Dedication

ToNelson,whowaswortheveryrisk

Contents

TitlePage

Dedication

Epigraph

ChapterOne

ChapterTwo

ChapterThree

ChapterFour

ChapterFive

ChapterSix

ChapterSeven

ChapterEight

ChapterNine

ChapterTen

ChapterEleven

ChapterTwelve

ChapterThirteen

ChapterFourteen

ChapterFifteen

ChapterSixteen

ChapterSeventeen

ChapterEighteen

ChapterNineteen

ChapterTwenty

ChapterTwenty-One

ChapterTwenty-Two

ChapterTwenty-Three

ChapterTwenty-Four

ChapterTwenty-Five

ChapterTwenty-Six

ChapterTwenty-Seven

ChapterTwenty-Eight

ChapterTwenty-Nine

ChapterThirty

ChapterThirty-One

ChapterThirty-Two

ChapterThirty-Three

ChapterThirty-Four

ChapterThirty-Five

ChapterThirty-Six

ChapterThirty-Seven

ChapterThirty-Eight

ChapterThirty-Nine

ChapterForty

ChapterForty-One

ChapterForty-Two

ChapterForty-Three

ChapterForty-Four

ChapterForty-Five

ChapterForty-Six

ChapterForty-Seven

Acknowledgments

Praise

OtherBooksbyVeronicaRoth

Copyright

AboutthePublisher

Epigraph

Likeawildanimal,thetruthistoopowerfultoremaincaged.

—FromtheCandorfactionmanifesto

IWAKEWITHhisnameinmymouth.

Will.

BeforeIopenmyeyes,Iwatchhimcrumpletothepavementagain.Dead.

Mydoing.

Tobiascrouchesinfrontofme,hishandonmyleftshoulder.Thetraincarbumpsovertherails,andMarcus,Peter,andCalebstandbythedoorway.Itakeadeepbreathandholditinanattempttorelievesomeofthepressurethatisbuildinginmychest.

Anhourago,nothingthathappenedfeltrealtome.Nowitdoes.

Ibreatheout,andthepressureisstillthere.

“Tris,comeon,”Tobiassays,hiseyessearchingmine.“Wehavetojump.”

Itistoodarktoseewhereweare,butifwearegettingoff,weareprobablyclosetothefence.Tobiashelpsmetomyfeetandguidesmetowardthedoorway.

Theothers jumpoffonebyone:Peter first, thenMarcus, thenCaleb. I takeTobias’shand.Thewindpicksupaswestandattheedgeofthecaropening,likeahandpushingmeback,towardsafety.

Butwelaunchourselvesintodarknessandlandhardontheground.Theimpacthurtsthebulletwoundinmyshoulder.Ibitemyliptokeepfromcryingout,andsearchformybrother.

“Okay?”IsaywhenIseehimsittinginthegrassafewfeetaway,rubbinghisknee.

Henods.Ihearhimsnifflikehe’sfendingofftears,andIhavetoturnaway.

Welandedinthegrassnearthefence,severalyardsawayfromthewornpaththattheAmity trucks travel todeliver food to thecity,and thegate that lets themout—thegatethat is currently shut, locking us in.The fence towers over us, too high and flexible toclimbover,toosturdytoknockdown.

“TherearesupposedtobeDauntlessguardshere,”saysMarcus.“Wherearethey?”

“Theywereprobablyunderthesimulation,”Tobiassays,“andarenow…”Hepauses.

“Whoknowswhere,doingwhoknowswhat.”

Westoppedthesimulation—theweightoftheharddriveinmybackpocketremindsme—butwedidn’tpausetoseetheaftermath.Whathappenedtoourfriends,ourpeers,ourleaders,ourfactions?Thereisnowaytoknow.

Tobiasapproachesasmallmetalboxontherightsideofthegateandopensit,revealingakeypad.

“Let’shopetheEruditedidn’tthinktochangethiscombination,”hesaysashetypesinaseriesofnumbers.Hestopsattheeighthone,andthegateclicksopen.

“Howdidyouknowthat?”saysCaleb.Hisvoicesoundsthickwithemotion,sothickIamsurpriseditdoesnotchokehimonthewayout.

“I worked in the Dauntless control room, monitoring the security system. We onlychangethecodestwiceayear,”Tobiassays.

“Howlucky,”saysCaleb.HegivesTobiasawarylook.

“Luckhasnothingtodowithit,”Tobiassays.“IonlyworkedtherebecauseIwantedtomakesureIcouldgetout.”

Ishiver.Thewayhetalksaboutgettingout—it’slikehethinkswe’retrapped.Ineverthoughtaboutitthatwaybefore,andnowthatseemsfoolish.

Wewalkinasmallpack,Petercradlinghisbloodyarmtohischest—thearmthatIshot—andMarcus with his hand on Peter’s shoulder, keeping him stable. Caleb wipes hischeekseveryfewseconds,andIknowhe’scryingbutIdon’tknowhowtocomforthim,orwhyIamnotcryingmyself.

InsteadItakethelead,Tobiassilentatmyside,andthoughhedoesnottouchme,hesteadiesme.

PinpricksoflightarethefirstsignthatwearenearingAmityheadquarters.Thensquaresoflightthatturnintoglowingwindows.Aclusterofwoodenandglassbuildings.

Beforewecanreachthem,wehavetowalkthroughanorchard.Myfeetsinkintotheground,andaboveme,thebranchesgrowintooneanother,formingakindoftunnel.Darkfruit hangs among the leaves, ready to drop. The sharp, sweet smell of rotting applesmixeswiththescentofwetearthinmynose.

Whenwegetclose,Marcus leavesPeter’s sideandwalks in front. “Iknowwhere togo,”hesays.

Heleadsuspastthefirstbuildingtothesecondoneontheleft.Allthebuildingsexceptthe greenhouses are made of the same dark wood, unpainted, rough. I hear laughterthroughanopenwindow.Thecontrastbetweenthelaughterandthestonestillnesswithinmeisjarring.

Marcusopensoneofthedoors.IwouldbeshockedbythelackofsecurityifwewerenotatAmityheadquarters.Theyoftenstraddlethelinebetweentrustandstupidity.

In this building the only sound is of our squeaking shoes. I don’t hearCaleb cryinganymore,butthen,hewasquietaboutitbefore.

Marcusstopsbeforeanopenroom,whereJohannaReyes,representativeofAmity,sits,staringoutthewindow.IrecognizeherbecauseitishardtoforgetJohanna’sface,whetheryou’veseenheronceorathousandtimes.Ascarstretchesinathicklinefromjustaboveherrighteyebrowtoherlip,renderingherblindinoneeyeandgivingheralispwhenshetalks.Ihaveonlyheardherspeakonce,butIremember.Shewouldhavebeenabeautifulwomanifnotforthatscar.

“Oh,thankGod,”shesayswhensheseesMarcus.Shewalkstowardhimwithherarmsopen. Insteadof embracinghim, she just toucheshis shoulders, like she remembers theAbnegation’sdistasteforcasualphysicalcontact.

“Theothermembersofyourpartygothereafewhoursago,buttheyweren’tsureifyouhadmade it,” she says.She is referring to thegroupofAbnegationwhowerewithmyfatherandMarcusinthesafehouse.Ididn’teventhinktoworryaboutthem.

ShelooksoverMarcus’sshoulder,firstatTobiasandCaleb,thenatme,thenatPeter.

“Ohmy,”shesays,hereyeslingeringonthebloodsoakingPeter’sshirt.“I’llsendforadoctor.Icangrantyouallpermissiontostaythenight,buttomorrow,ourcommunitymustdecide together. And”—she eyes Tobias and me—“they will likely not be enthusiasticabout a Dauntless presence in our compound. I of course ask you to turn over anyweaponsyoumighthave.”

Iwonder,suddenly,howsheknowsthatIamDauntless.Iamstillwearingagrayshirt.Myfather’sshirt.

Atthatmoment,hissmell,whichisanevenmixtureofsoapandsweat,waftsupward,anditfillsmynose,fillsmyentireheadwithhim.Iclenchmyhandssohardintofiststhatmyfingernailscutintomyskin.Nothere.Nothere.

Tobiashandsoverhisgun,butwhenIreachbehindmetotakeoutmyownconcealedweapon,hegrabsmyhand,guidingitawayfrommyback.Thenhelaceshisfingerswithminetocoverupwhathejustdid.

Iknow it’s smart tokeeponeofourguns.But itwouldhavebeena relief tohand itover.

“MynameisJohannaReyes,”shesays,extendingherhandtome,andthenTobias.ADauntlessgreeting. Iamimpressedbyherawarenessof thecustomsofother factions. IalwaysforgethowconsideratetheAmityareuntilIseeitformyself.

“ThisisT—”Marcusstarts,butTobiasinterruptshim.

“MynameisFour,”hesays.“ThisisTris,Caleb,andPeter.”

A fewdays ago, “Tobias”was a nameonly I knew, among theDauntless; itwas thepieceofhimselfthathegaveme.OutsideDauntlessheadquarters,Irememberwhyhehidthatnamefromtheworld.ItbindshimtoMarcus.

“Welcome to theAmity compound.” Johanna’s eyes fix onmy face, and she smilescrookedly.“Letustakecareofyou.”

Wedoletthem.AnAmitynursegivesmeasalve—developedbyEruditetospeedhealing—to put onmy shoulder, and then escorts Peter to the hospitalward tomend his arm.Johannatakesustothecafeteria,wherewefindsomeoftheAbnegationwhowereinthesafehousewithCalebandmyfather.Susanisthere,andsomeofouroldneighbors,androwsofwoodentablesaslongastheroomitself.Theygreetus—especiallyMarcus—withheld-intearsandsuppressedsmiles.

IclingtoTobias’sarm.Isagundertheweightofthemembersofmyparents’faction,theirlives,theirtears.

OneoftheAbnegationputsacupofsteamingliquidundermynoseandsays,“Drinkthis.Itwillhelpyousleepasithelpedsomeoftheotherssleep.Nodreams.”

The liquid is pink-red, like strawberries. I grab the cup and drink it fast. For a fewsecondstheheatfromtheliquidmakesmefeellikeIamfullofsomethingagain.AndasIdrain the last drops from the cup, I feelmyself relaxing. Someone leadsme down thehallway,toaroomwithabedinit.Thatisall.

IOPENMYeyes,terrified,myhandsclutchingatthesheets.ButIamnotrunningthroughthestreets of the city or the corridors of Dauntless headquarters. I am in a bed in Amityheadquarters,andthesmellofsawdustisintheair.

Ishift,andwinceassomethingdigsintomyback.Ireachbehindme,andmyfingerswraparoundthegun.

Foramoment I seeWill standingbeforeme,bothourgunsbetweenus—his hand, Icouldhaveshothishand,whydidn’tI,why?—andIalmostscreamhisname.

Thenhe’sgone.

Igetoutofbedandliftthemattresswithonehand,proppingituponmyknee.ThenIshovethegunbeneathitandletthemattressburyit.Onceitisoutofsightandnolongerpressedtomyskin,myheadfeelsclearer.

Now that the adrenaline rush of yesterday is gone, andwhatevermademe sleep haswornoff,thedeepacheandshootingpainsofmyshoulderareintense.Iamwearingthesame clothes Iwore last night. The corner of the hard drive peeks out from undermypillow, where I shoved it right before I fell asleep. On it is the simulation data thatcontrolledtheDauntless,andtherecordofwhattheEruditedid.Itfeelstooimportantformetoeventouch,butIcan’tleaveithere,soIgrabitandwedgeitbetweenthedresserandthewall.Partofmethinksitwouldbeagoodideatodestroyit,butIknowitcontainstheonlyrecordofmyparents’deaths,soI’llsettleforkeepingithidden.

Someoneknocksonmydoor. I siton theedgeof thebedand try to smoothmyhairdown.

“Comein,”Isay.

The door opens, andTobias steps halfway in, the door dividing his body in half.Hewearsthesamejeansasyesterday,butadarkredT-shirtinsteadofhisblackone,probablyborrowedfromoneoftheAmity.It’sastrangecoloronhim,toobright,butwhenheleanshisheadbackagainstthedoorframe,Iseethatitmakestheblueinhiseyeslighter.

“TheAmityaremeetinginahalfhour.”Hequirkshiseyebrowsandadds,withatouchofmelodrama,“Todecideourfate.”

Ishakemyhead.“NeverthoughtmyfatewouldbeinthehandsofabunchofAmity.”

“Meeither.Oh,Ibroughtyousomething.”Heunscrewsthecapofasmallbottleandholdsoutadropperfilledwithclear liquid.“Painmedicine.Takeadropperfuleverysixhours.”

“Thanks.”Isqueezethedropperintothebackofmythroat.Themedicinetasteslikeoldlemon.

Hehooksathumbinoneofhisbeltloopsandsays,“Howareyou,Beatrice?”

“DidyoujustcallmeBeatrice?”

“ThoughtIwouldgiveitatry.”Hesmiles.“Notgood?”

“Maybeonspecialoccasionsonly. Initiationdays,ChoosingDays…”Ipause. Iwasabout to rattle off a few more holidays, but only the Abnegation celebrate them. TheDauntless have holidays of their own, I assume, but I don’t knowwhat they are. Andanyway, the idea that we would celebrate anything right now is so ludicrous I don’tcontinue.

“It’sadeal.”Hissmilefades.“Howareyou,Tris?”

It’snotastrangequestion,afterwhatwe’vebeenthrough,butItenseupwhenheasksit,worriedthathe’llsomehowseeintomymind.Ihaven’ttoldhimaboutWillyet.Iwantto,butIdon’tknowhow.JustthethoughtofsayingthewordsoutloudmakesmefeelsoheavyIcouldbreakthroughthefloorboards.

“I’m…”Ishakemyheadafewtimes.“Idon’tknow,Four.I’mawake.I…”Iamstillshakingmyhead.Heslideshishandovermycheek,onefingeranchoredbehindmyear.Thenhetiltshisheaddownandkissesme,sendingawarmachethroughmybody.Iwrapmyhandsaroundhisarm,holdinghimthereas longasIcan.Whenhe touchesme, thehollowed-outfeelinginmychestandstomachisnotasnoticeable.

Idon’thavetotellhim.Icanjusttrytoforget—hecanhelpmeforget.

“Iknow,”hesays.“Sorry.Ishouldn’thaveasked.”

ForamomentallIcanthinkis,Howcouldyoupossiblyknow?Butsomethingabouthisexpressionremindsmethathedoesknowsomethingaboutloss.Helosthismotherwhenhewasyoung.Idon’trememberhowshedied,justthatweattendedherfuneral.

Suddenly I rememberhimclutching the curtains inhis living room, aboutnineyearsold, wearing gray, his dark eyes shut. The image is fleeting, and it could be myimagination,notamemory.

Hereleasesme.“I’llletyougetready.”

Thewomen’sbathroomistwodoorsdown.Thefloorisdarkbrowntile,andeachshowerstallhaswoodenwallsandaplasticcurtainseparatingitfromthecentralaisle.AsignonthebackwallsaysREMEMBER:TOCONSERVERESOURCES,SHOWERSRUNFORONLYFIVEMINUTES.

Thestreamofwateriscold,soIwouldn’twanttheextraminutesevenifIcouldhave

them.Iwashquicklywithmylefthand, leavingmyrighthandhangingatmyside.ThepainmedicineTobiasgavemeworkedfast—thepaininmyshoulderhasalreadyfadedtoadullthrob.

When I get out of the shower, a stack of clotheswaits onmy bed. It contains someyellowandred,fromtheAmity,andsomegray,fromtheAbnegation,colorsIrarelyseesidebyside.IfIhadtoguess,IwouldsaythatoneoftheAbnegationputthestackthereforme.It’ssomethingtheywouldthinktodo.

Ipullonapairofdarkredpantsmadeofdenim—solongIhavetorollthemupthreetimes—andagrayAbnegationshirtthatistoobigforme.Thesleevescomedowntomyfingertips,andIrollthemuptoo.Ithurtstomovemyrighthand,soIkeepthemovementssmallandslow.

Someoneknocksonthedoor.“Beatrice?”ThesoftvoiceisSusan’s.

Iopenthedoorforher.Shecarriesa trayoffood,whichshesetsdownonthebed.Isearchherfaceforasignofwhatshehas lost—herfather,anAbnegation leader,didn’tsurvive the attack—but I see only the placid determination characteristic of my oldfaction.

“I’msorrytheclothesdon’tfit,”shesays.“I’msurewecanfindsomebetteronesforyouiftheAmityallowustostay.”

“They’refine,”Isay.“Thankyou.”

“Iheardyouwereshot.Doyouneedmyhelpwithyourhair?Oryourshoes?”

Iamabouttorefuse,butIreallydoneedhelp.

“Yes,thankyou.”

Isitdownonastoolinfrontofthemirror,andshestandsbehindme,hereyesdutifullytrained on the task at hand rather than her reflection. They do not lift, not even for aninstant,assherunsacombthroughmyhair.Andshedoesn’taskaboutmyshoulder,howIwasshot,whathappenedwhenIlefttheAbnegationsafehousetostopthesimulation.IgetthesensethatifIweretowhittleherdowntohercore,shewouldbeAbnegationallthewaythrough.

“Have you seenRobert yet?” I say. Her brother, Robert, choseAmitywhen I choseDauntless, so he is somewhere in this compound. I wonder if their reunion will beanythinglikeCaleb’sandmine.

“Briefly, last night,” she says. “I left him to grievewith his faction as I grievewithmine.Itisnicetoseehimagain,though.”

Ihearafinalityinhertonethattellsmethesubjectisclosed.

“It’s a shame thishappenedwhen it did,”Susan says. “Our leaderswereabout todosomethingwonderful.”

“Really?What?”

“I don’t know.” Susan blushes. “I just knew that somethingwas happening. I didn’tmeantobecurious;Ijustnoticedthings.”

“Iwouldn’tblameyouforbeingcuriousevenifyouhadbeen.”

She nods and keeps combing. I wonderwhat theAbnegation leaders—includingmyfather—weredoing.AndIcan’thelpbutmarvelatSusan’sassumptionthatwhatevertheyweredoingwaswonderful.IwishIcouldbelievethatofpeopleagain.

IfIeverdid.

“TheDauntlessweartheirhairdown,right?”shesays.

“Sometimes,”Isay.“Doyouknowhowtobraid?”

Soherdeftfingerstuckpiecesofmyhairintoonebraidthatticklesthemiddleofmyspine.Istarehardatmyreflectionuntilshefinishes.Ithankherwhenshe’sdone,andsheleaveswithasmallsmile,closingthedoorbehindher.

Ikeepstaring,butIdon’tseemyself.Icanstillfeelherfingersbrushingthebackofmyneck,somuchlikemymother’sfingers, thelastmorningIspentwithher.Myeyeswetwithtears,Irockbackandforthonthestool,tryingtopushthememoryfrommymind.IamafraidthatifIstarttosob,IwillneverstopuntilIshriveluplikearaisin.

Iseeasewingkitonthedresser. In itare twocolorsof thread,redandyellow,andapairofscissors.

IfeelcalmasIundothebraidinmyhairandcombitagain.Ipartmyhairdownthemiddleandmakesurethatit isstraightandflat.Iclosethescissorsoverthehairbymychin.

HowcanIlookthesame,whenshe’sgoneandeverythingisdifferent?Ican’t.

IcutinasstraightalineasIcan,usingmyjawasaguide.Thetrickypartistheback,whichIcan’tseeverywell,soIdothebestIcanbytouchinsteadofsight.Locksofblondhairsurroundmeonthefloorinasemicircle.

Ileavetheroomwithoutlookingatmyreflectionagain.

WhenTobiasandCalebcome togetme later, theystareatme like Iamnot thepersontheyknewyesterday.

“Youcutyourhair,”saysCaleb,hiseyebrowshigh.GrabbingholdoffactsinthemidstofshockisveryEruditeofhim.Hishairsticksupononesidefromwherehesleptonit,andhiseyesarebloodshot.

“Yeah,”Isay.“It’s…toohotforlonghair.”

“Fairenough.”

Wewalkdownthehallwaytogether.Thefloorboardscreakbeneathourfeet.ImissthewaymyfootstepsechoedintheDauntlesscompound;Imissthecoolundergroundair.ButmostlyImissthefearsofthepastfewweeks,renderedsmallbymyfearsnow.

Weexitthebuilding.Theoutsideairpressesaroundmelikeapillowmeanttosuffocateme.Itsmellsgreen,thewayaleafdoeswhenyoutearitinhalf.

“Doeseveryoneknowyou’reMarcus’sson?”Calebsays.“TheAbnegation,Imean?”

“Nottomyknowledge,”saysTobias,glancingatCaleb.“AndIwouldappreciateitifyoudidn’tmentionit.”

“Idon’tneedtomentionit.Anyonewitheyescanseeitforthemselves.”Calebfrownsathim.“Howoldareyou,anyway?”

“Eighteen.”

“Andyoudon’tthinkyou’retoooldtobewithmylittlesister?”

Tobiasletsoutashortlaugh.“Sheisn’tyourlittleanything.”

“Stopit.Bothofyou,”Isay.Acrowdofpeopleinyellowwalksaheadofus,towardawide,squatbuildingmadeentirelyofglass.Thesunlightreflectingoffthepanesfeelslikeapinchtomyeyes.Ishieldmyfacewithmyhandandkeepwalking.

Thedoors to thebuildingarewideopen.Aroundtheedgeof thecirculargreenhouse,plantsandtreesgrowintroughsofwaterorsmallpools.Dozensoffanspositionedaroundtheroomserveonlytoblowthehotairaround,soIamalreadysweating.ButthatfadesfrommymindwhenthecrowdbeforemethinsandIseetherestoftheroom.

Initscentergrowsahugetree.Itsbranchesarespreadovermostofthegreenhouse,anditsrootsbubbleupfromtheground,formingadensewebofbark.Inthespacesbetweentheroots,Iseenotdirtbutwater,andmetalrodsholdingtherootsinplace.Ishouldnotbesurprised—theAmity spend their lives accomplishing feats of agriculture like this one,withthehelpofEruditetechnology.

StandingonaclusterofrootsisJohannaReyes,herhairfallingoverthescarredhalfofher face. I learned inFactionHistory that theAmity recognize noofficial leader—theyvoteoneverything,andtheresultisusuallyclosetounanimous.Theyarelikemanypartsofasinglemind,andJohannaistheirmouthpiece.

The Amity sit on the floor, most with their legs crossed, in knots and clusters thatvaguelyresemblethetreerootstome.TheAbnegationsitintightrowsafewyardstomyleft.MyeyessearchthecrowdforafewsecondsbeforeIrealizewhatI’mlookingfor:myparents.

Iswallowhard,andtrytoforget.Tobiastouchesthesmallofmyback,guidingmetothe edgeof themeeting space,behind theAbnegation.Beforewe sit down,heputshismouthnexttomyearandsays,“Ilikeyourhairthatway.”

Ifindasmallsmiletogivehim,andleanintohimwhenIsitdown,myarmagainsthis.

Johannaliftsherhandsandbowsherhead.AllconversationintheroomceasesbeforeIcandrawmynextbreath.All aroundme theAmity sit in silence, somewith their eyesclosed,somewiththeirlipsmouthingwordsIcan’thear,somestaringatapointfaraway.

Everysecondchafes.BythetimeJohannaliftsherheadIamworntothebone.

“We have before us today an urgent question,” she says, “which is: How will weconductourselvesinthistimeofconflictaspeoplewhopursuepeace?”

EveryAmityintheroomturnstothepersonnexttohimorherandstartstalking.

“Howdotheygetanythingdone?”Isay,astheminutesofchatterwearon.

“Theydon’tcareaboutefficiency,”Tobiassays.“Theycareaboutagreement.Watch.”

Twowomeninyellowdressesafewfeetawayriseandjoinatrioofmen.Ayoungmanshiftssothathissmallcirclebecomesalargeonewiththegroupnexttohim.Allaroundtheroom,thesmallercrowdsgrowandexpand,andfewerandfewervoicesfilltheroom,until there are only three or four. I can only hear pieces of what they say: “Peace—Dauntless—Erudite—safehouse—involvement—”

“Thisisbizarre,”Isay.

“Ithinkit’sbeautiful,”hesays.

Igivehimalook.

“What?”Helaughsalittle.“Theyeachhaveanequalroleingovernment;theyeachfeelequallyresponsible.Anditmakesthemcare;itmakesthemkind.Ithinkthat’sbeautiful.”

“Ithinkit’sunsustainable,”Isay.“Sure,itworksfortheAmity.Butwhathappenswhennoteveryonewantstostrumbanjosandgrowcrops?Whathappenswhensomeonedoessomethingterribleandtalkingaboutitcan’tsolvetheproblem?”

Heshrugs.“Iguesswe’llfindout.”

Eventually someone from each of the big groups stands and approaches Johanna,pickingtheirwaycarefullyovertherootsofthebigtree.Iexpectthemtoaddresstherestofus,butinsteadtheystandinacirclewithJohannaandtheotherspokespeopleandtalkquietly.IbegintogetthefeelingthatIwillneverknowwhatthey’resaying.

“They’renotgoingtoletusarguewiththem,arethey,”Isay.

“Idoubtit,”hesays.

Wearedonefor.

Wheneveryonehassaidhisorherpiece,theysitdownagain,leavingJohannaaloneinthecenteroftheroom.Sheanglesherbodytowardusandfoldsherhandsinfrontofher.Wherewillwegowhentheytellustoleave?Backintothecity,wherenothingissafe?

“Our faction has had a close relationship with Erudite for as long as any of us canremember. We need each other to survive, and we have always cooperated with eachother,”saysJohanna.“ButwehavealsohadastrongrelationshipwithAbnegationinthepast,andwedonotthinkitisrighttorevokethehandoffriendshipwhenithasforsolongbeenextended.”

Hervoiceishoney-sweet,andmoveslikehoneytoo,slowandcareful.Iwipethesweatfrommyhairlinewiththebackofmyhand.

“Wefeelthattheonlywaytopreserveourrelationshipswithbothfactionsistoremainimpartial and uninvolved,” she continues. “Your presence here, though welcome,complicatesthat.”

Hereitcomes,Ithink.

“Wehavearrivedattheconclusionthatwewillestablishourfactionheadquartersasa

safehouseformembersofallfactions,”shesays,“underasetofconditions.Thefirstisthat no weaponry of any kind is allowed on the compound. The second is that if anyserious conflict arises,whether verbal or physical, all involved partieswill be asked toleave. The third is that the conflict may not be discussed, even privately, within theconfinesofthiscompound.Andthefourthisthateveryonewhostaysheremustcontributetothewelfareofthisenvironmentbyworking.WewillreportthistoErudite,Candor,andDauntlessassoonaswecan.”

HerstaredriftstoTobiasandme,andstaysthere.

“You arewelcome to stay here if and only if you can abide by our rules,” she says.“Thatisourdecision.”

IthinkofthegunIhidundermymattress,andthetensionbetweenmeandPeter,andTobiasandMarcus,andmymouthfeelsdry.Iamnotgoodatavoidingconflict.

“Wewon’tbeabletostaylong,”IsaytoTobiasundermybreath.

A moment ago, he was still faintly smiling. Now the corners of his mouth havedisappearedintoafrown.“No,wewon’t.”

THATEVENINGIreturntomyroomandslidemyhandbeneathmymattresstomakesurethegunisstillthere.Myfingersbrushoverthetrigger,andmythroattightenslikeIamhavinganallergic reaction. I withdraw my hand and kneel on the edge of the bed, taking hardswallowsofairuntilthefeelingsubsides.

Whatiswrongwithyou?Ishakemyhead.Pullittogether.

Andthatiswhatitfeelslike:pullingthedifferentpartsofmeupandinlikeashoelace.Ifeelsuffocated,butatleastIfeelstrong.

I seea flickerofmovement inmyperiphery, and lookout thewindow that faces theappleorchard. JohannaReyesandMarcusEatonwalk sideby side,pausingat theherbgardentopluckmintleavesfromtheirstems.IamoutofmyroombeforeIcanevaluatewhyIwanttofollowthem.

IsprintthroughthebuildingsothatIdon’tlosethem.OnceIamoutside,Ihavetobemorecareful. Iwalkaround the far sideof thegreenhouseand,after I see JohannaandMarcusdisappearintoonerowoftrees,Icreepdownthenextrow,hopingthebrancheswillhidemeifeitherofthemlooksback.

“… been confused about is the timing of the attack,” says Johanna. “Is it just thatJeaninefinallyfinishedplanning it,andacted,orwas therean inciting incidentofsomekind?”

IseeMarcus’sfacethroughadividedtreetrunk.Hepresseshislipstogetherandsays,“Hmm.”

“Isupposewe’llneverknow.”Johannaraiseshergoodeyebrow.“Willwe?”

“No,perhapsnot.”

Johannaplacesherhandonhisarmandturnstowardhim.Istiffen,afraidforamomentthatshewillseeme,butshelooksonlyatMarcus.Isinkintoacrouchandcrawltowardoneofthetreessothatthetrunkwillhideme.Thebarkitchesmyspine,butIdon’tmove.

“Butyoudoknow,”shesays.“Youknowwhysheattackedwhenshedid.ImaynotbeCandoranymore,butIcanstilltellwhensomeoneiskeepingthetruthfromme.”

“Inquisitivenessisself-serving,Johanna.”

If Iwere Johanna, Iwould snapathim for a comment like that, but she sayskindly,“Myfactiondependsonmetoadvisethem,andifyouknowinformationthiscrucial,itisimportantthatIknowitalsosothatIcanshareitwiththem.I’msureyoucanunderstandthat,Marcus.”

“There is a reason you don’t know all the things I know. A long time ago, theAbnegation were entrusted with some sensitive information,” says Marcus. “Jeanineattackedustostealit.AndifIamnotcareful,shewilldestroyit,sothatisallIcantellyou.”

“Butsurely—”

“No,” Marcus cuts her off. “This information is far more important than you canimagine.Mostof the leadersof thiscityriskedtheir lives toprotect it fromJeanineanddied,andIwillnotjeopardizeitnowforthesakeofsatingyourselfishcuriosity.”

Johannaisquietforafewseconds.It’ssodarknowIcanbarelyseemyownhands.Theairsmellslikedirtandapples,andItrynottobreatheittooloudly.

“I’msorry,”saysJohanna.“ImusthavedonesomethingtomakeyoubelieveIamnottrustworthy.”

“The last time I trusted a faction representativewith this information, allmy friendsweremurdered,”hereplies.“Idon’ttrustanyoneanymore.”

I can’t help it—I lean forward so that I can see around the trunk of the tree. BothMarcusandJohannaaretoopreoccupiedtonoticethemovement.Theyareclosetogether,butnottouching,andI’veneverseenMarcuslooksotiredorJohannasoangry.Butherfacesoftens,andshetouchesMarcus’sarmagain,thistimewithalightcaress.

“Inordertohavepeace,wemustfirsthavetrust,”saysJohanna.“SoIhopeyouchangeyourmind.Remember that Ihavealwaysbeenyourfriend,Marcus,evenwhenyoudidnothavemanytospeakof.”

Sheleansinandkisseshischeek,thenwalkstotheendoftheorchard.Marcusstandsforafewseconds,apparentlystunned,andstartstowardthecompound.

Therevelationsof thepasthalfhourbuzzinmymind.I thoughtJeanineattackedtheAbnegationtoseizepower,butsheattackedthemtostealinformation—informationonlytheyknew.

ThenthebuzzingstopsasIremembersomethingelseMarcussaid:Mostoftheleadersofthiscityriskedtheirlivesforit.Wasoneofthoseleadersmyfather?

I have to know. I have to find outwhat could possibly be important enough for theAbnegationtodiefor—andtheEruditetokillfor.

IpausebeforeknockingonTobias’sdoor,andlistentowhat’sgoingoninside.

“No,notlikethat,”Tobiassaysthroughlaughter.

“Whatdoyoumean,‘notlikethat’?Iimitatedyouperfectly.”ThesecondvoicebelongstoCaleb.

“Youdidnot.”

“Well,doitagain,then.”

Ipushopenthedoor justasTobias,whoissittingonthefloorwithonelegstretchedout,hurlsabutterknifeat theoppositewall. It sticks,handleout, froma largehunkofcheese they positioned on top of the dresser. Caleb, standing beside him, stares indisbelief,firstatthecheeseandthenatme.

“Tellmehe’ssomekindofDauntlessprodigy,”saysCaleb.“Canyoudothistoo?”

He looksbetter thanhedidearlier—hiseyesaren’t redanymoreandsomeof theoldsparkof curiosity is in them, likehe is interested in theworldagain.Hisbrownhair istousled,hisshirtbuttonsinthewrongbuttonholes.Heishandsomeinacarelessway,mybrother,likehehasnoideawhathelookslikemostofthetime.

“Withmyrighthand,maybe,”Isay.“Butyes,FourissomekindofDauntlessprodigy.CanIaskwhyyou’rethrowingknivesatcheese?”

Tobias’seyescatchmineontheword“Four.”Calebdoesn’tknowthatTobiaswearshisexcellenceallthetimeinhisownnickname.

“Calebcamebytodiscusssomething,”Tobiassays,leaninghisheadagainstthewallashelooksatme.“Andknife-throwingjustcameupsomehow.”

“Asitsooftendoes,”Isay,asmallsmileinchingitswayacrossmyface.

Helookssorelaxed,hisheadback,hisarmslungoverhisknee.Westareateachotherforafewmoresecondsthanissociallyacceptable.Calebclearshisthroat.

“Anyway,Ishouldbegettingbacktomyroom,”Calebsays,lookingfromTobiastomeandbackagain. “I’m reading thisbookabout thewater-filtration systems.ThekidwhogaveittomelookedatmelikeIwascrazyforwantingtoreadit.Ithinkit’ssupposedtobearepairmanual,butit’sfascinating.”Hepauses.“Sorry.YouprobablythinkI’mcrazytoo.”

“Not at all,” Tobias says with mock sincerity. “Maybe you should read that repairmanualtoo,Tris.Itsoundslikesomethingyoumightlike.”

“Icanloanittoyou,”Calebsays.

“Maybelater,”Isay.WhenCalebclosesthedoorbehindhim,IgiveTobiasadirtylook.

“Thanksforthat,”Isay.“Nowhe’sgoingtotalkmyearoffaboutwaterfiltrationandhowitworks.ThoughIguessImightpreferthattowhathewantstotalktomeabout.”

“Oh?Andwhat’sthat?”Tobiasquirkshiseyebrows.“Aquaponics?”

“Aqua-what?”

“It’soneofthewaystheygrowfoodhere.Youdon’twanttoknow.”

“You’reright,Idon’t,”Isay.“Whatdidhecometotalktoyouabout?”

“You,”hesays.“Ithinkitwasthebig-brothertalk.‘Don’tmessaroundwithmysister’andallthat.”

Hegetsup.

“Whatdidyoutellhim?”

Hecomestowardme.

“Itoldhimhowwegottogether—that’showknife-throwingcameup,”hesays,“andItoldhimIwasn’tmessingaround.”

I feelwarm everywhere.Hewraps his hands aroundmy hips and pressesme gentlyagainstthedoor.Hislipsfindmine.

Idon’trememberwhyIcamehereinthefirstplace.

AndIdon’tcare.

Iwrapmyuninjuredarmaroundhim,pullinghimagainstme.MyfingersfindthehemofhisT-shirt,andslidebeneathit,spreadingwideoverthesmallofhisback.Hefeelssostrong.

Hekissesmeagain,moreinsistentthistime,hishandssqueezingmywaist.Hisbreaths,mybreaths,hisbody,mybody,wearesoclosethereisnodifference.

Hepullsback,justafewcentimeters.Ialmostdon’tlethimgetthatfar.

“Thisisn’twhatyoucameherefor,”hesays.

“No.”

“Whatdidyoucomefor,then?”

“Whocares?”

Ipushmyfingersthroughhishair,anddrawhismouthtomineagain.Hedoesn’tresist,butafterafewseconds,hemumbles,“Tris,”againstmycheek.

“Okay,okay.”Iclosemyeyes.Ididcomehereforsomethingimportant:totellhimtheconversationIoverheard.

We sit sideby sideonTobias’s bed, and I start from thebeginning. I tell himhow IfollowedMarcus and Johanna into the orchard. I tell him Johanna’s question about thetimingof thesimulationattack,andMarcus’s response,and theargument that followed.AsIdo,Iwatchhisexpression.Hedoesnotlookshockedorcurious.Instead,hismouthworksitswayintothebitterpuckerthataccompaniesanymentionofMarcus.

“Well,whatdoyouthink?”IsayonceIfinish.

“Ithink,”hesayscarefully,“thatit’sMarcustryingtofeelmoreimportantthanheis.”

ThatwasnottheresponseIwasexpecting.

“So…what?Youthinkhe’sjusttalkingnonsense?”

“IthinkthereprobablyissomeinformationtheAbnegationknewthatJeaninewantedtoknow, but I think he’s exaggerating its importance. Trying to build up his own ego bymakingJohannathinkhe’sgotsomethingshewantsandhewon’tgiveittoher.”

“Idon’t…”Ifrown.“Idon’tthinkyou’reright.Hedidn’tsoundlikehewaslying.”

