WHEN THE ELEVATOR DOORS OPENED TO THEIR apartment on the second floor, Enobaria and Evander were seated on the couch with Alex's stylist, Rhea, their conversation halted as the two tributes stalked in. They hadn't spoken one word to each other since they left the training centre, and even then, Iko had been avoiding Alex as much as she could get away with. Since dinner wouldn't be for another hour or two, Iko beelined straight for her room as Evander asked them how training went. Alex gave him a quick answer she didn't catch as she stormed into her room, the electric buzz in her veins from finally grounding herself in the thrill of so many weapons at her disposal—the familiarity of a blade and the destruction it could wreak in her hands—fading in the lonely tomb of her room, the white walls erect and the marble floors chilly and the furniture sharp and cold and Capitol-expensive. It didn't matter what she thought of training. They'd ask her again during dinner.

Before the silence could get too comfortable, the sound of her door bursting open right behind her had her snapping round, muscles wired for a fight. Alex shut the door behind him. Internally, Iko cursed herself for not locking the door before he could get in. Resentment burned in her gut when she had to back up a couple steps as he advanced, already too close for comfort as he glowered down at her sternly. He had her cornered in her room, and she didn't like that. Didn't like feeling trapped.

"What the hell was that?" He demanded, crossing his arms over his chest, eyes flashing with the sparks from something that was malfunctioning, dangerous, white hot, and raw with power. No matter how golden, the sun was still made of fire.

"What the hell was what?" Annoyed, Iko dug a finger into his chest and pushed until he let up a little distance between them.

"You couldn't even stand to pretend to be able to work with me for at least fifteen minutes before running off like you couldn't stand the sight of me?"

Iko let out a humourless laugh. "Just because we're friends doesn't mean I have to appeal to your ego all the time—"

"This isn't about my ego or our friendship!" Alex snapped. "I get it, y'know? I thought we were way past this, but apparently not. You're still angry with me. If we want this to work, we have to be a unified team. We can't afford to let anyone think otherwise. Have you forgotten what the Academy taught us? Plus, it would look better if I want to get full control of this alliance. I need my partner to actually have my back. Especially if Titus keeps questioning the functionality of our team. You've done nothing but jeopardise the plan."

Lips curling into a snarl, Iko met Alex's incendiary glare with a flinty stare. He was right. She was angry. Angry because it wasn't supposed to be like this. This was supposed to be easy. And now that he was here, it wasn't so straightforward anymore. Between them, their anger festered like the honey-thick heatwaves in the summer, grew limbs and claws and teeth sunk into their skin, a third occupant of the room they couldn't ignore anymore. But Alex was right about the other things too. So far, all she'd done—all she'd promised herself she wouldn't do—was take her anger out on the wrong person. It wasn't him she was angry with, per se. In truth, she didn't know who she was more angry at. All her life, just like all the other kids growing up in District 2, she'd been raised to believe the Capitol was her friend because they favoured her district the most. But the truth was, they weren't any less disposable. And now that Alex was here, she was beginning to see it. The reason she couldn't stand to look him in the face was because she knew he was going to die. How would she be able to face his family? His family, who have inducted her as an honorary member. Who gave her the affection she was missing from her mother.

Shame was a tiresome flame in the back of her throat. She hadn't been acting like the Career tribute she was raised to be because of one flaw in her plan—one flaw that couldn't be repaired. Somewhere along the way, she'd forgotten herself. She'd forgotten her place. This wasn't the behaviour of the girl she had perfectly carved out, the girl whose shadow had teeth, the girl who was the right kind of monster. This was the behaviour of a child who didn't understand what was at stake. She'd let emotion rule over rationale today, prioritised the wrong things, let her emotions run unchained, and she had to salvage what she could. If Alex was meant to take leadership of the Career pack, then she would have his back every step of the way until it was time to dissolve the alliance.

Iko wasn't an expressive person, but Alex seemed to detect the shift in her resolve. Seemed to spot the sliver of weakening in her armour. His expression softened.

"Shit," Alex said, scrubbing a hand over his face. All the anger melted off his shoulders, washed away by the defeat and regret. "I didn't mean to yell, I'm sorry—"

"No," Iko cut him off. "No, you're right."

His gaze flickered up to hers in surprise, carefully gauging her expression. She blinked at him, stone-faced, a blank wall of no emotion. She didn't need to say it, but the apology was already there, hanging between them like an olive branch on her tongue.

