CHAPTER 37
THE ULTIMATE PRICE

PRESIDENT Coin sent Plutarch a disappointed look before turning to the rest of the Victors. They went still, not knowing what to do after Katniss' outburst. "You all may go," Coin finally said, leaning back in her chair.

The Victors shared a glance before standing and heading for the door. Finnick made sure his hand left Bex's, but their fingers still itched for each other. A hollow feeling entered her chest. He then began to walk beside her, and she could feel his hand grazing the small of her back, as they approached the exit.

"Just a reminder," Coin added, and the Victors turned to face her. "Your daily chores start tomorrow. Use the stamp in your rooms to receive your temporary tattoo with your schedule. The chores won't be much. You lot are still recovering, after all. But it'll keep you occupied." She sent them a tight-lipped smile. "Have a nice day, Victors, and welcome to Thirteen."

Not one of them responded. Bex figured that they all had a similar feeling of distrust for Coin. How could they not? If the Hunger Games taught them anything, it was that trust was fleeting. Coin may have saved them, but they didn't have to trust her right away.

Outside the board room, a group of people all in the same grey jumpsuit waited for the Victors. A female with wide-set blue eyes approached Bex and urged her to follow. Instead of leading her to the elevator, the escort took the stairs. Bex held onto the railing as they descended and looked out past the stairwell, watching the levels curl downward. She wondered how far down they were. No hotel in the Capitol looked as expansive as this.

"Amazing, isn't it?" The female said, waiting for Bex at the bottom of another staircase. Bex hadn't realized she stopped to admire until the escort spoke up. "We're at the seventh level. Come on now."

Bex hopped down the last few steps and trailed the woman across the floor. They stopped at a room labeled, 731, and Bex was handed a key. "This is your room," the escort said. "If you'd like a different room assignment, discuss with Plutarch Heavensbee."

"Well –" Bex halted her words when she realized the escort was already walking away, back down the winding staircase. She grumbled underneath her breath and stuck the key in the lock, twisting the door open.

Her heart was suddenly leaping out of her chest the second she stepped inside. She almost dropped her key.

Phoenix sat on her bed, a wide grin spread on his lips.

"Gods!" She exclaimed, sliding the door closed. Phoenix stood and opened his arms. Bex ran into his embrace. "Phoenix! I can't believe you're here. Oh, my –"

"I know," he breathed into her hair, leaning back to place his hands on her shoulders. "Imagine my surprise when I found out I was one of the few Capitol people they saved. I think Plutarch knew you'd kill him if he didn't. Speaking of him, what a twist, right? Head Gamemaker is secretly the leader of a revolution. I couldn't make it up if I even tried."

Bex giggled before turning to look at the room. She had a desk built into the wall and a few lights set in the ceiling. Her bed was formed into the opposite wall of her desk, raised slightly from the ground, with what looked like a super-firm mattress on top. Two grey blankets were placed at the end of the bed and one pillow. Bex grimaced.

"It's not much, but ..." Phoenix shrugged when she met his eyes. "Thankfully, you have the whole room to yourself. I'm on the twentieth level. Not sure how many are in here, but I don't even remember a hotel in the Capitol having that many floors."

"I was thinking the same thing –" Bex stopped herself, studying his words. If Phoenix was one of the few Capitol citizens saved, then ... "Hey, where's Iliana?"

Phoenix slowly removed his hands. His expression turned grave, causing Bex's eyes to narrow. Her stomach began doing flip flops. If Phoenix had been saved, Iliana should've been too –

"When Plutarch came for me, there was so little time ..." He trailed off and shook his head. "I almost didn't go with him. I thought whatever story he was spouting about a rebellion was a lie. I was sure he was on some kind of drug. But I took a chance, and it was probably the smartest decision I ever made. Iliana, on the other hand ..."

Bex's jaw set. "Phoenix."

"There wasn't enough time to save the both of us," he blurted. "Plutarch grabbed me as he was leaving for a hovercraft, headed to District Thirteen. There wasn't enough time. I wish there was ..." Phoenix rubbed at his eye. Bex couldn't tell if he was crying or not. "By the time they rescued me, the Capitol had already taken her. Plutarch had been in close contact with some operatives in the Capitol before the connection was severed. He heard that she was murdered."

She felt a sharp pain in her chest as she took a step back. This didn't feel real. But to be fair, nothing did at the moment. Thirteen wasn't supposed to be real. Her brother being captured couldn't be real. And Iliana's death sounded like some kind of sick joke. Bex swallowed down a sob that threatened to resonate. She clutched her chest and looked away.

"I know," Phoenix sighed, "I know."

Bex shook her head. "Why? What reason would they have to kill her? She loved the Capitol. She never once questioned Snow or anyone –"

"Do you remember what I told you before you went into the arena?"