“Youdon’tknowhimlikeIdo.Heisanexcellentliar.”

Heisright—Idon’tknowMarcus,andcertainlynotaswellashedoes.ButmyinstinctwastobelieveMarcus,andIusuallytrustmyinstincts.

“Maybe you’re right,” I say, “but shouldn’twe find outwhat’s going on? Just to besure?”

“Ithinkit’smoreimportantthatwedealwiththesituationathand,”saysTobias.“Gobacktothecity.Findoutwhat’sgoingonthere.FindawaytotakeEruditedown.ThenmaybewecanfindoutwhatMarcuswastalkingabout,afterthisisallresolved.Okay?”

I nod. It sounds like a good plan—a smart plan. But I don’t believe him—I don’tbelieveit’smoreimportanttomoveforwardthantofindoutthetruth.WhenIfoundoutthatIwasDivergent…whenIfoundoutthatEruditewouldattackAbnegation…thoserevelationschangedeverything.Thetruthhasawayofchangingaperson’splans.

Butit isdifficult topersuadeTobiastodosomethinghedoesn’twanttodo,andevenmoredifficulttojustifymyfeelingswithnoevidenceexceptmyintuition.

SoIagree.ButIdonotchangemymind.

“BIOTECHNOLOGYHASBEENaroundforalongtime,butitwasn’talwaysveryeffective,”Calebsays.Hestartson thecrustofhis toast—heate themiddlefirst, just likeheusedtowhenwewerelittle.

Hesitsacrossfrommeinthecafeteria,atthetableclosesttothewindows.Carvedintothewoodalongthetable’sedgearetheletters“D”and“T”linkedtogetherbyaheart,sosmallIalmostdidn’tseethem.IrunmyfingersoverthecarvingasCalebspeaks.

“ButEruditescientistsdevelopedthishighlyeffectivemineralsolutionawhileback.Itwasbetterfortheplantsthandirt,”hesays.“It’sanearlierversionofthatsalvetheyputonyourshoulder—itacceleratesthegrowthofnewcells.”

His eyes are wild with new information. Not all the Erudite are power hungry anddevoidofconscience, like their leader,JeanineMatthews.Someof themare likeCaleb:fascinatedbyeverything,dissatisfieduntiltheyfindouthowitworks.

Irestmychinonmyhandandsmilealittleathim.Heseemsupbeatthismorning.Iamgladhehasfoundsomethingtodistracthimfromhisgrief.

“SoEruditeandAmityworktogether,then?”Isay.

“MorecloselythanEruditeandanyotherfaction,”hesays.“Don’tyourememberfromourFactionHistorybook?Itcalledthemthe‘essentialfactions’—withoutthem,wewouldbe incapableof survival.Someof theErudite textscalled them the ‘enriching factions.’AndoneofErudite’smissionsasafactionwastobecomeboth—essentialandenriching.”

Itdoesn’tsitwellwithme,howmuchoursocietyneedsEruditetofunction.Buttheyare essential—without them, there would be inefficient farming, insufficient medicaltreatments,andnotechnologicaladvance.

Ibitemyapple.

“Youaren’tgoingtoeatyourtoast?”hesays.

“Thebreadtastesstrange,”Isay.“Youcanhaveitifyouwant.”

“I’m amazed by how they live here,” he says as he takes the toast from my plate.“They’re completely self-sustaining. They have their own source of power, their own

waterpumps,theirownwaterfiltration,theirownfoodsources….They’reindependent.”

“Independent,”Isay,“anduninvolved.Mustbenice.”

It is nice, from what I can tell. The large windows beside our table let in so muchsunlight I feel like I’m sitting outside. Clusters of Amity sit at the other tables, theirclothesbrightagainsttheirtannedskin.Onmetheyellowlooksdull.

“So I take it Amity wasn’t one of the factions you had an aptitude for,” he says,grinning.

“No.”ThegroupofAmityafewseatsawayfromusburstsintolaughter.Theyhaven’tevenglancedinourdirectionsincewesatdowntoeat.“Keepitdown,allright?It’snotsomethingIwanttobroadcast.”

“Sorry,”hesays,leaningoverthetablesothathecantalkquieter.“Sowhatwerethey?”

Ifeelmyselftensing,straightening.“Whydoyouwanttoknow?”

“Tris,”hesays,“I’myourbrother.Youcantellmeanything.”

His green eyes never waver. He’s abandoned the useless spectacles he wore as amemberofEruditeinfavorofanAbnegationgrayshirtandtheirtrademarkshorthaircut.Helooksjustashedidafewmonthsago,whenwewerelivingacrossthehallfromeachother,bothofusconsideringswitchingfactionsbutnotbraveenoughtotelloneanother.NottrustinghimenoughtotellhimwasamistakeIdonotwanttomakeagain.

“Abnegation,Dauntless,”Isay,“andErudite.”

“Threefactions?”Hiseyebrowslift.

“Yes.Why?”

“Itjustseemslikealot,”hesays.“WeeachhadtochoosearesearchfocusinEruditeinitiation, andminewas the aptitude test simulation, so Iknowa lot about theway it’sdesigned.It’sreallydifficultforapersontogettworesults—theprogramactuallydoesn’tallowit.Buttogetthree…I’mnotevensurehowthat’spossible.”

“Well, the test administrator had to alter the test,” I say. “She forced it to go to thatsituationonthebussothatshecouldruleoutErudite—exceptEruditewasn’truledout.”

Calebpropshischinonafist.“Aprogramoverride,”hesays.“Iwonderhowyourtestadministratorknewhowtodothat.It’snotsomethingthey’retaught.”

Ifrown.Toriwasatattooartistandanaptitudetestvolunteer—howdidsheknowhowtoaltertheaptitudetestprogram?Ifshewasgoodwithcomputers,itwasonlyasahobby,and I doubt that a computer hobby would enable someone to fiddle with an Eruditesimulation.

Thensomethingfromoneofmyconversationswithhersurfaces.MybrotherandIbothtransferredfromErudite.

“ShewasErudite,”Isay.“Afactiontransfer.Maybethat’show.”

“Maybe,” he says, tapping his fingers—from left to right—against his cheek. Ourbreakfasts sit, almost forgotten, between us. “What does this mean about your brain

chemistry?Oranatomy?”

Ilaughalittle.“Idon’tknow.AllIknowisthatI’malwaysawareduringsimulations,andsometimesIcanwakemyselfupfromthem.Sometimestheydon’tevenwork.Liketheattacksimulation.”

“Howdoyouwakeyourselfupfromthem?Whatdoyoudo?”

“I…”Itrytoremember.IfeellikeithasbeenalongtimesinceIwasinone,thoughitwasonlyafewweeks.“It’shardtosay,becausetheDauntlesssimulationsweresupposedtoendwhenwehadcalmeddown.Butinoneofmine…theonewhereTobiasfiguredoutwhatIwas…Ijustdidsomethingimpossible.Ibrokeglassjustbyputtingmyhandonit.”

Caleb’sexpressionbecomesdistant,likeheislookingintofarawayplaces.Nothinglikewhat I just described ever happened to him in the aptitude test simulation, I know. Somaybeheiswonderingwhatitfeltlike,orhowit’spossible.Mycheeksgrowwarmer—heisanalyzingmybrainlikehewouldanalyzeacomputeroramachine.

“Hey,”Isay.“Comeback.”

“Sorry,”hesays,focusingonmeagain.“It’sjust…”

“Fascinating.Yeah,Iknow.Youalwayslooklikesomeone’ssuckedtheliferightoutofyouwhensomethingfascinatesyou.”

Helaughs.

“Canwetalkaboutsomethingelse,though?”Isay.“TheremaynotbeanyEruditeorDauntlesstraitorsaround,butitstillfeelsweird,talkingaboutitinpubliclikethis.”

“Allright.”

Beforehecangoon,thecafeteriadoorsopen,andagroupofAbnegationcomein.TheywearAmityclothes,likeme,butalsolikeme,it’sobviouswhatfactiontheyarereallyin.Theyaresilent,butnotsomber—theysmileattheAmitytheypass,incliningtheirheads,afewofthemstoppingtoexchangepleasantries.

Susansitsdownnext toCalebwithasmallsmile.Herhair ispulledbackin itsusualknot,butherblondhairshineslikegold.SheandCalebsitjustslightlycloserthanfriendswould,thoughtheydonottouch.Shebobsherheadtogreetme.

“I’msorry,”shesays.“DidIinterrupt?”

“No,”saysCaleb.“Howareyou?”

“I’mwell.Howareyou?”

I am just about to flee the dining hall rather than participate in careful, politeAbnegation conversation when Tobias comes in, looking harassed. Hemust have beenworkingin thekitchenthismorning,aspartofouragreementwith theAmity.Ihavetoworkinthelaundryroomstomorrow.

“Whathappened?”Isayashesitsdownnexttome.

“In their enthusiasm for conflict resolution, theAmity have apparently forgotten that

meddlingcreatesmoreconflict,”saysTobias.“Ifwestayheremuchlonger,Iamgoingtopunchsomeone,andit’snotgoingtobepretty.”

CalebandSusanbothraisetheireyebrowsathim.AfewoftheAmityatthetablenexttooursstoptalkingtostare.

“Youheardme,”Tobiassaystothem.Theyalllookaway.

“AsIsaid,”Isay,coveringmymouthtohidemysmile,“whathappened?”

“I’lltellyoulater.”

ItmusthavetodowithMarcus.Tobiasdoesn’tlikethedubiouslookstheAbnegationgivehimwhenhereferstoMarcus’scruelty,andSusanissittingrightacrossfromhim.Iclaspmyhandsinmylap.

TheAbnegationsitatour table,butnotrightnext tous—arespectfuldistanceof twoseats away, though most of them still nod at us. They were my family’s friends andneighbors and coworkers, and before, their presence would have encouragedme to bequietandself-effacing.Nowitmakesmewant to talk louder, tobeas far fromthatoldidentityandthepainthataccompaniesitaspossible.

Tobiasgoescompletelystillwhenahandfallsonmyrightshoulder,sendingpricklesofpaindownmyrightarm.Iclenchmyteethtokeepfromgroaning.

“Shegotshotinthatshoulder,”Tobiassayswithoutlookingatthemanbehindme.

“Myapologies.”Marcusliftshishandandsitsdownonmyleft.“Hello.”

“Whatdoyouwant?”Isay.

“Beatrice,”Susansaysquietly.“There’snoneedto—”

“Susan,please,”saysCalebquietly.Shepressesherlipsintoalineandlooksaway.

IfrownatMarcus.“Iaskedyouaquestion.”

“Iwouldliketodiscusssomethingwithyou,”saysMarcus.Hisexpressioniscalm,buthe’s angry—the terseness in his voice betrays him. “The other Abnegation andmyselfhave discussed it and decided thatwe should not stay here.We believe that, given theinevitabilityoffurtherconflictinourcity,itwouldbeselfishofustostayherewhilewhatremainsofourfactionisinsidethatfence.Wewouldliketorequestthatyouescortus.”

Ididnotexpect that.WhydoesMarcuswant to return to thecity?Is it really justanAbnegationdecision,ordoesheintendtodosomethingthere—somethingthathastodowithwhateverinformationtheAbnegationhave?

IstareathimforafewsecondsandthenlookatTobias.Hehasrelaxedalittle,buthekeepshiseyesfocusedonthetable.Idon’tknowwhyheactsthiswayaroundhisfather.Noone,notevenJeanine,makesTobiascower.

“Whatdoyouthink?”Isay.

“Ithinkweshouldleavethedayaftertomorrow,”Tobiassays.

“Okay.Thankyou,”saysMarcus.HegetsupandsitsattheotherendofthetablewiththerestoftheAbnegation.

I inch closer toTobias, not surehow to comfort himwithoutmaking thingsworse. Ipickupmyapplewithmylefthand,andgrabhishandunderthetablewithmyright.

ButIcan’tkeepmyeyesawayfromMarcus.IwanttoknowmoreaboutwhathesaidtoJohanna.Andsometimes,ifyouwantthetruth,youhavetodemandit.

AFTERBREAKFAST,ItellTobiasI’mgoingforawalk,butinsteadIfollowMarcus.Iexpecthimtowalk to theguests’dormitory,buthecrosses the fieldbehind thedininghall andwalksintothewater-filtrationbuilding.Ihesitateonthebottomstep.DoIreallywanttodothis?

IwalkupthestepsandthroughthedoorthatMarcusjustclosedbehindhim.

Thefiltrationbuildingissmall,justoneroomwithafewhugemachinesinit.AsfarasIcantell,someofthemachinestakeindirtywaterfromtherestofthecompound,afewof them purify it, others test it, and the last set pumps clean water back out to thecompound.Thepipingsystemsareallburiedexceptone,whichrunsalongthegroundtosendwatertothepowerplant,nearthefence.Theplantprovidespowertotheentirecity,usingacombinationofwind,water,andsolarenergy.

Marcusstandsnearthemachinesthatfilterthewater.Therethepipesaretransparent.Icanseebrown-tingedwaterrushingthroughonepipe,disappearingintothemachine,andemergingclear.Bothofuswatchthepurificationhappen,andIwonderifheis thinkingwhatIam:thatitwouldbeniceiflifeworkedthisway,strippingthedirtfromourlivesandsendingusoutintotheworldclean.Butsomedirtisdestinedtolinger.

IstareatthebackofMarcus’shead.Ihavetodothisnow.

Now.

“Iheardyou,theotherday,”Iblurtout.

Marcuswhipshisheadaround.“Whatareyoudoing,Beatrice?”

“Ifollowedyouhere.”Ifoldmyarmsovermychest.“IheardyoutalkingtoJohannaaboutwhatmotivatedJeanine’sattackonAbnegation.”

“DidtheDauntlessteachyouthatit’sallrighttoinvadeanotherperson’sprivacy,ordidyouteachyourself?”

“I’manaturallycuriousperson.Don’tchangethesubject.”

Marcus’sforeheadiscreased,especiallybetweentheeyebrows,andtherearedeeplinesnexttohismouth.Helookslikeamanwhohasspentmostofhislifefrowning.Hemighthavebeenhandsomewhenhewasyounger—perhapshe still is, towomenhisage, like

Johanna—but all I see when I look at him are the black-pit eyes from Tobias’s fearlandscape.

“Ifyouheardme talking to Johanna, thenyouknow that Ididn’t even tellher aboutthis.SowhatmakesyouthinkthatIwouldsharetheinformationwithyou?”

Idon’thaveanansweratfirst.Butthenitcomestome.

“Myfather,”Isay.“Myfatherisdead.”It’sthefirsttimeI’vesaiditsinceItoldTobias,on the train ride over, thatmy parents died forme. “Died”was just a fact tome then,detached fromemotion.But “dead,”minglingwith thechurningandbubblingnoises inthis room,strikesablowlikeahammer tomychest,and themonsterofgriefawakens,clawingatmyeyesandthroat.

Iforcemyselftocontinue.

“Hemaynothaveactuallydiedforwhateverinformationyouwerereferringto,”Isay.“ButIwanttoknowifitwassomethingheriskedhislifefor.”

Marcus’smouthtwitches.

“Yes,”hesays.“Itwas.”

Myeyesfillwithtears.Iblinkthemaway.

“Well,”Isay,almostchoking,“thenwhatonearthwasit?Wasitsomethingyouweretryingtoprotect?Orsteal?Orwhat?”

“Itwas…”Marcusshakeshishead.“I’mnotgoingtotellyouthat.”

Isteptowardhim.“Butyouwantitback.AndJeaninehasit.”

Marcusisagoodliar—oratleast,someonewhoisskilledathidingsecrets.Hedoesnotreact.IwishIcouldseelikeJohannasees, liketheCandorsee—IwishIcouldreadhisexpression.Hecouldbeclosetotellingmethetruth.IfIpressjusthardenough,maybehe’llcrack.

“Icouldhelpyou,”Isay.

Marcus’supperlipcurls.“Youhavenoideahowridiculousthatsounds.”Hespitsthewordsatme.“Youmayhavesucceededinshuttingdowntheattacksimulation,girl,butitwasbyluckalone,notskill.Iwoulddieofshockifyoumanagedtodoanythingusefulagainforalongtime.”

ThisistheMarcusthatTobiasknows.Theonewhoknowsrightwheretohittocausethemostdamage.

Mybodyshudderswithanger.“Tobiasisrightaboutyou,”Isay.“You’renothingbutanarrogant,lyingpieceofgarbage.”

“Hesaidthat,didhe?”Marcusraiseshiseyebrows.

“No,”Isay.“Hedoesn’tmentionyouenoughtosayanythinglikethat.Ifigureditoutallonmyown.”Iclenchmyteeth.“You’realmostnothingtohim,youknow.Andastimegoeson,youbecomelessandless.”

Marcusdoesn’tanswerme.Heturnsbacktothewaterpurifier.Istandforamomentin

mytriumph,thesoundofrushingwatercombiningwiththeheartbeatinmyears.ThenIleavethebuilding,anditisn’tuntilI’mhalfwayacrossthefieldthatIrealizeIdidn’twin.Marcusdid.

Whateverthetruthis,I’llhavetogetitfromsomewhereelse,becauseIwon’tbeaskinghimagain.

ThatnightIdreamthatIaminafield,andIencounteraflockofcrowsclusteredontheground.WhenIswatafewofthemaway,Irealizethattheyareperchedontopofaman,peckingathisclothes,whichareAbnegationgray.Withoutwarning,theytakeflight,andIrealizethatthemanisWill.

ThenIwakeup.

I turnmyface into thepillowand release, insteadofhisname,a sob that throwsmybodyagainst themattress. I feel themonsterofgriefagain,writhing in theemptyspacewheremyheartandstomachusedtobe.

Igasp,pressingbothpalmstomychest.Nowthemonstrousthinghasitsclawsaroundmy throat, squeezingmyairway. I twist andputmyheadbetweenmyknees, breathinguntilthestrangledfeelingleavesme.

Even though the air iswarm, I shiver. I get out of bed and creep down the hallwaytowardTobias’sroom.Mybarelegsalmostglowinthedark.HisdoorcreakswhenIpullitopen,loudenoughtowakehim.Hestaresatmeforasecond.

“C’mere,”hesays,sluggishfromsleep.Heshiftsbackonthebedtoleavespaceforme.

Ishouldhavethoughtthisthrough.IsleepinalongT-shirtoneoftheAmitylentme.Itcomesdownjustpastmybutt,andIdidn’tthinktoputonapairofshortsbeforeIcamehere.Tobias’seyesskimmybarelegs,makingmyfacewarm.Iliedown,facinghim.

“Baddream?”hesays.

Inod.

“Whathappened?”

Ishakemyhead.Ican’ttellhimthatI’mhavingnightmaresaboutWill,orIwouldhavetoexplainwhy.Whatwouldhethinkofme,ifheknewwhatIhaddone?Howwouldhelookatme?

Hekeepshishandonmycheek,movinghisthumbovermycheekboneidly.

“We’reallright,youknow,”hesays.“Youandme.Okay?”

Mychestaches,andInod.

“Nothingelseisallright.”Hiswhisperticklesmycheek.“Butweare.”

“Tobias,”Isay.ButwhateverIwasabouttosaygetslostinmyhead,andIpressmymouthtohis,becauseIknowthatkissinghimwilldistractmefromeverything.

Hekissesmeback.Hishandstartsonmycheek,andthenbrushesovermyside,fitting

tothebendinmywaist,curvingovermyhip,slidingtomybareleg,makingmeshiver.Ipressclosertohimandwrapmylegaroundhim.Myheadbuzzeswithnervousness,butthe rest ofme seems toknowexactlywhat it’s doing,because it all pulses to the samerhythm,allwantsthesamething:toescapeitselfandbecomeapartofhiminstead.

Hismouthmovesagainstmine,andhishandslipsunderthehemoftheT-shirt,andIdon’tstophim,thoughIknowIshould.Insteadafaintsighescapesme,andheatrushesintomy cheeks, embarrassment.Either he didn’t hearme or he didn’t care, because hepresses his palm tomy lower back, pressesme closer.His fingersmove slowly upmyback,tracingmyspine.Myshirtcreepsupmybody,andIdon’tpullitdown,evenwhenIfeelcoolaironmystomach.

Hekissesmyneck,andIgrabhisshouldertosteadymyself,gatheringhisshirtintomyfist.Hishandreachesthetopofmybackandcurlsaroundmyneck.Myshirt istwistedaroundhisarm,andourkissesbecomedesperate.Iknowmyhandsareshakingfromallthenervousenergyinsideme,soItightenmygriponhisshouldersohewon’tnotice.

Thenhisfingersbrushthebandageonmyshoulder,andadartofpaingoesthroughme.Itdidn’thurtmuch,butitbringsmebacktoreality.Ican’tbewithhiminthatwayifoneofmyreasonsforwantingitistodistractmyselffromgrief.

I leanbackandcarefullypull thehemofmyshirtdownso itcoversmeagain.Forasecondwejustliethere,ourheavybreathsmixing.Idon’tmeantocry—nowisnotagoodtime to cry; no, it has to stop—but I can’t get the tearsoutofmyeyes, nomatter howmanytimesIblink.

“Sorry,”Isay.

Hesaysalmoststernly,“Don’tapologize.”Hebrushesthetearsfrommycheeks.

IknowthatIambirdlike,madenarrowandsmallasiffortakingflight,builtstraight-waistedandfragile.Butwhenhetouchesmelikehecan’tbear to takehishandaway,Idon’twishIwasanydifferent.

“Idon’tmeantobesuchamess,”Isay,myvoicecracking.“Ijustfeelso…”Ishakemyhead.

“It’s wrong,” he says. “It doesn’t matter if your parents are in a better place—theyaren’therewithyou,andthat’swrong,Tris.Itshouldn’thavehappened.Itshouldn’thavehappenedtoyou.Andanyonewhotellsyouit’sokayisaliar.”

A sob racks my body again, and he wraps his arms around me so tightly I find itdifficult to breathe, but it doesn’t matter. My dignified weeping gives way to full-onugliness,mymouthopenandmyfacecontortedandsoundslikeadyinganimalcomingfrommythroat.IfthiscontinuesIwillbreakapart,andmaybethatwouldbebetter,maybeitwouldbebettertoshatterandbearnothing.

Hedoesn’tspeakforalongtime,untilIamquietagain.

“Sleep,”hesays.“I’llfightthebaddreamsoffiftheycometogetyou.”

“Withwhat?”

“Mybarehands,obviously.”

Iwrapmyarmaroundhiswaistandtakeadeepbreathofhisshoulder.Hesmellslikesweatandfreshairandmint,fromthesalvehesometimesusestorelaxhissoremuscles.Hesmellssafe,too,likesunlitwalksintheorchardandsilentbreakfastsinthedininghall.AndinthemomentsbeforeIdriftofftosleep,Ialmostforgetaboutourwar-torncityandalltheconflictthatwillcometofindussoon,ifwedon’tfinditfirst.

InthemomentsbeforeIdriftofftosleep,Ihearhimwhisper,“Iloveyou,Tris.”

AndmaybeIwouldsayitback,butIamtoofargone.

THATMORNINGIwakeuptothebuzzofanelectricrazor.Tobiasstandsinfrontofthemirror,hisheadtiltedsohecanseethecornerofhisjaw.

Ihugmyknees,coveredbythesheet,andwatchhim.

“Goodmorning,”hesays.“Howdidyousleep?”

“Okay.”Igetup,andashetiltshisheadbacktoaddresshischinwiththerazor,Iwrapmyarmsaroundhim,pressingmyforeheadtohisbackwheretheDauntlesstattoopeeksoutfrombeneathhisshirt.

Hesetstherazordownandfoldshishandsovermine.Neitherofusbreaksthesilence.Ilistentohimbreathe,andhestrokesmyfingersidly,thetaskathandforgotten.

“Ishouldgogetready,”Isayafterawhile.Iamreluctanttoleave,butIamsupposedtoworkinthelaundryrooms,andIdon’twanttheAmitytosayI’mnotfulfillingmypartofthedealtheyofferedus.

“I’llgetyousomethingtowear,”hesays.

Iwalkbarefootdownthehallwayafewminuteslater,wearingtheshirtIsleptinandapairofshortsTobiasborrowedfromtheAmity.WhenIgetbacktomybedroom,Peterisstandingnexttomybed.

Instinctmakesmestraightenupandsearchtheroomforabluntobject.

“Getout,”IsayassteadilyasIcan.Butit’shardtokeepmyvoicefromshaking.Ican’thelp but remember the look in his eyes as he heldmeover the chasmbymy throat orslammedmeagainstthewallintheDauntlesscompound.

He turns to look atme. Latelywhen he looks atme it’swithout his usualmalice—insteadhejustseemsexhausted,hispostureslouched,hiswoundedarminasling.ButIamnotfooled.

“Whatareyoudoinginmyroom?”

Hewalksclosertome.“WhatareyoudoingstalkingMarcus?Isawyouafterbreakfastyesterday.”

Imatchhisstarewithmyown.“That’snoneofyourbusiness.Getout.”

“I’mherebecauseIdon’tknowwhyyougettokeeptrackofthatharddrive,”hesays.“It’snotlikeyou’reparticularlystablethesedays.”

“I’munstable?”Ilaugh.“Ifindthatalittlefunny,comingfromyou.”

Peterpincheshislipstogetherandsaysnothing.

Inarrowmyeyes.“Whyareyousointerestedintheharddriveanyway?”

“I’mnotstupid,”hesays.“Iknowitcontainsmorethanthesimulationdata.”

“No, you aren’t stupid, are you?” I say. “You think if you deliver it to the Erudite,they’llforgiveyourindiscretionandletyoubackintheirgoodgraces.”

“Idon’twant tobeback in theirgoodgraces,”he says, stepping forwardagain.“If Ihad,Iwouldn’thavehelpedyouintheDauntlesscompound.”

I jab his sternum with my index finger, digging in my fingernail. “You helped mebecauseyoudidn’twantmetoshootyouagain.”

“ImaynotbeanAbnegation-lovingfactiontraitor.”Heseizesmyfinger.“Butnoonegetstocontrolme,especiallynottheErudite.”

Iyankmyhandback,twistingsothathewon’tbeabletoholdon.Myhandsaresweaty.

“Idon’texpectyoutounderstand.”IwipemyhandsonthehemofmyshirtasIinchtowardthedresser.“I’msureifithadbeenCandorandnotAbnegationthatgotattacked,youwouldhavejustletyourfamilygetshotbetweentheeyeswithoutprotest.ButI’mnotlikethat.”

“Carefulwhatyousayaboutmyfamily,Stiff.”Hemoveswithme,towardthedresser,butIcarefullyshiftsothatIstandbetweenhimandthedrawers.I’mnotgoingtorevealtheharddrive’slocationbygettingitoutwhilehe’sinhere,butIdon’twanttoleavethepathtoitclear,either.

Hiseyesshifttothedresserbehindme,totheleftside,wheretheharddriveishidden.Ifrownathim,andthennoticesomethingIdidn’tbefore:arectangularbulgeinoneofhispockets.

“Giveittome,”Isay.“Now.”

“No.”

“Giveittome,orsohelpme,Iwillkillyouinyoursleep.”

Hesmirks.“Ifonlyyoucouldseehowridiculousyoulookwhenyouthreatenpeople.Likealittlegirltellingmeshe’sgoingtostranglemewithherjumprope.”

Istarttowardhim,andheshiftsback,intothehallway.

“Don’tcallme‘littlegirl.’”

“I’llcallyouwhateverIwant.”

Ijerkintoaction,aimingmyleftfistwhereIknowitwillhurttheworst:atthebulletwoundinhisarm.Hedodgesthepunch,butinsteadoftryingagain,Iseizehisarmashard

as Icanandwrench it to theside.Peter screamsat the topofhis lungs,andwhilehe’sdistractedbythepain,Ikickhimhardintheknee,andhefallstotheground.

Peoplerushintothehallway,wearinggrayandblackandyellowandred.Petersurgestowardme inahalfcrouch,andpunchesme in the stomach. Ihunchover,but thepaindoesn’tstopme—Iletoutsomethingbetweenagroanandascream,andlaunchmyselfathim,myleftelbowpulledbacknearmymouthsothatIcanslamitintohisface.

OneoftheAmitygrabsmebythearmsandhalflifts,halfpullsmeawayfromPeter.Thewoundinmyshoulder throbs,but Ihardlyfeel it throughthepulseofadrenaline. IstraintowardhimandtrytoignorethestunnedfacesoftheAmityandtheAbnegation—and Tobias—around me, and the woman kneels next to Peter, whispering words in asoothing tone of voice. I try to ignore his groans of pain and the guilt stabbing atmystomach.Ihatehim.Idon’tcare.Ihatehim.

“Tris,calmdown!”Tobiassays.

“Hehastheharddrive!”Iyell.“Hestoleitfromme!Hehasit!”

Tobiaswalksover toPeter, ignoringthewomancrouchedbesidehim,andpresseshisfoot intoPeter’s ribcage tokeephim inplace.He then reaches intoPeter’spocketandtakesouttheharddrive.

Tobias says to him—very quietly—“We won’t be in a safe house forever, and thiswasn’tverysmartofyou.”Thenhe turns towardmeandadds,“Notverysmartofyou,either.Doyouwanttogetuskickedout?”

Iscowl.TheAmitymanwithhishandonmyarmstartstopullmedownthehallway.Itrytowrenchmybodyoutofhisgrasp.

“Whatdoyouthinkyou’redoing?Letgoofme!”

“You violated the terms of our peace agreement,” he says gently. “We must followprotocol.”

“Justgo,”saysTobias.“Youneedtocooldown.”

Isearchthefacesofthecrowdthathasgathered.NooneargueswithTobias.Theireyesskirtmine.SoIallowtwoAmitymentoescortmedownthehallway.

“Watchyourstep,”oneofthemsays.“Thefloorboardsareunevenhere.”

Myheadpounds,asignthatIamcalmingdown.ThegrayingAmitymanopensadoorontheleft.AlabelonthedoorsaysCONFLICTROOM.

“Areyouputtingmeintime-outorsomething?”Iscowl.ThatissomethingtheAmitywoulddo:putmeintime-out,andthenteachmetodocleansingbreathsorthinkpositivethoughts.

TheroomissobrightIhavetosquinttosee.Theoppositewallhaslargewindowsthatlookoutovertheorchard.Despitethis,theroomfeelssmall,probablybecausetheceiling,likethewallsandfloor,isalsocoveredwithwoodenboards.

“Pleasesit,”theoldermansays,gesturingtowardthestoolinthemiddleoftheroom.It,likeallother furniture in theAmitycompound, ismadeofunpolishedwood, and looks

sturdy,likeitisstillattachedtotheearth.Idonotsit.

“Thefightisover,”Isay.“Iwon’tdoitagain.Nothere.”

“Wehavetofollowprotocol,”theyoungermansays.“Pleasesit,andwe’lldiscusswhathappened,andthenwe’llletyougo.”

Alltheirvoicesaresosoft.Nothushed,liketheAbnegationspeak,alwaystreadingholygroundandtryingnottodisturb.Soft,soothing,low—Iwonder,then,ifthatissomethingtheyteachtheirinitiateshere.Howbesttospeak,move,smile,toencouragepeace.

Idon’twanttositdown,butIdo,perchedontheedgeofthechairsoIcangetupfast,ifnecessary.Theyoungermanstandsinfrontofme.Hingescreakbehindme.Ilookovermyshoulder—theoldermanisfumblingwithsomethingonacounterbehindme.

“Whatareyoudoing?”

“Iammakingtea,”hesays.

“Idon’tthinkteaisreallythesolutiontothis.”

“Thentellus,” theyoungermansays,drawingmyattentionbackto thewindows.Hesmilesatme.“Whatdoyoubelieveisthesolution?”

“ThrowingPeteroutofthiscompound.”

“Itseemstome,”themansaysgently,“thatyouaretheonewhoattackedhim—indeed,thatyouaretheonewhoshothiminthearm.”

“Youhavenoideawhathedidtodeservethosethings.”Mycheeksgethotagainandmimicmyheartbeat.“Hetriedtokillme.Andsomeoneelse—hestabbedsomeoneelseintheeye…withabutterknife.Heisevil.Ihadeveryrightto—”

Ifeelasharppaininmyneck.Darkspotscoverthemaninfrontofme,obscuringmyviewofhisface.

“I’msorry,dear,”hesays.“Wearejustfollowingprotocol.”

Theoldermanisholdingasyringe.Afewdropsofwhateverheinjectedmewitharestill in it. They are bright green, the color of grass. I blink rapidly, and the dark spotsdisappear, but theworld still swims beforeme, like I am tilting forward and back in arockingchair.

“Howdoyoufeel?”theyoungermansays.

“Ifeel…”Angry,Iwasabouttosay.AngrywithPeter,angrywiththeAmity.Butthat’snot true, is it? I smile.“I feelgood. I feela little like…likeI’mfloating.Orswaying.Howdoyoufeel?”

“Dizzinessisasideeffectoftheserum.Youmaywanttorestthisafternoon.AndI’mfeelingwell.Thankyouforasking,”hesays.“Youmayleavenow,ifyouwouldlike.”

“CanyoutellmewheretofindTobias?”Isay.WhenIimaginehisface,affectionforhimbubblesupinsideme,andallIwanttodoiskisshim.“Four,Imean.He’shandsome,isn’the?Idon’treallyknowwhyhelikesmesomuch.I’mnotverynice,amI?”

“Notmostofthetime,no,”themansays.“ButIthinkyoucouldbe,ifyoutried.”

“Thankyou,”Isay.“That’sniceofyoutosay.”

“Ithinkyou’llfindhimintheorchard,”hesays.“Isawhimgooutsideafterthefight.”

Ilaughalittle.“Thefight.Whatasillything…”

Anditdoesseemlikeasillything,slammingyourfistintosomeoneelse’sbody.Likeacaress, but too hard. A caress ismuch nicer.Maybe I should have runmy hand alongPeter’sarminstead.Thatwouldhavefeltbettertobothofus.Myknuckleswouldn’tacherightnow.

Igetupandsteermyselftowardthedoor.Ihavetoleanagainstthewallforbalance,butit’s sturdy, so I don’t mind. I stumble down the hallway, giggling at my inability tobalance.I’mclumsyagain,justlikeIwaswhenIwasyounger.Mymotherusedtosmileatme and say, “Be carefulwhere youput your feet,Beatrice. I don’twant you to hurtyourself.”

Iwalkoutsideandthegreenonthetreesseemsgreener,sopotentIcanalmosttasteit.MaybeIcantasteit,anditislikethegrassIdecidedtochewwhenIwasachildjusttoseewhat itwaslike.Ialmostfalldownthestairsbecauseof theswayingandburst intolaughterwhenthegrassticklesmybarefeet.Iwandertowardtheorchard.

“Four!”Icallout.WhyamIcallingoutanumber?Ohyes.Becausethat’shisname.Icalloutagain,“Four!Whereareyou?”

“Tris?”saysavoicefromthetreesonmyright.Italmostsoundslikethetreeistalkingtome.Igiggle,butofcourseit’sjustTobias,duckingunderabranch.

Iruntowardhim,andthegroundlurchestotheside,soIalmostfall.Hishandtouchesmywaist,steadiesme.Thetouchsendsashockthroughmybody,andallmyinsidesburnlikehisfingersignitedthem.Ipullclosertohim,pressingmybodyagainsthis,andliftmyheadtokisshim.

“Whatdid they—”hestarts,but Istophimwithmylips.Hekissesmeback,but tooquickly,soIsighheavily.

“Thatwaslame,”Isay.“Okay,noitwasn’t,but…”

Istandonmytiptoestokisshimagain,andhepresseshisfingertomylipstostopme.

“Tris,”hesays.“Whatdidtheydotoyou?You’reactinglikealunatic.”

“That’snotveryniceofyoutosay,”Isay.“Theyputmeinagoodmood,that’sall.AndnowIreallywanttokissyou,soifyoucouldjustrelax—”

“I’mnotgoingtokissyou.I’mgoingtofigureoutwhat’sgoingon,”hesays.

I poutmy lower lip for a second, but then I grin as the pieces come together inmymind.

“That’swhyyoulikeme!”Iexclaim.“Becauseyou’renotveryniceeither!Itmakessomuchmoresensenow.”

“Comeon,”hesays.“We’regoingtoseeJohanna.”

“Ilikeyou,too.”

“That’s encouraging,” he replies flatly. “Comeon.Oh, forGod’s sake. I’ll just carryyou.”

Heswingsmeintohisarms,onearmundermykneesandtheotheraroundmyback.Iwrapmyarmsaroundhisneckandplantakissonhischeek.ThenIdiscoverthattheairfeelsniceonmyfeetwhenIkickthem,soImovemyfeetupanddownashewalksustowardthebuildingwhereJohannaworks.

Whenwereachheroffice,sheissittingbehindadeskwithastackofpaperinfrontofher,chewingonapencileraser.Shelooksupatus,andhermouthdriftsopenslightly.Ahunkofdarkhaircoverstheleftsideofherface.

“Youreallyshouldn’tcoverupyourscar,”Isay.“Youlookprettierwithyourhairoutofyourface.”

Tobiassetsmedowntooheavily.Theimpactis jarringandhurtsmyshoulderalittle,butIlikethesoundmyfeetmadewhentheyhitthefloor.Ilaugh,butneitherJohannanorTobiaslaughswithme.Strange.

