Hello all! This is my first fanfiction. The pairing is Peeta x Cato so if boy on boy action bothers you then don't read this. This chapter is just an intro so it's a little shorter than I expect the other chapters to be. I just wanted to get the idea out there.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games or any of its characters.

(Sorry for any spelling or grammar errors. I write in the night when I have time so my mind isn't always fully awake and aware.)

Chapter 1

Faster. Run faster.

My calves scream in anguish as I urge myself to sprint quicker through the woods, dodging the dangling branches that occasionally scratch at my face when I'm too slow to move. Sluggish is something I can't afford to be anymore. My life depends on it.

I hear my pursuers in every direction. The roar of the trucks shortly behind me. The buzzing of the hovercrafts directly above me. And up ahead, the discreet noises of the woodland predators that could feast upon me the moment I break through the underbrush. In the distance, beneath all of that white noise, I can still hear Delly's shrill cries for help as they take her away.

My tears for her mix in with the perspiration.

My heart is thumping pathetically and I don't know how much longer it will be until my lungs give out. But if I stop running, they'll catch me like they did Delly, and Katniss, and Gale. And if they catch me… I can't even think about it. They've been hunting us for too long now and any punishment they'll have won't be merciful. My pace increases at the thought of it.

A bright light seeps through the canopy of branches overhead, sweeping through the ravine. I try to my best ability to dodge the beam as it prances around the woods in search for a prey, but it skims my head momentarily, reflecting off of my blonde head of hair. And I gather that now the hovercraft has zeroed in on me.

Nets begin to fall from the sky in showers, occasionally getting caught in branches but otherwise making it to the ground. In a normal District 12 raid, they would use harpoons to catch and kill runaways, but since Delly and I were previously identified as minors, they're forced by law to be less brutal.

I dodge another net that falls from the sky like a parachute but trip on a fallen log in the process. My whole body goes airborne for a moment before I flop onto the forest floor, sliding through the sticks and leaves. A scream escapes my lips as the wood slices up parts of my arms and I can feel more sticky tears dripping down my cheeks. This is really it, isn't it?

With the rest of my depleting strength, I try to stand, but a weighted net falls right on top of me, anchoring me to the forest floor. I'm trapped like an animal and the thought of that brings out the most primal instincts in me. In my hazed mindset, I thrash around letting animalistic sneers escape me as I scream for help. It's foolish, of course. A saving grace won't appear in the woods to rescue me. Yelling will only gather my predators' attention.

And that it does.

The beam of bright light lands on me and I'm blinded by its intensity. I want to scream more but my voice is hoarse and slowly escaping me. I want to beg the woodland creatures to kill me now to spare me from torture in the capitol, but none would rise to the occasion.

I hear the rumble of the trucks braking behind me and my whole body goes limp. All of me wishes that they could just end it quickly right now, but I already know that protocol states that they have to bring minors to the Captiol first for inspection, then they can get a warrant for execution. I feel a heavy body pounce on me and it takes the air out of my feeble lungs. My body feels near death and for a moment I tell myself maybe I'll just die now.

A syringe is stuck in my arm and my eyelids slowly flutter shut.

When I wake, I have a migraine that mirrors the sensation of being repeatedly beat in the head with a hammer.

I try to open my eyes, but the lids are too heavy and I can only manage to squint at the tiled ceiling overhead. That's when I realize that I'm still alive. I curse at my misfortune. By the feel of the hard bed I'm laying on, I assume that I'm in one of the capitol laboratories. The mere thought of that makes me cringe. I've heard all of the horror stories of experiments happening in places like this.

"Is he awake?" I hear a tenor male voice from the other side of the room. It sounds too friendly. My guard is up, waiting for this man to pounce on me with his devices of torture, looking for answers that I don't have.

"I don't know, I've only just arrived." I hear another voice. It's cold and calculating, like I'd imagine a capitol doctor to sound. But at the same time, it's deep and smooth as velvet, sending shivers down my spine.

I hear some shuffling of feet and then a hand touches the vein on my arm. My first instinct is to recoil but my body is void of any energy to do so. I lay limp and vulnerable, waiting for the cold needle to inject toxins into my bloodstream, but it never comes.

"His heart beat seems to have slowed to normal," the tenor voice says to the other man or maybe another person who hasn't vocalized his presence. "None of his vital organs are harmed in any way. I think he should be just fine."

"Good," The deep voiced man says in satisfaction. "I want this one alive."

That comment makes my heart beat speed up again. It brings back memories when they first took Gale away. He had just turned eighteen so they could have legally killed him on the spot, but they didn't. I had asked Haymitch what that meant and he told me gruesome stories of torture used to get information out of captives. What it meant was that the Capitol wanted him alive, but only temporarily.

"I found his file," The tenor voice says. "Peeta Mellark. 17 years old from District 12. Two brothers, both alive and compliant with the capitol. Both parents also alive and cooperative. It says he wasn't directly involved in the rebellion but was friends with rebels in captivity."

"Perfect," The deep voiced man says in delight. "That'll make it easier for the transaction to go through."

"Are you sure about this, Cato?" The man I presume to be the doctor asks in a skeptical tone.

"Of course I am," The man, Cato, growls back. "I was the one who caught him, I should be the one to decide his fate. And I want this want to come home with me."

My heart falls. Go home with this stranger. For what? So he can torture me in the confines of his own home. I'm struggling to listen to the rest of their conversation, to get more details, but I can feel symptoms of anesthesia begin to fall over me. The doctor is about to put me out again.

"And Snow is alright with it?" The doctor asks cautiously. A heated anger boils in my chest at the mention of the president.

"The president has already signed off on it," Cato says and I can almost picture him smirking victoriously at the doctor. "I told him that the boy will be my property and nothing more. The boy will belong to me and will pose no threat to the capitol."

I feel soft fingers graze my face, but I know they don't belong to the doctor. It's the man, Cato, who leans closer to me. His hot breath hits my necks, lighting my nerves on fire. I can't move and I feel myself fading away into sleep. But before I pass out I hear him speak into my ear in a deep, feral growl.

"You are mine, Peeta." He says.