Finnick rubbed a hand gently down her back. It came as no surprise that she didn't cry against him, although he certainly wouldn't have held it against her if she had.
He paused when she began to speak again. Her words chilled him, an uncomfortable sensation blooming in the pit of his stomach. He was reminded all over again that there was nothing he could say that could make this right.
But it was even more terrifying to know that the Capitol had that sort of capability. They had always been able to manipulate and alter -- but to that extent. This was the sort of nameless thing he had grown to be scared of in his nightmares. It was the sort of thing that he had expected when Plutarch had calmly told him that Annie was in the Capitol. The Capitol destroyed people.
He was quietly furious with Plutarch all over again, even though he knew the man was a simple cog in all of the machinery. (But he had promised, he had fucking promised when he had come to Finnick for help: Finnick had had one demand. Keep Annie safe and Finnick would do whatever he had to to get Katniss out of the arena. And at the time, he'd wrongly assumed that Peeta was a part of that. For Finnick, it had always been Katniss and Peeta. He'd never realized that Plutarch could see them separated.)
"I'm sorry," Finnick said quietly, the only thing he knew to offer at this moment.