“Whatdidyoudotoher?”Tobiassays,terse.“WhatinGod’snamedidyoudo?”

“I…”Johannafrownsatme.“Theymusthavegivenhertoomuch.She’sverysmall;theyprobablydidn’ttakeherheightandweightintoaccount.”

“Theymusthavegivenhertoomuchofwhat?”hesays.

“Youhaveanicevoice,”Isay.

“Tris,”hesays,“pleasebequiet.”

“The peace serum,” Johanna says. “In small doses, it has amild, calming effect andimproves the mood. The only side effect is some slight dizziness.We administer it tomembersofourcommunitywhohavetroublekeepingthepeace.”

Tobiassnorts.“I’mnotanidiot.Everymemberofyourcommunityhastroublekeepingthepeace,becausethey’reallhuman.Youprobablydumpitintothewatersupply.”

Johannadoesnotrespondforafewseconds.Shefoldsherhandsinfrontofher.

“Clearlyyouknowthatisnotthecase,orthisconflictwouldnothaveoccurred,”shesays.“Butwhateverweagreetodohere,wedotogether,asafaction.IfIcouldgivetheserumtoeveryoneinthiscity,Iwould.YouwouldcertainlynotbeinthesituationyouareinnowifIhad.”

“Oh, definitely,” he says. “Drugging the entire population is the best solution to ourproblem.Greatplan.”

“Sarcasm is not kind, Four,” she says gently. “Now, I am sorry about themistake ingivingtoomuchtoTris,Ireallyam.Butsheviolatedthetermsofouragreement,andI’mafraid that you might not be able to stay here much longer as a result. The conflictbetweenherandtheboy—Peter—isnotsomethingwecanforget.”

“Don’tworry,”saysTobias.“Weintendtoleaveassoonashumanlypossible.”

“Good,” she sayswith a small smile. “PeacebetweenAmity andDauntless canonlyhappenwhenwemaintainourdistancefromeachother.”

“Thatexplainsalot.”

“Excuseme?”shesays.“Whatareyouinsinuating?”

“Itexplains,”hesays,grittinghisteeth,“why,underapretenseofneutrality—asifsuchathingispossible!—youhaveleftustodieatthehandsoftheErudite.”

Johanna sighsquietly and looksout thewindow.Beyond it is a small courtyardwithvines growing in it. The vines creep onto thewindow’s corners, like they are trying tocomeinandjointheconversation.

“TheAmitywouldn’tdosomethinglikethat,”Isay.“That’smean.”

“Itisforthesakeofpeacethatweremainuninvolved—”Johannabegins.

“Peace.”Tobiasalmostspitstheword.“Yes,I’msureitwillbeverypeacefulwhenwearealleitherdeadorcoweringinsubmissionunderthethreatofmindcontrolorstuckinanendlesssimulation.”

Johanna’sfacecontorts,andImimicher,toseewhatitfeelsliketohavemyfacethatway.Itdoesn’tfeelverygood.I’mnotsurewhyshedidittobeginwith.

Shesaysslowly,“Thedecisionwasnotminetomake.Ifitwas,perhapswewouldbehavingadifferentconversationrightnow.”

“Areyousayingyoudisagreewiththem?”

“Iamsaying,”shesays,“thatitisn’tmyplacetodisagreewithmyfactionpublicly,butImight,intheprivacyofmyownheart.”

“TrisandIwillbegoneintwodays,”saysTobias.“Ihopeyourfactiondoesn’tchangetheirdecisiontomakethiscompoundasafehouse.”

“Ourdecisionsarenoteasilyunmade.WhataboutPeter?”

“You’llhavetodealwithhimseparately,”hesays.“Becausehewon’tbecomingwithus.”

Tobias takesmyhand,andhisskinfeelsniceagainstmine, thoughit’snotsmoothorsoft.IsmileapologeticallyatJohanna,andherexpressionremainsunchanged.

“Four,” shesays.“Ifyouandyour friendswould like to remain…untouchedbyourserum,youmaywanttoavoidthebread.”

Tobias says thank you over his shoulder as we make our way down the hallwaytogether,meskippingeveryotherstep.

THESERUMWEARSofffivehourslater,whenthesunisjustbeginningtoset.Tobiasshutmeinmyroomfortherestoftheday,checkingonmeeveryhour.Thistimewhenhecomesin,Iamsittingonthebed,glaringatthewall.

“ThankGod,”hesays,pressinghis forehead to thedoor.“Iwasbeginning to think itwouldneverwearoffandIwouldhavetoleaveyouhereto…smellflowers,orwhateveryouwantedtodowhileyouwereonthatstuff.”

“I’llkillthem,”Isay.“Iwillkillthem.”

“Don’tbother.We’releavingsoonanyway,”hesays,closingthedoorbehindhim.Hetakes the hard drive from his back pocket. “I thought we could hide this behind yourdresser.”

“That’swhereitwasbefore.”

“Yeah,andthat’swhyPeterwon’tlookforithereagain.”Tobiaspullsthedresserawayfromthewallwithonehandandwedgestheharddrivebehinditwiththeother.

“Whycouldn’tIfightthepeaceserum?”Isay.“Ifmybrainisweirdenoughtoresistthesimulationserum,whynotthisone?”

“I don’t know, really,” he says. He drops down next to me on the bed, jostling themattress.“Maybeinordertofightoffaserum,youhavetowantto.”

“Well,obviouslyIwantedto,”Isay,frustrated,butwithoutconviction.DidIwantto?Orwasitnicetoforgetaboutanger,forgetaboutpain,forgetabouteverythingforafewhours?

“Sometimes,” he says, sliding his arm acrossmy shoulders, “people just want to behappy,evenifit’snotreal.”

He’s right. Even now, this peace between us comes from not talking about things—aboutWill,ormyparents,ormealmostshootinghiminthehead,orMarcus.ButIdonotdaretodisturbitwiththetruth,becauseIamtoobusyclingingtoitforsupport.

“Youmightberight,”Isayquietly.

“Areyouconceding?”hesays,hismouthfallingopenwithmocksurprise.“Seemslike

thatserumdidyousomegoodafterall….”

IshovehimashardasIcan.“Takethatback.Takeitbacknow.”

“Okay,okay!”Heputsuphishands.“It’s just…I’mnotveryniceeither,youknow.That’swhyIlikeyouso—”

“Out!”Ishout,pointingatthedoor.

Laughingtohimself,Tobiaskissesmycheekandleavestheroom.

Thatevening,Iamtooembarrassedbywhathappenedtogotodinner,soIspendthetimeinthebranchesofanappletreeatthefarendoftheorchard,pickingripeapples.IclimbashighasIdaretoget them,musclesburning.Ihavediscoveredthatsittingstill leaveslittlespacesforthegrieftogetin,soIstaybusy.

Iamwipingmyforeheadwiththehemofmyshirt,standingonabranch,whenIhearthesound.Itisfaint,atfirst,joiningthebuzzofcicadas.Istandstilltolisten,andafteramoment,Irealizewhatitis:cars.

TheAmityownaboutadozentrucksthattheyusefortransportinggoods,buttheyonlydothatonweekends.Thebackofmynecktingles.Ifitisn’ttheAmity,it’sprobablytheErudite.ButIhavetobesure.

Igrabthebranchabovemewithbothhands,butpullmyselfupwithonlymyleftarm.I’msurprised I’mstill able todo that. I standhunched, twigs and leaves tangled inmyhair.AfewapplesfalltothegroundwhenIshiftmyweight.Appletreesaren’tverytall;Imaynotbeabletoseefarenough.

Iuse thenearbybranchesassteps,withmyhands tosteadyme, twistingand leaningaround the tree’smaze. I remember climbing the Ferriswheel on the pier,mymusclesshaking,my hands throbbing. I amwounded now, but stronger, and the climbing feelseasier.

The branches get thinner,weaker. I lickmy lips and look at the next one. I need toclimbashighaspossible,butthebranchI’maimingforisshortandlookspliable.Iputmyfootonit, testingitsstrength.Itbends,butholds.Istart to liftmyselfup, toput theotherfootdown,andthebranchsnaps.

IgaspasIfallback,seizingthetreetrunkatthelastsecond.Thiswillhavetobehighenough.Istandonmytiptoesandsquintinthedirectionofthesound.

AtfirstIseenothingbutastretchoffarmland,astripofemptyground,thefence,andthe fieldsandbeginningsofbuildings that liebeyond it.Butapproaching thegateareafewmoving specks—silver, when the light catches them. Cars with black roofs—solarpanels,whichmeansonlyonething.Erudite.

A breath hisses betweenmy teeth. I don’t allowmyself to think; I just put one footdown,thentheother,sofastthatbarkpeelsoffthebranchesanddriftstowardtheground.Assoonasmyfeettouchtheearth,Irun.

IcounttherowsoftreesasIpassthem.Seven,eight.Thebranchesdiplow,andIpass

justbeneaththem.Nine,ten. Iholdmyrightarmagainstmychestas Isprint faster, thebulletwoundinmyshoulderthrobbingwitheachfootstep.Eleven,twelve.

WhenIreachthethirteenthrow,Ithrowmybodytotheright,downoneoftheaisles.Thetreesareclose together in the thirteenthrow.Theirbranchesgrowintooneanother,creatingamazeofleavesandtwigsandapples.

My lungs sting froma lackofoxygen,but I amnot far from theendof theorchard.Sweatrunsintomyeyebrows.Ireachthedininghallandthrowopenthedoor,shovingmywaythroughagroupofAmitymen,andheisthere;TobiassitsatoneendofthecafeteriawithPeterandCalebandSusan.Icanbarelyseethembetweenthespotsonmyvision,butTobiastouchesmyshoulder.

“Erudite,”isallImanagetosay.

“Cominghere?”hesays.

Inod.

“Dowehavetimetorun?”

Iamnotsureaboutthat.

Bynow,theAbnegationattheotherendofthetablearepayingattention.Theygatheraroundus.

“Why dowe need to run?” says Susan. “TheAmity established this place as a safehouse.Noconflictallowed.”

“TheAmitywillhave troubleenforcing thatpolicy,”saysMarcus.“Howdoyoustopconflictwithoutconflict?”

Susannods.

“Butwecan’tleave,”Petersays.“Wedon’thavetime.They’llseeus.”

“Trishasagun,”Tobiassays.“Wecantrytofightourwayout.”

Hestartstowardthedormitory.

“Wait,”Isay.“Ihaveanidea.”IscanthecrowdofAbnegation.“Disguises.TheEruditedon’tknowforsurethatwe’restillhere.WecanpretendtobeAmity.”

“Those of uswho aren’t dressed like theAmity should go to the dormitories, then,”Marcussays.“Therestofyou,putyourhairdown;trytomimictheirbehavior.”

TheAbnegationwhoaredressedingrayleavethedininghall inapackandcrossthecourtyardtotheguests’dormitory.Onceinside,Iruntomybedroom,getonmyhandsandknees,andreachunderthemattressforthegun.

IfeelaroundforafewsecondsbeforeIfindit,andwhenIdo,mythroatpinches,andIcan’tswallow.Idon’twanttotouchthegun.Idon’twanttotouchitagain.

Comeon,Tris.Ishovethegununderthewaistbandofmyredpants.Itisluckytheyaresobaggy. Inotice thevialsofhealingsalveandpainmedicineon thebedside tableandshovetheminmypocket,justincasewedomanagetoescape.

ThenIreachbehindthedresserfortheharddrive.

If theEruditecatchus—whichis likely—theywillsearchus,andIdon’twant tojusthandover theattacksimulationagain.But thisharddrivealsocontains thesurveillancefootagefromtheattack.Therecordofourlosses.Ofmyparents’deaths.Theonlypieceofthem I have left. And because the Abnegation don’t take photographs, the onlydocumentationIhaveofhowtheylooked.

Yearsfromnow,whenmymemoriesbegin tofade,whatwill Ihavetoremindmeofwhattheylookedlike?Theirfaceswillchangeinmymind.Iwillneverseethemagain.

Don’tbestupid.It’snotimportant.

Isqueezetheharddrivesotightlyithurts.

Thenwhydoesitfeelsoimportant?

“Don’tbestupid,”Isayaloud.Igritmyteethandgrabthelampfrommybedsidetable.Iyanktheplugfromthesocket, throwthelampshadeontothebed,andcrouchovertheharddrive.Blinking tears frommyeyes, I slam thebaseof the lamp into it, creating adent.

I bring the lamp down again, and again, and again, until the hard drive cracks andpiecesofitspreadacrossthefloor.ThenIkicktheshardsunderthedresser,putthelampback,andwalkintothehallway,wipingmyeyeswiththebackofmyhand.

Afewminuteslater,asmallcrowdofgray-cladmenandwomen—andPeter—standinthehallway,sortingthroughstacksofclothes.

“Tris,”saysCaleb.“You’restillwearinggray.”

Ipinchmyfather’sshirt,andhesitate.

“It’sDad’s,”Isay.IfIchangeoutofit,Iwillhavetoleaveitbehind.Ibitemylipsothatthepainwillsteadyme.Ihavetogetridofit.It’sjustashirt.That’sallitis.

“I’llputitonundermine,”Calebsays.“They’llneverseeit.”

I nod and grab a red shirt from the dwindling pile of clothes. It is large enough toconcealthebulgeofthegun.Iduckintoanearbyroomtochange,andhandoffthegrayshirt toCalebwhen I get to thehallway.Thedoor is open, and through it I seeTobiasstuffingAbnegationclothesintothetrashbin.

“DoyouthinktheAmitywilllieforus?”Iaskhim,leaningouttheopendoorway.

“Topreventconflict?”Tobiasnods.“Absolutely.”

He wears a red collared shirt and a pair of jeans that are fraying at the knee. Thecombinationlooksridiculousonhim.

“Niceshirt,”Isay.

Hewrinkles his nose atme. “It was the only thing that covered up the neck tattoo,okay?”

Ismilenervously.Iforgotaboutmytattoos,buttheshirthidesthemwellenough.

TheEruditecarspulluptothecompound.Therearefiveofthem,allsilverwithblackroofs. Their engines seem to purr as the wheels bump over uneven ground. I slip justinsidethebuilding,leavingthedooropenbehindme,andTobiasbusieshimselfwiththelatchonthetrashbin.

The cars all pull to a stop, and the doors pop open, revealing at least fivemen andwomeninEruditeblue.

AndaboutfifteeninDauntlessblack.

WhentheDauntlesscomecloser,IseestripsofbluefabricwrappedaroundtheirarmsthatcanonlysignifytheirallegiancetoErudite.Thefactionthatenslavedtheirminds.

Tobiastakesmyhandandleadsmeintothedormitory.

“Ididn’tthinkourfactionwouldbethatstupid,”hesays.“Youhavethegun,right?”

“Yes,” I say. “But there’s no guarantee I can fire it with any accuracy withmy lefthand.”

“Youshouldworkonthat,”hesays.Alwaysaninstructor.

“Iwill,”Isay.IshakealittleasIadd,“Ifwelive.”

Hishandsskimmybarearms.“Justbouncealittlewhenyouwalk,”hesays,kissingmyforehead,“andpretendyou’reafraidof theirguns”—anotherkissbetweenmyeyebrows—“and act like the shrinking violet you could never be”—a kiss on my cheek—“andyou’llbefine.”

“Okay,” I say.My hands tremble as I grip his shirt collar. I pull hismouth down tomine.

Abell sounds,once, twice, three times. It isasummons to thedininghall,where theAmitygatherforlessformaloccasionsthanthemeetingweattended.WejointhecrowdofAbnegation-turned-Amity.

I pull pins fromSusan’s hair—the hairstyle is too severe forAmity. She givesme asmall,gratefulsmileasherhairfallsonhershoulders,thefirsttimeIhaveeverseenitthatway.Itsoftenshersquarejaw.

Iamsupposed tobebraver than theAbnegation,but theydon’t seemasworriedas Iam.Theyoffereachothersmilesandwalkinsilence—intoomuchsilence.Iwedgemywaybetweenthemandjaboneoftheolderwomenintheshoulder.

“Tellthekidstoplaytag,”Isaytoher.

“Tag?”shesays.

“They’reactingrespectfuland…Stiff,”Isay,cringingasIsaythewordthatwasmynicknameinDauntless.“AndAmitykidswouldbecausingaruckus.Justdoit,okay?”

ThewomantouchesoneAbnegationchildontheshoulderandwhisperssomethingtohim, and a few seconds later a small group of children run down the hallway, dodgingAmityfeetandyelling,“Itouchedyou!You’reit!”“No,thatwasmysleeve!”

Calebcatcheson,jabbingSusanintheribssosheshriekswithlaughter.Itrytorelax,

injecting a bounce into my step as Tobias suggested, letting my arms swing as I turncorners. It is amazinghowpretending tobe in a different faction changes everything—eventhewayIwalk.Thatmustbewhyit’ssostrangethatIcouldeasilybelonginthreeofthem.

WecatchuptotheAmityinfrontofusaswecrossthecourtyardtothedininghallanddisperseamongthem.IkeepTobiasinmyperipheralvision,notwantingtostraytoofarfromhim.TheAmitydon’taskquestions;theyjustletusdissolveintotheirfaction.

ApairofDauntlesstraitorsstandbythedoortothedininghall,theirgunsinhand,andIstiffen.Itfeelsrealtome,suddenly,thatIamunarmedandbeingherdedintoabuildingsurroundedbyEruditeandDauntless,and if theydiscoverme, therewillbenowhere torun.Theywillshootmeonthespot.

Iconsidermakingabreakforit.ButwherewouldIgothattheycouldnotcatchme?Itrytobreathenormally.Iamalmostpastthem—don’tlook,don’tlook.Afewstepsaway—eyesaway,away.

Susanloopsherarmthroughmine.

“I’mtellingyouajoke,”shesays,“thatyoufindveryfunny.”

I cover my hand with my mouth and force a giggle that sounds high-pitched andforeign,butjudgingbythesmileshegivesme,itwasbelievable.WehangoneachotherthewayAmitygirlsdo,glancingattheDauntlessandthengigglingagain.IamamazedbyhowImanagetodoit,withtheleadenfeelinginsideme.

“Thankyou,”Imutteroncewe’reinside.

“You’rewelcome,”shereplies.

Tobiassitsacrossfrommeatoneofthelongtables,andSusansitsnexttome.TherestoftheAbnegationspreadthroughouttheroom,andCalebandPeterareafewseatsdownfromme.

Itapmyfingersonmykneesaswewaitforsomethingtohappen.Foralongtimewejustsitthere,andIpretendtobelisteningtoanAmitygirltellingastoryonmyleft.ButeverysooftenIlookatTobias,andhelooksbackatme,likewe’repassingfearbackandforthbetweenus.

FinallyJohannawalksinwithanEruditewoman.Herbrightblueshirtseemstoglowagainstherskin,whichisdarkbrown.ShesearchestheroomasshespeakstoJohanna.Iholdmybreath as her eyes findme—and then let it outwhen shemoves onwithout amoment’shesitation.Shedidnotrecognizeme.

Atleast,notyet.

Someonebangsonatabletop,andtheroomgoesquiet.Thisisit.Thisisthemomentsheeitherhandsusover,ordoesn’t.

“Our Erudite and Dauntless friends are looking for some people,” Johanna says.“Several members of Abnegation, three members of Dauntless, and a former Eruditeinitiate.”Shesmiles.“Intheinterestoffullcooperation,Itoldthemthatthepeopletheywerelookingforwere,infact,here,buthavesincemovedon.Theywouldlikepermission

tosearchthepremises,whichmeanswehavetovote.Doesanyoneobjecttoasearch?”

The tension in her voice suggests that if anyone does object, they should keep theirmouth shut. I don’t know if theAmity pick up on that kind of thing, but no one saysanything.JohannanodstotheEruditewoman.

“Threeofyoustickaround,”thewomansaystotheDauntlessguardsclusteredbytheentrance.“Therestofyou,searchallthebuildingsandreportbackifyoufindanything.Go.”

Thereissomuchtheycouldfind.Thepiecesoftheharddrive.ClothesIforgottothrowout.A suspicious lack of trinkets and decorations in our living spaces. I feelmy pulsebehindmyeyesasthethreeDauntlesssoldierswhostayedbehindpaceupanddowntherowsoftables.

Thebackofmyneck tinglesasoneof themwalksbehindme,his footsteps loudandheavy.Not for the first time inmy life, I’mglad that I’msmallandplain. Idon’tdrawpeople’seyestome.

ButTobiasdoes.Hewearshisprideinhisposture,inthewayhiseyesclaimeverythingtheylandon.ThatisnotanAmitytrait.ItcanonlybeaDauntlessone.

TheDauntlesswomanwalkingtowardhimlooksathimrightaway.Hereyesnarrowasshewalkscloser,andthenstopsdirectlybehindhim.

Iwishthecollarofhisshirtwerehigher.Iwishhedidn’thavesomanytattoos.Iwish…

“YourhairisprettyshortforanAmity,”shesays.

…hedidnotcuthishairliketheAbnegation.

“It’shot,”hesays.

Theexcusemightworkifheknewhowtodeliverit,buthesaysitwithasnap.

Shestretchesoutherhandand,withherindexfinger,pullsbackthecollarofhisshirttoseehistattoo.

AndTobiasmoves.

Hegrabsthewoman’swrist,yankingherforwardsoshelosesherbalance.Shehitsherhead against the edgeof the table and falls.Across the room, a gungoesoff, someonescreams,andeveryonedivesunderthetablesorcrouchesnexttothebenches.

Everyoneexceptme.IsitwhereIwasbeforethegunshotsounded,clutchingtheedgeofthetable.Iknowthat’swhereIam,butIdon’tseethecafeteriaanymore.IseethealleyIescapeddownaftermymotherdied.Istareattheguninmyhands,atthesmoothskinbetweenWill’seyebrows.

Asmallsoundgurgles inmythroat. Itwouldhavebeenascreamifmyteethhadnotbeenclampedshut.Theflashofmemoryfades,butIstillcan’tmove.

TobiasgrabstheDauntlesswomanbythebackofherneckandwrencheshertoherfeet.Hehasherguninhishand.HeuseshertoshieldhimashefiresoverherrightshoulderattheDauntlesssoldieracrosstheroom.

“Tris!”heshouts.“Alittlehelphere?”

Ipullmyshirtupjustfarenoughtoreachthehandleofthegun,andmyfingersmeetmetal. It feelssocoldthat ithurtsmyfingertips,but thatcan’tbe; it’ssohot inhere.ADauntlessmanattheendoftheaisleaimshisownrevolveratme.Theblackspotattheendofthebarrelgrowsaroundme,andIcanhearmyheartbutnothingelse.

Caleblungesforwardandgrabsmygun.HeholdsitinbothhandsandfiresatthekneesoftheDauntlessmanwhostandsjustfeetawayfromhim.

The Dauntless man screams and collapses, his hands clutching his leg, which givesTobiastheopportunitytoshoothiminthehead.Hispainismomentary.

MyentirebodyistremblingandIcan’tstopit.TobiasstillhastheDauntlesswomanbythethroat,butthistime,heaimshisgunattheEruditewoman.

“Sayanotherword,”saysTobias,“andI’llshoot.”

TheEruditewoman’smouthisopen,butshedoesn’tspeak.

“Whoever’swithusshouldstartrunning,”Tobiassays,hisvoicefillingtheroom.

Allatonce, theAbnegationrise fromtheirplacesunder tablesandbenches,andstarttowardthedoor.Calebpullsmeupfromthebench.Istarttowardthedoor.

ThenIseesomething.Atwitch,aflickerofmovement.TheEruditewomanliftsasmallgun, points it at aman in a yellow shirt in front ofme. Instinct, not presence ofmind,pushesmeintoadive.Myhandscollidewiththeman,andthebullethitsthewallinsteadofhim,insteadofme.

“Putthegundown,”saysTobias,pointinghisrevolverat theEruditewoman.“Ihaveverygoodaim,andI’mbettingthatyoudon’t.”

Iblinkafewtimestogettheblurrinessoutofmyeyes.Peterstaresbackatme.Ijustsavedhislife.Hedoesnotthankme,andIdon’tacknowledgehim.

TheEruditewomandropshergun.TogetherPeterandIwalktowardthedoor.Tobiasfollowsus,walkingbackwardsohecankeephisgunontheEruditewoman.Atthelastsecondbeforehepassesthroughthethreshold,heslamsthedoorbetweenhimandher.

Andweallrun.

We sprint down the center aisle of the orchard in a breathless pack. The night air isheavyasablanketandsmellslikerain.Shoutsfollowus.Cardoorsslam.IrunfasterthanIcanpossiblyrun,likeI’mbreathingadrenalineinsteadofair.Thepurrofengineschasesmeintothetrees.Tobias’shandclosesaroundmine.

Werunthroughacornfieldinalongline.Bythen,thecarshavecaughtuptous.Theheadlightscreepthroughthetallstalks,illuminatingaleafhere,anearofcornthere.

“Splitup!”someoneyells,anditsoundslikeMarcus.

Wedivideand spread through the field like spillingwater. IgrabCaleb’sarm. IhearSusangaspingbehindCaleb.

Wecrashovercornstalks.Theheavy leavescutmycheeksandarms. I starebetween

Tobias’sshoulderbladesaswerun.Ihearaheavythumpandascream.Therearescreamseverywhere,tomyleft,tomyright.Gunshots.TheAbnegationaredyingagain,dyingliketheywerewhenIpretendedtobeunderthesimulation.AndallI’mdoingisrunning.

Finallywe reach the fence.Tobias runs along it, pushing it until he finds a hole.Heholds the chain links back so Caleb, Susan, and I can crawl through. Before we startrunningagain,Istopandlookbackatthecornfieldwejustleft.Iseeheadlightsdistantlyglowing.ButIdon’thearanything.

“Wherearetheothers?”whispersSusan.

Isay,“Gone.”

Susansobs.Tobiaspullsmetohissideroughly,andstartsforward.Myfaceburnswithshallowcuts from thecorn leaves,butmyeyesaredry.TheAbnegationdeathsare justanotherweightIamunabletosetdown.

We stay away from the dirt road theErudite andDauntless took to get to theAmitycompound,followingthetraintrackstowardthecity.Thereisnowheretohideouthere,no trees or buildings that can shield us, but it doesn’t matter. The Erudite can’t drivethroughthefenceanyway,anditwilltakethemawhiletoreachthegate.

“Ihaveto…stop…”saysSusanfromsomewhereinthedarknessbehindme.

Westop.Susancollapsestotheground,crying,andCalebcrouchesnexttoher.TobiasandIlooktowardthecity,whichisstillilluminated,becauseit’snotmidnightyet.Iwanttofeelsomething.Fear,anger,grief.ButIdon’t.AllIfeelistheneedtokeepmoving.

Tobiasturnstowardme.

“Whatwasthat,Tris?”hesays.

“What?”Isay,andIamashamedofhowweakmyvoicesounds.Idon’tknowwhetherhe’stalkingaboutPeterorwhatcamebeforeorsomethingelse.

“Youfroze!Someonewasabouttokillyouandyoujustsatthere!”Heisyellingnow.“IthoughtIcouldrelyonyouatleasttosaveyourownlife!”

“Hey!”saysCaleb.“Giveherabreak,allright?”

“No,”saysTobias,staringatme.“Shedoesn’tneedabreak.”Hisvoicesoftens.“Whathappened?”

HestillbelievesthatIamstrong.StrongenoughthatIdon’tneedhissympathy.Iusedtothinkhewasright,butnowIamnotsure.Iclearmythroat.

“Ipanicked,”Isay.“Itwon’thappenagain.”

Heraisesaneyebrow.

“Itwon’t,”Isayagain,louderthistime.

“Okay.”Helooksunconvinced.“Wehavetogetsomewheresafe.They’llregroupandstartlookingforus.”

“Youthinktheycarethatmuchaboutus?”Isay.

“Us,yes,”hesays.“Wewereprobablytheonlyonestheywerereallyafter,apartfromMarcus,whoismostlikelydead.”

Idon’t knowhow I expectedhim to say it—with relief,maybe, becauseMarcus, hisfatherand themenaceofhis life, is finallygone.Orwithpainandsadness,becausehisfathermighthavebeenkilled,andsometimesgriefdoesn’tmakemuchsense.Buthesaysitlikeit’sjustafact,likethedirectionwe’removingorthetimeofday.

“Tobias…”Istarttosay,butthenIrealizeIdon’tknowwhatcomesafterit.

“Timetogo,”Tobiassaysoverhisshoulder.

Caleb coaxes Susan to her feet. Shemoves onlywith the help of his arm across herback,pressingherforward.

Ididn’trealizeuntilthatmomentthatDauntlessinitiationhadtaughtmeanimportantlesson:howtokeepgoing.

WEDECIDETOfollowtherailroadtrackstothecity,becausenoneofusisgoodatnavigation.Iwalk from tie to tie,Tobiasbalanceson the rail,wobblingonlyoccasionally,andCalebandSusanshufflebehindus.Itwitchateveryunidentifiednoise,tensinguntilIrealizeitisjustthewind,orthesqueakofTobias’sshoesontherail.Iwishwecouldkeeprunning,butit’safeatthatmylegsareevenmovingatthispoint.

ThenIhearalowgroanfromtherails.

Ibenddownandpressmypalmstotherail,closingmyeyestofocusonthefeelingofthemetalbeneathmyhands.Thevibrationfeelslikeasighgoingthroughmybody.Istarebetween Susan’s knees down the tracks and see no train light, but that doesn’t meananything.Thetraincouldberunningwithnohornsandnolampstoannounceitsarrival.

Iseethegleamofasmalltraincar,farawaynowbutapproachingfast.

“It’scoming,”Isay.ItisanefforttogettomyfeetwhenallIwanttodoissitdown,butIdo,brushingmyhandsonmyjeans.“Ithinkweshouldgeton.”

“Evenifit’srunbytheErudite?”saysCaleb.

“IftheEruditewererunningthetrain,theywouldhavetakenittotheAmitycompoundtolookforus,”Tobiassays.“Ithinkit’sworththerisk.We’llbeabletohideinthecity.Herewe’rejustwaitingforthemtofindus.”

Weallgetoff the tracks.CalebgivesSusanstep-by-step instructions forgettingonamovingtrain,thewayonlyaformerEruditecan.Iwatchthefirstcarapproach;listentotherhythmicbumpofthecarovertheties,thewhisperofmetalwheelagainstmetalrail.

Asthefirstcarpassesme,Istart torun.I ignore theburninginmylegs.CalebhelpsSusanintoamiddlecarfirst, thenjumpsinhimself.I takeaquickbreathandthrowmybodytotheright,slammingintothefloorofthecarwithmylegsdanglingovertheedge.Calebgrabsmy left armandpullsme in the rest of theway.Tobiasuses thehandle toswinghimselfinafterme.

Ilookup,andstopbreathing.

Eyesglitterinthedarkness.Darkshapessitinthecar,morenumerousthanweare.

Thefactionless.

Thewindwhistlesthroughthecar.Everyoneisontheirfeetandarmed—exceptSusanandme, who have noweapons. A factionlessmanwith an eye patch has a gun pointed atTobias.Iwonderhowhegotit.

Next tohim, anolder factionlesswomanholds aknife—thekind I used to cutbreadwith.Behindhim,someoneelseholdsalargeplankofwoodwithanailstickingoutofit.

“I’veneverseentheAmityarmedbefore,”thefactionlesswomanwiththeknifesays.

Thefactionlessmanwiththegunlooksfamiliar.Hewearstatteredclothesindifferentcolors—ablackT-shirtwithatornAbnegationjacketoverit,bluejeansmendedwithredthread, brown boots. All faction clothing is represented in the group before me: blackCandorpantspairedwithblackDauntlessshirts,yellowdresseswithbluesweatshirtsoverthem.Most itemsare tornor smudged in someway,but somearenot.Freshlystolen, Iimagine.

“Theyaren’tAmity,”themanwiththegunsays.“They’reDauntless.”

Then I recognize him: he is Edward, a fellow initiatewho leftDauntless after Peterattackedhimwithabutterknife.Thatiswhyhewearsaneyepatch.

Iremembersteadyinghisheadashelayscreamingonthefloor,andcleaningthebloodheleftbehind.

“Hello,Edward,”Isay.

Heinclineshisheadtome,butdoesn’tlowerhisgun.“Tris.”

“Whateveryouare,” thewomansays,“you’llhavetogetoff this train ifyouwant tostayalive.”

“Please,”saysSusan,herlipwobbling.Hereyesfillwithtears.“We’vebeenrunning…andtherestofthemaredeadandIdon’t…”Shestartstosobagain.“Idon’tthinkIcankeepgoing,I…”

I get the strange urge to hitmyhead against thewall.Other people’s sobsmakemeuncomfortable.It’sselfishofme,maybe.

“We’rerunningfromtheErudite,”saysCaleb.“Ifwegetoff,itwillbeeasierforthemtofindus.Sowewouldappreciateitifyouletusrideintothecitywithyou.”

“Yeah?”Edwardtiltshishead.“Whathaveyoueverdoneforus?”

“Ihelpedyouwhennooneelsewould,”Isay.“Remember?”

“You,maybe.Buttheothers?”saysEdward.“Notsomuch.”

Tobiasstepsforward,soEdward’sgunisalmostagainsthisthroat.

“MynameisTobiasEaton,”Tobiassays.“Idon’t thinkyouwant topushmeoff thistrain.”

The effect of the name on the people in the car is immediate and bewildering: theylowertheirweapons.Theyexchangemeaningfullooks.

“Eaton?Really?”Edward says, eyebrows raised. “I have to admit, I did not see thatcoming.”Heclearshisthroat.“Fine,youcancome.Butwhenwegettothecity,you’vegottocomewithus.”

Thenhesmilesalittle.“Weknowsomeonewho’sbeenlookingforyou,TobiasEaton.”

TobiasandIsitontheedgeofthecarwithourlegsdanglingovertheedge.

“Doyouknowwhoitis?”

Tobiasnods.

“Who,then?”

“It’shardtoexplain,”hesays.“Ihavealottotellyou.”

Ileanagainsthim.

“Yeah,”Isay.“SodoI.”

Idon’tknowhowmuchtimepassesbeforetheytellustogetoff.Butwhentheydo,weareinthepartofthecitywherethefactionlesslive,aboutamilefromwhereIgrewup.Irecognize eachbuildingwepass asone Iwalkedby every time Imissed thebushomefrom school. The onewith the broken bricks. The onewith a fallen streetlight leaningagainstit.

Westandinthedoorwayofthetraincar,allfourofusinaline.Susanwhimpers.

“Whatifwegethurt?”shesays.

Igrabherhand.“We’ll jumptogether.Youandme. I’vedone thisadozen timesandnevergothurt.”

Shenodsandsqueezesmyfingerssohardtheyhurt.

“Onthree.One,”Isay,“Two.Three.”

Ijump,andpullherwithme.Myfeetslamintothegroundandcontinueforward,butSusan just falls to the pavement and rolls onto her side. Aside from a scraped knee,though,sheseemstobeallright.Theothersjumpoffwithoutdifficulty—evenCaleb,whohasonlyjumpedfromatrainoncebefore,asfarasIknow.

I’mnotsurewhocouldknowTobiasamongthefactionless.ItcouldbeDreworMolly,who failed Dauntless initiation—but they didn’t even know Tobias’s real name, andbesides,Edwardprobablywouldhavekilledthembynow,judgingbyhowreadyhewastoshootus.ItmustbesomeonefromAbnegation,orfromschool.

Susanseemstohavecalmeddown.Shewalksonherownnow,nexttoCaleb,andher

cheeksaredryingwithnonewtearstowetthem.

Tobiaswalksbesideme,touchingmyshoulderlightly.

“It’sbeenawhilesinceIcheckedthatshoulder,”hesays.“Howisit?”

“Okay. I brought thepainmedicine, luckily,” I say. I’mglad to talk about somethinglight—aslightasawoundcanbe,anyway.“Idon’t thinkI’mlettingithealverywell.Ikeepusingmyarmorlandingonit.”

“Therewillbeplentyoftimeforhealingonceallthisisover.”

“Yeah.”Oritwon’tmatterifIheal,Iaddsilently,becauseI’llbedead.

“Here,”hesays,takingasmallknifefromhisbackpocketandhandingittome.“Justincase.”

Iputitinmyownpocket.Ifeelevenmorenervousnow.

The factionless lead us down the street and left into a grimy alleyway that stinks ofgarbage. Rats scatter in front of us with squeaks of terror, and I see only their tails,slipping betweenmounds ofwaste, empty trash cans, soggy cardboard boxes. I breathethroughmymouthsoIdon’tthrowup.

Edwardstopsnexttooneofthecrumblingbrickbuildingsandforcesasteeldooropen.Iwince,halfexpectingtheentirebuildingtofalldownifhepullstoohard.Thewindowsare so thickwith grime that almost no light penetrates them.We followEdward into adankroom.Intheflickeringglowofalantern,Isee…people.

Peoplesittingnexttorollsofbedding.Peoplepryingopencansoffood.Peoplesippingbottlesofwater.Andchildren,weavingbetween thegroupsofadults,notconfined toaparticularcolorofclothing—factionlesschildren.

