CHAPTER 50
THE MYTHS OF A LIFE OF LUXURY

THE walk back to her pod felt like a dull, long-drawn journey. Bex's head was spinning and she couldn't stop her hands from clenching so hard that she began to feel pins and needles. She was just so angry. At Finnick ... at Coin ... even Plutarch. Her blood was practically boiling underneath her skin. Would the anger ever subside?

It didn't matter. She wasn't doing that propo anyways.

Her plans involved ignoring everyone for the rest of the day. She wasn't going to kitchens. She wouldn't go downstairs for lunch or dinner. She'd stick to her pod and only come out when the darkness revealed itself. She didn't care, she didn't want to care, she didn't –

"Screw this," she muttered, pushing her door open, "screw Coin."

Bex stood in the middle of her room for a moment, grinding her teeth together, digging her nails into her palms. She closed her eyes and counted to ten. She hoped – more like, pleaded – that doing this would help the anger diminish. Her worries might just float away.

But then she was raging, stomping around her room like some monster in an old wives' tale. She tore the blankets and sheets off her bed, throwing the flimsy mattress to the other side of the room. It made a loud thud as it smacked against the wall. She grabbed her one single pillow and screamed into it.

She was overreacting. She knew this. It was expected after everything she'd gone through. But she didn't care.

"Screw Plutarch! Screw all those Gamemakers!" She roared, walking back over to her mattress to throw it again. She still had so much rage and destruction seemed to be the only thing that was helping. " And screw Finn –"

Bex stopped short as she was bending down. The tips of her fingers brushed against the edge of the mattress and for some strange reason, she looked up, staring at the thin piece of paper she had pinned to the wall right beside her door. Her mouth went dry at the sight of it, and she couldn't help herself when she plucked the pin out and reread the note all over again.

Her hands grazed the stained ink on the page. She couldn't stop the sides of her lips from pulling up at his words. You're one of the strongest people I know, he wrote, sending her heart ablaze.

Finnick had written this letter to her before she visited the ruins of District Seven. She remembered finding it on top of her tactical gear, patiently waiting for her eyes to take in the words. Memories of the past danced through her head. Finnick had always been there for her, even in the background, even when she didn't know it. Perhaps ... it was time she did the same.

Bex clutched the note against her chest and sighed in defeat.

As much as it pained her, the citizens of Panem needed to know the vial implications of who Snow truly was. They already knew how he treated the Districts, but they no idea that winning the Games changed nothing for Victor. They expected Victors were loved and put on pedestals when it was quite the opposite. Victors were just as much as minions as everyone else.

Bex couldn't cower away just because she was afraid of the repercussions. She wasn't a coward. She'd never be a coward.

Her head swung to the clock on the wall. They were probably shooting already, or just getting ready. Was it useless to change her mind now? They had such limited time.

Cressida and the others are waiting by the exit, Coin had said.

And suddenly, the note was falling to the floor. Bex shut her door and charged down the stairs to the exit, leaving her room looking like a war zone. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her. They ached, and a sharp pain made its way down her healing spine, but she pressured on, refusing to back down.

She needed to do this. They needed to do this. No one else could.

Getting to the exit felt like forever, full of twists and turns in every direction. Coin made sure no one could figure their way out, it seemed, but Bex remembered the way. After getting to the ground floor, she went east down a long series of hallways, until she ended on a large metal door cracked open. As she shoved it open, the bright, blinding lights from Cressida's equipment hit her like a tidal wave.

Bex sighed under her breath as she stood on top of a pile of rubble. Finnick was just a few feet away, standing in the middle of a bed of white roses. The same place where her brother had been found, chained, holding on for dear life. Her whole body went rigid.

"Bex," Finnick called instantly. She blinked, shifting out of her thoughts.

Phoenix had been fixing his hair, but spun around quickly at the mere mention of his Victor's name. He grinned big, even though all he could see was her shadowed silhouette. Cressida turned away from the camera and squinted her eyes, trying to see through the blackness.

"I want to do the propo," Bex said, finally stepping into the light. "Is there still a chance I can join in?"

Cressida smiled. "Always a chance. Stand on Finnick's right, and remember to hold hands." She then glanced towards her team. "I want a wide shot that exposes their joined hands before going in tighter. Sound good?"

Bex exhaled heavily, expelling whatever fear that tried clawing up her throat, and stood next to Finnick. His whole body relaxed once she was near. His eyes went soft as one of the techs fixed a bright strobe on her. Phoenix quickly moved away from Finnick and gained Bex's attention. He sighed with relief while tucking a few stray hairs behind her ears and fixing her collar.

