Chapter Text
Chapter one
Grace wrung his hands with anxiety, his palms so slick with sweat that he could barely keep his grip on his own trousers. He stood frozen in the suffocating heat of Sector 12’s public square, surrounded by thousands of silent, terrified human faces. It was all he could do to keep his breathing steady. He took off his glasses, frantically wiping the fog of nervous humidity off the lenses with his shirt before sliding them back onto his face.
Up on the grand, Capitol-built stage, the reaping bowls gleamed under the harsh artificial lights the woman who was reading out the essential death penalty’s of the people in this square. This year was an Integration Year. Two names would be drawn from Sector 12. Two humans sent to die in the Capitol's cruel display of cross-species dominance.
He stared at the women who would be reading out the names of who would die. Her name was Irina Petrova but she was referred to as Dr. Petrova as apparently before becoming an escort she was a renowned scientist. He felt his heart pounding as she read out the sheet of paper. "Ryland Grace."
The name echoed through the speakers, sharp and violent. Grace felt his heart seize. The crowd around him instantly parted, leaving him standing completely exposed. His vision blurred with panic.
No, no, no, this is a mistake, he thought desperately. He was a molecular biologist. He spent his life hidden away in dark labs, safely submerged in his research because he knew the rest of the facility secretly detested his awkwardness. He wasn't a fighter.
His legs felt like wet cardboard as he forced his feet to move, walking up the steps to the stage.
A moment later, Dr. Petrova called out the second name. "Olyesa Illyukhina."
A short, fierce-looking woman stepped out from the older cohort. Unlike Grace, she didn't look like she was about to vomit. Her jaw was set, her eyes burning with a dangerous, chaotic energy as she took her place on the opposite side of the stage.
Grace swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably under her sharp gaze. She’s half my size and looks like she could beat me to a pulp, he thought pityingly.
Within an hour, they were swept away by Capitol peacekeepers and shoved into a lavish, velvet-lined holding room inside the Sector’s train station.
Grace immediately began pacing the floor, his knuckles white as he gripped his elbows. "Fudging hell," he muttered under his breath, his voice cracking. "Fudging hell, we're dead. I don't know how to use a weapon. I analyze cellular structures. What am I going to do, throw amoebas at people?"
"With that attitude you’ll be dead before the games begin!" Illyukhina said from the couch, her arms crossed as she looked at him looking happy as can be. “How can you be happy right now?!" Grace said his voice cracking. She smiled at him softly, “There is a very good chance we’re going to die during the games. Might as well have some fun with the time I have left yes?” Before Grace could even process what she said, the heavy oak doors banged open.
In walked Eva Stratt.
She was a formidable Dutch woman, her posture rigid, dressed in a sharp, military-style Capitol suit. She didn't look at them with pity, or sadness, or even a shred of warmth. She marched straight to the center of the room, threw a thick stack of printed dossiers onto the glass coffee table, and fixed them both with a fierce, unshakeable glare.
"Sit down," Stratt commanded. Her voice was pure authority.
Grace practically tripped over his own feet rushing to find a chair, while Illyukhina slowly sat up, narrowing her eyes. "My name is Eva Stratt, and I am your mentor," she said, her eyes locking onto Grace first, tracking the way he was trembling. "Let's get one thing straight. I don't care about the Capitol's politics, and I don't care about making you look pretty on television. My only job is to keep District 12 alive. Right now, looking at the two of you, that is going to be a mathematical nightmare."
She tapped the dossiers on the table. "We are tethered with District 11 this year. That means our primary alliance in the Arena is with the Eridians. Their mentor is a powerful, arrogant biologist named Adrian. He is ruthless, and he has already made it clear he only gives a damn about one of his own tributes—his mate, an engineer named Rocky. The other Eridian, Gold, is on their own. Which means we are on our own."
Stratt leaned forward, putting her hands on the table, her face inches from Grace's. "You," she barked, pointing a finger at his chest. "You are brilliant, Dr. Grace. I’ve read your papers on cellular mutation. But in an Arena, brilliance gets you killed if you're too busy shaking to hold a knife. You are going to do exactly what I say, when I say it, or I will let Illyukhina use you as a human shield. Do you understand me?"
Grace’s face burned, a cold dread pooling in his stomach. He nodded rapidly, completely intimidated by her intense, drilling energy. Yep, he thought, his chest aching with a familiar, crushing loneliness. She completely despises me. She thinks I'm a fudging idiot.
"Good," Stratt said, her expression softening for a fraction of a second before turning cold again. "Stand up. The train is leaving. It’s time to go meet our lovely, rock-skinned liabilities."