We are in a factionless storehouse, and the factionless, who are supposed to bescattered, isolated,andwithoutcommunity…are together inside it.Are together, likeafaction.

Idon’tknowwhat Iexpectedof them,but Iamsurprisedbyhownormal theyseem.Theydon’tfightoneanotheroravoidoneanother.Someofthemtelljokes,othersspeaktoeachotherquietly.Gradually,though,theyallseemtorealizethatwearen’tsupposedtobethere.

“Come on,” Edward says, bending his finger to beckon us toward him. “She’s backhere.”

Stares and silence greet us as we follow Edward deeper into the building that issupposedtobeabandoned.FinallyIcan’tcontainmyquestionsanylonger.

“What’sgoingonhere?Whyareyoualltogetherlikethis?”

“Youthoughtthey—we—wereallsplitup,”Edwardsaysoverhisshoulder.“Well,theywere,forawhile.Toohungrytodomuchofanythingexceptlookforfood.ButthentheStiffs started giving them food, clothes, tools, everything. And they got stronger, andwaited.TheywerelikethatwhenIfoundthem,andtheywelcomedme.”

Wewalkintoadarkhallway.Ifeelathome,inthedarkandthequietthatarelikethe

tunnels inDauntless headquarters.Tobias, however,winds a loose thread fromhis shirtaroundhis finger,backwardandforward,overandover.Heknowswhowe’remeeting,butIstillhavenoidea.HowisitIknowthislittleabouttheboywhosayshelovesme—the boy whose real name is powerful enough to keep us alive in a train car full ofenemies?

Edwardstopsatametaldoorandpoundsonitwithhisfist.

“Wait,yousaidtheywerewaiting?”saysCaleb.“Whatweretheywaitingfor,exactly?”

“Fortheworldtofallapart,”Edwardsays.“Andnowithas.”

Thedooropens, anda severe-lookingwomanwitha lazyeye stands in thedoorway.Hersteadyeyescansthefourofus.

“Strays?”shesays.

“Not hardly, Therese.” He jabs his thumb over his shoulder, at Tobias. “This one’sTobiasEaton.”

TheresestaresatTobiasforafewseconds,thennods.“Hecertainlyis.Holdon.”

Sheshutsthedooragain.Tobiasswallowshard,hisAdam’sapplebobbing.

“Youknowwhoshe’sgoingtoget,don’tyou,”saysCalebtoTobias.

“Caleb,”Tobiassays.“Pleaseshutup.”

Tomysurprise,mybrothersuppresseshisEruditecuriosity.

Thedooropensagain,andTheresestepsbacktoletusin.WewalkintoanoldboilerroomwithmachinerythatemergesfromthedarknesssosuddenlyIhititwithmykneesandelbows.Thereseleadsusthroughthemazeofmetal to thebackof theroom,whereseveralbulbsdanglefromtheceilingoveratable.

Amiddle-agedwomanstandsbehindthetable.Shehascurlyblackhairandoliveskin.Herfeaturesarestern,soangulartheyalmostmakeherunattractive,butnotquite.

Tobias clutchesmy hand.At thatmoment I realize that he and thewoman have thesamenose—hooked,alittletoobigonherfacebuttherightsizeonhis.Theyalsohavethe same strong jaw, distinct chin, spare upper lip, stick-out ears. Only her eyes aredifferent—insteadofblue,theyaresodarktheylookblack.

“Evelyn,”hesays,hisvoiceshakingalittle.

EvelynwasthenameofMarcus’swifeandTobias’smother.MygriponTobias’shandloosens.JustdaysagoIwasrememberingherfuneral.Herfuneral.Andnowshestandsinfrontofme,hereyescolderthantheeyesofanyAbnegationwomanI’veeverseen.

“Hello.”Shewalksaroundthetable,surveyinghim.“Youlookolder.”

“Yes,well.Thepassageoftimetendstodothattoaperson.”

Healreadyknewshewasalive.Howlongagodidhefindout?

Shesmiles.“Soyou’vefinallycome—”

“Notforthereasonyouthink,”heinterruptsher.“WewererunningfromErudite,and

the only chance of escape we had required me to tell your poorly armed lackeys myname.”

Shemusthavemadehimangrysomehow.ButIcan’thelpbutthinkthatifIdiscoveredmymotherwasaliveafterthinkingshewasdeadforsolong,IwouldneverspeaktoherthewayTobiasspeakstohismothernow,nomatterwhatshehaddone.

Thetruthofthatthoughtmakesmeache.Ipushitasideandfocusinsteadonwhat’sinfrontofme.OnthetablebehindEvelynisalargemapwithmarkersalloverit.Amapofthecity,obviously,butI’mnotsurewhatthemarkersmean.Onthewallbehindherisachalkboardwithachartonit.Ican’tdeciphertheinformationinthechart;it’swritteninshorthandIdon’tknow.

“Isee.”Evelyn’ssmileremains,butwithoutitsformertouchofamusement.“Introducemetoyourfellowrefugees,then.”

Hereyesdriftdowntoour joinedhands.Tobias’sfingersspringapart.Hegestures tomefirst.“ThisisTrisPrior.Herbrother,Caleb.AndtheirfriendSusanBlack.”

“Prior,”shesays.“IknowofseveralPriors,butnoneofthemarenamedTris.Beatrice,however…”

“Well,”Isay,“IknowofseverallivingEatons,butnoneofthemarenamedEvelyn.”

“EvelynJohnsonisthenameIprefer.ParticularlyamongapackofAbnegation.”

“TrisisthenameIprefer,”Ireply.“Andwe’renotAbnegation.Notallofus,anyway.”

EvelyngivesTobiasalook.“Interestingfriendsyou’vemade.”

“Those are population counts?” says Caleb from behind me. He walks forward, hismouthopen.“And…what?Factionless safehouses?”Hepoints to the first lineon thechart,which reads7……….GrnHse. “Imean, these places, on themap? They’re safehouses,likethisone,right?”

“That’salotofquestions,”saysEvelyn,archinganeyebrow.Irecognizetheexpression.ItbelongstoTobias—asdoesherdistasteforquestions.“Forsecuritypurposes,Iwillnotansweranyofthem.Anyway,itistimefordinner.”

She gestures toward the door. Susan andCaleb start toward it, followed byme, andTobiasandhismotherarelast.Weworkourwaythroughthemazeofmachineryagain.

“I’mnotstupid,”shesaysinalowvoice.“Iknowyouwantnothingtodowithme—thoughIstilldon’tquiteunderstandwhy—”

Tobiassnorts.

“But,”shesays,“Iwillextendmyinvitationagain.Wecoulduseyourhelphere,andIknowyouarelike-mindedaboutthefactionsystem—”

“Evelyn,”Tobiassays.“IchoseDauntless.”

“Choicescanbemadeagain.”

“What makes you think I’m interested in spending time anywhere near you?” hedemands.Ihearhisfootstepsstop,andslowdownsoIcanhearhowsheresponds.

“Because I’m your mother,” she says, and her voice almost breaks over the words,uncharacteristicallyvulnerable.“Becauseyou’remyson.”

“You really don’t get it,” he says. “You don’t have the vaguest conception of whatyou’vedonetome.”Hesoundsbreathless.“Idon’twanttojoinupwithyourlittlebandoffactionless.Iwanttogetoutofhereasquicklyaspossible.”

“MylittlebandoffactionlessistwicethesizeofDauntless,”saysEvelyn.“Youwoulddowelltotakeitseriously.Itsactionsmaydeterminethefutureofthiscity.”

Withthat,shewalksaheadofhim,andaheadofme.Herwordsechoinmymind:TwicethesizeofDauntless.Whendidtheybecomesolarge?

Tobiaslooksatme,eyebrowslowered.

“Howlonghaveyouknown?”Isay.

“About a year.” He slumps against the wall and closes his eyes. “She sent a codedmessagetomeinDauntless,tellingmetomeetheratthetrainyard.Idid,becauseIwascurious,andthereshewas.Alive.Itwasn’tahappyreunion,asyoucanprobablyguess.”

“WhydidsheleaveAbnegation?”

“She had an affair.” He shakes his head. “And no wonder, since my father…” Heshakeshisheadagain.“Well,let’sjustsayMarcuswasn’tanynicertoherthanhewastome.”

“Is…thatwhyyou’reangrywithher?Becauseshewasunfaithfultohim?”

“No,”hesaystoosternly,hiseyesopening.“No,that’snotwhyI’mangry.”

Iwalktowardhimasifapproachingawildanimal,eachfootstepcarefulonthecementfloor.“Thenwhy?”

“Shehadtoleavemyfather,Igetthat,”hesays.“Butdidshethinkoftakingmewithher?”

Ipursemylips.“Oh.Sheleftyouwithhim.”

Shelefthimalonewithhisworstnightmare.Nowonderhehatesher.

“Yeah.”Hekicksatthefloor.“Shedid.”

Myfingersfindhis,fumbling,andheguidesthemintothespacesbetweenhisown.Iknow that’s enough questions, for now, so I let the silence linger between us until hedecidestobreakit.

“Itseemstome,”hesays,“thatthefactionlessarebetterfriendsthanenemies.”

“Maybe.Butwhatwouldthecostofthatfriendshipbe?”Isay.

Heshakeshishead.“Idon’tknow.Butwemaynothaveanyotheroption.”

ONEOFTHEfactionlessstartedafiresowecouldheatupourfood.Thosewhowanttoeatsitina circle around the largemetal bowl that contains the fire, first heating the cans, thenpassingout spoons and forks, thenpassing cans around so everyone canhave a bite ofeverything.ItrynottothinkabouthowmanydiseasescouldspreadthiswayasIdipmyspoonintoacanofsoup.

Edwarddropstothegroundnexttomeandtakesthecanofsoupfrommyhands.

“SoyouwereallAbnegation,huh?”Heshovelsseveralnoodlesandapieceofcarrotintohismouth,andpassesthecantothewomanonhisleft.

“Wewere,”Isay.“ButobviouslyTobiasandItransferred,and…”Suddenlyitoccursto me that I shouldn’t tell anyone Caleb joined Erudite. “Caleb and Susan are stillAbnegation.”

“And he’s your brother. Caleb,” he says. “You ditched your family to becomeDauntless?”

“You sound like the Candor,” I say irritably. “Mind keeping your judgments toyourself?”

Thereseleansover.“HewasEruditefirst,actually.NotCandor.”

“Yeah,Iknow,”Isay,“I—”

Sheinterruptsme.“SowasI.Hadtoleave,though.”

“Whathappened?”

“Iwasn’tsmartenough.”SheshrugsandtakesacanofbeansfromEdward,plungingherspoonintoit.“Ididn’tgetahighenoughscoreonmyinitiationintelligencetest.Sotheysaid,‘Spendyourentirelifecleaninguptheresearchlabs,orleave.’AndIleft.”

She looks down and licks her spoon clean. I take the beans fromher and pass themalongtoTobias,whoisstaringatthefire.

“AremanyofyoufromErudite?”Isay.

Therese shakes her head. “Most are from Dauntless, actually.” She jerks her head

towardEdward,whoscowls.“ThenErudite,thenCandor,thenahandfulofAmity.NoonefailsAbnegationinitiation,though,sowehaveveryfewofthose,exceptforabunchwhosurvivedthesimulationattackandcametousforrefuge.”

“IguessIshouldn’tbesurprisedaboutDauntless,”Isay.

“Well, yeah. You’ve got one of the worst initiations, and there’s that whole old-agething.”

“Old-age thing?” I say. I glance at Tobias.He is listening now, and he looks almostnormalagain,hiseyesthoughtfulanddarkinthefirelight.

“OncetheDauntlessreachacertainlevelofphysicaldeterioration,”hesays,“theyareaskedtoleave.Inonewayoranother.”

“What’stheotherway?”Myheartpounds,likeitalreadyknowsananswerIcan’tfacewithoutprompting.

“Let’sjustsay,”saysTobias,“thatforsome,deathispreferabletofactionlessness.”

“Thosepeopleareidiots,”saysEdward.“I’dratherbefactionlessthanDauntless.”

“Howfortunatethatyouendedupwhereyoudid,then,”saysTobiascoldly.

“Fortunate?”Edwardsnorts.“Yeah.I’msofortunate,withmyoneeyeandall.”

“Iseemtorecallhearingrumorsthatyouprovokedthatattack,”saysTobias.

“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”Isay.“Hewaswinning,that’sall,andPeterwasjealous,sohejust…”

I see the smirk on Edward’s face and stop talking.Maybe I don’t know everythingaboutwhathappenedduringinitiation.

“Therewasan inciting incident,” saysEdward.“InwhichPeterdidnotcomeout thevictor.Butitcertainlydidn’twarrantabutterknifetotheeye.”

“Noargumentshere,”saysTobias.“If itmakesyoufeelanybetter,hegotshot in thearmfromafootawayduringthesimulationattack.”

And itdoesseem tomakeEdward feelbetter,becausehis smirkcarvesadeeper lineintohisface.

“Whodidthat?”hesays.“You?”

Tobiasshakeshishead.“Trisdid.”

“Welldone,”Edwardsays.

Inod,butIfeelalittlesicktobecongratulatedforthat.

Well,notthatsick.ItwasPeter,afterall.

Istareattheflameswrappingaroundthefragmentsofwoodthatfuelthem.Theymoveandshift,likemythoughts.IrememberthefirsttimeIrealizedIhadneverseenanelderlyDauntless.AndwhenIrealizedmyfatherwastoooldtoclimbthepathsofthePit.NowIunderstandmoreaboutthatthanI’dliketo.

“Doyouknowmuchabouthowthingsare rightnow?”TobiasasksEdward.“Didall

theDauntlesssidewithErudite?HasCandordoneanything?”

“Dauntlessissplitinhalf,”Edwardsays,talkingaroundthefoodinhismouth.“HalfatEruditeheadquarters,halfatCandorheadquarters.What’s leftofAbnegation iswithus.Nothingmuchhashappenedyet.Exceptforwhateverhappenedtoyou,Iguess.”

Tobiasnods.IfeelalittlerelievedtoknowthathalfoftheDauntless,atleast,arenottraitors.

I eat spoonful after spoonful untilmy stomach is full. Then Tobias gets us sleepingpalletsandblankets,andIfindanemptycornerforustoliedownin.Whenhebendsovertountiehisshoes,IseethesymbolofAmityonthesmallofhisback,thebranchescurlingoverhis spine.Whenhestraightens, I stepacross theblanketsandputmyarmsaroundhim,brushingthetattoowithmyfingers.

Tobiascloseshiseyes.ItrustthedwindlingfiretodisguiseusasIrunmyhanduphisback, touching each tattoo without seeing it. I imagine Erudite’s staring eye, Candor’sunbalancedscales,Abnegation’sclaspedhands,andtheDauntlessflames.WithmyotherhandIfindthepatchoffiretattooedoverhisribcage.Ifeelhisheavybreathsagainstmycheek.

“Iwishwewerealone,”hesays.

“Ialmostalwayswishthat,”Isay.

Idriftofftosleep,carriedbythesoundofdistantconversations.Thesedaysit’seasierforme to fall asleep when there is noise aroundme. I can focus on the sound instead ofwhateverthoughtswouldcrawlintomyheadinsilence.Noiseandactivityaretherefugesofthebereavedandtheguilty.

Iwakewhenthefireisjustaglow,andonlyafewofthefactionlessarestillup.IttakesmeafewsecondstofigureoutwhyIwokeup:IheardEvelyn’sandTobias’svoices,afewfeetawayfromme.Istaystillandhopetheydon’tdiscoverthatI’mawake.

“You’llhavetotellmewhat’sgoingonhereifyouexpectmetoconsiderhelpingyou,”hesays.“ThoughI’mstillnotsurewhyyouneedmeatall.”

IseeEvelyn’sshadowonthewall,flickeringwiththefire.Sheisleanandstrong,justlikeTobias.Herfingerstwistintoherhairasshespeaks.

“Whatwouldyouliketoknow,exactly?”

“Tellmeaboutthechart.Andthemap.”

“Your friendwas correct in thinking that themap and the chart listed all of our safehouses,” shesays.“Hewaswrongabout thepopulationcounts…sortof.Thenumbersdon’tdocumentall thefactionless—onlycertainones.AndI’llbetyoucanguesswhichonesthoseare.”

“I’mnotinthemoodforguessing.”

Shesighs.“TheDivergent.We’redocumentingtheDivergent.”

“Howdoyouknowwhotheyare?”

“Before the simulation attack, part of the Abnegation aid effort involved testing thefactionlessforacertaingeneticanomaly,”shesays.“Sometimesthattestinginvolvedre-administering the aptitude test. Sometimes itwasmore complicated than that.But theyexplainedtousthattheysuspectedwemighthavethehighestDivergentpopulationofanygroupinthecity.”

“Idon’tunderstand.Why—”

“Whywould the factionless have a highDivergent population?” It sounds like she’ssmirking.“Obviouslythosewhocan’tconfinethemselvestoaparticularwayofthinkingwouldbemostlikelytoleaveafactionorfailitsinitiation,right?”

“That’snotwhatIwasgoingtoask,”hesays.“IwanttoknowwhyyoucarehowmanyDivergentthereare.”

“TheEruditearelookingformanpower.Theyfoundit temporarilyinDauntless.Nowthey’llbelookingformore,andwe’retheobviousplace,unlesstheyfigureoutthatwe’vegotmoreDivergent than any other group. Just in case they don’t, Iwant to knowhowmanypeoplewe’vegotwhoareresistanttosimulations.”

“Fairenough,”hesays,“butwhywere theAbnegationsoconcernedwithfinding theDivergent?Itwasn’ttohelpJeanine,wasit?”

“Ofcoursenot,”shesays.“ButI’mafraidIdon’tknow.TheAbnegationwerereluctanttoprovideinformationthatonlyservestorelievecuriosity.Theytoldusasmuchastheybelievedweshouldknow.”

“Strange,”hemumbles.

“Perhapsyoushouldaskyourfatheraboutit,”shesays.“Hewastheonewhotoldmeaboutyou.”

“Aboutme,”saysTobias.“Whataboutme?”

“That he suspected you were Divergent,” she says. “He was always watching you.Notingyourbehavior.Hewasveryattentivetoyou.That’swhy…that’swhyIthoughtyouwouldbesafewithhim.Saferwithhimthanwithme.”

Tobiassaysnothing.

“IseenowthatImusthavebeenwrong.”

Hestillsaysnothing.

“Iwish—”shestarts.

“Don’t youdare try to apologize.”Hisvoice shakes. “This is not somethingyou canbandagewithawordortwoandsomehugging,orsomething.”

“Okay,”shesays.“Okay.Iwon’t.”

“Forwhatpurposearethefactionlessuniting?”hesays.“Whatdoyouintendtodo?”

“We want to usurp Erudite,” she says. “Once we get rid of them, there’s not muchstoppingusfromcontrollingthegovernmentourselves.”

“That’swhatyouexpectme tohelpyouwith.Overthrowingonecorruptgovernmentandinstatingsomekindoffactionlesstyranny.”Hesnorts.“Notachance.”

“We don’t want to be tyrants,” she says. “We want to establish a new society. Onewithoutfactions.”

Mymouth goes dry. No factions?Aworld inwhich no one knowswho they are orwheretheyfit?Ican’tevenfathomit.Iimagineonlychaosandisolation.

Tobiasletsoutalaugh.“Right.SohowareyougoingtousurpErudite?”

“Sometimes drastic change requires drastic measures.” Evelyn’s shadow lifts ashoulder.“Iimagineitwillinvolveahighlevelofdestruction.”

I shiver at the word “destruction.” Somewhere in the darker parts of me, I cravedestruction,aslongasitisEruditebeingdestroyed.Butthewordcarriesnewmeaningforme,nowthatIhaveseenwhatitcanlooklike:gray-clothedbodiesslungacrosscurbsandover sidewalks,Abnegation leaders shoton their front lawns,next to theirmailboxes. IpressmyfaceintothepalletI’msleepingon,sohardithurtsmyforehead,justtoforcethememoryout,out,out.

“Asforwhyweneedyou,”Evelynsays.“Inordertodothis,wewillneedDauntless’shelp. They have the weapons and the combat experience. You could bridge the gapbetweenusandthem.”

“DoyouthinkI’mimportanttotheDauntless?BecauseI’mnot.I’mjustsomeonewhoisn’tafraidofmuch.”

“What I am suggesting,” she says, “is that you become important.” She stands, hershadowstretching fromceiling to floor. “I amsureyoucan findaway, ifyouwant to.Thinkaboutit.”

Shepullsbackhercurlyhairandtiesitinaknot.“Thedoorisalwaysopen.”

A few minutes later he lies next to me again. I don’t want to admit that I waseavesdropping,but Iwant to tell him Idon’t trustEvelyn,or the factionless,or anyonewhospeakssocasuallyaboutdemolishinganentirefaction.

BeforeIcanmusterthecouragetospeak,hisbreathsbecomeeven,andhefallsasleep.

I RUN MY hand over the back ofmy neck to lift the hair that sticks there.My entire bodyaches,especiallymylegs,whichburnwithlacticacidevenwhenIamnotmoving.AndIdon’tsmellverygood.Ineedtoshower.

Iwanderdownthehallandintothebathroom.Iamnottheonlypersonwithbathinginmind—agroupofwomenstandatthesinks,halfofthemnaked,theotherhalfcompletelyunfazedbyit.Ifindafreesinkinthecornerandstickmyheadunderthefaucet,lettingcoldwaterspillovermyears.

“Hello,”Susansays.Iturnmyheadtotheside.Watercoursesdownmycheekandintomynose.Sheiscarryingtwotowels:onewhite,onegray,bothfrayedattheedges.

“Hi,”Isay.

“Ihaveanidea,”shesays.Sheturnsherbacktomeandholdsupatowel,blockingmyviewoftherestofthebathroom.Isighwithrelief.Privacy.Orasmuchofitaspossible.

Istripquicklyandgrabthebarofsoapnexttothesink.

“Howareyou?”shesays.

“I’mfine.”Iknowshe’sonlyaskingbecausefactionrulesdictatethatshedoes.Iwishshewouldjustspeaktomefreely.“Howareyou,Susan?”

“Better.Therese toldme there is a large group ofAbnegation refugees in one of thefactionlesssafehouses,”saysSusanasIlathersoapintomyhair.

“Oh?”Isay.Ishovemyheadunderthefaucetagain,thistimemassagingmyscalpwithmylefthandtogetthesoapout.“Areyougoingtogo?”

“Yes,”saysSusan.“Unlessyouneedmyhelp.”

“Thanksfor theoffer,butI thinkyourfactionneedsyoumore,”Isay, turningoff thefaucet.IwishIdidn’thavetogetdressed.It’stoohotfordenimpants.ButIgrabtheothertowelfromtheflooranddrymyselfinahurry.

IputontheredshirtIwaswearingbefore.Idon’twanttoputonsomethingthatdirtyagain,butIhavenootherchoice.

“Isuspectsomeofthefactionlesswomenhavespareclothes,”saysSusan.

“You’reprobablyright.Okay,yourturn.”

IstandwiththetowelasSusanwashesup.Myarmsstarttoacheafterawhile,butsheignoredthepainforme,soI’lldothesameforher.Watersplashesonmyankleswhenshewashesherhair.

“This is a situation I never thought we would be in together,” I say after a while.“Bathingfromthesinkofanabandonedbuilding,ontherunfromtheErudite.”

“I thoughtwewould liveneareachother,”saysSusan.“Go tosocialevents together.Haveourkidswalktothebusstoptogether.”

Ibitemylipatthat.Itismyfault,ofcourse,thatthatwasneverapossibility,becauseIchoseanotherfaction.

“I’msorry,Ididn’tmeantobringitup,”shesays.“IjustregretthatIdidn’tpaymoreattention. If I had, maybe I would have known what you were going through. I actedselfishly.”

Ilaughalittle.“Susan,there’snothingwrongwiththewayyouacted.”

“I’mdone,”shesays.“Canyouhandmethattowel?”

Iclosemyeyesandturnsoshecangrabthetowelfrommyhands.WhenTheresewalksintothebathroom,smoothingherhairintoabraid,Susanasksherforspareclothes.

Bythetimeweleavethebathroom,Iwearjeansandablackshirtthatissolooseuptopthatitslipsoffmyshoulders,andSusanwearsbaggyjeansandawhiteCandorshirtwitha collar. She buttons it up to her throat. The Abnegation are modest to the point ofdiscomfort.

WhenIenterthelargeroomagain,someofthefactionlessarewalkingoutwithbucketsofpaintandpaintbrushes.Iwatchthemuntilthedoorclosesbehindthem.

“They’regoingtowriteamessagetotheothersafehouses,”saysEvelynfrombehindme. “On one of the billboards.Codes formed out of personal information—so-and-so’sfavoritecolor,someoneelse’schildhoodpet.”

Iamnotsurewhyshewouldchoosetotellmesomethingaboutthefactionlesscodesuntil I turn around. I see a familiar look inher eyes—it is the sameas theone JeanineworewhenshetoldTobiasshehaddevelopedaserumthatcouldcontrolhim:pride.

“Clever,”Isay.“Youridea?”

“Itwas,actually.”Sheshrugs,butIamnotfooled.Sheisanythingbutnonchalant.“IwasEruditebeforeIwasAbnegation.”

“Oh,”Isay.“Guessyoucouldn’tkeepupwithalifeofacademia,then?”

Shedoesn’ttakethebait.“Somethinglikethat,yes.”Shepauses.“Iimagineyourfatherleftforthesamereason.”

I almost turn away to end the conversation, but herwords create a kind of pressureinsidemymind,likesheissqueezingmybrainbetweenherhands.Istare.

“You didn’t know?” She frowns. “I’m sorry; I forgot that faction members rarelydiscusstheiroldfactions.”

“What?”Isay,myvoicecracking.

“Your father was born in Erudite,” she says. “His parents were friendswith JeanineMatthews’s parents, before they died.Your father and Jeanine used to play together aschildren.Iusedtowatchthempassbooksbackandforthatschool.”

Iimaginemyfather,agrownman,sittingnexttoJeanine,agrownwoman,atalunchtableinmyoldcafeteria,abookbetweenthem.TheideaissoridiculoustomethatIhalfsnort,halflaugh.Itcan’tbetrue.

Except.

Except:Henevertalkedabouthisfamilyorhischildhood.

Except:HedidnothavethequietdemeanorofsomeonewhogrewupinAbnegation.

Except:HishatredofEruditewassovehementitmusthavebeenpersonal.

“I’msorry,Beatrice,”Evelynsays.“Ididn’tmeantoreopenclosingwounds.”

Ifrown.“Yes,youdid.”

“Whatdoyoumean—”

“Listencarefully,” I say, loweringmyvoice. I checkoverher shoulder forTobias, tomakesureheisn’tlisteningin.AllIseeisCalebandSusanonthegroundinthecorner,passingajarofpeanutbutterbackandforth.NoTobias.

“I’mnotstupid,”Isay.“Icanseethatyou’retryingtousehim.AndI’lltellhimso,ifhehasn’tfigureditoutalready.”

“Mydeargirl,”shesays.“Iamhisfamily.Iampermanent.Youareonlytemporary.”

“Yeah,” I say. “His mom abandoned him, and his dad beat him up. How could hisloyaltynotbewithhisblood,withafamilylikethat?”

Iwalkaway,myhandsshaking,andsitdownnexttoCalebonthefloor.Susanisnowacrosstheroom,helpingoneofthefactionlesscleanup.Hepassesmethejarofpeanutbutter. I remember the rows of peanut plants in the Amity greenhouses. They growpeanutsbecausetheyarehighinproteinandfat,whichisimportantforthefactionlessinparticular.Iscoopsomeofthepeanutbutteroutwithmyfingersandeatit.

ShouldItellhimwhatEvelynjusttoldme?Idon’twanttomakehimthinkthathehasEruditeinhisblood.Idon’twanttogivehimanyreasontoreturntothem.

Idecidetokeepittomyselffornow.

“Iwantedtotalktoyouaboutsomething,”saysCaleb.

Inod,stillworkingthepeanutbutterofftheroofofmymouth.

“SusanwantstogoseetheAbnegation,”hesays.“AndsodoI.Ialsowanttomakesureshe’sallright.ButIdon’twanttoleaveyou.”

“It’sokay,”Isay.

“Whydon’tyoucomewithus?”heasks.“Abnegationwouldwelcomeyouback;I’msureofit.”

SoamI—theAbnegationdon’tholdgrudges.ButIamteeteringontheedgeofgrief’smouth,andifIreturnedtomyparents’oldfaction,itwouldswallowme.

Ishakemyhead.“IhavetogotoCandorheadquartersandfindoutwhat’sgoingon,”Isay. “I’mgoing crazy, not knowing.” I force a smile. “But you shouldgo.Susanneedsyou.Sheseemsbetter,butshestillneedsyou.”

“Okay.”Calebnods.“Well,I’lltrytojoinyousoon.Becareful,though.”

“Aren’tIalways?”

“No,Ithinkthewordforhowyouusuallyareis‘reckless.’”

Caleb squeezes my good shoulder lightly. I eat another fingertip’s worth of peanutbutter.

Tobias emerges from the men’s bathroom a few minutes later, his red Amity shirtreplacedbyablackT-shirt,andhisshorthairglisteningwithwater.Oureyesmeetacrosstheroom,andIknowit’stimetoleave.

Candorheadquartersislargeenoughtocontainanentireworld.Orsoitseemstome.

Itisawidecementbuildingthatoverlookswhatwasoncetheriver.ThesignsaysMERC IS

MART—itusedtoread“MerchandiseMart,”butmostpeoplerefertoitastheMercilessMart,becausetheCandoraremerciless,buthonest.Theyseemtohaveembracedthenickname.

I don’t knowwhat to expect, because I have never been inside. Tobias and I pauseoutsidethedoorsandlookateachother.

“Herewego,”hesays.

Ican’tseeanythingbeyondmyreflectionintheglassdoors.Ilooktiredanddirty.Forthefirsttime,itoccurstomethatwedon’thavetodoanything.Wecouldholeupwiththefactionless and let the rest of them sort through thismess.Wecouldbenobodies, safe,together.

Hestillhasn’ttoldmeabouttheconversationhehadwithhismotherlastnight,andIdon’tthinkhe’sgoingto.HeseemedsodeterminedtogettoCandorheadquartersthatIwonderifhe’splanningsomethingwithoutme.

Idon’tknowwhyIwalkthroughthedoors.MaybeIdecidethatwe’vecomethisfar,wemightaswellseewhat’sgoingon.ButIsuspectit’smorethatIknowwhat’strueandwhat’snot.IamDivergent,soIamnotnobody,there’snosuchthingas“safe,”andIhaveotherthingsonmymindthanplayinghousewithTobias.Andso,apparently,doeshe.

Thelobbyislargeandwell-lit,withblackmarblefloorsthatstretchbacktoanelevatorbank.AringofwhitemarbletilesinthecenteroftheroomformthesymbolofCandor:asetofunbalancedscales,meanttosymbolizetheweighingoftruthagainstlies.TheroomiscrawlingwitharmedDauntless.

ADauntlesssoldierwithanarminaslingapproachesus,gunheldready,barrelfixedonTobias.

“Identifyyourselves,”shesays.Sheisyoung,butnotyoungenoughtoknowTobias.

The others gather behind her. Some of them eye us with suspicion, the rest withcuriosity,butfarstranger thanboth is the lightIsee insomeof theireyes.Recognition.TheymightknowTobias,buthowcouldtheypossiblyrecognizeme?

“Four,”hesays.Henodstowardme.“AndthisisTris.BothDauntless.”

TheDauntlesssoldier’seyeswiden,butshedoesnotlowerhergun.

“Some help here?” she asks. Some of the Dauntless step forward, but they do itcautiously,likewe’redangerous.

“Isthereaproblem?”Tobiassays.

“Areyouarmed?”

“OfcourseI’marmed.I’mDauntless,aren’tI?”

“Standwithyourhandsbehindyourhead.”She says itwildly, like sheexpectsus torefuse.IglanceatTobias.Whyiseveryoneactinglikewe’reabouttoattackthem?

“Wewalkedthroughthefrontdoor,”Isayslowly.“Youthinkwewouldhavedonethatifwewereheretohurtyou?”

Tobiasdoesn’tlookbackatme.Hejusttoucheshisfingertipstothebackofhishead.After amoment, I do the same.Dauntless soldiers crowd around us.One of thempatsdownTobias’slegswhiletheothertakestheguntuckedunderhiswaistband.Anotherone,around-facedboywithpinkcheeks,looksatmeapologetically.

“Ihaveaknifeinmybackpocket.”Isay.“Putyourhandsonme,andIwillmakeyouregretit.”

Hemumblessomekindofapology.His fingerspinch theknifehandle,carefulnot totouchme.

“What’sgoingon?”asksTobias.

Thefirstsoldierexchangeslookswithsomeoftheothers.

“I’msorry,”shesays.“Butwewereinstructedtoarrestyouuponyourarrival.”

THEYSURROUNDUS,butdon’thandcuffus,andwalkustotheelevatorbank.NomatterhowmanytimesIaskwhyweareunderarrest,noonesaysanythingorevenlooksinmydirection.EventuallyIgiveupandstaysilent,likeTobias.

Wegotothethirdlevel,wheretheytakeustoasmallroomwithawhitemarblefloorinsteadofablackone.There’snofurnitureexceptforabenchalongthebackwall.Everyfaction is supposed to have holding rooms for thosewhomake trouble, but I’ve neverbeeninonebefore.

Thedoorclosesbehindus,andlocks,andwe’realoneagain.

Tobiassitsdownonthebench,hisbrowfurrowed.Ipacebackandforthinfrontofhim.Ifhehadanyideawhywewereinhere,hewouldtellme,soIdon’task.Iwalkfivestepsforwardandfivestepsback,fivestepsforwardandfivestepsback,at thesamerhythm,hopingitwillhelpmefiguresomethingout.

IfEruditedidn’t takeoverCandor—andEdward toldus theydidn’t—whywould theCandorarrestus?Whatcouldwehavedonetothem?

If Erudite didn’t take over, the only real crime left is siding with them. Did I doanything that couldhavebeen interpretedas sidingwithErudite?My teethdig intomylowerlipsohardIwince.Yes,Idid.IshotWill.IshotanumberofotherDauntless.Theywere under the simulation, butmaybeCandor doesn’t know that or doesn’t think it’s agoodenoughreason.

“Canyoupleasecalmdown?”Tobiassays.“You’remakingmenervous.”

“Thisismecalmingdown.”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and stares between his sneakers.“Thewoundinyourlipbegstodiffer.”

Isitnexttohimandhugmykneestomychestwithonearm,myrightarmhangingatmyside.Fora longtime,hesaysnothing,andmyarmwraps tighterandtighteraroundmylegs.Ifeellike,thesmallerIbecome,thesaferIam.

“Sometimes,”hesays,“Iworrythatyoudon’ttrustme.”

“Itrustyou,”Isay.“OfcourseItrustyou.Whywouldyouthinkotherwise?”

“Just seems like there’s something you’re not telling me. I told you things….” Heshakeshishead.“Iwouldneverhavetoldanyoneelse.Something’sbeengoingonwithyou,though,andyouhaven’ttoldmeyet.”

“There’sbeenalotgoingon.Youknowthat,”Isay.“Andanyway,whataboutyou?Icouldsaythesamethingtoyou.”

Hetouchesmycheek,hisfingerspushingintomyhair.IgnoringmyquestionjustlikeIignoredhis.

“Ifit’sjustaboutyourparents,”hesayssoftly,“tellmeandI’llbelieveyou.”

Hiseyesshouldbewildwithapprehension,givenwhereweare,buttheyarestillanddark.Theytransportmetofamiliarplaces.Safeplaces,whereconfessingthatIshotoneofmybest friendswouldbeeasy,where Iwouldnotbeafraidof theway thatTobiaswilllookatmewhenhefindsoutwhatIdid.

Icoverhishandwithmine.“That’sallitis,”Isayweakly.

“Okay,”hesays.Hetoucheshismouthtomine.Guiltclutchesatmystomach.

The door opens.A few people file in—twoCandorwith guns; a dark-skinned, olderCandorman;aDauntlesswomanIdon’trecognize.Andthen:JackKang,representativeofCandor.

Bymost faction standards, he is a young leader—only thirty-nine years old. But byDauntless standards, that’s nothing. Eric became a Dauntless leader at seventeen. Butthat’sprobablyoneofthereasonstheotherfactionsdon’ttakeouropinionsordecisionsseriously.

Jack is handsome, too,with short blackhair andwarm, slanted eyes, likeTori’s, andhigh cheekbones.Despite his good looks, he isn’t known for being charming, probablybecause he’sCandor, and they see charm as deceptive. I do trust him to tell uswhat’sgoingonwithoutwastingtimeonpleasantries.Thatissomething.

“Theytoldmeyouseemedconfusedaboutwhyyouwerearrested,”hesays.Hisvoiceisdeep,butstrangelyflat,likeitcouldnotcreateanechoevenatthebottomofanemptycavern.“Tomethatmeanseitheryou’refalselyaccusedorgoodatpretending.Theonly—”

“Whatareweaccusedof?”Iinterrupthim.