"You always come through, Flower Girl. I gotta hand it to you." He said, grinning at the same time as her. "Happy to hear your brother is okay too."

"Thank you," she whispered, just as Cressida asked him to get out of the shot. Bex closed her eyes then and took in a deep breath. When she opened them, however, she found her hand clasped around Finnick's. Her eyes averted to his.

"I'm glad to be doing this beside you. I wouldn't want it any other way," he muttered. "And I'm sorry for fighting with you. It was wrong for me to argue with you on why you didn't want to do this."

Bex was choked up. Her head emptied of any words she could say. She wet the corners of her lips before replying, "The dust has settled. I don't want to fight with you either."

Without taking his hand from hers, Finnick knelt down in the bed of roses, picked one up, and carefully placed it behind her right ear. "I want them to see your symbol," he explained softly, and then smiled. Bex was always in awe at how such a simple expression could make her insides do flip-flops. "So they know that even the Capitol's Flower Girl can be a rebel leader."

"Perfect!" Cressida says from behind the camera. The two Victors were brought out of their moment and turned back to face the film crew. "Are you guys ready?"

They both nodded. Bex's ears began to ring, and a strange ticking sound emerged from the back of her ear. She rubbed at them, hoping it was just nerves, until the noise slowly faded. Her head jolted up when she realized Cressida was speaking again. Everything around her suddenly felt tuned out.

"Pollux, stand with me. We're going straight to camera, okay?" Cressida waited for a response. Everyone nodded their heads. She then looked back to the Victors, speaking as gentle as she could, "Take your time. Just remember to keep talking and don't stop."

Bex's hands were getting ridiculously sweaty, but Finnick didn't loosen his hold.

Cressida counted down with her fingers. Bex felt her cheeks heat up. She wasn't sure if she could do –

The red light on the cameras blinked on.

Bex turned to Finnick immediately, but he was already talking. His face was a mask of calm, while his voice remained grave and serious.

"This is Finnick Odair from District Four. Winner of the sixty-fifth Hunger Games." He looked to her, eyebrows raised, but she was utterly speechless.

Bex swung her head towards the camera. Her mouth opened and her tongue went dry. She could faintly see Cressida's silhouette making hand gestures for her to say something. For someone who had been in front of the camera for years, this felt like the first time ever. The pressure was building up inside of her. So much was riding on this.

She cleared her throat and choked out, "And – um – you may know me as –" She took a deep breath. "You may know me as Bex Nassar from District Seven. Winner of the sixty-seventh Games."

Finnick praised her silently with a gentle tug to her hand, and then turned back to the camera. "We're coming to you from District Thirteen, alive and well. We've just survived an assault from the Capitol."

Bex swallowed hard as the ticking sound emerged again. She scratched at the back of her ear and ignored it. Her nerves were tricking her.

"But we're not here tonight to give you recent news," she continued. "Instead, we've come to tell you about the man currently in power, and a ploy he's hidden from you all since the start of his presidency."

"Also the truth behind the myths of a life of luxury, the lie about bringing glory for your homeland. You can survive the arena. Bex and I are living proof of it. But the moment you leave, you're a servant." Finnick's stare flickered to hers. "President Snow used to sell us – or our bodies, at least."

Bex nodded along with him. They both turned to face the lens as it zoomed in on them. "And we weren't alone. Some of your favorite Victors were involved in this scheme to keep us in line after winning."

She took in a sharp breath and squeezed his hand before proceeding, "If a Victor is considered desirable, the President will give them as a reward or allow people to buy them for a large amount of money. They would be paid for their services, but the price costs more than just money; it takes things from you that you can never get back. If said Victor refuses, President Snow kills someone they love. When I was first presented with the offer, I declined, even after his threats. I believed I was untouchable as a Victor. I wasn't. He ripped my parents away from me. So I did it. This is the tragic backstory that most Victors have in regards to Snow's prostitution ring."

"Like Bex said, we weren't the only ones," Finnick agreed, "but we were the most popular. And perhaps, the most defenseless, because the people we love were so defenseless. To make themselves feel better, my patrons, in particular, would make presents of money or jewelry, but I found a much more valuable form of payment. Secrets."

Bex's brow knitted together as she stared at Finnick, completely focused on his tale. Her payments had always been made in cash. She hadn't concocted a scheme to get back at Snow, because, despite her attitude, she was always too afraid of Snow. Finnick wasn't. He was braver than anyone she'd ever known.

She rubbed at her earlobe when the ticking got louder. She groaned internally and pushed it away, wishing her anxiety would subside. Bex gazed at Finnick intently, hoping to revert her attention back to him.