Regarding her with a searching look, Alex pursed his lips. For a moment, they stood there, the reality of their situation sinking in fully, the flaming furnace of their agitation dying down to frustrated embers. A beat passed. This wasn't fair, but life was always far away from fair. There was choices they had to make. Choices that weren't pretty, but neither had been raised to expect pretty. They were expected to make tactical decisions, seize the lead, put the changing tides of the game on strings so they could puppeteer the odds to their favour. Difficult calls were just one part of the bigger picture. If anything, they were made in the shape of coldblooded soldiers, of champions—equations, formulas, strategy was all they were meant to think about. Emotions had no place in their Games. The smarter thing to do would be to walk away.

But Alex chose different.

"Come here," he muttered, opening up his arms, gazing down at her with stormy eyes.

Iko chose different, too.

Without further prompt, she stepped into the embrace and let his warmth envelope her as he drew her closer, as she wound her arms around his neck and felt him bury his face into the crook of her neck. If she could freeze time, she would, but that kind of wishful thinking had no place in this life. Iko shut her eyes, and if she let the rest of the world fall away, it almost felt like home. He squeezed her once. A command: Allow it. And she did. She snuck her fingers into his soft hair. Just this once. For a moment—a very dangerous moment more frightening than the first time she fought with knives—they held each other like they weren't ever letting go, twin supernovae fusing with one another in this spiritual nirvana, their light tumbling into the otherwise dark universe, like they could pretend—just this once—that everything was going to be alright. And when they let go—when they stepped away from each other, when his arms fell to his sides and she shoved her hands into her pockets because everything about this space, the sudden lack of warmth between them felt wrong, the moment had elapsed—they let it die.

* * *

ENOBARIA STARTED THEM on the discussion about the alliance between the Career Pack while the Avoxes brought out their dinner on silver platters. Their stylists joined them in time to listen in on their report. With day one of training complete, it was time to compare notes.

"Titus is over-confident," Alex said, cutting up his steak, "but he's good at what he does, so I suppose he'll be useful for awhile."

"Iko?" Enobaria asked, pinning her with a cool look.

Iko's grip on her fork tightened marginally, reminded of the not-so-subtle jabs Titus had sent her way. "I agree with Alex." Her voice came out mechanical.

"She hates him," Alex mused, smirking at her reaction.

Iko almost rolled her eyes, but stopped herself in time. Evander lifted a brow. Enobaria shook her head. Perhaps they thought her childish for this, but she knew how to compartmentalise her feelings. From the moment she began training, she'd learnt how to put all her emotions and thoughts into boxes, learnt to listen to rationale and strategy rather than acting on her impulses. In truth, Iko didn't care for Titus enough to hate him; didn't care for any of them. Only, Titus' insufferable attitude simply gained him a top spot on her kill-list once the alliance broke.

"In any case, that makes him easier to dispose of," Evander pointed out. "And the others?"

"Opal's a threat, probably a thousand times more so than Titus, but she's sensible enough to recognise competition," Iko said, idly flipping her steak knife over her knuckles. "Sage is dangerous, but I already know her weaknesses. She's out for blood, maybe a little too much. It could be an intimidation tactic, but when I was talking to her, it seemed more than that. I think her blood-thirst not only makes her the bigger threat, but it makes her impulsive. A loose canon. She'll want to give the Capitol a good show, but she might sacrifice practicality for it. Elias is..."

"We're working on it," Alex said, scratching the back of his neck. He cut Iko a meaningful glance.

"It'll be done before the private sessions," Iko said, meeting Enobaria's steel-eyed stare with an unbreakable confidence.

"Great," Evander said, grinning. "This year should be in the bag for District 2."

Iko ignored the way her stomach curdled. She let a slow, cold smile slip over her lips. Because this is what she deserved. Victory was hers.

For the next two days of training, she played the perfect role. She threw knives only with her left hand, despite the itch in her right to feel the weight of her weapon. She stuck by Alex's side, as did the others, moving as a pack. If one of them questioned Alex's intentions, Iko was quick to rebuke them. In time, they would fall in line. Even Titus, whom Iko had promised herself would be the first to dispatch once the numbers ran low and the alliance fractured.

Stubborn and thickheaded as always, Titus kept up his pathetic attempts to best them both. His efforts were respectable at most, but there was no denying that his only true strength was in the spears. Swords, archery, knives, sharpshooting—they were disciplines he hadn't mastered completely. So Iko held fast to the persistent knowledge that unless they took sporadic intermissions from the routine illusion of companionship, they would end up devouring each other in a bloodbath of cannibalistic rage before the real bloodbath could even begin.