“Heisaccusedofcrimesagainsthumanity.Youareaccusedofbeinghisaccomplice.”

“Crimes against humanity?” Tobias finally sounds angry. He gives Jack a disgustedlook.“What?”

“We saw video footage of the attack.Youwere running the attack simulation,” saysJack.

“Howcouldyouhaveseenfootage?Wetookthedata,”saysTobias.

“You tookonecopyof thedata.All thefootageof theDauntlesscompoundrecordedduringtheattackwasalsosenttoothercomputersthroughoutthecity,”saysJack.“Allwe

sawwasyourunning thesimulationandhernearlygettingpunched todeathbeforeshegaveup.Thenyoustopped,hadaratherabrupt lovers’reconciliation,andstoletheharddrive together. One possible reason is because the simulationwas over and you didn’twantustogetourhandsonit.”

Ialmostlaugh.Mygreatactofheroism,theonlyimportantthingIhaveeverdone,andtheythinkIwasworkingfortheEruditewhenIdidit.

“Thesimulationdidn’tend,”Isay.“Westoppedit,you—”

Jackholdsuphishand. “I amnot interested inwhatyouhave to say rightnow.Thetruthwillcomeoutwhenyouarebothinterrogatedundertheinfluenceoftruthserum.”

Christina toldme about truth serumonce. She said themost difficult part ofCandorinitiation was being given truth serum and answering personal questions in front ofeveryone in thefaction. Idon’tneed tosearchmyself formydeepest,darkestsecrets toknowthattruthserumisthelastthingIwantinmybody.

“Truthserum?”Ishakemyhead.“No.Noway.”

“There’ssomethingyouhavetohide?”Jacksays,liftingbotheyebrows.

Iwant to tellhimthatanyonewithanounceofdignitywants tokeepsomethings toherself,butIdon’twanttoarousehissuspicions.SoIshakemyhead.

“All right, then.”He checks hiswatch. “It is nownoon.The interrogationwill be atseven. Don’t bother preparing for it. You can’t withhold information while under theinfluenceoftruthserum.”

Heturnsonhisheelandwalksoutoftheroom.

“Whatapleasantman,”saysTobias.

AgroupofarmedDauntlessescortmetothebathroomintheearlyafternoon.Itakemytime,lettingmyhandsturnredinthehot-faucetwaterandstaringatmyreflection.WhenIwasinAbnegationandwasn’tallowedtolookintomirrors,Iusedtothinkthatalotcouldchangeinaperson’sappearanceinthreemonths.Butitonlytookafewdaystochangemethistime.

Ilookolder.Maybeit’stheshorthairormaybeit’sjustthatIwearallthathashappenedlikeamask.Eitherway,IalwaysthoughtIwouldbehappywhenIstoppedlookinglikeachild.ButallIfeelisalumpinmythroat.Iamnolongerthedaughtermyparentsknew.TheywillneverknowmeasIamnow.

Iturnawayfromthemirrorandshovethedoortothehallwayopenwiththeheelsofmyhands.

WhentheDauntlessdropmeoffattheholdingroom,Ilingerbythedoor.TobiaslookslikehedidwhenIfirstmethim—blackT-shirt,shorthair,sternexpression.Thesightofhimusedtofillmewithnervousexcitement.IrememberwhenIgrabbedhishandoutsidethetrainingroom,justforafewseconds,andwhenwesattogetherontherocksnexttothechasm,andIfeelapangoflongingforhowthingsusedtobe.

“Hungry?”hesays.Heoffersmeasandwichfromtheplatenexttohim.

I take itandsitdown, leaningmyheadonhis shoulder.All that’s left forus todo iswait, so that’s what we do. We eat until the food is gone. We sit until we getuncomfortable. Then we lie down next to each other on the floor, shoulders touching,staringatthesamepatchofwhiteceiling.

“Whatareyouafraidofsaying?”hesays.

“Anyofit.Allofit.Idon’twanttoreliveanything.”

Henods.Iclosemyeyesandpretendtosleep.There’snoclockintheroom,soIcan’tcountdowntheminutesuntiltheinterrogation.Timemightaswellnotexistinthisplace,exceptIfeelitpressingagainstmeasseveno’clockinevitablydrawscloser,pushingmeintothefloortiles.

MaybetimewouldnotfeelasheavyifIdidn’thavethisguilt—theguiltofknowingthetruthandstuffingitdownwherenoonecanseeit,notevenTobias.MaybeIshouldnotbesoafraidofsayinganything,becausehonestywillmakemefeellighter.

Imustfallasleepeventually,becauseIjerkawakeatthesoundofthedooropening.AfewDauntlesswalk in asweget toour feet, andoneof themsaysmyname.Christinashovesherwaypast theothersandthrowsherarmsaroundme.Herfingersdigintothewoundinmyshoulder,andIcryout.

“Gotshot,”Isay.“Shoulder.Ow.”

“OhGod!”Shereleasesme.“Sorry,Tris.”

Shedoesn’tlookliketheChristinaIremember.Herhairisshorter,likeaboy’s,andherskinisgrayishinsteadofawarmbrown.Shesmilesatme,butthesmiledoesn’ttraveltohereyes,whichstilllooktired.Itrytosmileback,butI’mtoonervous.Christinawillbethereatmyinterrogation.ShewillhearwhatIdidtoWill.Shewillneverforgiveme.

UnlessIfighttheserum,swallowthetruth—ifIcan.

ButisthatreallywhatIwant?Toletitfesterinsidemeforever?

“Youokay?IheardyouwereheresoIaskedtoescortyou,”shesaysasweleavetheholdingroom.“Iknowyoudidn’tdoit.You’renotatraitor.”

“I’mfine,”Isay.“Andthankyou.Howareyou?”

“Oh,I’m…”Hervoicetrailsoff,andshebitesherlip.“Didanyonetellyou…Imean,maybenowisn’tthetime,but…”

“What?Whatisit?”

“Um…Willdiedintheattack,”shesays.

Shegivesmeaworriedlook,andanexpectantone.Expectingwhat?

Oh.IamnotsupposedtoknowthatWillisdead.Icouldpretendtobeemotional,butIprobablywouldn’tdo itconvincingly. It’sbest toadmit that Ialreadyknew.But Idon’tknowhowtoexplainthatwithouttellinghereverything.

Ifeelsuddenlysick.AmIreallyevaluatinghowbesttodeceivemyfriend?

“Iknow,”Isay.“IsawhimonthemonitorswhenIwasinthecontrolroom.I’msorry,Christina.”

“Oh.”Shenods.“Well,I’m…gladyoualreadyknew.Ireallydidn’twanttobreakthenewstoyouinahallway.”

Ashortlaugh.Aflashofasmile.Neitherofthemliketheyusedtobe.

Wefileintoanelevator.IcanfeelTobiasstaringatme—heknowsIdidn’tseeWillinthemonitors,andhedidn’tknowthatWillwasdead.Istarestraightaheadandpretendhiseyesaren’tsettingmeonfire.

“Don’t worry about the truth serum,” she says. “It’s easy. You barely know what’shappeningwhenyou’reunder.It’sonlywhenyouresurfacethatyouevenknowwhatyousaid.IwentunderwhenIwasakid.It’sprettycommonplaceinCandor.”

The other Dauntless in the elevator give each other looks. In normal circumstances,someonewouldprobably reprimandher fordiscussingherold faction,but thesearenotnormalcircumstances.AtnoothertimeinChristina’slifewillsheescortherbestfriend,nowasuspectedtraitor,toapublicinterrogation.

“Iseveryoneelseallright?”Isay.“Uriah,Lynn,Marlene?”

“Allhere,”shesays.“ExceptUriah’sbrother,Zeke,whoiswiththeotherDauntless.”

“What?”Zeke,whosecuredmystrapsonthezipline,atraitor?

Theelevatorstopsonthetopfloor,andtheothersfileout.

“Iknow,”shesays.“Noonesawitcoming.”

Shetakesmyarmandtugsmetowardthedoors.Wewalkdownablack-marblehallway—itmustbeeasytogetlostinCandorheadquarters,sinceeverythinglooksthesame.Wewalkdownanotherhallwayandthroughasetofdoubledoors.

Fromtheoutside,theMercilessMartisasquatblockwithanarrowraisedportioninitscenter.Fromtheinside,thatraisedportionisahollowthree-storyroomwithemptyspacesinthewallsinsteadofwindows.Iseethedarkeningskyaboveme,starless.

Herethemarblefloorsarewhite,withablackCandorsymbolinthecenteroftheroom,andthewallsarelitwithrowsofdimyellowlights,sothewholeroomglows.Everyvoiceechoes.

MostofCandorandtheremnantsofDauntlessarealreadygathered.Someofthemsitonthetieredbenchesthatwraparoundtheedgeoftheroom,butthereisn’tenoughspacefor everyone, so the rest are crowded around the Candor symbol. In the center of thesymbol,betweentheunbalancedscales,aretwoemptychairs.

Tobiasreachesformyhand.Ilacemyfingersinhis.

OurDauntlessguardsleadustothecenteroftheroom,wherewearegreetedwith,atbest,murmurs,andatworst,jeers.IspotJackKanginthefrontrowofthetieredbenches.

Anold,dark-skinnedmanstepsforward,ablackboxinhishands.

“MynameisNiles,”hesays.“Iwillbeyourquestioner.You—”HepointsatTobias.

“Youwillbegoingfirst.Soifyouwillpleasestepforward…”

Tobiassqueezesmyhand,andthenreleasesit,andIstandwithChristinaattheedgeoftheCandor symbol.The air in the room iswarm—moist, summer air, sunset air—but Ifeelcold.

Nilesopenstheblackbox.Itcontainstwoneedles,oneforTobiasandoneforme.HealsotakesanantisepticwipefromhispocketandoffersittoTobias.Wedidn’tbotherwiththatkindofthinginDauntless.

“Theinjectionsiteisinyourneck,”Nilessays.

AllIhear,asTobiasappliesantiseptictohisskin,isthewind.NilesstepsforwardandplungestheneedleintoTobias’sneck,squeezingthecloudy,bluishliquidintohisveins.The last time I saw someone injectTobiaswith something, itwas Jeanine, putting himunderanewsimulation,onethatwaseffectiveevenontheDivergent—orsoshebelieved.Ithought,then,thathewaslosttomeforever.

Ishudder.

“IWILLASKyouaseriesofsimplequestionssothatyoucangrowaccustomedtotheserumasittakesfulleffect,”saysNiles.“Now.Whatisyourname?”

Tobiassitswithslouchedshouldersandaloweredhead,likehisbodyistooheavyforhim.Hescowlsandsquirmsinthechair,andthroughgrittedteethsays,“Four.”

Maybeit isn’tpossibletolieunderthetruthserum,buttoselectwhichversionofthetruthtotell:Fourishisname,butitisnothisname.

“Thatisanickname,”Nilessays.“Whatisyourrealname?”

“Tobias,”hesays.

Christinaelbowsme.“Didyouknowthat?”

Inod.

“Whatarethenamesofyourparents,Tobias?”

Tobias opens hismouth to answer, and then clenches his jaw as if to stop thewordsfromspillingout.

“Whyisthisrelevant?”Tobiasasks.

The Candor around me mutter to each other, some of them scowling. I raise myeyebrowatChristina.

“It’s extremely difficult not to immediately answer questions while under the truthserum,”shesays.“Itmeanshehasaseriouslystrongwill.Andsomethingtohide.”

“Maybe it wasn’t relevant before, Tobias,” Niles says, “but it is now that you’veresistedansweringthequestion.Thenamesofyourparents,please.”

Tobiascloseshiseyes.“EvelynandMarcusEaton.”

Surnames are just an additional means of identification, useful only to preventconfusioninofficialrecords.Whenwemarry,onespousehastotaketheother’ssurname,or both have to take a new one. Still, while we may carry our names from family tofaction,werarelymentionthem.

But everyone recognizesMarcus’s surname. I can tell by the clamor that rises in theroomafterTobiasspeaks.TheCandorallknowMarcusisthemostinfluentialgovernmentofficial, and someof themmusthave read thearticle Jeanine releasedabouthis crueltytowardhisson. Itwasoneof theonly thingsshesaid thatwas true.AndnoweveryoneknowsthatTobiasisthatson.

TobiasEatonisapowerfulname.

Nileswaitsforsilence,thencontinues.“Soyouareafactiontransfer,areyounot?”

“Yes.”

“YoutransferredfromAbnegationtoDauntless?”

“Yes,”snapsTobias.“Isn’tthatobvious?”

Ibitemylip.Heshouldcalmdown;heisgivingawaytoomuch.Themorereluctantheistoansweraquestion,themoredeterminedNileswillbetoheartheanswer.

“Oneof thepurposesof this interrogation is todetermineyour loyalties,” saysNiles,“soImustask:Whydidyoutransfer?”

TobiasglaresatNiles,andkeepshismouthshut.Secondspassincompletesilence.Thelongerhetriestoresisttheserum,theharderitseemstobeforhim:colorfillshischeeks,and he breathes faster, heavier. My chest aches for him. The details of his childhoodshouldstay insidehim, if that’swherehewants them tobe.Candor iscruel for forcingthemfromhim,fortakingawayhisfreedom.

“Thisishorrible,”IsayhotlytoChristina.“Wrong.”

“What?”shesays.“It’sasimplequestion.”

Ishakemyhead.“Youdon’tunderstand.”

Christinasmilesalittleatme.“Youreallycareabouthim.”

IamtoobusywatchingTobiastorespond.

Nilessays,“I’llaskagain.Itisimportantthatweunderstandtheextentofyourloyaltytoyourchosenfaction.SowhydidyoutransfertoDauntless,Tobias?”

“Toprotectmyself,”saysTobias.“Itransferredtoprotectmyself.”

“Protectyourselffromwhat?”

“Frommyfather.”

Alltheconversationsintheroomstop,andthesilencetheyleaveintheirwakeisworsethanthemutteringwas.IexpectNilestokeepprobing,buthedoesn’t.

“Thank you for your honesty,”Niles says. TheCandor repeat the phrase under theirbreath.Allaroundmeare thewords“Thankyouforyourhonesty”atdifferentvolumesand pitches, andmy anger begins to dissolve. The whispered words seem to welcomeTobias,toembraceandthendiscardhisdarkestsecret.

It’s not cruelty,maybe, but a desire to understand, thatmotivates them.That doesn’tmakemeanylessafraidofgoingundertruthserum.

“Isyourallegiancewithyourcurrentfaction,Tobias?”Nilessays.

“Myallegiance lieswithanyonewhodoesnot support theattackonAbnegation,”hesays.

“Speakingofwhich,”Nilessays,“Ithinkweshouldfocusonwhathappenedthatday.Whatdoyourememberaboutbeingunderthesimulation?”

“Iwasnotunderthesimulation,atfirst,”saysTobias.“Itdidn’twork.”

Nileslaughsalittle.“Whatdoyoumean,itdidn’twork?”

“OneofthedefiningcharacteristicsoftheDivergentisthattheirmindsareresistanttosimulations,”saysTobias.“AndIamDivergent.Sono,itdidn’twork.”

Moremutters.Christinanudgesmewithherelbow.

“Areyoutoo?”shesays,closetomyearsoshecanstayquiet.“Isthatwhyyouwereawake?”

Ilookather.Ihavespentthepastfewmonthsafraidoftheword“Divergent,”terrifiedthatanyonewoulddiscoverwhatIam.ButIwon’tbeabletohideitanymore.Inod.

It’s like her eyes swell to fill their sockets; that’s how big they get. I have troubleidentifyingherexpression.Isitshock?Fear?

Awe?

“Doyouknowwhatitmeans?”Isay.

“IheardaboutitwhenIwasyoung,”shesaysinareverentwhisper.

Definitelyawe.

“Likeitwasafantasystory,”shesays.“‘Therearepeoplewithspecialpowersamongus!’Likethat.”

“Well,it’snotafantasy,andit’snotthatbigadeal,”Isay.“It’slikethefearlandscapesimulation—youwereawarewhileyouwereinit,andyoucouldmanipulateit.Exceptforme,it’slikethatineverysimulation.”

“ButTris,”shesays,settingherhandonmyelbow.“That’simpossible.”

Inthecenteroftheroom,Nileshashishandsupandistryingtosilencethecrowd,butthere are too many whispers—some hostile, some terrified, and some awed, likeChristina’s.FinallyNilesstandsandyells,“Ifyoudon’tquietdown,youwillbeaskedtoleave!”

Atlasteveryonequietsdown.Nilessits.

“Now,”hesays.“Whenyousay‘resistanttosimulations,’whatdoyoumean?”

“Usually,itmeanswe’reawareduringsimulations,”saysTobias.Heseemstohaveaneasier timewiththetruthserumwhenheanswersfactualquestionsinsteadofemotionalones.He doesn’t sound like he’s under the truth serum at all now, though his slumpedpostureandwanderingeyesindicateotherwise.“Buttheattacksimulationwasdifferent,usingadifferentkindofsimulationserum,onewithlong-rangetransmitters.Evidentlythe

long-rangetransmittersdidn’tworkontheDivergentatall,becauseIawokeinmyownmindthatmorning.”

“Yousayyouweren’tunderthesimulationatfirst.Canyouexplainwhatyoumeanbythat?”

“ImeanthatIwasdiscoveredandbroughttoJeanine,andsheinjectedaversionofthesimulation serum that specifically targeted the Divergent. I was aware during thatsimulation,butitdidn’tdomuchgood.”

“The video footage from the Dauntless headquarters shows you running thesimulation,”Nilessaysdarkly.“How,exactly,doyouexplainthat?”

“When a simulation is running, your eyes still see and process the actualworld, butyourbrainno longercomprehends them.Onsome level, though,yourbrain still knowswhat you’re seeing and where you are. The nature of this new simulation was that itrecordedmyemotionalresponses tooutsidestimuli,”Tobiassays,closinghiseyesforafew seconds, “and respondedby altering the appearanceof that stimuli.The simulationmade my enemies into friends, my friends into enemies. I thought I was shutting thesimulationdown.ReallyIwasreceivinginstructionsabouthowtokeepitrunning.”

Christinanodsalong tohiswords. I feelcalmerwhenIsee thatmostof thecrowdisdoingthesamething.Thisisthebenefitofthetruthserum,Irealize.Tobias’stestimonyisirrefutablethisway.

“Wehaveseenfootageofwhatultimatelyhappenedtoyouinthecontrolroom,”saysNiles,“butitisconfusing.Pleasedescribeittous.”

“Someoneenteredtheroom,andIthoughtitwasaDauntlesssoldier,tryingtostopmefromdestroyingthesimulation.Iwasfightingher,and…”Tobiasscowls,struggling.“…andthenshestopped,andIgotconfused.EvenifIhadbeenawake,Iwouldhavebeenconfused.Whywouldshesurrender?Whydidn’tshejustkillme?”

Hiseyessearchthecrowduntiltheyfindmyface.Myheartbeatlivesinmythroat;livesinmycheeks.

“Istilldon’tunderstand,”hesayssoftly,“howsheknewthatitwouldwork.”

Livesinmyfingertips.

“I thinkmyconflictedemotionsconfusedthesimulation,”hesays.“AndthenIheardhervoice.Somehow,thatenabledmetofightthesimulation.”

Myeyesburn.Ihavetriednottothinkofthatmoment,whenIthoughthewaslosttomeandthatIwouldsoonbedead,whenallIwantedwastofeelhisheartbeat.Itrynottothinkofitnow;Iblinkthetearsfrommyeyes.

“Irecognizedher,finally,”hesays.“Wewentbackintothecontrolroomandstoppedthesimulation.”

“Whatisthenameofthisperson?”

“Tris,”hesays.“BeatricePrior,Imean.”

“Didyouknowherbeforethishappened?”

“Yes.”

“Howdidyouknowher?”

“Iwasherinstructor,”hesays.“Nowwe’retogether.”

“Ihaveafinalquestion,”Nilessays.“AmongtheCandor,beforeapersonisacceptedinto our community, they have to completely expose themselves. Given the direcircumstanceswe are in,we require the same of you. So, TobiasEaton:what are yourdeepestregrets?”

Ilookhimover,fromhisbeat-upsneakerstohislongfingerstohisstraighteyebrows.

“Iregret…”Tobiastiltshishead,andsighs.“Iregretmychoice.”

“Whatchoice?”

“Dauntless,”hesays.“IwasbornforAbnegation.IwasplanningonleavingDauntless,and becoming factionless. But then I met her, and… I felt like maybe I could makesomethingmoreofmydecision.”

Her.

Foramoment, it’s like I’m lookingatadifferentperson,sitting inTobias’sskin,onewhose life is not as simple as I thought. Hewanted to leave Dauntless, but he stayedbecauseofme.Henevertoldmethat.

“ChoosingDauntlessinordertoescapemyfatherwasanactofcowardice,”hesays.“Iregretthatcowardice.ItmeansIamnotworthyofmyfaction.Iwillalwaysregretit.”

Iexpect theDauntless to letout indignantshouts,maybetochargethechairandbeathimtoapulp.Theyarecapableoffarmoreerraticthingsthanthat.Buttheydon’t.Theystandinstonysilence,withstonyfaces,staringattheyoungmanwhodidnotbetraythem,butnevertrulyfeltthathebelongedtothem.

For a moment we are all silent. I don’t know who starts the whisper; it seems tooriginatefromnothing,tocomefromnoone.Butsomeonewhispers,“Thankyouforyourhonesty,”andtherestoftheroomrepeatsit.

“Thankyouforyourhonesty,”theywhisper.

Idon’tjoinin.

Iamtheonlythingthatkepthiminthefactionhewantedtoleave.Iamnotworththat.

Maybehedeservestoknow.

Nilesstandsinthecenteroftheroomwithaneedleinhand.Thelightsabovehimmakeitshine.Allaroundme,theDauntlessandtheCandorwaitformetostepforwardandspillmyentirelifebeforethem.

The thought occurs tome again:Maybe I can fight the serum.But I don’t know if Ishouldtry.ItmightbebetterforthepeopleIloveifIcomeclean.

Iwalkstiffly to thecenterof theroomasTobias leaves it.Aswepasseachother,hetakesmyhandandsqueezesmyfingers.Thenhe’sgone,andit’sjustmeandNilesandtheneedle.Iwipethesideofmyneckwiththeantiseptic,butwhenhereachesoutwiththeneedle,Ipullback.

“Iwouldratherdoitmyself,”Isay,holdingoutmyhand.Iwillneverletsomeoneelseinjectmeagain,notafterlettingEricinjectmewithattacksimulationserumaftermyfinaltest.Ican’tchangethecontentsofthesyringejustbydoingitmyself,butatleastthisway,Iamtheinstrumentofmyowndestruction.

“Doyouknowhow?”hesays,raisingabushyeyebrow.

“Yes.”

Nilesoffersmethesyringe.Ipositionitovertheveininmyneck,inserttheneedle,andpresstheplunger.Ibarelyfeelthepinch.Iamtoochargedwithadrenaline.

Someonecomesforwardwithatrashcan,andItosstheneedlein.Ifeeltheeffectsoftheserumimmediatelyafterward.Itmakesmybloodfeellikeleadinmyveins.Ialmostcollapseonmywaytothechair—Nileshastograbmyarmandguidemetowardit.

Seconds later my brain goes silent.What was I thinking about? It doesn’t seem tomatter.Nothingmattersexceptthechairbeneathmeandthemansittingacrossfromme.

“Whatisyourname?”hesays.

Thesecondheasksthequestion,theanswerpopsoutofmymouth.“BeatricePrior.”

“ButyougobyTris?”

“Ido.”

“Whatarethenamesofyourparents,Tris?”

“AndrewandNataliePrior.”

“Youarealsoafactiontransfer,areyounot?”

“Yes,”Isay,butanewthoughtwhispersatthebackofmymind.Also?Alsoreferstosomeoneelse,andinthiscase,someoneelseisTobias.IfrownasItrytopictureTobias,butitisdifficulttoforcetheimageofhimintomymind.NotsodifficultthatIcan’tdoit,though.Iseehim,andthenIseeaflashofhimsittinginthesamechairI’msittingin.

“YoucamefromAbnegation?AndchoseDauntless?”

“Yes,”Isayagain,butthistime,thewordsoundsterse.Idon’tknowwhy,exactly.

“Whydidyoutransfer?”

Thatquestionismorecomplicated,butIstillknowtheanswer.IwasnotgoodenoughforAbnegation isonthetipofmytongue,butanotherphrasereplacesit:Iwantedtobefree. They are both true. I want to say them both. I squeeze the armrests as I try torememberwhereIam,whatI’mdoing.Iseepeopleallaroundme,butIdon’tknowwhythey’rethere.

I strain, theway I used to strainwhen I could almost remember the answer to a testquestionbutcouldn’tcallittomind.Iusedtoclosemyeyesandpicturethetextbookpage

theanswerwason.Istruggleforafewseconds,butIcan’tdoit;Ican’tremember.

“Iwasn’t good enough forAbnegation,” I say, “and Iwanted to be free. So I choseDauntless.”

“Whyweren’tyougoodenough?”

“BecauseIwasselfish,”Isay.

“Youwereselfish?Youaren’tanymore?”

“Of course I am.Mymother said that everyone is selfish,” I say, “but I became lessselfishinDauntless.IdiscoveredtherewerepeopleIwouldfightfor.Diefor,even.”

Theanswersurprisesme—butwhy?Ipinchmylipstogetherforamoment.Becauseit’strue.IfIsayithere,itmustbetrue.

ThatthoughtgivesmethemissinglinkinthechainofthoughtIwastryingtofind.Iamherefora lie-detector test.EverythingIsayis true.Ifeelabeadofsweatrolldownthebackofmyneck.

Lie-detector test. Truth serum. I have to remindmyself. It is too easy to get lost inhonesty.

“Tris,wouldyoupleasetelluswhathappenedthedayoftheattack?”

“Iwokeup,”Isay,“andeveryonewasunderthesimulation.SoIplayedalonguntilIfoundTobias.”

“WhathappenedafteryouandTobiaswereseparated?”

“Jeaninetriedtohavemekilled,butmymothersavedme.SheusedtobeDauntless,sosheknewhowtouseagun.”Mybodyfeelsevenheaviernow,butnolongercold.Ifeelsomethingstirinmychest,somethingworsethansadness,worsethanregret.

Iknowwhatcomesnext.Mymotherdiedand then IkilledWill; I shothim; Ikilledhim.

“ShedistractedtheDauntlesssoldierssoIcouldgetaway,andtheykilledher,”Isay.

Some of them ran afterme, and I killed them. But there areDauntless in the crowdaroundme,Dauntless,IkilledsomeoftheDauntless,Ishouldn’ttalkaboutithere.

“Ikeptrunning,”Isay,“And…”AndWillranafterme.AndIkilledhim.No,no.Ifeelsweatnearmyhairline.

“AndI foundmybrotherandfather,” Isay,myvoicestrained.“Weformedaplan todestroythesimulation.”

Theedgeof thearmrestdigs intomypalm. Iwithheld someof the truth.Surely thatcountsasdeception.

Ifoughttheserum.Andinthatshortmoment,Iwon.

Ishouldfeeltriumphant.InsteadIfeeltheweightofwhatIdidcrushmeagain.

“We infiltrated theDauntless compound, andmy father and Iwent up to the controlroom.HefoughtoffDauntlesssoldiersattheexpenseofhislife,”Isay.“Imadeittothe

controlroom,andTobiaswasthere.”

“Tobiassaidyoufoughthim,butthenstopped.Whydidyoudothat?”

“BecauseIrealizedthatoneofuswouldhavetokilltheother,”Isay,“andIdidn’twanttokillhim.”

“Yougaveup?”

“No!”Isnap.Ishakemyhead.“No,notexactly.IrememberedsomethingIhaddoneinmyfearlandscapeinDauntlessinitiation…inasimulation,awomandemandedthatIkillmyfamily,andIlethershootmeinstead.Itworkedthen.Ithought…”Ipinchthebridgeofmynose.Myheadisstartingtoacheandmycontrolisgoneandmythoughtsrunintowords.“Iwassofrantic,butallIcouldthinkwasthattherewassomethingtoit;therewasastrengthinit.AndIcouldn’tkillhim,soIhadtotry.”

Iblinktearsfrommyeyes.

“Soyouwereneverunderthesimulation?”

“No.”Ipress theheelofmyhands tomyeyes,pushingthe tearsoutof themsotheydon’tfallonmycheekswhereeveryonecanseethem.

“No,”Isayagain.“No,IamDivergent.”

“Justtoclarify,”saysNiles.“AreyoutellingmethatyouwerealmostmurderedbytheErudite…andthenfoughtyourwayintotheDauntlesscompound…anddestroyedthesimulation?”

“Yes,”Isay.

“I thinkI speakforeveryone,”hesays,“whenIsay thatyouhaveearned the titleofDauntless.”

Shoutsriseupfromtheleftsideoftheroom,andIseeblursoffistspressingintothedarkair.Myfaction,callingtome.

Butno,they’rewrong,I’mnotbrave,I’mnotbrave,IshotWillandIcan’tadmitit,Ican’tevenadmitit….

“BeatricePrior,”saysNiles,“whatareyourdeepestregrets?”

WhatdoI regret? Idonot regretchoosingDauntlessor leavingAbnegation. Idonotevenregretshootingtheguardsoutsidethecontrolroom,becauseitwassoimportantthatIgetpastthem.

“Iregret…”

My eyes leave Niles’s face and drift over the room, and land on Tobias. He isexpressionless,hismouthinafirmline,hisstareblank.Hishands,crossedoverhischest,clasp his arms so hard his knuckles arewhite.Next to him standsChristina.My chestsqueezes,andIcan’tbreathe.

Ihavetotellthem.Ihavetotellthetruth.

“Will,”Isay.Itsoundslikeagasp,likeitwaspulledstraightfrommystomach.Nowthereisnoturningback.

“IshotWill,”Isay,“whilehewasunderthesimulation.Ikilledhim.Hewasgoingtokillme,butIkilledhim.Myfriend.”

Will,withthecreasebetweenhiseyebrows,withgreeneyeslikeceleryandtheabilitytoquotetheDauntlessmanifestofrommemory.IfeelpaininmystomachsointensethatIalmostgroan.Ithurtstorememberhim.Ithurtseverypartofme.

Andthereissomethingelse,somethingworsethatIdidn’trealizebefore.IwaswillingtodieratherthankillTobias,butthethoughtneveroccurredtomewhenitcametoWill.IdecidedtokillWillinafractionofasecond.

I feelbare. Ididn’t realize that Iworemysecretsasarmoruntil theyweregone,andnoweveryoneseesmeasIreallyam.

“Thankyouforyourhonesty,”theysay.

ButChristinaandTobiassaynothing.

IRISEFROMthechair.Idon’tfeelasdizzyasIdidamomentago;theserumisalreadywearingoff.Thecrowdtilts,andIsearchforadoor.Idon’tusuallyrunawayfromthings,butIwouldrunfromthis.

EveryonestartstofileoutoftheroomexceptforChristina.ShestandswhereIlefther,herhandsinfiststhatareintheprocessofuncurling.Hereyesmeetmineandyettheydonot.Tearsswiminhereyesandyetsheisnotcrying.

“Christina,” I say,but theonlywords Ican thinkof—I’msorry—soundmore likeaninsultthananapology.Sorryiswhatyouarewhenyoubumpsomeonewithyourelbow,whatyouarewhenyouinterruptsomeone.Iammorethansorry.

“Hehadagun,”Isay.“Hewasabouttoshootme.Hewasunderthesimulation.”

“Youkilledhim,”shesays.Herwordssoundbigger thanwordsusuallydo, like theyexpandedinhermouthbeforeshespokethem.Shelooksatmeasifshedoesn’trecognizemeforafewseconds,thenturnsaway.

A younger girl with the same skin color and the same height takes her hand—Christina’s younger sister. I saw her on Visiting Day, a thousand years ago. The truthserummakesthesightofthemswimbeforeme,orthatcouldbethetearsgatheringinmyeyes.

“Youokay?”saysUriah,emergingfromthecrowdtotouchmyshoulder.Ihaven’tseenhimsincebeforethesimulationattack,butIcan’tfinditinmetogreethim.

“Yeah.”

“Hey.”Hesqueezesmyshoulder.“Youdidwhatyouhadtodo,right?TosaveusfrombeingEruditeslaves.She’llseethateventually.Whenthegrieffades.”

Ican’tevenfinditinmetonod.Uriahsmilesatmeandwalksaway.SomeDauntlessbrush againstme and theymurmurwords that sound like gratitude, or compliments, orreassurance.Othersgivemeawideberth,lookatmewithnarrowed,suspiciouseyes.

The black-clothed bodies smear together in front ofme. I am empty.Everything hasspilledoutofme.

Tobiasstandsnexttome.Ibracemyselfforhisreaction.

“Igotourweaponsback,”hesays,offeringmemyknife.

Ishoveitinmybackpocketwithoutmeetinghiseyes.

“Wecantalkaboutittomorrow,”hesays.Quietly.Quietisdangerous,withTobias.

“Okay.”

Heslideshisarmacrossmyshoulders.Myhandfindshiship,andIpullhimagainstme.

Iholdontightaswewalktowardtheelevatorstogether.

He findsus twocots at the endof ahallway somewhere.We liewithourheads inchesapart,notspeaking.

When I’m sure he’s asleep, I slip out from beneath the blankets andwalk down thehallway,pastadozensleepingDauntless.Ifindthedoorthatleadstothestairs.

AsIclimbstepafterstep,andmymusclesbegintoburn,andmylungsfightforair,IfeelthefirstmomentsofreliefI’veexperiencedindays.

I may be good at running on flat ground, but walking up stairs is another matter. ImassageaspasmfrommyhamstringasImarchpastthetwelfthfloor,andtrytorecoversomeofmylostair.Igrinatthefierceburninmylegs,inmychest.Usingpaintorelievepain.Itdoesn’tmakemuchsense.

BythetimeIreachtheeighteenthfloor,mylegsfeelliketheyhaveturnedtoliquid.Ishuffle toward the roomwhere Iwas interrogated. It’semptynow,but theamphitheaterbenchesarestillthere,asisthechairIsatin.Themoonglowsbehindahazeofclouds.

Isetmyhandsonthebackofthechair.It’splain:wooden,alittlecreaky.Howstrangethatsomethingsosimplecouldhavebeeninstrumentalinmydecisiontoruinoneofmymostimportantrelationships,anddamageanother.

It’s bad enough that I killed Will, that I didn’t think fast enough to come up withanother solution.NowIhave to livewitheveryoneelse’s judgmentaswellasmyown,andthefactthatnothing—notevenme—willeverbethesameagain.

TheCandorsingthepraisesofthetruth,buttheynevertellyouhowmuchitcosts.

Theedgeof thechairbites intomypalms.Iwassqueezingitharder thanI thought.Istaredownatitforasecondandthenliftit,balancingitlegs-uponmygoodshoulder.Isearchtheedgeoftheroomforaladderorastaircasethatwillhelpmeclimb.AllIseearetheamphitheaterbenches,risinghighabovethefloor.

Iwalkuptothehighestbench,andliftthechairabovemyhead.Itjustbarelytouchesthe ledge beneath one of thewindow spaces. I jump, shoving the chair forward, and itslidesontotheledge.Myshoulderaches—Ishouldn’treallybeusingmyarm—butIhaveotherthingsonmymind.

I jump,grab the ledge,andpullmyselfup,myarmsshaking. I swingmy legupanddragtherestofmybodyontotheledge.WhenI’mup,Iliethereforamoment,suckinginairandheavingitbackoutagain.

Istandontheledge,underthearchofwhatusedtobeawindow,andstareoutatthecity. The dead river curls around the building and disappears. The bridge, its red paintpeeling,stretchesoverthemuck.Acrossitarebuildings,mostofthemempty.Itishardtobelievetherewereeverenoughpeopleinthecitytofillthem.

Forasecond,Iallowmyselftoreenterthememoryoftheinterrogation.Tobias’slackofexpression;hisangerafterward, suppressed for thesakeofmysanity.Christina’semptylook. The whispers, “Thank you for your honesty.” Easy to say that when what I diddoesn’taffectthem.

Igrabthechairandhurlitovertheledge.Afaintcryescapesme.Itgrowsintoayell,whichtransformsintoascream,andthenI’mstandingontheledgeoftheMercilessMart,screamingasthechairsailstowardtheground,screaminguntilmythroatburns.Thenthechairhitstheground,shatteringlikeabrittleskeleton.Isitdownontheledge,leaningintothesideofthewindowframe,andclosemyeyes.

AndthenIthinkofAl.

I wonder how longAl stood at the ledge before he pitched himself over it, into theDauntlessPit.

Hemusthavestoodthereforalongtime,makingalistofalltheterriblethingshehaddone—almostkillingmewasoneofthosethings—andanotherlistofallthegood,heroic,bravethingshehadnotdone,andthendecidedthathewastired.Tired,notjustofliving,butofexisting.TiredofbeingAl.

Iopenmyeyes,andstareatthepiecesofchairIcanfaintlyseeonthepavementbelow.For the first time I feel like I understandAl. I am tiredof beingTris. I havedonebadthings.Ican’ttakethemback,andtheyarepartofwhoIam.Mostofthetime,theyseemliketheonlythingIam.