She turned back to him, throat going dry. Of course, she remembered. A betrayal like that is something she'd never forget. But still ... Iliana was so publicly devoted to Snow's regime.

Phoenix pursed his lips. "Last we heard, after hours of torture, Iliana confessed the real message behind the white roses in her designs. And then, nothing. Besides an obituary in the Capitol paper. Beetee found transcripts of it online."

Bex always took Iliana for granted, and that's something you only realize when someone is gone. She had never really liked Iliana, even when her stylist had been as sweet as can be. She thought of her as just another Capitol citizen, loyal to Snow and her duties. In Bex's eyes, Iliana liked to follow the rules and make pretty outfits, which was wrong. So fucking wrong. Iliana's outfits were intentional. They always had a message.

And she was executed for it.

Bex blinked the tears away, remembering the first time she met Iliana. She had just been poked and prodded by the staff at the Remake Center, left on a steel table in a room marked, DISTRICT SEVEN. Iliana had burst through the door, dressed in vivid greens with a sparkly, yellow wig. Bex was in pain from the work done to her teeth, and the last thing she wanted was to be bothered by an exuberant Capitol person. But then, Iliana had put her hands on sixteen-year-old Bex's shoulders and said, "You are one of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen. I'm going to make you into the star you were born to be."

For some reason, that had made Bex feel better. Maybe it was the gleam in Iliana's eyes, or her perfectly-bright smile. Or the way it looked like she truly meant it. It just made Bex feel complete. She remembered taking Iliana's soft hand and smiling.

That time was so far away now, a distant memory of a ghost long gone. Bex turned back to Phoenix and noticed him looking at his feet. He sighed, "It should've been me, Bex. Not her –"

"Don't say that," she whispered.

Phoenix looked up.

"If Iliana knew you were saying that, she'd be furious," Bex chuckled. She wouldn't let herself cry, not when they had so much to be thankful for. Bex then raised her voice higher, replicating Iliana's voice, "Oh, Phoenix, you can't just be the hero for one second."

He laughed along, "You're right." When the room became silent, he placed a hand on her shoulder, his dark stare burning into hers. "I'm not going to leave you, Bex. We're still a team. Even when the Games are over, even when the Capitol is demolished. We'll always be a team."

Bex smiled softly and put her hand on top of his. Her calloused fingers squeezed his own.

"Even if I wanted to leave, I can't now. I have no job. There's definitely a warrant out for my arrest. Looks like you're stuck with me." He bobbed his head from side-to-side. "And who else is going to help Effie Trinket dress the Mockingjay?"

"Seriously?" Bex's lips curled at the corners. "That's great, Phoenix!"

"Granted whatever we make will be worn in propagandas and not on a runaway, but ... it's going to be broadcasted across Panem. Like, imagine." He exhaled dreamily. "For years, all I wanted was to be a stylist. I loved Iliana, you know, but I was always a bit jealous of her. Stylist politics when I first came into the position were extremely gendered, up until very recently. The Capitol has never been as progressive as they say."

She sighed and sat on top of her desk, crossing her arms. "I wish you could've had this dream above ground," she scoffed, and then added, "without bloodshed."

"Despite our circumstances, I've never been happier." He peered down at his jumpsuit. Bex realized then he had the sleeves folded up and he stitched some kind of neon orange fabric on the inside. "The outfit is ... boring, but us Capitol folk can make anything pop. And I will make that Mockingjay shine."

Bex smacked a hand against his chest. "For your sake, I hope Katniss agrees."

Phoenix huffed and approached her door. "When I'm done talking to her, that girl will realize how lucky she is." He placed a hand on the door and muttered, "Teenagers."

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In Thirteen, it was easy to let the four walls of your pod suck you in, make you feel constricted. It was easy to be sad here. Everyone in this goddamn bunker looked miserable and disinterested. Bex didn't want to be part of the crowd. She was already a killer plagued by her past demons and eyes that had looked up at her before their throats were slit. Last thing she also needed was to be depressed.

So she skipped out on dinner that evening. And she fully realized that might be seen as her slipping into a depression, but she wasn't. Bex swore she was okay. She just wanted to go to bed early and start fresh the next morning. Sitting in a large cafeteria with a bunch of dejected-looking people sounded like a nightmare. The fewer people she was around, the better.

But then she got hungry.

She wasn't sure what time she woke up, but Bex was acutely aware it was some time in the early hours of the night. Probably around eight PM. When she gave in to her hunger and decided to sneak down to the cafeteria, she noticed no one was out wandering the halls. Thirteen must have a strict curfew in place, which she was most definitely going to break just to get an apple.