"I know all the depravity, the deceit, and the cruelty of the Capitol's pampered citizens. But the biggest secrets are about our good president, Coriolanus Snow. Such a young man when he rose to power. Such a clever one to keep it. How, you must ask yourself, did he do it? One word. That's all you really need to know." He paused for the shortest second. "Poison."

Bex couldn't ignore the ticking anymore. It was louder with each passing second. How was it possible she was the only one hearing it? When she turned her head, Castor and Messalla were looking up at the sky with narrowed eyes, but neither of them said a word. The ticking was echoing in her ears now and caused her eye to twitch. She squinted as the lights became too blinding.

"He stopped every mutiny before it even started," Finnick said, unaware of the conflict brewing in Bex's head. Her grip had gone tight, but he thought nothing of it. He followed Cressida's instructions. "There were so many mysterious deaths to adversaries, even to allies who were threats. People dropping dead at a feast or slowly, inexplicably declining into shadows over a period of months. Blamed on bad shellfish, elusive viruses, or an overlooked weakness in the aorta. Snow would drink from the same cup to deflect suspicion, but antidotes don't always work, which is why he wears roses that reek of perfume. Helps cover the scent of blood from the sores in his mouth that will never heal."

Bex blinked rapidly. The ticking was overwhelming her ears, even all of her senses, and she knew she wasn't crazy. It was real. It had to be somewhere near them. She tossed her head around and looked towards their feet.

Finnick muttered, "But you can't hide the scent of who he really is." He paused suddenly, raising a brow. He turned his head as Bex did. His face was a blanket of confusion. Bex wondered if he heard the ticking too, but she couldn't voice it. She squeezed his hand for an answer, but he quickly looked back at the camera.

From behind it, Cressida was whispering to Pollux, "What is she looking for?"

Finnick cleared his throat, "Snow kills without mercy. He rules with deception and fear –"

"CUT!"

Bex was surprised that the word came out of her own mouth. And once she said it, she didn't stop. She repeated the word over and over again, panic flashing in her eyes, as she waved her hands in the air.

"Cut? No!" Cressida exclaimed. "No, 'Cut!' Castor, Pollux, do not –"

"Don't you hear it?!" Bex asked, glancing down at the bed of roses at her feet. She bent down and began to search through the pile of petals and rocks. "No, we have to cut. Cressida, please, just cut!"

Cressida groaned, "Fine," as Bex continued to search on the ground. Finnick was calling her name, but it sounded like an echo. She was completely focused on the task at hand, enough to finally see a light in between the roses, hidden beneath the rocks. It was flashing repeatedly, taunting her. That was where the ticking was coming from. It was clear as day now.

She crawled over and threw the roses out of her way. A small black canister sat in the rubble, flickering a small, red light. The Capitol insignia was printed on its side.

But it was not just a light or a ticking. It couldn't be –

"It's a bomb," she whispered. Bex immediately got to feet, looking to Finnick, and then the film team. "We have to get out of here. That's a bomb." She jabbed her finger towards the canister, tugging Finnick back.

Cressida lowered her camera, eyes widening. She stepped backward. "A what?!"

Bex raised her hands. "A BOMB –"

That was when the blast went off, obliterating much of what was left in the circles of roses. All those white petals burnt to a crisp. Snow had wanted to turn her armor to ash.

Bex had jumped just in time to shield Finnick, knocking her head against a rock in the process. Cressida was yanking on her team's hands and yelling at Messalla to grab Bex and bring her to safety. Bex, for what seemed like the hundredth time, allowed her vision to fade into a pit of darkness. She felt like she was drowning against the ringing in her ears, but she could only make out a simple cry.

Finnick, hauling her towards the exit, screamed for dear life, "Bex, are you with me?!"

Yes, she thought, always.

And they had still fulfilled their duties, because later that night, the Victors had been rescued, unscathed. President Coin announced it to a rowdy audience, hands in the air as she proclaimed, "Today is our new beginning. Today we have freed the victors. Tomorrow: Panem!"

But at what cost? Katniss Everdeen wondered as an unconscious Bex Nassar was rushed toward the hospital.

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A/N: NOW THAT'S A CLIFFHANGER, FOLKS!!! we're almost a the end of this fic, believe it or not 😭 I can't believe it! and I hope it's an ending you will all be happy with. I know I am 💓

also!! just wanted everyone to know that part of finnick and bex's speech was taken from the MOCKINGJAY book! I combined it with his speech in the movie, but that one is very similar to the speech he makes in the book, just cut down