Ileanforward,intotheair,holdingontothesideofthewindowwithonehand.Anotherfewinchesandmyweightwouldpullmetotheground.Iwouldnotbeabletostopit.

ButIcan’tdoit.Myparentslosttheirlivesoutofloveforme.Losingminefornogoodreasonwouldbeaterriblewaytorepaythemforthatsacrifice,nomatterwhatI’vedone.

“Lettheguiltteachyouhowtobehavenexttime,”myfatherwouldsay.

“Iloveyou.Nomatterwhat,”mymotherwouldsay.

PartofmewishesIcouldburnthemfrommymind,soIwouldneverhavetomournforthem.ButtherestofmeisafraidofwhoIwouldbewithoutthem.

Myeyesblurrywithtears,Ilowermyselfbackintotheinterrogationroom.

I return tomycotearly thatmorning,andTobias isalreadyawake.He turnsandwalkstowardtheelevators,andIfollowhim,becauseIknowthat’swhathewants.Westandin

theelevator,sidebyside.Ihearringinginmyears.

Theelevatorsinkstothesecondfloor,andIstarttoshake.Itstartswithmyhands,buttravels tomy arms andmychest, until little shudders go throughmyentire body and Ihavenoway to stop them.Westandbetween theelevators, rightaboveanotherCandorsymbol,theunevenscales.Thesymbolthatisalsodrawnonthemiddleofhisspine.

Hedoesn’t lookatme fora long time.Hestandswithhisarmscrossedandhisheaddown until I can’t stand it anymore, until I feel like I might scream. I should saysomething,butIdon’tknowwhattosay.Ican’tapologize,becauseIonlytoldthetruth,andIcan’tchangethetruthintoalie.Ican’tgiveexcuses.

“Youdidn’ttellme,”hesays.“Whynot?”

“BecauseIdidn’t…”Ishakemyhead.“Ididn’tknowhowto.”

Hescowls.“It’sprettyeasy,Tris—”

“Ohyeah,”Isay,nodding.“It’ssoeasy.AllIhavetodoisgouptoyouandsay,‘Bytheway,IshotWill,andnowguiltisrippingmetoshreds,butwhat’sforbreakfast?’Right?Right?”Suddenlyitistoomuch,toomuchtocontain.Tearsfillmyeyes,andIyell,“Whydon’tyoutrykillingoneofyourbestfriendsandthendealingwiththeconsequences?”

Icovermyfacewithmyhands.Idon’twanthimtoseemesobbingagain.Hetouchesmyshoulder.

“Tris,”hesays,gentlythistime.“I’msorry.Ishouldn’tpretendthatIunderstand.Ijustmeantthat…”Hestrugglesforamoment.“Iwishyoutrustedmeenoughtotellmethingslikethat.”

Ido trust you, iswhat Iwant to say.But it isn’t true—Ididn’t trust him to lovemedespite the terrible things I had done. I don’t trust anyone to do that, but that isn’t hisproblem;it’smine.

“Imean,” he says, “I had to find out that you almost drowned in awater tank fromCaleb.Doesn’tthatseemalittlestrangetoyou?”

JustwhenIwasabouttoapologize.

Iwipemycheekshardwithmyfingertipsandstareathim.

“Other things seemstranger,” I say, trying tomakemyvoice light. “Like findingoutthat your boyfriend’s supposedly deadmother is still alive by seeing her in person. Oroverhearing his plans to allywith the factionless, but he never tells you about it. Thatseemsalittlestrangetome.”

Hetakeshishandfrommyshoulder.

“Don’tpretendthisisonlymyproblem,”Isay.“IfIdon’ttrustyou,youdon’ttrustmeeither.”

“I thoughtwewould get to those things eventually,” he says. “Do I have to tell youeverythingrightaway?”

IfeelsofrustratedIcan’tevenspeakforafewseconds.Heatfillsmycheeks.

“God,Four!” Isnap.“Youdon’twant tohave to tellmeeverythingrightaway,but Ihavetotellyoueverythingrightaway?Can’tyouseehowstupidthatis?”

“Firstofall,don’tuse thatname likeaweaponagainstme,”hesays,pointingatme.“Second,Iwasnotmakingplanstoallywiththefactionless;Iwasjustthinkingitover.IfI had made a decision, I would have said something to you. And third, it would bedifferentifyouhadactuallyintendedtotellmeaboutWillatsomepoint,butit’sobviousthatyoudidn’t.”

“IdidtellyouaboutWill!”Isay.“Thatwasn’ttruthserum;itwasme.IsaiditbecauseIchoseto.”

“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”

“Iwasaware.Undertheserum.Icouldhavelied;Icouldhavekeptitfromyou.ButIdidn’t,becauseIthoughtyoudeservedtoknowthetruth.”

“Whatawaytotellme!”hesays,scowling.“Infrontofoverahundredpeople!Howintimate!”

“Oh, so it’s not enough that I told you; it has to be in the right setting?” I raisemyeyebrows.“NexttimeshouldIbrewsometeaandmakesurethelightingisright,too?”

Tobiasletsoutafrustratedsoundandturnsawayfromme,pacingafewsteps.Whenheturnsback,his cheeks are splotchy. I can’t remember ever seeinghis face changecolorbefore.

“Sometimes,”hesaysquietly,“itisn’teasytobewithyou,Tris.”Helooksaway.

IwanttotellhimthatIknowit’snoteasy,butIwouldn’thavemadeitthroughthepastweekwithouthim.ButIjuststareathim,myheartpoundinginmyears.

I can’t tell him I need him. I can’t need him, period—or really, we can’t need eachother,becausewhoknowshowlongeitherofuswilllastinthiswar?

“I’msorry,”Isay,allmyangergone.“Ishouldhavebeenhonestwithyou.”

“That’sit?That’sallyouhavetosay?”Hefrowns.

“Whatelsedoyouwantmetosay?”

Hejustshakeshishead.“Nothing,Tris.Nothing.”

I watch himwalk away. I feel like a space has opened upwithinme, expanding sorapidlyitwillbreakmeapart.

“OKAY,WHATTHEhellareyoudoinghere?”avoicedemands.

Isitonamattress inoneof thehallways.Icamehere todosomething,butI lostmytrainof thoughtwhenIarrived,soI justsatdowninstead.I lookup.Lynn—whoIfirstmetwhenshestompedonmytoesinaHancockbuildingelevator—standsovermewithraisedeyebrows.Herhairisgrowingout—it’sstillshort,butIcan’tseeherskullanymore.

“I’msitting,”Isay.“Why?”

“You’re ridiculous, is what you are.” She sighs. “Get your stuff together. You’reDauntless, and it’s timeyou acted like it.You’re giving us a bad reputation among theCandor.”

“HowexactlyamIdoingthat?”

“Byactinglikeyoudon’tknowus.”

“I’mjustdoingChristinaafavor.”

“Christina.”Lynnsnorts.“She’sa lovesickpuppy.Peopledie.That’swhathappensinwar.She’llfigureitouteventually.”

“Yeah,peopledie,butit’snotalwaysyourgoodfriendwhokillsthem.”

“Whatever.”Lynnsighsimpatiently.“Comeon.”

Idon’tseeareasontorefuse.Igetupandfollowherdownaseriesofhallways.Shemovesatabriskpace,andit’sdifficulttokeepupwithher.

“Where’syourscaryboyfriend?”shesays.

MylipspuckerlikeIjusttastedsomethingsour.“He’snotscary.”

“Surehe’snot.”Shesmirks.

“Idon’tknowwhereheis.”

She shrugs. “Well, you can grab him a bunk, too. We’re trying to forget thoseDauntless-Eruditebastardchildren.Pulltogetheragain.”

Ilaugh.“Dauntless-Eruditebastardchildren,huh.”

Shepushes a door open, andwe stand in a large, open room that remindsmeof thebuilding’s lobby. Unsurprisingly, the floors are black with a huge white symbol in thecenterof the room,butmostof ithasbeencoveredupwithbunkbeds.Dauntlessmen,women,andchildrenareeverywhere,andthereisn’tasingleCandorinsight.

Lynnleadsmetotheleftsideoftheroomandbetweentherowsofbunks.Shelooksattheboysittingononeofthebottombunks—heisafewyearsyoungerthanweare,andhe’stryingtoundoaknotinhisshoelaces.

“Hec,”shesays,“you’regoingtohavetofindanotherbunk.”

“What?Noway,”he sayswithout lookingup.“I’mnot relocatingagain just becauseyouwanttohavelate-nightpillowchatswithoneofyourstupidfriends.”

“Sheisnotmyfriend,”snapsLynn.Ialmostlaugh.She’sright—thefirstthingshedidwhenshemetmewasstomponmytoes.“Hec,thisisTris.Tris,thisismylittlebrother,Hector.”

Atthesoundofmyname,hisheadjerksup,andhestaresatme,openmouthed.

“Nicetomeetyou,”Isay.

“You’reDivergent,”hesays.“Mymomsaidtostayawayfromyoubecauseyoumightbedangerous.”

“Yeah.She’sabig scaryDivergent, andshe’sgoing tomakeyourheadexplodewithonly the power of her brain,” saysLynn, jabbing him between the eyeswith her indexfinger.“Don’ttellmeyouactuallybelieveallthatkidstuffabouttheDivergent.”

Heturnsbrightredandsnatchessomeofhisthingsfromapilenexttothebed.Ifeelbad for making himmove until I see him toss his things down a few bunks over. Hedoesn’thavetogofar.

“Icouldhavedonethat,”Isay.“Sleptoverthere,Imean.”

“Yeah, Iknow.”Lynngrins.“Hedeserves it.HecalledZekea traitor right toUriah’sface.It’snotlikeit’snottrue,butthat’snoreasontobeajerkaboutit.IthinkCandorisrubbingoffonhim.Hefeelslikehecanjustsaywhateverhewants.Hey,Mar!”

Marlenepokesherheadaroundoneofthebunksandsmilestoothilyatme.

“Hey,Tris!”saysMarlene.“Welcome.What’sup,Lynn?”

“Canyougetsomeofthesmallergirlstogiveupafewpiecesofclothingeach?”Lynnsays,“Notallshirts,though.Jeans,underwear,maybeasparepairofshoes?”

“Sure,”saysMarlene.

Iputmyknifedownnexttothebottombunk.

“What‘kidstuff’wereyoureferringto?”Isay.

“TheDivergent.Peoplewithspecialbrainpowers?Comeon.”Sheshrugs.“Iknowyoubelieveinit,butIdon’t.”

“Sohowdoyouexplainmebeingawakeduringsimulations?”Isay.“Orresistingoneentirely?”

“Ithinktheleaderschoosepeopleatrandomandchangethesimulationsforthem.”

“Whywouldtheydothat?”

She waves her hand in my face. “Distraction. You’re so busy worrying about theDivergent—likemymom—thatyouforgettoworryaboutwhattheleadersaredoing.It’sjustadifferentkindofmindcontrol.”

Hereyesskirtmine,andshekicksatthemarblefloorwiththetoeofhershoe.Iwonderifshe’srememberingthelasttimeshewasonmindcontrol.Duringtheattacksimulation.

I have been so focused on what happened to Abnegation that I almost forgot whathappenedtoDauntless.HundredsofDauntlesswoketodiscovertheblackmarkofmurderonthem,andtheydidn’tevenchooseitforthemselves.

I decide not to arguewith her. If shewants to believe in a government conspiracy, Idon’tthinkIcandissuadeher.Shewouldhavetoexperienceitforherself.

“Icomebearingclothes,”saysMarlene,steppinginfrontofourbunk.Sheholdsastackofblackclothesthesizeofhertorso,whichsheofferstomewithaproudlookonherface.“Ievenguilt-trippedyoursisterintohandingoveradress,Lynn.Shebroughtthree.”

“Youhaveasister?”IaskLynn.

“Yeah,”shesays,“she’seighteen.ShewasinFour’sinitiateclass.”

“What’shername?”

“Shauna,” she says.She looksatMarlene. “I told hernoneofuswouldneeddressesanytimesoon,butshedidn’tlisten,asusual.”

IrememberShauna.Shewasoneofthepeoplewhocaughtmeafterziplining.

“Ithinkitwouldbeeasiertofightinadress,”saysMarlene,tappingherchin.“Itwouldgiveyourlegsfreermovement.Andwhoreallycaresifyouflashpeopleyourunderwear,aslongasyou’rekickingthecrapoutofthem?”

Lynngoessilent,likesherecognizesthatasasparkofbrilliancebutcan’tbringherselftoadmitit.

“What’sthisaboutflashingunderwear?”saysUriah,sidesteppingabunk.“Whateveritis,I’min.”

Marlenepuncheshiminthearm.

“Someofusaregoing to theHancockbuilding tonight,” saysUriah.“Youshouldallcome.We’releavingatten.”

“Ziplining?”saysLynn.

“No.Surveillance.We’ve heard theErudite keep their lights on all night,whichwillmakeiteasiertolookthroughtheirwindows.Seewhatthey’redoing.”

“I’llgo,”Isay.

“Metoo,”saysLynn.

“What?Oh.Metoo,”Marlenesays,smilingatUriah.“I’mgoingtogetfood.Wantto

come?”

“Sure,”hesays.

Marlenewavesastheywalkaway.Sheusedtowalkwithaliftinherstep,likeshewasskipping.Nowherstepsaresmoother—moreelegant,maybe,butlackingthechildishjoyIassociatewithher.Iwonderwhatshedidwhenshewasunderthesimulation.

Lynn’smouthpuckers.

“What?”Isay.

“Nothing,”shesnaps.Sheshakesherhead.“They’vejustbeenhangingoutaloneallthetimelately.”

“Heneedsallthefriendshecanget,itsoundslike,”Isay.“WhatwithZekeandall.”

“Yeah.Whatanightmarethatwas.Onedayhewashere,andthenext…”Shesighs.“Nomatterhowlongyou trainsomeone tobebrave,youneverknowif theyareornotuntilsomethingrealhappens.”

Hereyesfixonmine.Inevernoticedbeforehowstrangetheyare,agoldenbrown.Andnowthatherhairhasgrowninsomewhat,andherbaldnessisn’tthefirstthingIsee,Ialsonoticeherdelicatenose,herfulllips—sheisstrikingwithouttryingtobe.Iamenviousofherforamoment,andthenIthinkshemusthateit,andthat’swhysheshavedherhead.

“Youarebrave,”shesays.“Youdon’tneedmetosayit,becauseyoualreadyknowit.ButIwantyoutoknowthatIknow.”

Sheiscomplimentingme,butIstillfeellikeshesmackedmewithsomething.

Thensheadds,“Don’tmessitup.”

Afewhourslater,afterI’veeatenlunchandtakenanap,Isitdownontheedgeofmybedtochange thebandageonmyshoulder. I takeoffmyT-shirt, leavingmy tank topon—therearealotofDauntlessaround,gatheringbetweenthebunks,laughingatoneanother’sjokes.IhavejustfinishedapplyingmorehealingsalvewhenIhearashriekof laughter.UriahchargesdowntheaislebetweenthebunkswithMarlenethrownoverhisshoulder.Shewavesatmeastheypass,herfacered.

Lynn,who is sittingon thenextbunk, snorts. “Idon’t seehowhecanbe flirty,witheverythingthat’sgoingon.”

“He’s supposed to shuffle around, scowling all the time?” I say, reaching over myshouldertopressthebandagetomyskin.“Maybeyoucanlearnsomethingfromhim.”

“You’re one to talk,” she says. “You’re alwaysmoping.We should start calling youBeatricePrior,QueenofTragedy.”

I standandpunchher arm,harder than if Iwaskidding, softer than if Iwas serious.“Shutup.”

Withoutlookingatme,sheshovesmyshoulderintothebunk.“Idon’ttakeordersfrom

Stiffs.”

Inoticeaslightcurlinherlipandsuppressagrinmyself.

“Readytogo?”Lynnsays.

“Whereareyougoing?”Tobiassays,slippingbetweenhisbunkandmine tostand intheaislewithus.Mymouthfeelsdry.Ihaven’tspokentohimallday,andI’mnotsurewhattoexpect.Willitbeawkward,orwillwegobacktonormal?

“TopoftheHancockbuildingtospyonErudite,”Lynnsays.“Wanttocome?”

Tobiasgivesmealook.“No,I’vegotafewthingstotakecareofhere.Butbecareful.”

I nod. I knowwhy he doesn’twant to come—Tobias tries to avoid heights, if at allpossible.Hetouchesmyarm,holdingmebackforjustamoment.Itenseup—hehasn’ttouchedmesincebeforeourfight—andhereleasesme.

“I’llseeyoulater,”hemutters.“Don’tdoanythingstupid.”

“Thanksforthatvoteofconfidence,”Isay,frowning.

“Ididn’tmeanthat,”hesays.“Imeantdon’tletanyoneelsedoanythingstupid.They’lllistentoyou.”

Heleanstowardmelikehe’sgoingtokissme,thenseemstothinkbetterofitandleansback,bitinghislip.It’sasmallact,butitstillfeelslikerejection.IavoidhiseyesandrunafterLynn.

Lynn and Iwalkdown thehallway toward the elevator bank.Someof theDauntlesshavestartedtomarkthewallswithcoloredsquares.Candorheadquartersislikeamazetothem, and theywant to learn to navigate it. I know only how to get to themost basicplaces:thesleepingarea,thecafeteria,thelobby,theinterrogationroom.

“WhydideveryoneleaveDauntlessheadquarters?”Isay.“Thetraitorsaren’tthere,arethey?”

“No, they’re atErudite headquarters.We left becauseDauntless headquarters has themostsurveillancecamerasofanyareainthecity,”Lynnsays.“WeknewtheEruditecouldprobablyaccessallthefootage,andthatitwouldtakeforevertofindallthecameras,sowethoughtitwasbesttojustleave.”

“Smart.”

“Wehaveourmoments.”

Lynn jabsher finger into thebutton for the first floor. I stareatour reflections in thedoors.She’stallerthanIambyjustafewinches,andthoughherbaggyshirtandpantstrytoobscureit,Icantellthatherbodybendsandcurveslikeit’ssupposedto.

“What?”shesays,scowlingatme.

“Whydidyoushaveyourhead?”

“Initiation,”shesays.“IloveDauntless,butDauntlessguysdon’tseeDauntlessgirlsasathreatduringinitiation.Igotsickofit.SoIfigured,ifIdon’tlooksomuchlikeagirl,maybetheywon’tlookatmethatway.”

“Ithinkyoucouldhaveusedbeingunderestimatedtoyouradvantage.”

“Yeah,andwhat?Actedallfainteverytimesomethingscarycamearound?”Lynnrollshereyes.“DoyouthinkIhavezerodignityorsomething?”

“I think amistake theDauntlessmake is refusing to be cunning,” I say. “You don’talwayshavetosmackpeopleinthefacewithhowstrongyouare.”

“Maybeyoushoulddressinbluefromnowon,”shesays,“ifyou’regoingtoactlikesuchanErudite.Plus,youdothesamething,butwithouttheheadshaving.”

IslipoutoftheelevatorbeforeIsaysomethingI’llregret.Lynnisquicktoforgive,butquicktoignite,likemostDauntless.Likeme,exceptforthe“quicktoforgive”part.

Asusual, a fewDauntlesswith largegunscrossbackand forth in frontof thedoors,watchingfor intruders.Just infrontof themstandsasmallgroupofyoungerDauntless,includingUriah;Marlene;Lynn’ssister,Shauna;andLauren,who taught theDauntless-born initiatesasFour taught thefaction transfersduring initiation.Hereargleamswhenshemovesherhead—itispiercedfromtoptobottom.

Lynnstopsshort,andIsteponherheel.Sheswears.

“Whatacharmeryouare,”saysShauna,smilingatLynn.Theydon’tlookmuchalike,except for their hair color,which is amediumbrown, but Shauna’s is chin length, likemine.

“Yes,that’smygoal.Tobecharming,”Lynnreplies.

ShaunadrapesanarmacrossLynn’sshoulders.It’sstrangetoseeLynnwithasister—tosee Lynn with a connection to someone at all. Shauna glances at me, her smiledisappearing.Shelookswary.

“Hi,”Isay,becausethere’snothingelsetosay.

“Hello,”shesays.

“OhGod,Mom’sgottentoyou,too,hasn’tshe.”Lynncoversherfacewithonehand.“Shauna—”

“Lynn.Keepyourmouthshutforonce,”saysShauna,hereyesstillonme.Sheseemstense,likeshethinksImightattackheratanymoment.Withmyspecialbrainpowers.

“Oh!”saysUriah,rescuingme.“Tris,doyouknowLauren?”

“Yeah,” Lauren says, before I can answer. Her voice is sharp and clear, like she’sscoldinghim,exceptitseemstobethewayshenaturallysounds.“Shewentthroughmyfear landscape for practice during initiation. So she knows me better than she should,probably.”

“Really?IthoughtthetransferswouldgothroughFour’slandscape,”saysUriah.

“Likehewouldletanyonedothat,”shesays,snorting.

Somethinginsidemegetswarmandsoft.Heletmegothroughit.

IseeaflickerofblueoverLauren’sshoulder,andpeeraroundhertogetabetterlook.

Thenthegunsgooff.

Theglassdoorsexplodeintofragments.Dauntlesssoldierswithbluearmbandsstandonthesidewalkoutside,carryinggunsI’veneverseenbefore,gunswithnarrow,bluebeamsoflightstreamingfromabovetheirbarrels.

“Traitors!”someonescreams.

TheDauntlessdrawtheirguns,almostinunison.Idonothaveonetodraw,soIduckbehind thewall of loyalDauntless in front ofme,my shoes crunching pieces of glassbeneaththeirsoles,andpullmyknifeoutofmybackpocket.

All around me, people drop to the ground.My fellow faction members.My closestfriends. All of them falling—theymust be dead, or dying—as the earsplitting bang ofbulletsfillingmyears.

ThenIfreeze.Oneofthebluebeamsisfixedonmychest.Idivesidewaystogetoutofthelineoffire,butIdon’tmovefastenough.

Thegungoesoff.Ifall.

THEPAINSUBSIDEStoadullache.Islidemyhandundermyjacketandfeelforthewound.

I’mnotbleeding.Buttheforceofthegunshotknockedmedown,soIhadtohavebeenhitwithsomething. I runmyfingersovermyshoulder,andfeelahardbumpwhere theskinusedtobesmooth.

Ihearacrackagainstthefloornexttomyface,andametalcylinderaboutthesizeofmyhandrollstoastopagainstmyhead.BeforeIcanmoveit,whitesmokespraysoutofboth ends. I cough, and throw it away fromme,deeper into the lobby. It isn’t theonlycylinder,though—theyareeverywhere,fillingtheroomwithsmokethatdoesnotburnorsting.Infact,itonlyobscuresmyviewforafewsecondsbeforeevaporatingcompletely.

Whatwasthepointofthat?

LyingonthefloorallaroundmeareDauntlesssoldierswiththeireyesclosed.IfrownasI lookUriahupanddown—hedoesn’tseemtobebleeding. Iseenowoundnearhisvitalorgans,whichmeansheisn’tdead.Sowhatknockedhimunconscious?Ilookovermy left shoulder, where Lynn fell in a strange, half-curled position. She’s alsounconscious.

TheDauntless traitorswalk into the lobby, their guns held up. I decide to dowhat IalwaysdowhenI’mnotsurewhat’sgoingon:Iactlikeeveryoneelse.Iletmyheaddropandclosemyeyes.MyheartpoundsastheDauntless’sfootstepscomecloser,andcloser,squeakingonthemarblefloors.Ibitemytonguetosuppressacryofpainasoneofthemstepsonmyhand.

“Notsurewhywecan’tjustshootthemallinthehead,”oneofthemsays.“Ifthere’snoarmy,wewin.”

“Now,Bob,wecan’tjustkilleveryone,”acoldvoicesays.

The hair on the back of my neck stands up. I would know that voice anywhere. ItbelongstoEric,leaderoftheDauntless.

“No people means no one left to create prosperous conditions,” Eric continues.“Anyway,it’snotyourjobtoaskquestions.”Heraiseshisvoice.“Halfintheelevators,halfinthestairwells,leftandright!Go!”

There’sagunafewfeettomyleft.IfIopenedmyeyes,Icouldgrabitandfireathimbeforeheknewwhathithim.Butthere’snoguaranteeIwouldbeabletotouchitwithoutpanickingagain.

IwaituntilIhearthelastfootstepdisappearbehindanelevatordoororintoastairwellbeforeopeningmyeyes.Everyoneinthelobbyappearstobeunconscious.Whatevertheygasseduswith, ithadtobesimulation-inducingorIwouldn’tbetheonlyoneawake.Itdoesn’tmakeanysense—itdoesn’t followthesimulationrulesI’mfamiliarwith—butIdon’thavetimetothinkitthrough.

Igrabmyknifeandgetup,tryingtoignoretheacheinmyshoulder.IrunovertooneofthedeadDauntlesstraitorsnearthedoorway.Shewasmiddle-aged;therearehintsofgrayinherdarkhair.Itrynottolookatthebulletwoundinherhead,butthedimlightglowsonwhatlookslikebone,andIgag.

Think.Idon’tcarewhoshewas,orwhathernamewas,orhowoldshewas.Icareonlyaboutthebluearmbandshewears.Ihavetofocusonthat.Itrytohookmyfingeraroundthefabric,but itdoesn’tcomeloose.Itappears tobeattachedtoherblackjacket.Iwillhavetotakethat,too.

IunzipmyjacketandtossitoverherfacesoIdon’thavetolookather.ThenIunzipherjacketandpullit,firstfromherleftarm,andthenfromherrightarm,grittingmyteethasIslideitfrombeneathherheavybody.

“Tris!” someone says. I turn around, jacket in one hand, knife in the other. I put theknife away—the invading Dauntless weren’t carrying them, and I don’t want to beconspicuous.

Uriahstandsbehindme.

“Divergent?”Iaskhim.Thereisnotimetobeshocked.

“Yeah,”hesays.

“Getajacket,”Isay.

Hecrouchesnext tooneof theotherDauntless traitors, thisoneyoung,not evenoldenoughtobeaDauntlessmember.Iflinchatthesightofhisdeath-paleface.Someonesoyoungshouldn’tbedead;shouldn’tevenhavebeenhereinthefirstplace.

Myfacehotwithanger,Ishrugthewoman’sjacketon.Uriahpullshisownjacketon,hismouthpinched.

“They’re the only oneswho are dead,” he says quietly. “Something about that seemwrongtoyou?”

“They must have known we would shoot at them, but they came anyway,” I say.“Questionslater.Wehavetogetupthere.”

“Upthere?Why?”hesays.“Weshouldgetoutofhere.”

“Youwanttorunawaybeforeyouknowwhat’sgoingon?”Iscowlathim.“BeforetheDauntlessupstairsknowwhathitthem?”

“Whatifsomeonerecognizesus?”

Ishrug.“Wejusthavetohopetheywon’t.”

Isprint toward thestairwell,andhefollowsme.Assoonasmyfoot touches thefirststair,IwonderwhatonearthIintendtodo.ThereareboundtobemoreoftheDivergentinthisbuilding,butwilltheyknowwhattheyare?Willtheyknowtohide?AndwhatdoIexpecttogainfromsubmergingmyselfinanarmyofDauntlesstraitors?

DeepinsidemeIknowtheanswer:Iambeingreckless.Iwillprobablygainnothing.Iwillprobablydie.

Andmoredisturbingstill:Idon’treallycare.

“They’llworktheirwayupward,”Isaybetweenbreaths.“Soyoushould…gotothethirdfloor.Tellthemto…evacuate.Quietly.”

“Whereareyougoing,then?”

“Floortwo,”Isay.Ishovemyshoulderintothesecond-floordoor.Iknowwhattodoonthesecondfloor:lookfortheDivergent.

AsIwalkdownthehallway,steppingoverunconsciouspeopledressedinblackandwhite,IthinkofaverseofthesongCandorchildrenusedtosingwhentheythoughtnoonecouldhearthem:

Dauntlessisthecruelestofthefive

Theyteareachothertopieces….

Ithasneverseemedtruertomethannow,watchingDauntlesstraitorsinduceasleepingsimulation that is not so different from the one that forced them to kill members ofAbnegationnotamonthago.

Wearetheonlyfactionthatcoulddividelikethis.Amitywouldnotallowaschism;nooneinAbnegationwouldbesoselfish;Candorwouldargueuntil theyfoundacommonsolution; and even Erudite would never do something so illogical. We really are thecruelestfaction.

I step over a draped arm and a womanwith hermouth hanging open, and hum thebeginningofthenextverseofthesongundermybreath.

Eruditeisthecoldestofthefive

Knowledgeisacostlything….

I wonder when Jeanine realized that Erudite and Dauntless would make a deadlycombination. Ruthlessness and cold logic, it seems, can accomplish almost anything,includingputtingoneandahalffactionstosleep.

I scan faces and bodies as Iwalk, searching for irregular breaths, flickering eyelids,anything to suggest that the people lying on the ground are just pretending to beunconscious.Sofar,allthebreathingisevenandalltheeyelidsarestill.MaybenoneoftheCandorareDivergent.

“Eric!” Ihearsomeoneshout fromdown thehall. Iholdmybreathashewalks righttowardme.Itrynottomove.IfImove,he’lllookatme,andhe’llrecognizeme,Iknowit.Ilookdown,andtensesohardItremble.Don’tlookatmedon’tlookatmedon’tlookatme…

Ericstridespastmeanddownthehallwaytomyleft. Ishouldcontinuemysearchasquicklyaspossible,butcuriosityurgesmeforward,towardwhoevercalledforEric.Theshoutsoundedurgent.

When I liftmy eyes, I see aDauntless soldier standing over a kneelingwoman.Shewearsawhiteblouseandablackskirt,andhasherhandsbehindherhead.Eric’ssmilelooksgreedyeveninprofile.

“Divergent,”hesays.“Welldone.Bringher to theelevatorbank.We’lldecidewhichonestokillandwhichonestobringbacklater.”

TheDauntlesssoldiergrabs thewomanby theponytailandstarts toward theelevatorbank,draggingherbehindhim.Sheshrieks,andthenscramblestoherfeet,bentover.ItrytoswallowbutitfeelslikeIhaveawadofcottonballsinmythroat.

Ericcontinuesdown thehallway,away fromme,and I trynot tostareas theCandorwomanstumblespastme,herhairstilltrappedinthefistoftheDauntlesssoldier.BynowIknowhowterrorworks:Iletitcontrolmeforafewseconds,andthenforcemyselftoact.

One…two…three…

I start forwardwith a new sense of purpose.Watching each person to see if they’reawakeistakingtoomuchtime.ThenextunconsciouspersonIcomeacross,Istephardontheir pinkie finger.No response, not even a twitch. I step over them and find the nextperson’sfinger,pressinghardwiththetoeofmyshoe.Noresponsethereeither.

Ihearsomeoneelseshout,“Gotone!”fromadistanthallwayandstarttofeelfrantic.Ihop over fallen man after fallen woman, over children and teenagers and the elderly,steppingonfingersorstomachsorankles,searchingforsignsofpain. Ibarelysee theirfaces after a while, but still I get no response. I am playing hide-and-seek with theDivergent,butI’mnottheonlypersonwho’s“it.”

Andthenithappens.IsteponaCandorgirl’spinkie,andherfacetwitches.Justalittle—animpressiveattemptatconcealingthepain—butenoughtocatchmyattention.

Ilookovermyshouldertoseeifanyoneisnearme,butthey’veallmovedonfromthiscentralhallway.Icheckfortheneareststairwell—there’sonejusttenfeetaway,downasidehallwaytomyright.Icrouchnexttothegirl’shead.

“Hey,kid,”IsayasquietlyasIcan.“It’sokay.I’mnotoneofthem.”

Hereyesopen,justalittle.

“There’s a staircase about three yards away,” I say. “I’ll tell you when no one iswatching,andthenyouhavetorun,understand?”

Shenods.

Istandandturninaslowcircle.ADauntlesstraitortomyleftislookingaway,nudging

a limp Dauntless with her foot. Two Dauntless traitors behind me are laughing aboutsomething.Oneinfrontofmeisspacingoutinmydirection,butthenheliftshisheadandstartsdownthehallwayagain,awayfromme.

“Now,”Isay.

Thegirlgetsupandsprintstowardthedoortothestairwell.Iwatchheruntilthedoorclicksshut,andseemyreflectioninoneofthewindows.ButI’mnotstandingaloneinahallwayofsleepingpeople,likeIthought.Ericisstandingrightbehindme.

Ilookathisreflection,andhelooksbackatme.Icouldmakeabreakforit.IfImovefastenough,hemightnothavethepresenceofmindtograbme.ButIknow,evenastheideaoccurs to me, that I won’t be able to outrun him. And I won’t be able to shoot him,becauseIdidn’ttakeagun.

Ispinaround,bringingmyelbowupasIdo,andthrustittowardEric’sface.Itcatchestheendofhischin,butnothardenoughtodoanydamage.Hegrabsmyleftarmwithonehandandpressesagunbarreltomyforeheadwiththeother,smilingdownatme.

“Idon’tunderstand,”hesays,“howyoucouldpossiblybestupidenough tocomeupherewithnogun.”

“Well, I’m smart enough todo this,” I say. I stomphardonhis foot,which I fired abulletintolessthanamonthago.Hescreams,hisfacecontorting,anddrivestheheelofthegunintomyjaw.Iclenchmyteethtosuppressagroan.Bloodtricklesdownmyneck—hebroketheskin.

Throughall that,hisgriponmyarmdoesnotloosenonce.Butthefactthathedidn’tjustshootmeintheheadtellsmesomething:He’snotallowedtokillmeyet.

“Iwas surprised to discover youwere still alive,” he says. “Considering I’m theonewhotoldJeaninetoconstructthatwatertankjustforyou.”

ItrytofigureoutwhatIcandothatwillbepainfulenoughforhimtoreleaseme.I’vejustdecidedonahardkick to thegroinwhenheslipsbehindmeandgrabsmebybotharms,pressingagainstmesoIcanbarelymovemyfeet.Hisfingernailsdigintomyskin,andIgritmyteeth,bothfromthepainandfromthesickeningfeelingofhischestonmyback.

“She thought studying one of the Divergent’s reaction to a real-life version of asimulationwouldbefascinating,”hesays,andhepressesmeforwardsoIhavetowalk.His breath ticklesmy hair. “And I agreed.You see, ingenuity—one of the qualitieswemostvalueinErudite—requirescreativity.”

Hetwistshishandssothecallusesscrapeagainstmyarms.Ishiftmybodyslightlytothe leftasIwalk, tryingtopositiononeofmyfeetbetweenhisadvancingfeet. Inoticewithfiercepleasurethathe’slimping.

“Sometimes creativity seems wasteful, illogical … unless it’s done for a greaterpurpose.Inthiscase,theaccumulationofknowledge.”

I stopwalking just longenough tobringmyheelup,hard,betweenhis legs.Ahigh-pitchedcryhitchesinhisthroat,stoppedbeforeitreallybegan,andhishandsgolimpforjustamoment.Inthatmoment,I twistmybodyashardasIcanandbreakfree.Idon’tknowwhereIwillrun,butIhavetorun,Ihaveto—

He grabsmy elbow, yankingme back, and pushes his thumb into thewound inmyshoulder, twistinguntilpainmakesmyvisiongoblackat theedges,andIscreamat thetopofmylungs.

“IthoughtIrecalledfromthefootageofyouinthatwatertankthatyougotshotinthatshoulder,”hesays.“ItseemsIwasright.”

Mykneescrumplebeneathme,andhegrabsmycollaralmostcarelessly,draggingmetowardtheelevatorbank.Thefabricdigsintomythroat,chokingme,andIstumbleafterhim.Mybodythrobswithlingeringpain.

Whenwereachtheelevatorbank,heforcesmetomykneesnexttotheCandorwomanIsawearlier.Sheandfourotherssitbetweenthetworowsofelevators,keptinplacebyDauntlesswithguns.

“Iwantonegunonheratalltimes,”saysEric.“Notjustaimedather.Onher.”

ADauntlessmanpushesagunbarrelintothebackofmyneck.Itformsacoldcircleonmyskin.IliftmyeyestoEric.Hisfaceisred,hiseyeswatering.

“What’sthematter,Eric?”Isay,raisingmyeyebrows.“Afraidofalittlegirl?”

“I’mnotstupid,”hesays,pushinghishandsthroughhishair.“Thatlittle-girlactmayhaveworkedonmebefore,but itwon’tworkagain.You’re thebestattackdog they’vegot.”Heleansclosertome.“WhichiswhyI’msureyou’llbeputdownsoonenough.”

Oneoftheelevatordoorsopens,andaDauntlesssoldiershovesUriah—whoselipsarestainedwith blood—toward the short row of theDivergent.Uriah glances atme, but Ican’treadhisexpressionwellenoughtoknowifhesucceededorfailed.Ifhe’shere,heprobablyfailed.Nowthey’llfindalltheDivergentinthebuilding,andmostofuswilldie.

Ishouldprobablybeafraid.Butinsteadahystericallaughbubblesinsideme,becauseIjustrememberedsomething:

MaybeIcan’tholdagun.ButIhaveaknifeinmybackpocket.

