How can the most popular and wanted man in Panem be so hard to find? It feels as if no one has seen hide nor hair of Finnick for days. In a panic I race through corridors and hallways in parts of the training centre I have never been to, I head outside to the botanical gardens, I head up to the roof. Nothing.

All the while my mind is on my father, and the heightened danger he is now in. What if Briar is sending messages even now to the Gamemakers to set off more of the traps? Will he be so lucky as to escape again? What does Briar think would hurt me more? Witnessing his death first-hand, or hearing about it later? If the former am I better off staying away? But if the latter I need to be as quick as possible.

I am just about to give up my search when I spy a familiar looking figure. A Capitol citizen, with frizzy turquoise hair, a ridiculous feather fascinator perched precariously on top. I recognize her as the District Four rep. What was her name? Treya? Troya? Something similar. If anyone in this damn place knows where I can find him, it's sure to be her. I pick my pace up, running towards her, slowing to a jog for the last few steps.

"Hey," I call out, slightly breathless, to catch her attention.

She looks up at me, a little confusion in her eyes but remains polite. "Good day," she greets.

"Ummm, I need to find Finnick."

Her confusion becomes even more pronounced. "Any messages for him you can give to me," she says, reminding me of the Capitol bureaucrat back home in Twelve that wouldn't allow me in to see dad.

I take a deep steadying breath. "Not this one. I just need to know where to find him. Please."

Something in my tone must convince her because after a moment her haughty demeanour softens. "Follow me."

She leads me through the labyrinth of stairs and corridors, eventually stopping outside an unmarked door. She knocks rapidly several times then stands back to wait. After a moment's wait the door opens to reveal Finnick, a look of concern plastered all over his handsome features. "What is it?"

She stands back to reveal me. "Finnick, dear, you have a visitor."

He glances up and down the corridor then grabs hold of the top of my arm and drags me roughly inside. As the door slams shut behind me I hear his District rep's little strangled and indignant cry resonating in the now empty corridor.

"What are you doing here?" he demands.

"I need to know what's going on. She knows, Finnick. She knows that disc is missing and she's trying to kill dad to punish me. You said you'd help…" I finish, my voice trailing off.

A tinkling sound of laughter distracts us both and I realise that we are not alone. Next to the open window, laying back in a wicker sun lounger, is a pretty girl with auburn her. She looks like the girl in the photographs who had been beaten black and blue, the girl whose kidnapping caused Finnick to decide to help me. She is on her back, her bare feet in the air, wiggling her toes in the shaft of sunlight. She has clearly received Capitol medical attention, as the evidence of her abuse is minimal. She stops laughing abruptly when she sees me; she sits up straight in the lounger and inhales sharply, panic evident in every muscle of her body.

"Annie, baby, it's ok," says Finnick, striding over to her and kneeling in front of her, clutching her trembling hands in his own. "He won't hurt you. It's ok."

Annie…. Something about her is so familiar….And then it hits me. This girl is another victor, the girl who won through sheer luck and circumstance rather than bloodlust. She hadn't proven to be popular and had slipped off the radar since her Victory Tour. But Finnick appears to love her. I rack my brain for her name as I watch him tenderly stroke the side of her face, when it comes back to me. "Annie Cresta?"

Her eyes widen even further in fear and panic. "He doesn't know me!" she whimpers over and over again. "He doesn't know me!"

Finnick flashes me an angry glare as I stutter, "I-I'm sorry." Maybe winning didn't do her any favours either.

Finnick wraps her in his arms and whispers something to her, and as he does she slowly begins to relax again. He kisses her forehead, whispers something else then stands and comes back to me. "Look, I'm sorry about your old man, but it's out of my hands. I've done everything I can. We'll just have to wait and see what happens."

"What have you done?" I ask. If I just had some kind of inkling as to what was happening, then maybe I could relax, even just slightly.

He sighs and gestures for me to sit, then checks on Annie one more time. Realising that she is lost in her own world again, Finnick takes a seat opposite me and begins to talk. "One of my…clients… happens to be Snow's cousin. She and Briar were business partners once upon a time, although after a while it became pretty apparent that they would be unable to continue working together. They disagreed on pretty much every decision and Briar wanted her out. But instead of coming to a mutual agreement Briar started faking evidence of money losses, bad investments and embezzlement. She was ousted by the shareholders, and it was only her family connection to Snow that kept her out of prison. In retaliation she tried to get Snow to have Briar arrested for faking evidence, but it was so well done, and she had covered her trails so perfectly that it became one person's word against another and in the end the case was dropped. She's always wanted revenge against Briar, and I delivered the disc to her yesterday morning. What happens next is up to her."

I let out a shaky breath. This all seems promising but until I see any of the fruits of it I'll be unable to relax. "Thank you for trying, at least."

"I didn't do it for you, Peeta."

"I know. But thank you anyway."

Finnick throws a glance over at Annie before returning his attention to me. "I meant what I said before. You don't deserve this but if you're going to survive you've got a lot to learn. Try not to get on the wrong side of anyone else that dangerous, ok? And in the meantime, keep an eye out for yourself. And anyone you care about."