With his leadership established, Alex finally asserted his demand that they learn some form of survival station just to gather some useful skills to use in the case that their environment was particularly nasty. They wouldn't know what the arena looked like, so they should be as prepared as possible. Going from station to station, they not only picked up more basic survival knowledge, but gleaned more information about their allies. Sage could tie every knot ranging from basic to complex under three seconds flat with one hand bound behind her back, and was more than happy to guide them all with setting clever traps and snares. Opal was an expert when it came to plants, which was surprising considering she'd told them, on day one, that she'd come from a fairly wealthy family. Later, they learnt that she'd breezed through the test, easily recognising which plants were poisonous and which were edible even though they looked the same, because her grandmother was an avid gardener who owned a field journal passed down from generation to generation. At one of the stations where they learnt how to build a shelter, Titus, to Iko's chagrin, was the most efficient. Apparently his older brother was an a carpenter, and, naturally, Titus knew his way around a toolbox just as well as he could improvise with whatever materials the trainer at the station provided them with.

Both District 2 tributes had a go at the simulated sword practice, fighting as a pair, decimating all the simulated targets with deadly precision. Sage and Iko might have been a lethal combination on the first day of training, but Alex and Iko had always been an unmatched force. Nobody stood a chance against them.

Still, their pack wasn't complete. Not to the others' knowledge, though. Neither District 2 tributes had told any of the others that they were planning on recruiting Elias. In the case that he rejected them, they would hunt him down first.

On day three, in a surprising turn of events, Elias showed some glimmer of promise. At the time, Iko was at the swords station with Alex while the others were running the agility course, when he tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to something behind her.

And there Elias was, by the knife-throwing station, on the thirty-yard mark. Not anything impressive by Iko's standards, but still, for a boy from District 10, one of the weaker districts, his skills weren't horrible and he had the correct form. As she watched him, an uneasy feeling crept into her veins. Each knife he threw stuck in the target. Knives were her thing. Two days ago, she'd told Titus that no District 2 tribute specialised only in a single weapon because they trained to perfection with all, which was the truth. Their education was holistic. But that didn't mean they couldn't favour one weapon over the other for reasons other than comfort or vanity, and Iko had always been drawn to the knives. If they only had one set of knives in the cornucopia, Iko wasn't about to share. Granted, if Elias was to be kept in the alliance, he had to know who had the upper hand.

"Looks like you've got competition," Alex said, lifting a brow. In a swift motion, he wiped the sweat off his forehead with the hem of his shirt. A couple girl tributes stared.

Eyeing Elias' hulking figure as he moved on from the knife-throwing station to one of the survival stations, Iko waved off his statement dismissively. "Over my dead body."

"Over yours or his?" Alex mused. "If that's his only thing, then I'm afraid you're going to have to compromise."

With a scoff, Iko slammed her sword back onto the rack with more force than intended. "We'll see about that," she spat, and spun on her heel and cut across the training facility, scoffers gliding through paper, towards the traps and snares station, where Elias was hunched over, working on a complicated knot on his snare. She knew that Alex wanted to wait for him to approach them. But Iko had assured Enobaria that she'd get things moving by today. After that, once the private sessions were over this evening, they wouldn't get the opportunity to induct him into the alliance unless they chanced upon him during the Games, which wasn't likely. Plus, Iko knew what she was doing. She wasn't stupid enough to ask him out-right if he wanted to join them.

If he noticed her presence, he didn't react, didn't even so much as twitch when her shadow fell over him. Perhaps he knew that the regulations implemented prior to the Games prevented her from injuring him in any way. Perhaps he knew that he was safe as long as the Gamemakers were looking. Safe, for now.

When the trainer at the station was giving her a demonstration on how to tie a hangman's noose knot, Iko listened attentively, watching Elias from the corner of her eye, and waited until they were left alone to sink the first claw into his flesh.

"Elias, right?" Iko said, flashing Elias a wolf-like smile.

Unable to ignore her anymore, Elias slanted her a distrustful glare. "What do you want, Two?"

"I saw you just now," Iko drawled, venom dripping from her teeth, her tone dark and musing. If he didn't know her name, but the end of his life, he would. She'd make sure of it. "You've got a pretty decent hand for knife-throwing. But I've been wondering, where does a boy from Ten learn how to throw like that?"

A muscle in Elias' jaw ticked. "None of your business."

Looping her length of rope with deft fingers, Iko hummed. "That's disappointing. I thought you'd be smarter."