I SHIFT MYhandback,centimeterbycentimeter, so thesoldierpointingagunatmedoesn’tnotice. The elevator doors open again, bringing more of the Divergent with moreDauntlesstraitors.TheCandorwomanonmyrightwhimpers.Strandsofherhairarestucktoherlips,whicharewetwithspit,ortears,Ican’ttell.

Myhand reaches the corner ofmybackpocket. I keep it steady,my fingers shakingwithanticipation.Ihavetowaitfortherightmoment,whenEricisclose.

Ifocusonthemechanicsofmybreathing,imaginingairfillingeverypartofmylungsas I inhale, then remembering as I exhale how all my blood, oxygenated andunoxygenated,travelstoandfromthesameheart.

It’s easier to think of biology than the line of the Divergent sitting between theelevators.ACandorboywhocan’tbeolderthanelevensitstomyleft.He’sbraverthanthewomantomyright—hestaresattheDauntlesssoldierinfrontofhim,unflinching.

Air in, air out.Blood pushed all theway tomy extremities—the heart is a powerfulmuscle, the strongestmuscle in the body in terms of longevity.MoreDauntless arrive,reportingsuccessfulsweepsofspecificfloorsoftheMercilessMart.Hundredsofpeopleunconsciousonthefloor,shotwithsomethingotherthanbullets,andIhavenoideawhy.

ButIamthinkingoftheheart.Notofmyheartanymore,butofEric’s,andhowemptyhischestwillsoundwhenhisheartisnolongerbeating.DespitehowmuchIhatehim,Idon’t reallywant tokillhim,at leastnotwithaknife,upclosewhere Icansee the lifeleave him. But I have one chance left to do something useful, and if Iwant to hit theEruditewhereithurts,Ihavetotakeoneoftheirleadersfromthem.

InoticethatnooneeverbroughttheCandorgirlIwarnedtotheelevatorbank,whichmeansshemusthavegottenaway.Good.

Ericclaspshishandsbehindhisbackandbeginstopace,backandforth,beforethelineofDivergent.

“MyordersaretotakeonlytwoofyoubacktoEruditeheadquartersfortesting,”saysEric.“Therestofyouaretobeexecuted.Thereareseveralwaystodeterminewhoamongyouwillbeleastusefultous.”

Hisfootstepsslowwhenheapproachesme.Itensemyfingers,abouttograbtheknifehandle,buthedoesn’tcomecloseenough.Hekeepswalkingandstopsinfrontoftheboytomyleft.

“The brain finishes developing at age twenty-five,” says Eric. “Therefore yourDivergenceisnotcompletelydeveloped.”

Heliftshisgunandfires.

Astrangledscreamleapsoutofmybodyastheboyslumpstotheground,andIsqueezemyeyesshut.Everymuscleinmybodystrainstowardhim,butIholdmyselfback.Wait,wait,wait.Ican’tthinkoftheboy.Wait.Iforcemyeyesopenandblinktearsfromthem.

Myscreamaccomplishedonething:nowEricstandsinfrontofme,smiling.Icaughthisattention.

“Youarealsoratheryoung,”hesays.“Nowherenearfinisheddeveloping.”

Hestepstowardme.Myfingertipsinchclosertotheknifehandle.

“MostoftheDivergentgettworesultsintheaptitudetest.Someonlygetone.Noonehas ever gotten three, not because of aptitude, but simply because in order to get thatresult,youhavetorefusetochoosesomething,”hesays,movingcloserstill.Itiltmyheadbacktolookathim,atallthemetalgleaminginhisface,athisemptyeyes.

“Mysuperiorssuspect thatyougot two,Tris,”hesays.“Theydon’t thinkyou’re thatcomplex—justanevenblendofAbnegationandDauntless—selflesstothepointofidiocy.Oristhatbravetothepointofidiocy?”

Iclosemyhandaroundtheknifehandleandsqueeze.Heleanscloser.

“Justbetweenyouandme…I thinkyoumighthavegottenthree,becauseyou’rethekindofbullheadedpersonwhowouldrefusetomakeasimplechoicejustbecauseshewastoldto,”hesays.“Caretoenlightenme?”

Ilurchforward,pullingmyhandoutofmypocket.IclosemyeyesasIthrustthebladeupandtowardhim.Idon’twanttoseehisblood.

Ifeeltheknifegoinandthenpullitoutagain.Myentirebodythrobstotherhythmofmyheart.Thebackofmyneckisstickywithsweat.IopenmyeyesasEricslumpstotheground,andthen—chaos.

TheDauntless traitors aren’t holding lethal guns, only ones that shootwhatever it istheyshotatusbefore,sotheyallscramblefortheirrealguns.Astheydo,Uriahlauncheshimselfatoneofthemandpuncheshimhardinthejaw.Thelifegoesoutofthesoldier’seyes and he falls, knocked out.Uriah takes the soldier’s gun and starts shooting at theDauntlessclosesttous.

I reach forEric’sgun, sopanicked Icanbarely see, andwhen I lookup, I swear theamountofDauntless in the roomhasdoubled.Gunshots fillmyears, and I drop to theground as everyone starts running.My fingers brush the gunbarrel, and I shudder.Myhandsaretooweaktograspit.

A heavy armwraps aroundmy shoulders and shovesme toward the wall.My rightshoulder burns, and I see theDauntless symbol tattooed on the back of a neck. Tobias

turns,crouchedaroundmetoshieldmefromthegunfire,andshoots.

“Tellmeifanyone’sbehindme!”hesays.

Ipeeroverhisshoulder,curlingmyhandsintofistsaroundhisshirt.

There are more Dauntless in the room, Dauntless without blue armbands—loyalDauntless.Myfaction.Myfactionhascometosaveus.Howaretheyawake?

TheDauntlesstraitorssprintawayfromtheelevatorbank.Theywerenotpreparedforanattack,notfromallsides.Someofthemfightback,butmostrunforthestairs.Tobiasfiresoverandoveragain,untilhisgunrunsoutofbullets,andthetriggermakesaclickingsoundinstead.Myvisionistooblurrywithtearsandmyhandstoouselesstofireagun.Iscreamintogrittedteeth,frustrated.Ican’thelp.Iamworthless.

Onthefloor,Ericmoans.Stillalive,fornow.

Thegunshotsgraduallystop.Myhandiswet.Oneglimpseofredtellsmeit’scoveredinblood—Eric’s.Iwipeitoffonmypantsandtrytoblinkthetearsaway.Myearsring.

“Tris,”Tobiassays.“Youcanputtheknifedownnow.”

TOBIASTELLSMEthisstory:

WhentheEruditereachedthelobbystairwell,oneofthemdidn’tgouptothesecondfloor.Instead,sheranuptooneofthehighestlevelsofthebuilding.TheresheevacuatedagroupofloyalDauntless—includingTobias—toafireescapetheDauntlesstraitorshadnotsealedoff.ThoseloyalDauntlessgatheredinthelobbyandsplitintofourgroupsthatstormed the stairwells simultaneously, surrounding the Dauntless traitors, who hadclusteredaroundtheelevatorbanks.

The Dauntless traitors were not prepared for that much resistance. They thoughteveryonebuttheDivergentwasunconscious,sotheyran.

TheEruditewomanwasCara.Will’soldersister.

Heavingasigh,Iletthejacketslidefrommyarmsandexaminemyshoulder.Ametaldiscaboutthesizeofmypinkiefingernailispressedagainstmyskin.Surroundingitisapatchofbluestrands,likesomeoneinjectedbluedyeintothetinyveinsjustbeneaththesurfaceofmyskin.Frowning, I try topeel themetaldiscaway frommyarm,and feel a sharppain.

Grittingmyteeth,Iwedgetheflatofmyknifebladeunder thediscandforceitup.Iscream intomy teeth as the pain races throughme, making everything go black for amoment.ButIkeeppushing,ashardasIcan,untilthediscliftsfrommyskinenoughformetogetmyfingersaroundit.Attachedtothebottomofthediscisaneedle.

I gag, grasp the disc in my fingertips, and pull one last time. This time, the needlecomesfree.It’saslongasmylittlestfingerandsmearedwithmyblood.Iignorethebloodrunningdownmyarmandholdthediscandtheneedleuptothelightabovethesink.

Judging by the blue dye inmy arm and the needle, theymust have injected uswithsomething.Butwhat?Poison?Anexplosive?

Ishakemyhead.Iftheyhadwantedtokillus,mostofuswereunconsciousalready,sotheycouldhavejustshotusall.Whatevertheyinjecteduswithisn’tmeanttokillus.

Someoneknocksonthedoor.Idon’tknowwhy—I’minapublicrestroom,afterall.

“Tris,youinthere?”Uriah’smuffledvoiceasks.

“Yeah,”Icallback.

Uriahlooksbetterthanhedidanhourago—hewashedthebloodfromhismouth,andsomeofthecolorhasreturnedtohisface.I’mstruck,suddenly,byhowhandsomeheis—allhisfeaturesareproportionate,hiseyesdarkandlively,hisskinbronze-brown.Andhehas probably always been that handsome.Only boyswho have been handsome from ayoungagehavethatarroganceintheirsmile.

NotlikeTobias,whoisalmostshywhenhesmiles,likeheissurprisedyoubotheredtolookathiminthefirstplace.

Mythroataches.Iputtheneedleanddiscontheedgeofthesink.

Uriah looks fromme to theneedle inmyhand to the lineofblood running frommyshouldertomywrist.

“Gross,”hesays.

“Wasn’tpayingattention,”Isay.Isettheneedledownandgrabapapertowel,moppingupthebloodonmyarm.“Howaretheothers?”

“Marlene’s cracking jokes, as usual.” Uriah’s smile grows, putting a dimple in hischeek.“Lynn’sgrumbling.Wait,youyankedthatoutofyourownarm?”Hepointstotheneedle.“God,Tris.Doyouhavenonerveendingsorsomething?”

“IthinkIneedabandage.”

“Youthink?”Uriahshakeshishead.“Youshouldgetsomeiceforyourface, too.So,everyone’swakingupnow.It’samadhouseoutthere.”

Itouchmyjaw.ItistenderwhereEric’sgunstruckme—Iwillhavetoputhealingsalveonitsoitdoesn’tbruise.

“IsEricdead?”Idon’tknowwhichanswerI’mhopingfor,yesorno.

“No.SomeoftheCandordecidedtogivehimmedicaltreatment.”Uriahscowlsatthesink. “Something about honorable treatment of prisoners. Kang’s interrogating him inprivaterightnow.Doesn’twantusthere,disturbingthepeaceorwhatever.”

Isnort.

“Yeah.Anyway,noonegetsit,”hesays,perchingontheedgeofthesinknexttomine.“Whystorminhereandfirethosethingsatusandthenknockusallout?Whynotjustkillus?”

“No idea,” I say. “The only use I see for it is that it helped them figure out who’sDivergentandwho’snot.Butthatcan’tbetheonlyreasontheydidit.”

“Idon’tgetwhytheyhaveitoutforus.Imean,whentheyweretryingtomindcontrolthemselvesanarmy,sure,butnow?Seemsuseless.”

IfrownasIpressacleanpapertoweltomyshoulder,tostopthebleeding.He’sright.Jeaninealreadyhasanarmy.SowhykilltheDivergentnow?

“Jeanine doesn’t want to kill everyone,” I say slowly. “She knows that would beillogical.Without each faction, society doesn’t function, because each faction trains itsmembersforparticularjobs.Whatshewantsiscontrol.”

Iglanceupatmyreflection.My jaw is swollen,and fingernailmarksarestillonmyarms.Disgusting.

“Shemustbeplanninganothersimulation,”Isay.“Samethingasbefore,butthistime,shewantstomakesurethateveryoneiseitherunderitsinfluenceordead.”

“But the simulation only lasts for a certain period of time,” he says. “It’s not usefulunlessyou’retryingtoaccomplishsomethingspecific.”

“Right.”Isigh.“Idon’tknow.Idon’tgetit.”Ipickuptheneedle.“Idon’tgetwhatthisthingiseither.Ifitwasliketheothersimulation-inducinginjections,itwasjustmeantforoneuse.Sowhyshootthesethingsatusjusttoputusunconscious?Itdoesn’tmakeanysense.”

“Idunno,Tris,butrightnowwe’vegotahugebuildingfullofpanickedpeopletodealwith.Let’sgogetyouabandage.”Hepausesandthensays,“Canyoudomeafavor?”

“Whatisit?”

“Don’t tellanyoneI’mDivergent.”Hebiteshis lip.“Shauna’smyfriend,and Idon’twanthertosuddenlybecomeafraidofme.”

“Sure,”Isay,forcingasmile.“I’llkeepittomyself.”

Iamawakeallnightremovingneedlesfrompeople’sarms.AfterafewhoursIstoptryingtobegentle.IjustpullashardasIcan.

IfindoutthattheCandorboyEricshotintheheadwasnamedBobby,andthatEricisinstablecondition,andthatofthehundredsofpeopleintheMercilessMart,onlyeightydon’thaveneedlesburiedintheirflesh,seventyofwhomareDauntless,oneofwhomisChristina.AllnightIpuzzleoverneedlesandserumsandsimulations,tryingtoinhabitthemindsofmyenemies.

Inthemorning,Irunoutofneedlestoremoveandgotothecafeteria,rubbingmyeyes.JackKangannouncedthatwewouldhaveameetingatnoon,somaybeIcanfitinalongnapafterIeat.

WhenIwalkintothecafeteria,though,IseeCaleb.

Calebrunsup tomeandfoldsmecarefully intohisarms. Ibreatheasighofrelief. IthoughtIhadgottentothepointwhereIdidn’tneedmybrotheranymore,butIdon’tthinksuchapointactuallyexists.Irelaxagainsthimforamoment,andcatchTobias’seyeoverCaleb’sshoulder.

“Areyouallright?”Calebsays,pullingback.“Yourjaw…”

“It’snothing,”Isay.“Justswollen.”

“IheardtheygotabunchoftheDivergentandstartedshootingthem.ThankGodthey

didn’tfindyou.”

“Actually, theydid.Buttheyonlykilledone,”Isay.Ipinchthebridgeofmynosetorelievesomeofthepressureinmyhead.“ButI’mallright.Whendidyougethere?”

“About tenminutes ago. I camewithMarcus,” he says. “As our only legal politicalleader,hefeltitwashisdutytobehere—wedidn’thearabouttheattackuntilanhourago.One of the factionless saw theDauntless storming into the building, and news takes awhiletotravelamongthefactionless.”

“Marcus isalive?”Isay.Weneveractuallysawhimdiewhenweescaped theAmitycompound, but I just assumed he had—I’m not sure how I feel. Disappointed,maybe,because Ihatehimforhowhe treatedTobias?Or relieved,because the lastAbnegationleaderisstillalive?Isitpossibletofeelboth?

“HeandPeterescaped,andwalkedbacktothecity,”saysCaleb.

IamnotatallrelievedtofindoutthatPeterisstillalive.“Where’sPeter,then?”

“Heiswhereyouwouldexpecthimtobe,”Calebreplies.

“Erudite,”Isay.Ishakemyhead.“Whata—”

Ican’teventhinkofawordstrongenoughtodescribehim.ApparentlyIneedtoexpandmyvocabulary.

Caleb’s face twists for a moment, then he nods and touchesmy shoulder. “Are youhungry?Wantmetogetyousomething?”

“Yes,please,”Isay.“I’llbebackinalittlewhile,okay?IhavetotalktoTobias.”

“All right.”Caleb squeezesmy arm andwalks off, probably to get in themiles-longcafeterialine.TobiasandIstandyardsawayfromeachotherforafewseconds.

Heapproachesmeslowly.

“Youokay?”hesays.

“ImightthrowupifIhavetoanswerthatonemoretime,”Isay.“Idon’thaveabulletinmyhead,doI?SoI’mgood.”

“Yourjawissoswollenyoulooklikeyouhaveawadoffoodinyourcheek,andyoujuststabbedEric,”hesays,frowning.“I’mnotallowedtoaskifyou’reokay?”

I sigh. I should tell him aboutMarcus, but I don’twant to do it here,with somanypeoplearound.“Yeah.I’mokay.”

His arm jerks like he was thinking of touching me but decided against it. Then hereconsidersandslideshisarmaroundme,pullingmetohim.

Suddenly I thinkmaybe I’ll let someone else take all the risks,maybe I’ll just startactingselfishlysothatIcanstayclosetoTobiaswithouthurtinghim.AllIwantistoburymyfaceinhisneckandforgetanythingelseexists.

“I’msorryittookmesolongtocomegetyou,”hewhispersintomyhair.

I sigh and touch his back with just my fingertips. I could stand here until I go

unconsciousfromexhaustion,butIshouldn’t;Ican’t.Ipullbackandsay,“Ineedtotalktoyou.Canwegosomewherequiet?”

Henods,andweleavethecafeteria.OneoftheDauntlesswepassyells,“Oh,look!It’sTobiasEaton!”

I had almost forgotten about the interrogation, and the name it revealed to all ofDauntless.

Anotheroneyells,“Isawyourdaddyhereearlier,Eaton!Areyougonnagohide?”

Tobias straightens and stiffens, like someone is training a gun at his chest instead ofjeeringathim.

“Yeah,areyougonnahide,coward?”

Afewpeoplearounduslaugh.IgrabTobias’sarmandsteerhimtowardtheelevatorsbeforehecanreact.Helookedlikehewasabouttopunchsomeone.Orworse.

“Iwasgoingtotellyou—hecamewithCaleb,”Isay.“HeandPeterescapedAmity—”

“Whatwereyouwaitingfor,then?”hesays,butnotharshly.Hisvoicesoundssomehowdetachedfromhim,likeitisfloatingbetweenus.

“It’snotthekindofnewsyoudeliverinacafeteria,”Isay.

“Fairenough,”hesays.

Wewaitinsilencefortheelevator,Tobiaschewingonhislipandstaringintospace.Hedoes that all theway to the eighteenth floor, which is empty. There, the silencewrapsaroundmelikeCaleb’sembracedid,calmingme.Isitdownononeofthebenchesontheedgeoftheinterrogationroom,andTobiaspullsNiles’schairovertositinfrontofme.

“Didn’tthereusedtobetwoofthese?”hesays,frowningatthechair.

“Yeah,”Isay.“I,uh…itgotthrownoutthewindow.”

“Strange,” he says.He sits. “Sowhat did youwant to talk about?Orwas that aboutMarcus?”

“No,thatwasn’tit.Areyou…allright?”Isaycautiously.

“Idon’thaveabulletinmyhead,doI?”hesays,staringathishands.“SoI’mfine.I’dliketotalkaboutsomethingelse.”

“I want to talk about simulations,” I say. “But first, something else—your motherthoughtJeaninewouldgoafterthefactionlessnext.Obviouslyshewaswrong—andI’mnotsurewhy.It’snotliketheCandorarebattlereadyoranything—”

“Well,thinkaboutit,”hesays.“Thinkitthrough,liketheErudite.”

Igivehimalook.

“What?”hesays.“Ifyoucan’t,therestofushavenohope.”

“Fine,”Isay.“Um…ithadtobebecauseDauntlessandCandorwerethemostlogicaltargets.Because…the factionlessare inmultipleplaces,whereaswe’reall in thesameplace.”

“Right,”hesays.“Also,whenJeanineattackedAbnegation,shegotalltheAbnegationdata.Mymother toldme that theAbnegationhaddocumented the factionlessDivergentpopulations, which means that after the attack, Jeanine must have found out that theproportion of Divergent among the factionless is higher than among the Candor. Thatmakesthemanillogicaltarget.”

“Allright.Thentellmeabouttheserumagain,”Isay.“Ithasafewparts,right?”

“Two,”he says,nodding. “The transmitter and the liquid that induces the simulation.Thetransmittercommunicatesinformationtothebrainfromthecomputer,andviceversa,andtheliquidaltersthebraintoputitinasimulationstate.”

Inod. “And the transmitteronlyworks forone simulation, right?Whathappens to itafterthat?”

“Itdissolves,”hesays.“As faras Iknow, theEruditehaven’tbeenable todevelopatransmitter that lasts formore thanonesimulation,although theattacksimulation lastedfarlongerthananysimulationI’veseenbefore.”

Thewords“asfarasIknow”stickinmymind.Jeaninehasspentmostofheradultlifedeveloping the serums. If she’s still hunting down the Divergent, she’s probably stillobsessedwithcreatingmoreadvancedversionsofthetechnology.

“What’sthisabout,Tris?”hesays.

“Haveyouseenthisyet?”Isay,pointingatthebandagecoveringmyshoulder.

“Notupclose,”he says. “Zekeand IwerehaulingwoundedEruditeup to the fourthfloorallmorning.”

I peel away the edge of the bandage, revealing the puncture wound—no longerbleeding, thankfully—and the patch of blue dye that doesn’t seem to be fading.Then Ireachintomypocketandtakeouttheneedlethatwasburiedinmyarm.

“Whentheyattacked,theyweren’ttryingtokillus.Theywereshootinguswiththese,”Isay.

His hand touches the dyed skin around the puncturewound. I didn’t notice it beforebecause it was happening right in front of me, but he looks different than he used to,during initiation.He’s lethis facialhairgrowina little,andhishair is longer thanI’veeverseenit—denseenoughtoshowmethatitisbrown,notblack.

Hetakestheneedlefrommeandtapsthemetaldiscattheendofit.“Thisisprobablyhollow. Itmust have containedwhatever that blue stuff in your arm is.What happenedafteryouwereshot?”

“They tossed these gas-spewing cylinders into the room, and everyone wentunconscious.Thatis,everyonebutUriahandmeandtheotherDivergent.”

Tobiasdoesn’tseemsurprised.Inarrowmyeyes.

“DidyouknowthatUriahwasDivergent?”

Heshrugs.“Ofcourse.Iranhissimulations,too.”

“Andyounevertoldme?”

“Privilegedinformation,”hesays.“Dangerousinformation.”

Ifeelaflareofanger—howmanythingsishegoingtokeepfromme?—andtrytostifleit. Of course he couldn’t tell me Uriah was Divergent. He was just respecting Uriah’sprivacy.Itmakessense.

Iclearmythroat.“Yousavedourlives,youknow,”Isay.“Ericwastryingtohuntusdown.”

“I thinkwe’repastkeepingtrackofwhohassavedwhoselife.”Helooksatmeforafewlongseconds.

“Anyway,”Isaytobreakthesilence.“Afterwefiguredoutthateveryonewasasleep,Uriahranupstairstowarnthepeoplewhowereupthere,andIwenttothesecondfloortofigure outwhatwas going on. Eric had all theDivergent by the elevators, and hewastrying to figure out which of us hewas going to take backwith him. He said hewasallowedtotaketwo.Idon’tknowwhyhewasgoingtotakeany.”

“Odd,”hesays.

“Anyideas?”

“Myguessisthattheneedleinjectedyouwithatransmitter,”hesays,“andthegaswasan aerosol version of the liquid that alters the brain. But why …” A crease appearsbetween his eyebrows. “Oh. She put everyone to sleep to find out who the Divergentwere.”

“Youthinkthat’stheonlyreasonforshootinguswithtransmitters?”

Heshakeshishead,andhiseyeslockonmine.TheirblueissodarkandfamiliarthatIfeellikeitcouldswallowmewhole.ForamomentIwishitwould,sothatIcouldescapethisplaceandallthathashappened.

“I thinkyou’ve already figured it out,”he says, “butyouwantme to contradict you.AndI’mnotgoingto.”

“They’vedevelopedalong-lastingtransmitter,”Isay.

Henods.

“Sonowwe’reallwiredformultiplesimulations,”Iadd.“AsmanyasJeaninewants,maybe.”

Henodsagain.

Mynextbreathshakesonthewayoutofmymouth.“Thisisreallybad,Tobias.”

Inthehallwayoutsidetheinterrogationroom,hestops,leaningagainstthewall.

“SoyouattackedEric,”hesays.“Wasthatduringtheinvasion?Orwhenyouwerebytheelevators?”

“Bytheelevators,”Isay.

“OnethingIdon’tunderstand,”hesays.“Youweredownstairs.Youcouldhavejustrunaway.But instead,youdecidedtodiveintoacrowdofarmedDauntlessallbyyourself.AndI’mwillingtobetyouweren’tcarryingagun.”

Ipressmylipstogether.

“Isthattrue?”hedemands.

“WhatmakesyouthinkIdidn’thaveagun?”Iscowl.

“Youhaven’tbeenable to touchagun since theattack,”he says. “Iunderstandwhy,withthewholeWillthing,but—”

“Thathasnothingtodowithit.”

“No?”Heliftshiseyebrows.

“IdidwhatIhadtodo.”

“Yeah.Butnowyoushouldbedone,”hesays,pullingawayfromthewalltofaceme.Candorhallwaysarewide,wideenoughforallthespaceIwanttokeepbetweenus.“YoushouldhavestayedwiththeAmity.Youshouldhavestayedfarawayfromallofthis.”

“No,Ishouldn’thave,”Isay.“Youthinkyouknowwhat’sbestforme?Youhavenoidea.IwasgoingcrazywiththeAmity.HereIfinallyfeel…saneagain.”

“Whichisodd,consideringyouareactinglikeapsychopath,”hesays.“It’snotbrave,choosingthepositionyouwereinyesterday.It’sbeyondstupid—it’ssuicidal.Don’tyouhaveanyregardforyourownlife?”

“OfcourseIdo!”Iretort.“Iwastryingtodosomethinguseful!”

Forafewsecondshejuststaresatme.

“You’remorethanDauntless,”hesaysinalowvoice.“Butifyouwanttobejustlikethem,hurlingyourselfintoridiculoussituationsfornoreasonandretaliatingagainstyourenemieswithoutanyregardforwhat’sethical,gorightahead.I thoughtyouwerebetterthanthat,butmaybeIwaswrong!”

Iclenchmyhands,myjaw.

“Youshouldn’tinsulttheDauntless,”Isay.“Theytookyouinwhenyouhadnowhereelsetogo.Trustedyouwithagoodjob.Gaveyouallyourfriends.”

Ileanagainstthewall,myeyesonthefloor.ThetilesintheMercilessMartarealwaysblack andwhite, and here they are in a checkered pattern. If I unfocusmy eyes, I seeexactlywhat theCandordon’tbelieve in—gray.MaybeTobiasand Idon’tbelieve in iteither.Notreally.

Iweightoomuch,morethanmyframecansupport,somuchIshouldfallrightthroughthefloor.

“Tris.”

Ikeepstaring.

“Tris.”

Ifinallylookathim.

“Ijustdon’twanttoloseyou.”

Westandthereforafewminutes.Idon’tsaywhatI’mthinking,whichisthathemightberight.Thereisapartofmethatwantstobelost,thatstrugglestojoinmyparentsandWill so that I don’t have to ache for them anymore. A part of me that wants to seewhatevercomesnext.

“Soyou’reherbrother?”saysLynn.“Iguessweknowwhogotthegoodgenes.”

IlaughattheexpressiononCaleb’sface,hismouthdrawnintoaslightpuckerandhiseyeswide.

“Whendoyouhavetogetback?”Isay,nudginghimwithmyelbow.

IbiteintothesandwichCalebgotmefromthecafeterialine.Iamnervoustohavehimhere,mixingthesadremainsofmyfamilylifewiththesadremainsofmyDauntlesslife.Whatwillhethinkofmyfriends,myfaction?Whatwillmyfactionthinkofhim?

“Soon,”hesays.“Idon’twantanyonetoworry.”

“Ididn’trealizeSusanhadchangedhernameto‘Anyone,’”Isay,raisinganeyebrow.

“Ha-ha,”hesays,makingafaceatme.

Teasing between siblings should feel familiar, but it doesn’t for us. Abnegationdiscouraged anything that might make someone feel uncomfortable, and teasing wasincluded.

Icanfeelhowcautiouswearewitheachother,nowthatwe’rediscoveringadifferentwaytorelateinlightofournewfactionsandourparents’deaths.EverytimeIlookathim,Irealizethathe’stheonlyfamilyIhaveleftandIfeeldesperate,desperatetokeephimaround,desperatetonarrowthegapbetweenus.

“IsSusananotherEruditedefector?” saysLynn, stabbinga stringbeanwithher fork.UriahandTobiasarestillinthelunchline,waitingbehindtwodozenCandorwhoaretoobusybickeringtogettheirfood.

“No,shewasourneighborwhenwewerekids.She’sAbnegation,”Isay.

“And you’re involved with her?” she asks Caleb. “Don’t you think that’s kind of astupid move? I mean, when all this is over, you’ll be in different factions, living incompletelydifferentplaces….”

“Lynn,”Marlenesays,touchinghershoulder,“shutup,willyou?”

Acrosstheroom,somethingbluecatchesmyattention.Carajustwalkedin.Iputdownmysandwich,myappetitegone,andlookupatherwithmyheadlowered.Shewalkstothe farcornerof thecafeteria,wherea few tablesofErudite refugees sit.Mostof themhave abandoned their blue clothes in favor of black-and-white ones, but they stillweartheirglasses.ItrytofocusonCalebinstead—butCalebiswatchingtheErudite,too.

“Ican’tgobacktoEruditeanymorethantheycan,”saysCaleb.“Whenthisisover,Iwon’thaveafaction.”

For the first time Inoticehowsadhe lookswhenhe talksabout theErudite. Ididn’trealizehowdifficultthedecisiontoleavethemmusthavebeenforhim.

“Youcouldgositwiththem,”Isay,noddingtowardtheEruditerefugees.

“Idon’tknowthem.”Heshrugs.“Iwasonlythereforamonth,remember?”

Uriahdropshistrayonthetable,scowling.“IoverheardsomeonetalkingaboutEric’sinterrogationinthelunchline.ApparentlyheknewalmostnothingaboutJeanine’splan.”

“What?”Lynnslapsherforkonthetable.“Howisthatevenpossible?”

Uriahshrugs,andsits.

“I’mnotsurprised,”Calebsays.

Everyonestaresathim.

“What?”Heflushes.“Itwouldbestupidtoconfideyourentireplantooneperson.It’sinfinitelysmartertogivelittlepiecesofittoeachpersonworkingwithyou.Thatway,ifsomeonebetraysyou,thelossisn’ttoogreat.”

“Oh,”saysUriah.

Lynnpicksupherforkandstartseatingagain.

“IheardtheCandormadeicecream,”saysMarlene,twistingherheadaroundtoseethelunch line. “You know, as a kind of ‘it sucks we got attacked, but at least there aredesserts’thing.”

“Ifeelbetteralready,”saysLynndryly.

“Itprobablywon’tbeasgoodasDauntlesscake,”saysMarlenemournfully.Shesighs,andastrandofmousybrownhairfallsinhereyes.

“Wehadgoodcake,”ItellCaleb.

“Wehadfizzydrinks,”hesays.

“Ah, but did you have a ledge overlooking an underground river?” says Marlene,wagglinghereyebrows.“Oraroomwhereyoufacedallyournightmaresatonce?”

“No,”saysCaleb,“andtobehonest,I’mkindofokaywiththat.”

“Si-ssy,”singsMarlene.

“Allyournightmares?”saysCaleb,hiseyeslightingup.“Howdoesthatwork?Imean,arethenightmaresproducedbythecomputerorbyyourbrain?”

“OhGod.”Lynndropsherheadintoherhands.“Herewego.”

Marlenelaunchesintoadescriptionofthesimulations,andIlethervoice,andCaleb’svoice,washovermeas I finishmysandwich.Then,despite theclatterof forksand theroar of hundreds of conversations all aroundme, I rest my head on the table and fallasleep.

“QUIETDOWN,EVERYONE!”

JackKangliftshishands,andthecrowdgoessilent.Thatisatalent.

IstandamongthecrowdofDauntlesswhogotherelate,whentherewerenoseatsleft.Aflashoflightcatchesmyeye—lightning.It’snotthebesttimetobemeetinginaroomwithholesinthewallsinsteadofwindows,butthisisthebiggestroomtheyhave.

“Iknowmanyofyouareconfusedandshakenbywhathappenedyesterday,”Jacksays.“I haveheardmany reports froma variety of perspectives, andhavegotten a sense forwhatisstraightforwardandwhatrequiresmoreinvestigation.”

I tuckmy wet hair behindmy ears. I woke up tenminutes before the meeting wassupposedtostartandrantotheshowers.ThoughI’mstillexhausted,Ifeelmorealertnow.

“Whatseemstometorequiremoreinvestigation,”Jacksays,“istheDivergent.”

He looks tired—he has dark circles under his eyes, and his short hair sticks out atrandom,likehe’sbeenpullingitallnight.Despitethestiflingheatoftheroom,hewearsalong-sleeved shirt that buttons at the wrists—he must have been distracted when hedressedthismorning.

“IfyouareoneoftheDivergent,pleasestepforwardsothatwecanhearfromyou.”

I look sideways at Uriah. This feels dangerous. My Divergence is something I amsupposedtohide.Admittingitissupposedtomeandeath.Butthereisnosenseinhidingitnow—theyalreadyknowaboutme.

Tobiasisthefirsttomove.Hestartsintothecrowd,atfirstturninghisbodytowedgehiswaybetweenpeople,andthen,whentheystepbackforhim,movingstraighttowardJackKangwithhisshouldersback.

Imove,too,muttering“Excuseme”tothepeopleinfrontofme.TheydrawbacklikeIjust threatened to spit poison at them.A few others step forward, inCandor black andwhite,butnotmany.OneofthemisthegirlIhelped.

Despite thenotorietyTobiasnowhasamong theDauntless,andmynew titleasThatGirlWhoStabbedEric,wearenottherealfocusofeveryone’sattention.Marcusis.

“You,Marcus?”saysJackwhenMarcusreachesthemiddleoftheroomandstandsontopofthelowerscaleinthefloor.

“Yes,”Marcussays.“Iunderstandthatyouareconcerned—thatyouallareconcerned.YouhadneverheardoftheDivergentaweekago,andnowallthatyouknowisthattheyareimmunetosomethingtowhichyouaresusceptible,andthatisafrighteningthing.ButIcanassureyouthatthereisnothingtobeafraidof,asfarasweareconcerned.”

Ashespeaks,hisheadtiltsandhiseyebrowsliftinsympathy,andIunderstandatoncewhy somepeople likehim.Hemakesyou feel that if you just placed everything inhishands,hewouldtakecareofit.

“Itseemscleartome,”saysJack,“thatwewereattackedsothattheEruditecouldfindtheDivergent.Doyouknowwhythatis?”

“No,Idonot,”saysMarcus.“Perhapstheirintentionwasmerelytoidentifyus.Itseemslikeusefulinformationtohave,iftheyintendtousetheirsimulationsagain.”

“Thatwasnot their intention.” Thewords are pastmy lips before I decide to speakthem.MyvoicesoundshighandweakcomparedtoMarcus’sandJack’s,butit’stoolateto stop. “They wanted to kill us. They’ve been killing us since before any of thishappened.”

Jack’s eyebrows draw together. I hear hundreds of tiny sounds, raindrops hitting theroof.Theroomdarkens,asifunderthegloomofwhatIjustsaid.

“Thatsoundsverymuchlikeaconspiracytheory,”Jacksays.“WhatreasonwouldtheEruditehavetokillyou?”

Mymother saidpeople feared theDivergentbecausewecouldn’tbecontrolled.Thatmaybe true,but fearof theuncontrollable isnotaconcreteenoughreason togiveJackKangfortheEruditewantingusdead.MyheartracesasIrealizethatIcan’tanswerhisquestion.

“I…”Istart.Tobiasinterruptsme.

“Obviouslywedon’tknow,”hesays,“but therearenearlyadozenmysteriousdeathsrecordedamongtheDauntlessfromthepastsixyears,andthereisacorrelationbetweenthosepeopleandirregularaptitudetestresultsorinitiationsimulationresults.”

Lightning strikes, making the room glow. Jack shakes his head. “While that isintriguing,correlationdoesnotconstituteevidence.”

“ADauntlessleadershotaCandorchildinthehead,”Isnap.“Didyougetareportofthat?Diditseem‘worthyofinvestigation’?”

“In fact I did,” he says. “And shooting a child in cold blood is a terrible crime thatcannotgounpunished.Fortunately,wehavetheperpetratorincustodyandwillbeabletoputhimontrial.However,wemustkeepinmindthattheDauntlesssoldiersdidnotgiveanyevidenceofwantingtoharmthemajorityofus,ortheywouldhavekilleduswhilewewereunconscious.”

Ihearirritatedmurmursallaroundme.

“Their peaceful invasion suggests tome that itmay be possible to negotiate a peace

treaty with the Erudite and the other Dauntless,” he continues. “So I will arrange ameetingwithJeanineMatthewstodiscussthatpossibilityassoonaspossible.”

“Their invasionwasn’tpeaceful,” I say. I can see the corner ofTobias’smouth fromwhereIstand,andheissmiling.Itakeadeepbreathandbeginagain.“Justbecausetheydidn’tshootyouall in theheaddoesn’tmeantheir intentionsweresomehowhonorable.Why do you think they came here? Just to run through your hallways, knock youunconscious,andleave?”

“Iassumetheycamehereforpeoplelikeyou,”saysJack.“AndwhileIamconcernedforyoursafety,Idon’tthinkwecanattackthemjustbecausetheywantedtokillafractionofourpopulation.”

