I just have time to knock the bag of bugs to the floor before he sees it.

Fletcher stops in the doorway, an oily smile spreading across his face. He doesn't look surprised to see me, and my stomach hardens into a cold ball.

"Caia," he says, and I hate how my name sounds in his mouth. "What are you doing?"

I resist the urge to look down, at the bag lying by my feet. Fletcher can't get his hands on that.

Fletcher closes the door behind him, and I'm suddenly very aware of how small this room is, and how much space he takes up. I'm pretty tall, but Fletcher towers over me.

My mouth goes dry.

Cole said that Fletcher would do whatever it took to keep me quiet but perhaps I hadn't fully absorbed that until I was alone in a room with him.

"I asked you a question," Fletcher says, and his voice is pleasant enough, but there's something lurking underneath – something nasty.

There's no lie I can think of, no way I can talk myself out of this.

"I saw you break away from the others. Seems to me you're snooping around somewhere you shouldn't be," Fletcher says.

He's moving closer now, and I realise he's about to come around the side of the desk. I quickly turn, shoving the bag under the desk with my foot at the same time. Fletcher won't see it now, but that doesn't help me.

I had been so sure no one had seen me.

"I've got to be honest. I didn't think you had it in you to be a rule-breaker. Let me guess, you were trying to find out something about the Trials? Trying to give yourself an advantage?" Fletcher says.

It doesn't bother him that I'm not saying a word; of course not. He doesn't need his girls to talk.

Bile rises in my throat.

"Now, we have a problem, don't we, Caia? You're not supposed to be in here." He's using the same voice he did with Cole, that patronising, reprimanding tone with a hint of menace underneath.

"Then I guess I should leave." I try to back away, but he moves faster than I'm expecting, grabbing my waist and pulling me close.

When Roan does this it makes my skin tingle and my bones melt and my heart fly to the sun.

When Fletcher does it, it's a threat. It makes every fibre of my being shudder.

"You broke the rules. I really should report you to Ripley," he says, and looks expectantly at me.

What is he waiting for?

Does he want me to beg him not to?

Actually, that's probably exactly what he wants.

I won't give him the satisfaction.

His eyes darken when I don't cooperate.

"She won't be happy with you. She might even ban you from the Trials."

That would only be a threat if I was still ignorant as to what they were, but I can't let Fletcher know that.

"But I'm a reasonable guy. I'm sure we can work something out." He lifts a hand and touches the side of my face, trailing one finger down the length of my scar. There's something really ugly in his eyes now, some kind of sick fascination. My scars aren't putting him off; he's looking at them like . . . like he's enjoying them.

"I don't think we can," I say, leaning back, away from him.

His mouth flattens into a hard line. "You should reconsider that."

I look around, trying to control my rising desperation, and my eye falls on the glass paperweight, sitting on the desk. If he touches me I'll fight back.

Fletcher lunges suddenly, and I do too, reaching for the paperweight; I grab it just as he grabs my wrist. He's horribly strong.

Sheer terror makes my brain blank out, but before Fletcher can make another move, the door opens again.

"What's going on?"

It's Ripley this time.

She surveys the pair of us, and her face is remote, expressionless.

Fletcher releases me. "I caught her snooping."

Ripley's eyes flick to me, and I feel like I'm sinking in ice water.

Maybe I could have fought off Fletcher, knocked him out with the paperweight, and then hurried on to the Handlers' quarters to plant more bugs, but there is no way I can take on both Fletcher and Ripley.

I try to think, desperately racking my brains for some way out of this, but I come up blank. There's no way to explain why I am in Records, when I should be outside with everyone else.

I've been caught. I've failed before I even really begun.

Fletcher smirks in my periphery, and my fear is overcome by a burning blast of rage.

I don't know what would have happened if Ripley hadn't walked in, but I know what Fletcher is doing to Cole. I'm absolutely sure now that she isn't his first, and she won't be his last. Cole is so desperate to be marked as a Predator in the Trials, but Fletcher is a real predator, and he's going to get away with it.

Unless I can stop him.

And suddenly I see a glimmer of hope. Maybe there is a way I can get out of this, and take Fletcher down in the process.

"He told me I had to come in here," I say, hunching my shoulders.

"What?" Fletcher's smug look fades.

Ripley narrows her eyes slightly.

"This is where he always brings me," I say.

"The hell are you talking about?" Fletcher says, but I don't look at him.

My eyes are fixed on Ripley.