"And I thought you lot didn't recruit from other districts," Elias snapped back, dark eyes ablaze with suspicion. A snake coiled against a shelf of rock, cornered in by a wolf. As much as she placed her pride in being deadly, Iko hadn't forgotten that the primary reason why she'd singled him out was because he could be dangerous too. While District 2 was in charge of mass-producing weapons and training Peacekeepers, District 10's main industry was livestock. The math wasn't difficult to figure out. Elias had probably learnt his way around a knife while he slaughtered cattle for cuts of meat.

"True, but irrelevant," Iko said, the cool look on her face communicating just how unimpressed she was with his stubborn unwillingness to listen. She tucked one end of the rope through a loop and pulled it taut. "My allies would've disregarded you if they knew about this offer because it goes against tradition, but unlike them, I hate to waste talent, even if its coming from a hopeless district. Think about it. Your knife-throwing is passable at best and your form isn't as deplorable as the rest, wouldn't you like to know what it would feel like to have a fighting chance? I think you're a smart guy, Ten. I think you know you're a big guy with some decent skills that'd allow you to survive alone. But you also know you're not as strong as we are together, and you are valid competition. You know what our options are."

For just a fraction of a second, Elias' hands stalled in their quick movements. A shadow of conflict flitted over his storm-dark features. Iko smirked, triumph, a lightning shot of adrenaline in her veins, though she knew it was too early to celebrate. She'd gotten through to him. She could feel it. Could feel him weighing his options. Could feel his resolve disintegrating as he worked out, quickly, that if he told her no, that meant they would be forced to hunt him down. Against the entire Career pack, comprised of kids who knew fifty different ways to take down a fully grown adult, who knew which spots to hit, who wouldn't let him live the moment they caught him, the odds were stacked against him. He knew what it would mean for him if he refused her offer. It would be over before it even begun. Brick by brick, Iko thought, as she watched his shifting expression carefully. This was how she built her throne.

Elias clenched his jaw. He shot a glance over his shoulder. Iko followed his gaze. His district partner—only recognisable by the number pinned to the back of her shirt—stood by the climbing station, nervously glancing at the net she was meant to scale. It didn't take careful observation to notice how weak she was. Both in spine and in physicality. Not remarkable in the slightest. Like all the other tributes, they were of no interest.

"The offer stands until lunch break," Iko said, tugging on the end of her rope to tighten her knot. "Take a moment to consider it very carefully."

Before she left him, she dropped her perfectly tied noose on the table, right under his nose.

Not a message or an olive branch. A threat.

* * *

"AND HE AGREED?" Evander asked, intrigued, as they sat around the dinner table, midway through their meal. "Just like that?"

"The others weren't happy about it," Alex said, shrugging nonchalantly. He rubbed at a sore spot on his shoulder absently. Earlier, he'd admitted to Iko that he thought he might've overdone it a little during the private sessions with the Gamemakers when they pulled him out of their lunch break after Opal had her turn. "He came to us during lunch, and Iko wouldn't let the others chase him off. She almost got into it with Titus, but Sage backed her up, so he just shut up and took it. But I think they're all coming round to the idea of keeping their friends close and their enemies closer. Elias was our biggest threat while he was untethered, and now he's with us, it's easier to keep an eye on him. They accepted that." Alex looked thoughtful for a second. He pinned Iko with a questioning stare. "But I still don't really know how that happened."

Iko wriggled her fingers at him sardonically. "I read him his options." Her answer was vague, but it was the truth, and after an endless moment, Alex seemed to accept that it was the only answer he would get. She didn't have to explain her entire process to him, now that she know she wasn't wrong about Elias being a smart guy. Finally, her arsenal was complete.

Enobaria's eyes narrowed as she considered Iko, who felt her piercing gaze drill into her skin, all the way down to the bone.

"Sage seems friendly," Enobaria said, cocking her head. "She backed you up without questioning this new development?"

Iko nodded.

To be frank, Iko didn't know if Sage truly trusted Iko's reasoning, or if she just liked fighting Titus more. Sage had been more than enthusiastic to keep the group together, and when Elias was integrated into their alliance, she clapped him on the shoulder in welcome with a large grin on her face and talked big and loud about how it was so colossally over for everyone else.

Nonetheless, there was something morbidly unprofessional about the way Sage seemed so determined to befriend everyone like she'd finally found her people, how she seemed happy to go along with whatever the group wanted to do, and generally avoided confrontation with everyone aside from Titus, who mainly spited her just to rile her up. Each time Sage got mad at Titus her livid face went as red as her hair, and Iko noticed that he wasn't so much agitated by her explosive reaction as much as amused. Iko didn't know what he was playing at, but surely annoying someone with the ability to slit your throat in your sleep or make a sport of your death wasn't smart. Either way, Iko had reserved her right to murder Titus. He was her kill, no one else's. And as much as Sage was loyal to Iko, as much as Iko recognised and respected the deadliness in Sage, that wouldn't change her mind.

