The hot water of the Capitol shower didn't just wash away the grime of the training gym; it washed away the mask I'd worn all day. I stood under the spray until my skin was pink, thinking of the weight in Rufus's eyes and the way Doris's hands had trembled.
Once dressed in simple, dark clothes, I found David. Together, we slipped past a snoring Haymitch and found Finnick Odair on the rooftop. The wind was biting up here, smelling of ozone and the artificial perfumes of the city below.
Finnick looked up as we approached, his usual flirtatious smirk ghosting his lips, but I cut him off before he could speak. I wasn't here for the Capitol's darling. I was here for a Mentor.
"Finnick, do your tributes have families waiting for them?" I asked, my voice flat.
He blinked, the light in his eyes dimming as he realized this wasn't a game. "No," he said softly, looking out at the skyline. "Both Cordelia and Doris are orphans. There's no one back in Four to pull them home."
I turned to David, who was leaning against my side, his small hand gripping the hem of my shirt. "Anything you observed today?"
"District 3's tributes are orphans, too," David said, his voice tight. "The girl from Eight... Mama, she has the look. Like someone has been hurting her for a long time. And the boy from Nine looks like he was just hit—fresh bruises hidden under his sleeve before we even got to the gym."
I felt a pang in my chest at the word Mama. He said it so naturally, a plea for protection in a world that offered none. I rested my hand on his head, smoothing his hair. "Anything else?"
"Yeah," David added, looking toward the District 2 floor below us. "The District 2 male, Rufus. He looks like he's starting to regret volunteering. He tries to hide it behind that wall of muscle, but he was successful with everyone except me. He's scared, Mama. I can see it."
We began to map out the logistics of a unified front, but halfway through our hushed conversation, the heavy rooftop door creaked open. Effie Trinket poked her head out. "Zinnia, dear? You have visitors. They're waiting by your door."
David and I shared a look. We headed down to my room, Finnick trailing curiously behind us. When I opened the door, I found the two tributes from District 3, looking small and fragile in their uniform tracksuits, accompanied by their mentors.
"Oh... please, come in," I said, motioning for them to enter.
They filed into the room, their eyes widening in shock when they saw Finnick Odair leaning against my vanity. David stepped forward, his voice calm and welcoming.
"It's okay," David told them, looking at the girl, Cachesta, and the boy, Bytemer. "Finnick is helping us. We were just talking about how both of you are orphans. You don't have anyone the Capitol can hurt back home if you refuse to play their game."
Cachesta and Bytemer exchanged a stunned look. They hadn't expected the "weak" kids from Twelve to have already scouted their life stories.
"Mama and I have a plan," David continued, standing tall beside me. "But we need people who aren't afraid of what happens outside the arena. We need people who only have each other."
I filled them in on the strategy: a silent alliance, a refusal to shed blood, and a plan to use their technical skills from District 3 to disrupt the Gamemakers' control. They agreed instantly; with no families to hold them hostage, the Capitol had no leverage over them.
"Fin," I said, turning to the District 4 mentor. "Could you tell Cordelia and Doris to come here tomorrow? We need to bridge the gap between the Outliers and the Careers before the private sessions begin."
Finnick looked at the small, broken children in the room, then at David, who was still tucked under my arm. For the first time, he didn't look like a Victor. He looked like a man who finally saw a way out.
"Alright then, Zizi," he murmured. "I'll bring my wolves to meet your ghosts."