My breath catches in my throat. "You don't think… Katniss…?"

Finnick shrugs and lowers his voice. "I don't know. But she got to Annie. Hopefully your popularity will work in your favour. But if I was you, I wouldn't want to let her out of my sight."

I stand up as the implications of what he is saying settle over me. "I have to go," I say, panic clouding the edge of my voice.

He nods his understanding and returns to Annie as I throw open the door to his rooms and tear down the corridor as fast as I can. My feet carry me on automatic pilot, renegotiating the serpentine corridors and stairwells until I find myself back in familiar territory. Standing outside Katniss' room, my heart pounding uncomfortably in my throat, I beat a loud tattoo against the door. No answer. In a blind panic I try again, banging hard against the wood and metal barrier separating us, calling her name, until at long last she opens the door, a bleary look of confusion on her face.

"Peeta?"

"Thank god," I say, as I fling my arms around her.

"Oh no, Peeta… Is he…? Oh, Peeta…." She says as she returns the ferocity of my embrace. She clearly thinks something has happened to dad.

"No, he's ok. Or at least he was. I just needed to know that you…"

"Peeta, I'm fine, why wouldn't I be?"

I release her just enough to look in to her eyes. I'm not sure how much to tell her. "I… I upset her, Katniss, and I think she's trying to get to me."

"Briar?" she hisses, spitting the name out as if it was poisonous. I nod confirmation. "She can't touch me, Peeta."

Do I tell her about Annie, bloodied and bruised just so she could have her way with Finnick? In the end I decide not to alarm her. "Ok," I tell her, drawing her close to me again, "But I'd prefer it if we stay by each other's sides from now on, ok?"

"Ok," she says quietly, relaxing in to my arms.

I press my lips to the top of her head when a hellish realisation floods through me. Katniss doesn't yet know about Ava. "There's something else," I say, and Katniss can clearly tell something is wrong from the tone of my voice as she tenses suddenly. I find my throat constricting as I struggle to say her name. "A-Ava. She's g-gone."

Instantly her body begins to tremble in my embrace. "Who did it?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

"The arena," I answer her. "It was…" I want to tell her it was quick but I can't bring myself to. While her actual death was over in a moment, and must have been relatively painless, those words don't begin to describe the emotional hell she must have experienced beforehand.

Katniss pushes me away and turns back into her room, reaching for the remote to turn on the television. I linger on the threshold for a moment unsure of whether to follow her. My mind is made up as soon as I see the look of horror on her face. Quickly joining her by her side I can see that the television is showing recaps of the recent deaths. I didn't want her to see the agony, the personal torment that Ava went through in those hellish minutes prior to hitting the electrified barrier but there it is, on display to the whole nation. I tentatively place my arm around Katniss' waist and she turns in to me, her body racked with sobs.

As I watch the television cuts back to a live feed. Two men are fighting, the ones from District One and District Three. They are a tangle of bloodied limbs as they roll around through the jungle, kicking, biting, punching…. Neither seems to be carrying a weapon at the moment, although a lethal looking blade lies on the grass several feet away from them. Despite District One's obvious advantage, the man from Three still seems to be holding his own, landing as many blows as he is receiving. But neither man will be able to keep up such an onslaught for long. Sure enough before long the man from One has Three pinned down. But Three simultaneously brings his knee up sharply in to the other man's groin while jerking his head upwards, crashing in to One's nose, which immediately begins to pour blood.

One rolls off to the side, his momentary distraction becoming his ultimate downfall. Three scrambles to his feet and brings his foot down hard on the side of One's head. His eyes roll back into his head but he is still alive. Disoriented, lost, but for now still alive. Three rectifies this soon enough. Within moments he has found the discarded blade and brings it hard down in to One's chest. Once safe Three collapses on the ground, exhausted and shaking from near defeat.

"Look," Katniss whispers, nodding at the screen. An announcement along the bottom of the screen tells us that we are down to the final eight tributes. They will be wanting to interview friends and family. "Will they want to interview you for it, do you think?"

The thought hadn't occurred to me. I try to think back to previous years, when a Victor's child had been reaped and made it to the final eight. Had they been interviewed then? "I don't know," I answer honestly, but I think about how I was treated solely as a mentor and not as family when I tried to see dad back at the Justice Building. "Probably not. Maybe. I don't know."

My heart is racing. The final eight… dad's chances of making it out alive suddenly seem far more real than they have at any other time.

"We should get back," I say to Katniss. With only eight tributes left, the sponsors will be going crazy. If there is any chance we can get extra help to dad I have to be there in the thick of the action.

As we approach the main bar something seems different. The atmosphere feels electrically charged and there is a heightened peacekeeper presence. I see two of them talking to Haymitch, his hands held up in a placatory gesture. His eyes widen as he sees me and the two peacekeepers turn on the spot, marching towards me.