She assumed the mess hall was somewhere on the bottom floor. It took almost ten minutes to descend the staircase, and once she was at the bottom, in the center of the bunker, she looked up. Bex admired the intricacy of all of the floors, wondering if someone was secretly watching her right now. She was wearing nothing but a thermal nightgown, but hunger couldn't wait for her to try on a new outfit.

Looking ahead, Bex found a hallway that led right to the cafeteria. Long tables were situated around the room with a large, holographic TV set in the middle. To the left was a window where food was served from the kitchens. Bex headed in that direction, intent on finding her apple. Luckily for her, there was a bowl full of fresh ones sitting on the counter, just waiting for her to take. Bex licked her lips and plucked one for the bowl. Her stomach growled, urging her to take more. After pilfering through the back pantry, she found a small jar of homemade almond butter, and then began her trip back.

Bex kept looking over her shoulder as she sprinted from the kitchens and back to the stairs. She didn't take another moment to appreciate the bunker. She just ran as fast as she could, eager to not get caught. Her feet didn't trip, not once. You could probably imagine her surprise when she managed to get back in her room in just about four minutes without being noticed. Bex shut the door immediately and pressed her back to it, holding her apple and almond butter against her chest. Sweat was running down the length of her spine.

With an audible sigh, she climbed up on her bed with her food. She turned on her TV while diving a finger into the almond butter and licking the salty goodness. The projection showed a fluffy-haired Capitol woman reporting the weather for the week. Bex didn't pay her any mind as she tore through the apple, slabbing almond butter on every so often. She just needed some background noise.

Minutes later, there was nothing left of the apple but the sad excuse of a core. Bex finally looked back up at the TV projection as she spread more almond butter on her tongue, just in time to see the image change. The Capitol weather-woman was replaced by a stunning view of Snow's mansion, and then text that said, A Message from President Snow.

Bex stopped eating and sat up.

A camera zoomed in on his face then, catching every wrinkle, every smirk. Her insides twisted together.

"Citizens," he cleared his throat, "tonight I address all of Panem as one."

Bex stood from her bed and approached the TV with a narrowed gaze.

"Since the Dark Days, Panem has had an unprecedented era of peace," Snow spoke. Bex wanted to laugh at that statement, but she was too busy studying every word. "It is a peace built upon cooperation and a respect for law and order. For the past weeks, you've heard of sporadic violence following the actions of a few ... radicals in the Quarter Quell."

"Radicals?!" She whispered loudly, waving her injured hand in front of the projection. She dug her nails into her other palm. "That wouldn't have happened if you hadn't put us back in the arena!"

Snow's lips curled as if he could hear her. "Those who choose this destructive path, your actions are based on a misunderstanding of how we have survived. Together. It is a contract. Each District supplies the Capitol, like blood to a heart. In return, the Capitol provides order and security. To refuse work is to put the entire system in danger. The Capitol is the beating heart of Panem. Nothing can survive without a heart."

Bex's expression softened as she remembered Iliana. But her nails continued to dig deeper, creating more than just crescent marks on her palm.

"Criminals across the Districts are using symbols for the purpose of sedition. Which is why all images of the mockingjay are now forbidden. Possessing them will be considered treason. Punishable by death. Justice shall be served swiftly."

Her haunted, black irises went wide.

"Order shall be restored. To those who ignore the warnings of history ..." He paused, mouth showing a hint of a smirk. "Prepare to pay the ultimate price. Have a goodnight."

Snow's aged face was replaced just as swiftly again. The Capitol news anchor returned to the projection, giggling along with her co-host, batting her feather lashes. "And that was a message from our good leader, President Snow," she exclaimed. "Fantastic speech, don't you think?"

When Bex looked back down at her left hand, she realized how deep her nails had gone. Blood trickled down from the moon-shaped dents, staining her pristine white socks. Bex swallowed hard. She remembered the last time her hand looked like this – when she had been holding the white rose too tight at the Tribute Parade, when Snow couldn't keep his stare off her. Like he already knew the real purposes of the white roses on Iliana's gown.

She didn't get any sleep for the rest of the night.

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A/N: this chapter is so boring I apologize 😭😭😭😭 to make up for it I'll give y'all a fun fact: phoenix was going to be one of bex's love interests in this before I came up with angelo 👀 I still think that would've been an interesting plotline to explore but that would've meant hurting phoenix for bex/finnick to happen and I ended up growing attached to phoenix asjuhdshjhd and I know all I did was then hurt angelo instead but 🤷🏼‍♀️ can't save everyone!! plus having angelo as a love interest for a small period of time and then him becoming an avox really just heightened the notion in bex that she needs to keep herself in line because NO ONE she likes is safe. idk thought you guys would think this is interesting!