"She's... interesting," Alex said, his tone deflecting up into a question rather than a statement. "We plan to keep an eye on her. She's difficult to figure out."

"Good," Enobaria said. She propped her elbows against the edge of the table. "Training scores are being televised tonight. How do you both feel about your private sessions earlier?"

During lunch, the Gamemakers pulled the tributes out one by one, starting from One all the way to Twelve, going in order of the boy tribute first, then the girl. Alex had gone in before Iko, and come out with an optimistic grin on his lips. And Iko would be right to assume all was well. They'd made her wait a couple minutes longer than everyone else before they let her in. By the time Iko had entered the private gymnasium for her private session, all the dummies had to have been replaced, which explained the extra time she'd been made to wait—they were all untouched, unmarked. Alex must've done a number on the previous set.

The Gamemakers had probably been expecting the same from Iko. They watched as she decimated all the dummies within the vicinity with a savage brutality. Now that she was alone, she could afford to show the Gamemakers she wasn't just a left-handed thrower. She could impress them more. Knives flew from both her hands with wicked precision, striking the dummies so hard they were knocked over backwards, the double swords she wielded slashed through the hearts of fake opponents. Then she moved onto the guns. She ran through the agility course set up in the furthest end of the room. As she was bounding over the moving platforms, not once losing momentum, she felt a surge of inspiration and adrenaline coursing through her veins. She took the risk of momentary bravado and threw a couple knives at the targets from the moving platforms as she dodged obstacles. Relief punctured her lungs when they stuck and she didn't fall off the course.

When she was finished, the aftermath of her destruction stared back at her, ruin and rubble, bulletholes still smoking in the target paper, knives embedded in targets, training dummies hacked to pieces. The Gamemakers had excused her with pleased smiles.

She'd relayed all this to Evander, who laughed and slapped her hand in a congratulatory high-five. She'd even gotten a satisfied smile out of Enobaria. Aeneas' feline eyes gleamed in excitement, and his tail wouldn't stop flicking back and forth. Janus and Rhea had said something about a promising pair this year.

"I'm positive we'll do well," Alex said, rolling his shoulders back, a glimmer of menacing confidence in his tone.

True enough, after they'd vacated the dining area when Aeneas had announced that it was time, Caesar Flickerman had begun his commentary and speculation as to what had gone on during the private sessions, making his attempts to rouse the curiosity of whoever was watching the live broadcasts. Finally, the numbers and faces of the tributes began to flash across the screen, in the same order the tributes were assessed in. Titus had pulled a generous score of eight. Opal got a nine.

Both Alex and Iko scored impressive tens, which incited a shrill shriek from Aeneas and a loud cheer from Evander who clapped them both on the arms. Alex squeezed Iko's hand, and Iko couldn't help the satisfied smirk slipping over her lips. Caesar commented something about a strong duo form a strong district.

Puzzlingly, Sage pulled a seven, which wasn't horrible, but Iko wondered what had gone wrong. Sage had seemed so strong during training, Iko would've thought she'd at least pulled an eight or a nine. Albeit, it didn't matter. As the rest of the tributes' scores were announced, the numbers only got lower and lower. The most shameful had been the District 8 girl, who scored a pathetic one. Elias, however, managed a solid eight. Slightly impressed, Alex shot Iko a glance, arching a brow as they wondered the same thing. What had he shown them? Was it possible he might've been holding back during training? Iko wondered if Sage was tearing out her hair at the moment. A tribute from one of the lowly districts scoring higher than her. By one point, but higher, regardless.

When it was over, Evander had ordered five flutes of champagne and two glasses of sparkling grape juice for the tributes, and when the Avoxes returned with their drinks, they raised their glasses.

"Glory to the district," Evander said, beaming, clinking his glass against both Iko and Alex's in a toast. "To our champions."

"Glory to the district," they echoed in unison.

"Now," Aeneas said, lifting a finger, "don't forget that tomorrow we start interview training." He shot the two tributes a pointed look, his eyes glittering. "Which means that we have to start work bright and early. There's a lot to be done for the both of you. When I call you out of your rooms, you must comply. Understood?"

A languid smile slithered over Alex's lips as both him and Iko exchanged a surreptitious glance.

"Yes, sir," Alex drawled, mock saluting Aeneas, reclining against the sofa.

Aeneas didn't look amused.

AUTHOR'S NOTE.
a little iko x alex moment 😔✊🏼