"What's going on?" Katniss whispers to me, gripping my wrists tightly. I swallow the bile that is rising up within me and shake my head slightly. This must surely have something to do with Briar, there can be no other explanation.

The peacekeepers approach and as they do one of them reaches inside his armoured jacket, pulling out a letter. He hands this out towards me which I take with a shaking hand. I am immediately struck by the scent of a cloying, sickly sweet perfume and as I turn the letter over in my hand I spot the wax seal, printed with the image of a rose. My fingers tremble as I open the letter.

Mr Mellark,

Your presence is requested.

CS

I look up at Katniss and I can see the fear in her eyes but I have no idea of what I can say to comfort her. My words sound hollow as I say, "Don't worry. I'll be ok."

"Please accompany us, Mr Mellark, the president does not like to be kept waiting."

I nod shortly. Haymitch has come to join us, apprehension apparent in his entire body. "Don't let her out of your sight," I say to him as I am marched away.

I feel like I did when my name was first pulled out of the Reaping Ball, being marched to my inescapable fate. The peacekeepers remain silent and I doubt they will welcome any attempt at conversation, so I keep my head up and my eyes focused ahead, and try not to betray the fear I feel.

Outside a small hovercar is waiting for us, the Capitol Seal emblazoned on the side, which takes off as soon as we are sat. The peacekeepers stay silent for the entire journey, and my heart soon begins to pound in my ears. Am I being led to my death? Or a fate far worse?

The journey takes no time at all and before I am able to gather my thoughts I am being ushered out of the cab. The Presidential Mansion is before me, and the peacekeepers march me up the vast sweeping marble steps, my feet feeling heavier and more reluctant to travel onwards with every step. By the time I am escorted inside I am dizzy and almost unable to stand.

The peacekeepers lead me to an ornate wooden door. They knock three times and a commanding voice inside calls, "Enter!" I recognise the voice immediately. President Snow. I take several deep calming breaths and push the door open.

I find myself in a plush sitting room with a large, open bay window looking out over a rose garden. The sickly scent that I smelled earlier is ten times more overpowering here and it takes all my effort not to gag. Snow is sat in an armchair by the open window, a table with a tea pot and two cups beside him. "Mr Mellark," he says, and I feel no warmth in his words. "Please sit." He gestures to an empty chair opposite him. I cross the room and take a seat. "Tea?" he asks, indicating the set laid out in front of him.

"No, thank you," I reply, even though my mouth is parched.

"I always find it the height of ill manners that when a superior offers one something, one declines," he says, pouring himself a cup but never looking at me. "Tea?"

What choice do I have? "Yes, thank you, sir," I answer as he pours a second cup.

"Milk? Sugar?"

"Milk, no sugar, thank you."

He pours the drink, and passes me the delicate china cup and saucer. "Thank you," I repeat.

He takes several slow sips from his cup before he begins to speak again. "I daresay you have an inkling as to why I have summoned you here."

Should I play dumb? Or is my best tactic to be honest. My hesitation in answering clearly angers him, as his voice is low and dangerous when he speaks again.

"Come now, Mr Mellark. You are not a stupid man. It took a great deal of cunning to be able to twist the public to get behind tributes from such an outlying District, and even more so to be able to convince my people to allow you both to live. You are here today at my graces, so please, do me the courtesy of answering before I change my mind about your intelligence."

"Yes sir, I have an idea."

"My Victors are valuable commodities to me. If I am not receiving proper recompense I need to know precisely how much I am owed so I might mete out an appropriate punishment. How many dalliances have you had with Miss Baxwall?"

I recall each time with horrifying clarity. "She summoned me four times," I reply.

"And you had sex on each of those four occasions?"

I feel my face burn scarlet. To be having this conversation at all is mortifying. To be having it with the President, who holds my very life in his hands…. "No, sir. The second time she wanted Finnick and myself to…. But he wouldn't. He refused because I'm underage. And then the final time…." I shudder as the memories rush over me.

"Yes, I've seen. It's almost a shame the film can't legally be sold. I know many people would pay an exceptional price for such footage."

A flood of cold washes over me. It's clear Briar is going to be punished somehow, but that Snow is only interested in me as a financial asset. Am I still going to be sold? I force myself to keep breathing, and take several gulps of tea to try and calm myself.

"I think we are done here, Mr Mellark. Congratulations on two of your tributes making it to the final eight. Interviews with the families will take place later today. May the odds be ever in your favour."

"Thank you, sir," I say quietly as I place the cup and saucer back down on the coffee table. Snow takes his cup and turns away from me, staring out the window. It's clear I have been dismissed. I edge my way towards the door, fumbling a little with the handle in my haste to leave. The peacekeepers are still waiting outside, presumably to escort me back. I am certain that the nauseating rushing sensation in the pit of my stomach as we launch in to the air is not caused solely by the sudden movement. The mounting sense of dread at what the future now holds increases with every passing second, leaving me almost unable to move when we finally return to the training centre.

Focus. One thing at a time. Get through the Quell first. Only seven more deaths until it is over. Then let these other games I am trapped in unfold.