Frustrated, I just give up and shove everything into my pockets, then ease back into the hallway. As I walk to the exit a light sort of fluttery feeling starts to tickle in my stomach—a small sense of relief that everything will be okay.

When the door to the outside appears I get lax and stop straining for every noise. And so I’m utterly surprised when fingers clamp around my arm, twisting me back until I thump against the wall.

It’s a tall broad-shouldered Recruiter with brown hair tucked behind his ears and dark eyes. He smiles, a dimple appearing in his cheek. “This is unexpected,” he says, his light tone almost flirtatious.

“I was looking for something,” I say nonchalantly, trying not to sound guilty.

He tilts his head to the side. “What’s that? Or should I say who’s that?” He winks almost awkwardly. I start to relax, thinking maybe I’m not going to be in trouble. That maybe I can talk myself out of this. After all, it’s not like I’m not allowed to wander around the island, I just haven’t that often.

“A few supplies for Elias,” I say with a shrug, hoping the mention of another Recruiter will ease my way out of here.

He nods and is about to push open the door for me when he notices the machete gripped so tightly in my hand that the skin around my knuckles is white. Before I can say or do anything he jerks his knee into my wrist, slamming it hard against the wall. There’s a bright pain and then my fingers tingle, go numb. The machete clatters to the floor and the Recruiter places his foot over the flat of the blade.

“It’s not polite to bear weapons indoors,” he says, grabbing my arm.

I glance at the doorway leading outside, my escape so close. “I—I just—”

He jerks me from the wall and shoves me down the hallway so hard that I stumble, falling to one knee. As I start to right myself, one of the packets of herbs slips from my overflowing pockets and lands on the floor with a quiet thump.

He leans in, trying to see what I’ve taken, and I kick out, catching the side of his knee with my foot and feeling it buckle. He screams, eyes clenched shut and hands reaching for his leg, then I swing my arm at his face. His head whips back and slams against the wall, and he slides to the ground, whimpering and dazed.

His knee’s bent at an unnatural angle and I back away from him, shocked at my own violence. At what I’ve done. I’m just squatting and reaching for the packet of herbs when a voice calls out.

I look up. Conall’s running toward me. My heart sinks and I push myself into a sprint, bolting for the exit.