"He told me to pull the fire alarm so we could come in here without anyone noticing, so we could be alone," I say.

Ripley turns her attention to Fletcher, and one thin eyebrow goes up. "Well?" she says, and her voice is ice.

Fletcher laughs, easy and casual, the smug look back on his face. "She's lying."

"Why else would I be in here?" I say.

"That's a good question," Ripley says, studying me.

"Isn't it obvious? She's trying to get ahead in the Trials. She's trying to cheat," Fletcher says.

Ripley purses her lips, considering.

"I already know about the Trials," I say, and remember what Cole said to me. "Fletcher has been feeding me information about them for months, and in return I give him sex."

"This is ridiculous," Fletcher says, and he's too calm. It's the calmness of a man who knows he can lie his way out of this. "This kid is just looking for a way to cheat, and she pulled the alarm so she could get in here and snoop. I saw her sneak away from everyone else and so I followed her and stopped her, and now that's she been caught, she's making ridiculous accusations."

"Well?" Ripley addresses me. "I'm sure I don't have to remind you that this is a very serious accusation, and we do not tolerate lying in the CC."

A desperate laugh builds in my throat. It's perfectly alright for Handlers to lie to us, though, isn't it?

I wait too long to respond to Ripley, and suspicion darkens her face.

"Right," she says, her hand dropping to the baton at her belt. "I think you should come with me, Caia."

She's taking me to Isolation, I'm sure of it, and panic blazes along my bones.

The bottom drops out of the world as the full reality of what's happened settles in.

If I'm in Isolation then I can't complete Beyond's mission. The only bug I managed to plant is the one on the computer, but there's no guarantee that Rosie will be able to access any evidence from the stupid machine. I can't access any cameras or anything else in the Handlers' quarters.

Sooner or later, Ripley or someone else will discover the bag that I've hidden under the desk. They'll find the bugs.

I've failed.

I won't be able to finish what we started.

I won't be able to help Beyond find the evidence they need to stop the Trials and bring down the CC.

I won't be able to save my friends from what's coming.

I'll never see Roan again.

No.

It can't end here.

Fletcher smirks again, and even though I know it's stupid, reckless, and dangerous¸ I only have one move left to make.

"I know about the Trial Grid. I know about Prey and Predators. I know about the CC's military connections. I told you, Fletcher's been feeding me information for months," I say.

Fletcher's head whips towards me; he looks dumb-struck.

Ripley's face is carved from stone.

The breath lodges in my throat. Have I just made a huge mistake? Even if Ripley thinks I only came in here to cheat, she knows that I know something, which means she'll never let me carry on as normal. She won't be able to risk me telling anyone else, so my best case scenario is spending the next few days in Isolation, where I can't share any secrets with anyone.

No matter what happens, I can't complete Beyond's mission, so if I'm going down, the very least I can do is take Fletcher down with me.

"This is bullshit," Fletcher says, but he's blustering now, his calm facade giving way to twitchy-eyed panic.

Ripley sees it too; she moves closer to him, and the temperature in the room seems to plummet.

"What have you done?" she says, her voice sharp and cold as a blade.

"I can explain," Fletcher says, but he can't.

I swear I can see him trying to think up a plausible lie, just as I was trying to a few minutes ago, but he can't explain how, if I'm only in here to cheat, I would know the specifics of the Trials.

His eyes burn with fury.

"I'm waiting," Ripley says.

Fletcher's hands bunch into fists.

He's not . . . he's not going to attack Ripley, is he? He can't possibly think he can get away with that . . .

Suddenly I'm afraid.

I've backed Fletcher into a corner – Ripley knows he's lying now – and I have no idea what he's actually capable of. Will he kill her? Kill me? He can't – he'll never get away with something like that . . .

My mind races.

I swore that I would never, ever abandon my friends, but if I don't get out of here, then Fletcher really might kill me, and if he doesn't, Ripley will throw me into Isolation, and then there will be no one to save the people I love from what's coming.

Now, my only choice is to run, even if that means leaving Sonny and Taffy and Priya behind, because at least then I can hide out with Beyond and try to formulate another plan to save them. I have no idea how, but surely surviving to fight another day is better than staying here.

Fletcher starts to speak, and I seize my chance, lunging around the desk and running for the door. If I can just get past Ripley, then I'm sure I can outrun them both and get out of the building, and then I can escape through the fence and –

Ripley's hand flashes, lightning-fast, and I just glimpse the baton in her hand before it cracks into my head, and everything goes black.