would never truly end as long as President Snow held sway over Panem.

      He'd seen other Victors attempt to resist, to fight against the oppressive regime, only to lose everything and everyone that held any importance to them, in the process.

      And for what?

      A fleeting sense of freedom that ultimately left them with nothing but emptiness and despair. That's what they got, for all their efforts, for all their pain.

     Nothing.

     Victors like Haymitch, Woof, Ferrell, Seeder, Chaff, Megan Hayes and Justin...The Victors that had been made into jokes and the dregs of the Victor society, those were the ones who had resisted. Who had fought for just a bit of freedom. They had resisted.

     And now they were drunks and mophling users. They were without family or close friends.

     Finnick had already lost his mother. He had lost his freedom. His freewill. But he still had his brother. His father. He still had Mags and Aspen and little Cricket. He still had his own life.

     His family and friends were the anchors keeping him tethered to sanity in this world.

     So Finnick would conform. He would play the game, wear the mask, and hide his true self behind this façade of charm and charisma he'd created in order to survive the games.

     He just hoped that he didn't end up losing himself somewhere along the way. 

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

What are your thoughts on the interaction between Scarlet and Finnick? 

I think they are finally beginning to connect. There have been moments and times when pieces of them are revealed, but this is the first time that Scarlet has not immediately shut him out, so I think that that is progress. And the first time that Finnick is forced to be more honest with himself. 

We also get some more thoughts from Finnick :) Not sure if that's bad or good. He's like a tragic hero, willing to sacrifice for everyone, but not seeing the worth and value in himself. 

Remember to vote if you liked this chapter. Like and comment.

I'd love to hear your thoughts!

As always, Take care and stay safe! ~CANGEL