Everett had been watching the CapitolTV livestream as Lysander gave his speech. “For the time being, as Head Gamemaker of the Hunger Games, I thank you for cooperation, loyalty and openness. It’s not simple, nor easy, but it is a necessity.” His was a bit bored by the proceedings, this fake District Thirteen, the show of it all.
When real District Thirteen’s people were all sitting in their homes, anticipating the start of the Games. Guilt wracked him all over again. That he’d played a role in destabilizing Thirteen, that now Knox and Konner were headed into God only knew what — or Lysander Vultur only knew what, what was the difference when it came to the Games?
The bomb had shocked him, the feed had been cut off, whole moments had passed before the rumors started being posted, before his phone was lighting up that Lysander was dead, that many more may be too, that the bomb may have been Thirteen rebels—
He switched over to the Games feed on his phone as he left the second floor, entering the elevator and only half-watching the launch, knowing that he needed to get himself to the sponsors lounge and secure funding now for Knox and Konner, before more might be revealed.















