Finnick Odair Hunger Games Novels & Stories

the second man known as Tyrion concluded breathlessly with his hands held together in front of him. "I've known Finlay since I was fifteen, we were in love, we fought wars together, and went hunting together," it was Elodie's turn. Despite the fact that she was somewhere between having her entire world crumbling into pieces, Ophelia still noticed that the woman was dressed like an actual woman this time.

~. .~ "The Hunger Games will conclude today with the finale," she mused at his words, a sense of anticipation in the air. Adrian, however, seemed distracted. "How do I look? Do you think I should make my debut?" She expected a compliment on her outfit, but his response was far from what she had hoped for. "Debut? What are you talking about?" Frustration laced her voice as she replied, "Don't tell me you forgot."

But then he continued, “Memory loss and insanity aren’t the same thing. I believe you call it ‘apples and limes,’ yes?” “Oranges. Apples and oranges.” His speech pattern was an odd mix of formality and slang, which just added to the weirdness. “Who are you?” He stopped pacing and looked slightly shamefaced. “Sorry. I’m Finn. Well, Finn. The Lycan warrior. Friends of Alpha Ethan and his brother Vergel. You must remember us, I mean, yeah—But if anyone here knew that, they’d rip me to shreds.” He said it so matter-of-factly that it took a moment to register. As her jaw dropped, he held out a hand. “So let’s just go with ‘Finn,’ okay?”

My heart to break… “Would you look at that,” her eyes flicked down from mine to meet Finn’s gaze. “You’ve grown into quite the man. You look just like your father.” “You were banished from Blackwood twelve years ago,” Finn hissed, “You stepping foot over the border gives me the right to kill you.” “You would like that,” she grinned. “Wouldn’t you? Such a violent little thing you were, Finnick. Guess old habits die hard.” “I have no qualms about killing you,” anger radiated from Finn, and it was suffocating, even for me.

The crowd murmured in astonishment. Evelyn fell back, panting. She won. Odessa’s lips turned slightly up in a smile. “You might actually be kind of useful after all.” Evelyn said nothing. A moment later, Odessa had walked away and was replaced by someone else. "You seemed to handle yourself rather well," said Finian with an unreadable face. Evelyn looked at him. He was unlike everyone else in this regard. He did not treat her as any sort of outsider, and if anything, he was the only one who did not seem to act as if she belonged in deep need of extermination.

It fed the void inside her. "Higher," she whispered. Finn moved forward on his knees. He kissed her thigh. His hands gripped her waist, clumsy and desperate. He bracketed her on the edge of the bed, his face level with hers. Miya grabbed his shoulders. She dug her nails into his tunic. She looked at his red, adoring face. And suddenly, the triumph turned to ash. Because he wasn't Oreon. He was just a boy. A servant. A substitute.

CASSANDRA I was a little taken aback by Finnick’s serious request. His face appeared timid, yet his tone was solemn, much more solemn than a child’s should have been. As I studied his expression, I felt ashamed of myself for borderline neglecting my son these days. I’d been so immersed in this undercover business that I didn’t have much time to talk with Finnick, aside from our daily goodnight kiss. When I shifted my gaze, I realized I’d left Helene’s map on the table not too far away.

The spy was caught in the archives at midnight. A young wolf named Finnian, barely seventeen, with sandy hair and a nervous smile that had always reminded Ela of a younger version of Kai. He had been part of the rebellion from the beginning. He had fought beside them in the battle against the Silencer. He had brought Ela tea when she was too exhausted to leave her room. He had asked her about Istanbul once, curious and earnest, wanting to know what the human world was like beyond the academy's walls. She had trusted him. She had liked him. And now he was kneeling in the center of the Council chamber, his hands bound with silver chains, his face pale and wet with tears.