Every day until the private sessions began, I found myself pulled into secret meetings, each one more critical than the last. Haymitch had set it up with the other tributes involved in the plan to escape the Games, and each meeting was shrouded in secrecy. I had become their unspoken link—the one who could cover their voices, protecting them from the Capitol's prying eyes.

I was careful, so very careful. Each time I met up with the others, I'd set up a sound barrier, creating a bubble where only we could hear what was being said. I wasn't taking any chances; not after everything the Capitol had done. There could be no room for error.

The tributes I met with were an eclectic group, each of them carrying their own set of burdens. Finnick was surprisingly open, and his charm hid a deep weariness in his eyes—he was tired of the Capitol's games, and I could see that in the way he carried himself. Johanna, though fierce and tough as nails, had a vulnerable edge beneath her sharp exterior. It was clear she hated being here as much as the rest of us, and she wasn't afraid to voice her bitterness. Beetee was the quiet one, the strategist, the planner. I could see how his mind was always working, always scheming. He didn't say much, but when he did, it was always calculated.

As we continued our meetings, I began to see the details fall into place: who would be in charge of distractions, who would create the opening, who would help Katniss and Peeta escape. It was all there—laid out in our quiet conversations.

Despite all of this, I was still haunted by my need to make things right with Katniss. I couldn't stop thinking about her—the way her eyes had looked at me, that subtle distrust still lingering. I had wronged her. No matter what the Capitol did to us, no matter the games we had to play, I needed her to trust me again.

I knew that now was my chance to prove to her that I wasn't just some Capitol pawn. I wasn't just some puppet they had pulled out of their cruel game. I wanted her to see me as a friend again—someone who could be relied upon. But I had to be careful. Katniss wasn't one to forgive quickly. She never had been.

It was after one of these meetings that I found myself walking down the gleaming Capitol halls, on my way to meet up with her and Peeta. I could feel the tension in my shoulders as I approached their quarters. I was on edge, trying to anticipate how she might react.

Peeta answered the door first. His face was softer than it had been before, though there was still a weariness to his eyes. "Emerald," he greeted me, his smile hesitant but kind. "Come in."

I followed him inside, my heart drumming in my chest. Katniss was sitting by the window, her gaze distant, as if she was lost in thought. She didn't look up as I entered, but I could feel her awareness of my presence.

"Katniss," I said softly, approaching her cautiously. I wasn't sure what to say—what could I say after everything that had happened?

Her eyes flicked to me, and for a brief moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, she gave me a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Emerald," she replied, her voice stiff. "What brings you here?"

Peeta sat down beside her, his arm draped casually over her shoulders. I felt a pang of guilt. They were so close now, more than they had been in the past, and I wasn't sure how to fit into this new dynamic.

"I… I wanted to talk," I said, trying to find the right words. "I know I messed up, and I'm not asking for forgiveness. Not yet. I just want to help. I know I can make things right."

Katniss studied me for a moment, her expression unreadable. "You're here to help us?" she asked, her voice cool but not unkind.

I nodded, though my insides were twisting. "Yes. I want to make sure you both get out of this—alive. No matter what."

Her eyes flickered toward Peeta for a moment, then back to me. There was a softness in her gaze, but also a flicker of uncertainty. "You don't need to do that, Emerald. We can handle ourselves," she said, her voice strong but tinged with something darker. "We always have."

I could feel the weight of her words. She was right, of course. They had always managed to survive on their own. But this time—this time things were different. They were up against more than just the Games; they were up against the Capitol itself.

"I know," I said quietly, "But I owe you both more than that. I'm not asking to be your hero. I'm asking for a chance to help, to prove that I'm on your side."

Peeta's hand tightened slightly on Katniss's shoulder, but he didn't speak. He didn't need to. I could see the wariness in his eyes—the same wariness that had been there before, when he'd spoken about pretending. And in that moment, I realized he hadn't been lying. There was something between them that went beyond just the Games, something deeper that neither of them had fully said aloud.

I didn't push. I didn't need to. I simply gave them both a small smile and turned to leave.

"Emerald," Katniss called as I reached the door. I turned, and her voice softened. "You're still my friend. But… I'm not sure we can all be in this together."

I nodded, understanding the boundaries she was setting. "I get it," I said, my heart heavy but resolute. "I won't push. Just… let me help when you're ready. I'm not going anywhere."

And with that, I left their room, knowing there was more work to be done. More walls to break down, more trust to earn. But I would prove myself to them, no matter the cost. I had to. For them. For all of us.