“Killingyouisnottheworstthingtheycandotoyou,”Isay.“Controllingyouis.”

Jack’slipscurlwithamusement.Amusement.“Oh?Andhowwilltheymanagethat?”

“They shot youwith needles,” Tobias says. “Needles full of simulation transmitters.Simulationscontrolyou.That’show.”

“We know how simulations work,” says Jack. “The transmitter is not a permanentimplant.Iftheyintendedtocontrolus,theywouldhavedoneitrightaway.”

“But—”Ibegin.

He interruptsme.“Iknowyouhavebeenundera lotofstress,Tris,”hesaysquietly,“and that youhavedone a great service to your faction and toAbnegation.But I thinkyourtraumaticexperiencemayhavecompromisedyourabilitytobecompletelyobjective.Ican’tlaunchanattackbasedonalittlegirl’sspeculations.”

Istandstatue-still,unabletobelievethathecouldbesostupid.Myfaceburning.Littlegirl,hecalledme.Alittlegirlwhoisstressedouttothepointofparanoia.Thatisnotme,butnow,it’swhotheCandorthinkIam.

“Youdon’tmakeourdecisionsforus,Kang,”saysTobias.

Allaroundme, theDauntlessshout theirassent.Someoneelseyells,“Youarenot theleaderofourfaction!”

Jackwaitsfortheirshoutstodiedownandthensays,“Thatistrue.Ifyouwantto,youcanfeelfreetostormtheEruditecompoundbyyourselves.Butyouwilldosowithoutoursupport,andmayIremindyou,youaregreatlyoutnumberedandunprepared.”

He’sright.Wecan’tattackDauntlesstraitorsandEruditewithoutCandor’snumbers.Itwouldbeabloodbathifwetried.JackKanghasallthepower.Andnowweallknowit.

“Ithoughtso,”hesayssmugly.“Verywell.IwillcontactJeanineMatthews,andseeifwecannegotiateapeace.Anyobjections?”

Wecan’tattackwithoutCandor,Ithink,unlesswehavethefactionless.

THATAFTERNOONIjoinagroupofCandorandDauntlesscleaningupthebrokenwindowsinthelobby.Ifocusonthepathofthebroom,keepingmyeyesonthedustthatcollectsbetweenglass fragments.Mymuscles remember themovement before the rest ofme does, butwhenIlookdown,insteadofdarkmarbleIseeplainwhitetileandthebottomofalightgray wall; I see strands of blond hair that my mother trimmed, and the mirror safelytuckedbehinditswallpanel.

Mybodygoesweak,andIleanintothebroomhandleforsupport.

Ahandtouchesmyshoulder,andItwitchawayfromit.Butit’sjustaCandorgirl—achild.Shelooksupatme,wide-eyed.

“Areyouallright?”shesays,hervoicehighandindistinct.

“I’mfine,”Isay.Toosharply.Ihurrytoamendit.“Justtired.Thankyou.”

“Ithinkyou’relying,”shesays.

Inoticeabandagepeekingoutfromtheendofhersleeve,probablycoveringtheneedlepuncture.Theideaofthislittlegirlunderasimulationnauseatesme.Ican’tevenlookather.Iturnaway.

AndIseethem:outside,atraitorDauntlessman,proppingupawomanwithableedingleg.Iseethegraystreaksinthewoman’shairandtheendoftheman’shookednoseandthebluearmbandofaDauntless traitor justbeneaththeirshoulders,andrecognizethemboth.ToriandZeke.

Toriistryingtowalk,butoneofherlegsdragsbehindher,useless.Awet,darkpatchcoversmostofherthigh.

TheCandorstopsweepingandstareat them.TheDauntlessguardsstandingnear theelevatorsrushtowardtheentrancewiththeirgunslifted.Myfellowsweepersbackuptoget out of the way, but I stay where I am, heat rushing throughme as Zeke and Toriapproach.

“Aretheyevenarmed?”someonesays.

ToriandZekereachwhatusedtobethedoors,andheputsuponeofhishandswhenhe

seestherowofDauntlesswithguns.TheotherhekeepswrappedaroundTori’swaist.

“Sheneedsmedicalattention,”saysZeke.“Rightnow.”

“Whyshouldwegiveatraitormedicalattention?”aDauntlessmanwithwispyblondhairandadouble-piercedlipasksoverhisgun.Apatchofbluedyemarkshisforearm.

Torimoans,andIslipbetweentwoDauntlesstoreachforher.Sheputsherhand,whichisstickywithblood,inmine.Zekelowershertothegroundwithagrunt.

“Tris,”shesays,soundingdazed.

“Betterstepback,girl,”theblondDauntlessmansays.

“No,”Isay.“Putyourgundown.”

“ToldyoutheDivergentwerecrazy,”oneoftheotherarmedDauntlessmutterstothewomannexttohim.

“Idon’tcareifyoubringherupstairsandtiehertoabedtokeepherfromgoingonashootingspree!”saysZeke,scowling.“Don’tletherbleedtodeathinthelobbyofCandorheadquarters!”

Finally,afewDauntlesscomeforwardandliftToriup.

“Whereshouldwe…takeher?”oneofthemasks.

“FindHelena,”Zekesays.“Dauntlessnurse.”

Themennodandcarryhertowardtheelevators.ZekeandImeeteyes.

“Whathappened?”Iaskhim.

“ThetraitorDauntlessfoundoutwewerecollectinginformationfromthem,”hesays.“Toritriedtogetaway,buttheyshotherasshewasrunning.Ihelpedhergethere.”

“That’sanicestory,”saystheblondDauntlessman.“Wanttotell itagainundertruthserum?”

Zekeshrugs.“Allright.”Heputshiswriststogetherinfrontofhimdramatically.“Haulmeaway,ifyou’resodesperateto.”

Thenhiseyesfocusonsomethingovermyshoulder,andhestartswalking.IturntoseeUriahjoggingfromtheelevatorbank.Heisgrinning.

“Heardarumoryouwereadirtytraitor,”Uriahsays.

“Yeah,whatever,”saysZeke.

Theycollideinanembracethatlooksalmostpainfultome,slappingeachother’sbacksandlaughingwiththeirfistsclaspedbetweenthem.

“Ican’tbelieveyoudidn’ttellus,”saysLynn,shakingherhead.Shesitsacrossfrommeatthetable,herarmscrossedandoneofherlegsproppedup.

“Oh,don’tgetallhuffyaboutit,”saysZeke.“Iwasn’tevensupposedtotellShaunaand

Uriah.And it sortofdefeats thepurposeofbeingaspy ifyou telleveryone that’swhatyouare.”

We sit in a room in Candor headquarters called the Gathering Place, which theDauntlesshavetakentosayinginamockingwaywhenevertheycan.Itislargeandopen,withblack-and-whiteclothdrapedoneverywall,andacircleofpodiumsinthecenterofthe room. Large round tables surround the podiums. Lynn told me they host monthlydebates here, for entertainment, and also hold religious services here once aweek.Butevenwhennoeventsarescheduled,theroomisusuallyfull.

ZekewasclearedbytheCandoranhourago,inashortinterrogationontheeighteenthfloor.ItwasnotassomberanoccasionasTobias’sandmyinterrogation,partlybecausetherewasnosuspiciousvideofootageimplicatingZeke,andpartlybecauseZekeisfunnyevenwhenundertruthserum.Maybeespeciallyso.Inanycase,wecametotheGatheringPlace“fora‘Hey,you’renotadirtytraitor!’celebration,”asUriahputit.

“Yeah,butwe’vebeeninsultingyousincethesimulationattack,”Lynnsays.“AndnowIfeellikeajerkaboutit.”

ZekeputshisarmaroundShauna.“Youareajerk,Lynn.It’spartofyourcharm.”

Lynn launches a plastic cup at him, which he deflects.Water sprays over the table,hittinghimintheeye.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” says Zeke, rubbing his eye, “I was mostly working ongettingEruditedefectorsout safely.That’swhy there’sabiggroupof themhere, andasmallgroupatAmityheadquarters.ButTori…Ihavenoideawhatshewasdoing.Shekeptsneakingawayforhoursatatime,andwhenevershewasaround,itwaslikeshewasabouttoexplode.It’snowondershegaveusaway.”

“How’dyougetthejob?”saysLynn.“You’renotthatspecial.”

“ItwasmorebecauseofwhereIwasafterthesimulationattack.Smack-dabinapackofDauntlesstraitors.Idecidedtogowithit,”hesays.“NotsureaboutTori,though.”

“ShetransferredfromErudite,”Isay.

What Idon’t say,because I’msure shewouldn’twanteveryone toknow, is thatToriprobablyseemedexplosiveinEruditeheadquartersbecausetheymurderedherbrotherforbeingDivergent.

Shetoldmeoncethatshewaswaitingforanopportunitytogetrevenge.

“Oh,”saysZeke.“Howdoyouknowthat?”

“Well,allthefactiontransfershaveasecretclub,”Isay,leaningbackinmychair.“WemeeteverythirdThursday.”

Zekesnorts.

“Where’sFour?”saysUriah,checkinghiswatch.“Shouldwestartwithouthim?”

“Wecan’t,”saysZeke.“He’sgettingTheInfo.”

Uriahnodslikethatmeanssomething.Thenhepausesandsays,“Whatinfo,again?”

“The info about Kang’s little peacemaking meeting with Jeanine,” says Zeke.“Obviously.”

Acrosstheroom,IseeChristinasittingatatablewithhersister.Theyarebothreadingsomething.

My entire body tenses. Cara,Will’s older sister, is walking across the room towardChristina’stable.Iduckmyhead.

“What?”Uriahsays,lookingoverhisshoulder.Iwanttopunchhim.

“Stopit!”Isay.“Couldyoubeanymoreobvious?”Ileanforward,foldingmyarmsonthetable.“Will’ssisterisoverthere.”

“Yeah,ItalkedtoheraboutgettingoutofEruditeonce,whileIwasthere,”saysZeke.“SaidshesawanAbnegationwomangetkilledwhileshewasonamission for Jeanineandcouldn’tstomachitanymore.”

“Arewesureshe’snotjustanEruditespy?”Lynnsays.

“Lynn,shesavedhalfourfactionfromthisstuff,”saysMarlene,tappingthebandageonherarmfromwheretheDauntlesstraitorsshother.“Well,halfofhalfofourfaction.”

“Insomecirclestheycallthataquarter,Mar,”Lynnsays.

“Anyway,whocaresifsheisatraitor?”Zekesays.“We’renotplanninganythingthatshecaninformthemabout.Andwecertainlywouldn’tincludeherifwewere.”

“There isplentyof information forher togatherhere,”Lynnsays.“Howmanyofusthereare,forexample,orhowmanyofusaren’twiredforsimulations.”

“Youdidn’tseeherwhenshewastellingmewhysheleft,”saysZeke.“Ibelieveher.”

CaraandChristinahavegottenup,andarewalkingoutoftheroom.

“I’llberightback,”Isay.“Ihavetogotothebathroom.”

IwaituntilCaraandChristinahavegonethroughthedoors,thenhalfwalk,halfjoginthatdirection.Iopenoneofthedoorsslowly,soitdoesn’tmakeanynoise,andthencloseitslowlybehindme.Iaminadimhallwaythatsmellslikegarbage—thismustbewheretheCandortrashchuteis.

Iheartwofemalevoicesaroundthecornerandcreeptowardtheendofthehallwaytohearbetter.

“… just can’t handle her being here,” one of them sobs. Christina. “I can’t stoppicturingit…whatshedid….Idon’tunderstandhowshecouldhavedonethat!”

Christina’ssobsmakemefeellikeIamabouttocrackopen.

Caratakeshertimeresponding.

“Well,Ido,”shesays.

“What?”Christinasayswithahiccup.

“You have to understand; we’re trained to see things as logically as possible,” saysCara.“Sodon’tthinkthatI’mcallous.Butthatgirlwasprobablyscaredoutofhermind,

certainlynotcapableofassessingsituationscleverlyatthetime,ifshewaseverabletodoso.”

My eyes fly open.What a—I run through a short list of insults in mymind beforelisteningtohercontinue.

“Andthesimulationmadeherincapableofreasoningwithhim,sowhenhethreatenedherlife,shereactedasshehadbeentrainedbytheDauntlesstoreact:Shoottokill.”

“So what are you saying?” says Christina bitterly. “We should just forget about it,becauseitmakesperfectsense?”

“Of course not,” saysCara.Her voicewobbles, just a little, and she repeats herself,quietlythistime.“Ofcoursenot.”

Sheclearsher throat.“It’s just thatyouhave tobearoundher,and Iwant tomake iteasierforyou.Youdon’thavetoforgiveher.Actually,I’mnotsurewhyyouwerefriendswithherinthefirstplace;shealwaysseemedabiterratictome.”

ItenseupasIwaitforChristinatoagreewithher,buttomysurprise—andrelief—shedoesn’t.

Cara continues. “Anyway. You don’t have to forgive her, but you should try tounderstandthatwhatshedidwasnotoutofmalice;itwasoutofpanic.Thatway,youcanlookatherwithoutwantingtopunchherinherexceptionallylongnose.”

Myhandmovesautomaticallytomynose.Christinalaughsalittle,whichfeels likeahardpoketothestomach.IbackupthroughthedoortotheGatheringPlace.

EventhoughCarawasrude—andthenosecommentwasalowblow—Iamgratefulforwhatshesaid.

Tobiasemergesfromadoorhiddenbehindalengthofwhitecloth.Heflickstheclothoutof the way irritably before coming toward us and sitting besideme at the table in theGatheringPlace.

“Kang is going to meet with a representative of Jeanine Matthews at seven in themorning,”hesays.

“Arepresentative?”Zekesays.“She’snotgoingherself?”

“Yeah, and standout in the openwhere a bunchof angry peoplewith guns can takeaim?”Uriahsmirksalittle.“I’dliketoseehertry.No,really,Iwould.”

“IsKangtheBrillianttakingaDauntlessescort,atleast?”Lynnsays.

“Yes,”Tobiassays.“Someoftheoldermembersvolunteered.Budsaidhewouldkeephisearsopenandreportback.”

I frownathim.Howdoesheknowall this information?Andwhy,after twoyearsofavoidingbecomingaDauntlessleaderatallcosts,ishesuddenlyactinglikeone?

“SoIguesstherealquestionis,”saysZeke,foldinghishandsonthetable,“ifyouwere

Erudite,whatwouldyousayatthismeeting?”

Theyalllookatme.Expectantly.

“What?”Isay.

“You’reDivergent,”Zekereplies.

“SoisTobias.”

“Yeah,buthedoesn’thaveaptitudeforErudite.”

“AndhowdoyouknowIdo?”

Zekeliftshisshoulder.“Seemslikely.Doesn’titseemlikely?”

UriahandLynnnod.Tobias’smouthtwitches,asifinasmile,butifthat’swhatitwas,hesuppressesit.Ifeellikeastonejustdroppedintomystomach.

“You all have functional brains, last time I checked,” I say. “You can think like theErudite,too.”

“Butwedon’thavespecialDivergentbrains!”saysMarlene.Shetouchesherfingertipstomyscalpandsqueezeslightly.“Comeon,doyourmagic.”

“There’snosuchthingasDivergentmagic,Mar,”saysLynn.

“And if there is,weshouldn’tbeconsulting it,”saysShauna. It’s the first thingshe’ssaidsincewesatdown.Shedoesn’tevenlookatmewhenshesaysit;shejustscowlsatheryoungersister.

“Shauna—”Zekestarts.

“Don’t ‘Shauna’me!”shesays, focusingherscowlonhim instead.“Don’tyou thinksomeonewiththeaptitudeformultiplefactionsmighthavealoyaltyproblem?Ifshe’sgotaptitudeforErudite,howcanwebesureshe’snotworkingforErudite?”

“Don’tberidiculous,”saysTobias,hisvoicelow.

“I am not being ridiculous.” She smacks the table. “I know I belong in DauntlessbecauseeverythingIdidinthataptitudetesttoldmeso.I’mloyaltomyfactionforthatreason—becausethere’snowhereelseIcouldpossiblybe.Buther?Andyou?”Sheshakesher head. “I have no idea who you’re loyal to. And I’m not going to pretend likeeverything’sokay.”

She gets up, and when Zeke reaches for her, she throws his hand aside, marchingtowardoneofthedoors.Iwatchheruntilthedoorclosesbehindherandtheblackfabricthathangsinfrontofitsettles.

Ifeelwoundup,likeImightscream,onlyShaunaisn’thereformetoscreamat.

“It’s notmagic,” I say hotly. “You just have to ask yourself what the most logicalresponsetoaparticularsituationis.”

Iamgreetedwithblankstares.

“Seriously,”Isay.“IfIwereinthissituation,staringatagroupofDauntlessguardsandJackKang,Iprobablywouldn’tresorttoviolence,right?”

“Well,youmight, ifyouhadyourownDauntlessguards.Andthenall it takes isoneshot—bam,he’sdead,andErudite’sbetteroff,”saysZeke.

“WhoevertheysendtotalktoJackKangisn’tgoingtobesomerandomEruditekid;it’sgoingtobesomeoneimportant,”Isay.“ItwouldbeastupidmovetofireonJackKangandrisklosingwhoevertheysendasJeanine’srepresentative.”

“See?This iswhyweneedyou toanalyze thesituation,”Zekesays.“If itwasme, Iwouldkillhim;itwouldbeworththerisk.”

Ipinchthebridgeofmynose.Ialreadyhaveaheadache.“Fine.”

ItrytoputmyselfinJeanineMatthews’splace.Ialreadyknowshewon’tnegotiatewithJackKang.Whywouldsheneedto?Hehasnothingtoofferher.Shewillusethesituationtoheradvantage.

“I think,” I say, “that Jeanine Matthews will manipulate him. And that he will doanythingtoprotecthisfaction,evenif itmeanssacrificingtheDivergent.”Ipauseforamoment,rememberinghowheheldhisfaction’sinfluenceoverourheadsatthemeeting.“OrsacrificingtheDauntless.Soweneedtohearwhattheysayinthatmeeting.”

Uriah andZeke exchange a look.Lynn smiles, but it isn’t her usual smile. It doesn’tspreadtohereyes,whichlookmorelikegoldthanever,withthatcoldnessinthem.

“Solet’slistenin,”shesays.

ICHECKMYwatch.Itisseveno’clockintheevening.JusttwelvehoursuntilwecanhearwhatJeaninehas tosay toJackKang.Ihavecheckedmywatchat leastadozentimes in thepasthour,asifthatwillmakethetimegofaster.Iamitchingtodosomething—anythingexcept sit in the cafeteria with Lynn, Tobias, and Lauren, picking at my dinner andsneakinglooksatChristina,whositswithherCandorfamilyatoneoftheothertables.

“Iwonderifwe’llbeabletoreturntotheoldwayafterall thisisover,”saysLauren.SheandTobiashavebeentalkingaboutDauntlessinitiatetrainingmethodsforatleastfiveminutesalready.It’sprobablytheonlythingtheyhaveincommon.

“If there’s a faction left after all this is over,”Lynn says, piling hermashedpotatoesontoaroll.

“Don’ttellmeyou’regoingtoeatamashed-potatosandwich,”Isaytoher.

“SowhatifIam?”

AgroupofDauntlesswalkbetweenour table and theonenext tous.They areolderthanTobias,butnotbymuch.Oneofthegirlshasfivedifferentcolorsinherhair,andherarmsarecoveredwithtattoossothatIcan’tseeevenaninchofbareskin.OneoftheboysleansclosetoTobias,whosebackistothem,andwhispers,“Coward,”ashepasses.

A few of the others do the same thing, hissing “coward” intoTobias’s ears and thencontinuingontheirway.Hepauseswithhisknifeagainstapieceofbread,aglobofbutterwaitingtobespread,andstaresatthetable.

Iwait,tense,forhimtoexplode.

“Whatidiots,”saysLauren.“AndtheCandor,formakingyouspillyourlifestoryforeveryonetosee…they’reidiotstoo.”

Tobiasdoesn’tanswer.Heputsdownhisknifeandthepieceofbread,andpushesbackfromthetable.Hiseyesliftandfocusonsomethingacrosstheroom.

“Thisneedstostop,”hesaysdistantly,andstartstowardwhateveritishe’slookingatbeforeIfigureoutwhatitis.Thiscan’tbegood.

He slips between the tables and the people like he’s more liquid than solid, and I

stumbleafterhim,mutteringapologiesasIpushpeopleaside.

AndthenIseeexactlywhoTobiasisheadedtoward.Marcus.HeissittingwithafewoftheolderCandor.

Tobiasreacheshimandgrabshimbythebackoftheneck,wrestlinghimfromhisseat.Marcusopenshismouthtosaysomething,andthatisamistake,becauseTobiaspuncheshimhard in the teeth.Someone shouts, but noone rushes toMarcus’s aid.Weare in aroomfullofDauntless,afterall.

TobiasshovesMarcustowardthemiddleoftheroom,wherethereisaspacebetweenthe tables to reveal the symbol ofCandor.Marcus stumbles over one of the scales, hishandscoveringhisfacesoIcan’tseethedamageTobiasdid.

Tobias shovesMarcus to the ground and presses the heel of his shoe to his father’sthroat.MarcussmacksatTobias’sleg,bloodstreamingpasthislips,butevenifhewasathisstrongest,hestillwouldn’tbeasstrongashisson.Tobiasundoeshisbeltbuckleandslidesitfromitsloops.

HeliftshisfootfromMarcus’sthroatanddrawsthebeltback.

“Thisisforyourowngood,”hesays.

That,Iremember,iswhatMarcus,andhismanymanifestations,alwayssaystoTobiasinhisfearlandscape.

ThenthebeltfliesthroughtheairandhitsMarcusinthearm.Marcus’sfaceisbrightred,andhecovershisheadasthenextblowfalls,thisonehittinghisback.Allaroundmeis laughter, coming from theDauntless tables, but I amnot laughing, I cannot possiblylaughatthis.

FinallyIcometomysenses.IrunforwardandgrabTobias’sshoulder.

“Stop!”Isay.“Tobias,stoprightnow!”

Iexpecttoseeawildlookinhiseyes,butwhenhelooksatme,Idonot.Hisfaceisnotflushedandhisbreathsaresteady.Thiswasnotanactperformedintheheatofpassion.

Itwasacalculatedact.

Hedropsthebeltandreachesintohispocket.Fromithetakesasilverchainwitharingdangling from it.Marcus isonhis side,gasping.Tobiasdrops the ringonto thegroundnexttohisfather’sface.Itismadeoftarnished,dullmetal,anAbnegationweddingband.

“Mymother,”saysTobias,“sayshello.”

Tobiaswalksaway,and it takesa fewseconds forme tobreatheagain.WhenIdo, IleaveMarcuscringingonthefloorandrunafterhim.IttakesmeuntilIreachthehallwaytocatchuptohim.

“Whatwasthat?”Idemand.

TobiaspressestheDOWNbuttonfortheelevatoranddoesn’tlookatme.

“Itwasnecessary,”hesays.

“Necessaryforwhat?”Isay.

“What, you’re feeling sorry for him now?” Tobias says, turning toward me with ascowl.“Doyouknowhowmanytimeshedidthattome?HowdoyouthinkIlearnedthemoves?”

I feelbrittle, like Imightbreak. Itdidseemrehearsed, likeTobiashadgoneover thestepsinhismind,recitedthewordsinfrontofamirror.Heknewitbyheart;hewasjustplayingtheotherpartthistime.

“No,”Isayquietly.“No,Idon’tfeelsorryforhim,notatall.”

“Thenwhat, Tris?” His voice is rough; it could be the thing that breaks me. “Youhaven’tcaredaboutwhatIdoorsayforthepastweek;what’ssodifferentaboutthis?”

Iamalmostafraidofhim.Idon’tknowwhattosayordoaroundtheerraticpartofhim,anditishere,bubblingjustbeneaththesurfaceofwhathedoes,justlikethecruelpartofme.Webothhavewarinsideofus.Sometimesitkeepsusalive.Sometimesitthreatenstodestroyus.

“Nothing,”Isay.

Theelevatorbeepsasitarrives.Hegetson,andpressestheCLOSEbuttonsothedoorsshutbetweenus.Istareatthebrushedmetalandtrytothinkthroughthelasttenminutes.

“This needs to stop,” he said. “This” was the ridicule, which was a result of theinterrogation,whereheadmittedthathejoinedDauntlesstoescapehisfather.AndthenhebeatupMarcus—publicly,wherealltheDauntlesscouldseeit.

Why?Tosalvagehispride?Itcan’tbe.Itwasfartoointentionalforthat.

Onmywaybacktothecafeteria,IseeaCandormanwalkMarcustowardthebathroom.Hewalksslowly,butheisn’thunchedover,whichmakesmethinkTobiasdidn’tdohimanyseriousdamage.Iwatchthedoorclosebehindhim.

IhadallbutforgottenaboutwhatIheardintheAmitycompound,abouttheinformationmy father risked his life for. Supposedly, I remindmyself. It may not be wise to trustMarcus.AndIpromisedmyselfIwouldn’taskhimaboutthisagain.

IdawdleoutsidethebathroomuntiltheCandormanwalksout,andthenwalkinbeforethedoorhasachance toshutproperly.Marcus issittingon thefloorby thesinkwithawadofpapertowelpressedtohismouth.Hedoesn’tlookhappytoseeme.

“What,heretogloat?”hesays.“Getout.”

“No,”Isay.

WhyamIhere,exactly?

Helooksatmeexpectantly.“Well?”

“I thought you could use a reminder,” I say. “Whatever it is you want to get fromJeanine,youwon’tbeable todo it alone, andyouwon’tbeable todo itwithonly theAbnegationtohelpyou.”

“Ithoughtwewentoverthis.”Hisvoiceismuffledbythepapertowels.“Theideathatyoucouldhelp—”

“Idon’tknowwhereyougetthisdelusionthatI’museless,butthat’swhatitis,”Isnap.“AndI’mnotinterestedinhearingaboutit.AllIwanttosayisthatwhenyoustopbeingdelusionalandstartfeelingdesperatebecauseyou’retooinept tofigurethisoutonyourown,youknowwhotocometo.”

IleavethebathroomjustastheCandormancomesbackwithanicepack.

ISTANDBEFOREthesinksinthewomen’sbathroomonthenewlyclaimedDauntlessfloor,agunrestingonmypalm.Lynnputitthereafewminutesago;sheseemedconfusedthatIdidnotwrapmyhandarounditandputitsomewhere,inaholsterorunderthewaistbandofmyjeans.Ijustletitstaythere,andwalkedtothebathroombeforeIstartedtopanic.

Don’tbeanidiot.Ican’tsetouttodowhatI’mdoingwithoutagun.Itwouldbecrazy.SoIwillhavetosolvethisproblemI’vebeenhavinginthenextfiveminutes.

I curlmypinkie around thehandle first, thenmy second finger, then theothers.Theweightisfamiliar.Myindexfingerslipsaroundthetrigger.Ireleaseabreath.

Istarttoliftit,bringingmylefthandtomeetmyrighttosteadyit.Iholdthegunoutfrommybody,myarmsstraight,justasFourtaughtme,whenthatwashisonlyname.Iusedagunlikethistodefendmyfatherandbrotherfromsimulation-boundDauntless.IusedittostopEricfromshootingTobiasinthehead.Itisnotinherentlyevil.Itisjustatool.

Iseea flickerofmovement in themirror,andbefore Icanstopmyself, Istareatmyreflection.ThisishowIlookedtohim,Ithink.ThisishowIlookedwhenIshothim.

Moaning likeawoundedanimal, I let thegunfall frommyhandsandwrapmyarmsaroundmystomach.IwanttosobbecauseIknowitwillmakemefeelbetter,butIcan’tforcethetearstocome.Ijustcrouchinthebathroom,staringatthewhitetiles.Ican’tdoit.Ican’ttakethegunwithme.

Ishouldn’tevengo;Iamstillgoingto.

“Tris?”Someoneknocks.Istandanduncrossmyarmsasthedoorsqueaksopenafewinches.Tobiasstepsintotheroom.

“ZekeandUriahtoldmeyouweregoingtoeavesdroponJack,”hesays.

“Oh.”

“Areyou?”

“WhyshouldItellyou?Youdon’ttellmeaboutyourplans.”

Hisstraighteyebrowsfurrow.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”

“I’mtalkingaboutbeatingMarcustoapulpinfrontofalltheDauntlessfornoapparentreason.” Istep towardhim.“But there isa reason, isn’t there?Because it’snot likeyoulostcontrol;it’snotlikehedidsomethingtoprovokeyou,sotherehastobeareason!”

“IneededtoprovetotheDauntlessthatIamnotacoward,”hesays.“That’sall.That’sallitwas.”

“Whywouldyouneedto…”Istart.

WhywouldTobiasneedtoprovehimselftotheDauntless?Onlyifhewantedthemtohold him in high regard. Only if he wants to become a Dauntless leader. I rememberEvelyn’s voice, speaking in the shadows in the factionless safe house: “What I amsuggestingisthatyoubecomeimportant.”

HewantstheDauntlesstoallywiththefactionless,andheknowstheonlywayhecanmakethathappenistodoithimself.

Why he didn’t feel the need to share this plan with me is another mystery entirely.BeforeIcanask,hesays,“Soareyougoingtoeavesdropornot?”

“Whatdoesitmatter?”

“You’re throwingyourself intodanger forno reasonagain,”he says. “Just likewhenyoustormeduptofighttheEruditewithonlya…apocketknifetoprotectyourself.”

“Thereisareason.Agoodone.Wewon’tknowwhat’sgoingonunlessweeavesdrop,andweneedtoknowwhat’sgoingon.”

Hecrosseshisarms.Heisnotbulky,thewaysomeDauntlessboysare.Andsomegirlsmightfocusonthewayhisearsstickout,orthewayhisnosehooksattheend,buttome…

I swallow the rest of that thought.He’s here to yell atme.He’s beenkeeping thingsfromme.Whateverwearenow,Ican’tindulgethoughtsabouthowattractiveheis.Itwilljustmakeitharderformetodowhatneeds tobedone.Andrightnow, that isgoingtolistentowhatJackKanghastosaytotheErudite.

“You’renotcuttingyourhairliketheAbnegationanymore,”Isay.“ThatbecauseyouwanttolookmoreDauntless?”

“Don’tchangethesubject,”hesays.“Therearefourpeoplegoingtoeavesdropalready.Youdon’tneedtobethere.”

“Whyareyousoinsistentonmestayinghome?”Myvoicegetslouder.“Iamnotthekindofpersonwhojustsitsbackandletsotherpeopletakealltherisks!”

“Aslongasyouaresomeonewhodoesn’tseemtovalueherownlife…someonewhocan’tevenpickupandfireagun…”Heleanstowardme.“Youshouldsitbackandletotherpeopletaketherisks.”

His quiet voice pulses aroundme like a second heartbeat. I hear thewords “doesn’tseemtovalueherownlife”againandagain.

“Whatareyougoingtodo?”Isay.“Lockmeinthebathroom?Becausethat’stheonly

wayyou’llbeabletokeepmefromgoing.”

Hetoucheshisforeheadandletshishanddragdownthesideofhisface.Ihaveneverseenhisfacesagthatwaybefore.

“Idon’twanttostopyou.Iwantyoutostopyourself,”hesays.“Butifyou’regoingtobereckless,youcan’tpreventmefromcomingalong.”

Itisstilldark,butjustbarely,whenwereachthebridge,whichistwo-tiered,withstonepillarsateachcorner.Wedescendthestairsnexttooneofthestonepillarsandcreepwithsilent feet at river level.Largepuddlesof standingwatergleamas the light of dayhitsthem.Thesunisrising;wehavetogetintoposition.

UriahandZekeareinthebuildingsoneithersideofthebridgesotheycangetabetterviewandcoverusfromadistance.TheyhavebetteraimthanLynnorShauna,whocamebecauseLynnaskedherto,despiteheroutburstintheGatheringPlace.

Lynngoesfirst,herbackpressedtothestoneassheinchesalongthelowerlipof thebridgesupports.Ifollowher,withShaunaandTobiasbehindme.Thebridgeissupportedbyfourcurvedmetalstructuresthatsecureittothestonewall,andbyamazeofnarrowgirdersbeneathitslowertier.Lynnwedgesherselfunderoneofthemetalstructuresandclimbsquickly,keepingthenarrowgirdersbeneathherassheworksherwaytothemiddleofthebridge.

IletShaunagoinfrontofmebecauseIcan’tclimbaswell.MyleftarmshakesasItrytobalanceontopofthemetalstructure.IfeelTobias’scoolhandonmywaist,steadyingme.

Icrouchlowtofitinthespacebetweenthebottomofthebridgeandthegirdersbeneathme.Idon’tmakeitveryfarbeforeIhavetostop,myfeetononegirderandmyleftarmonanother.AndIwillhavetostaythatwayforalongtime.

Tobiasslidesalongoneof thegirdersandputshis legunderme. It is longenoughtostretchbeneathmeandontoasecondgirder.Ibreatheoutandsmileathimasakindofthank-you.It’sthefirsttimewehaveacknowledgedeachothersincewelefttheMercilessMart.

Hesmilesback,butgrimly.

Webideourtimeinsilence.Ibreathethroughmymouthandtrytocontroltheshakingofmy arms and legs. Shauna and Lynn seem to communicate without speaking. TheymakefacesateachotherthatIcan’tread,andnodandsmileateachotherwhentheyreachanunderstanding.Ihaveneverthoughtaboutwhatitwouldbeliketohaveasister.WouldCalebandIbecloserifhewereagirl?

Thecityissoquietinthemorningthatthefootstepsechoastheyapproachthebridge.Thesoundcomesfrombehindme,whichmustmean it’sJackandhisDauntlessescort,not the Erudite, who have arrived. The Dauntless know that we are here, though JackKanghimselfdoesnot. Ifhestaresdownformore thana fewseconds,hemightseeusthroughthemetalmeshbeneathhisfeet.Itrytobreatheasquietlyaspossible.

Tobiascheckshiswatch,andthenholdshisarmouttometoshowmethetime.Seveno’clockexactly.

Iglanceupandpeerthroughthesteelwebaboveme.Feetpassovermyhead.AndthenIhearhim.

“Hello,Jack,”hesays.

It’s Max, who appointed Eric to Dauntless leadership at Jeanine’s demand, whoimplementedpoliciesofcrueltyandbrutalityinDauntlessinitiation.Ihaveneverspokentohimdirectly,butthesoundofhisvoicemakesmeshiver.

“Max,”Jacksays.“Where’sJeanine?Ithoughtshewouldatleasthavethecourtesytoshowupherself.”

“Jeanine and I divide our responsibilities according to our strengths,” he says. “ThatmeansImakeallmilitarydecisions.Ibelievethatincludeswhatwearedoingtoday.”

I frown. Ihaven’theardMaxspeakmuch,butsomethingabout thewordshe’susing,andtheirrhythm,sounds…off.

“Fine,”saysJack.“Icameto—”

“I should inform you that this will not be a negotiation,” Max says. “In order tonegotiate,youhavetobeonevenfooting,andyou,Jack,arenot.”

“Whatdoyoumean?”

“I mean that you are the only disposable faction. Candor does not provide us withprotection, sustenance,or technological innovation.Thereforeyouareexpendable tous.AndyouhavenotdonemuchtowinthefavorofyourDauntlessguests,”saysMax,“soyouarecompletelyvulnerableandcompletelyuseless. I recommend, therefore, thatyoudoexactlyasIsay.”

“Youpieceofscum,”saysJackthroughgrittedteeth.“Howdare—”

“Nowlet’snotgettesty,”Maxsays.

Ichewonmylip.Ishouldtrustmyinstincts,andmyinstinctstellmethatsomethingiswronghere.Noself-respectingDauntlessmanwouldsaytheword“testy.”Norwouldhereactsocalmlytoaninsult.He’sspeakinglikesomeoneelse.He’sspeakinglikeJeanine.

Thebackofmyneckprickles.Itmakesperfectsense.Jeaninewouldnottrustanyone,particularly not a volatile Dauntless, to speak on her behalf. The best solution to thatproblemis togiveMaxanearpiece.And thesignal fromanearpiececanstretchonlyaquarterofamileatmost.

IcatchTobias’seye,andslowlymovemyhandtopointatmyear.ThenIpointaboveme,atmybestapproximationofwhereMaxstands.

Tobiasfrownsforamoment,thennods,butI’mnotsureheunderstandsme.

“Ihavethreerequirements,”saysMax.“First,thatyoureturntheDauntlessleaderyoucurrently hold in captivity unharmed. Second, that you allow your compound to besearchedbyoursoldierssothatwecanextracttheDivergent;andthird,thatyouprovideuswiththenamesofthosewhowerenotinjectedwiththesimulationserum.”

“Why?”Jacksaysbitterly.“Whatareyousearchingfor?Andwhydoyouneedthosenames?Whatdoyouintendtodowiththem?”

“ThepurposeofoursearchwouldbetolocateandremoveanyoftheDivergentfromthepremises.Andasforthenames,thatisnoneofyourconcern.”

“None of my concern!” I hear footsteps squeak above me and stare up through themesh.FromwhatIcansee,JackhasthecollarofMax’sshirtwrappedaroundhisfist.

“Releaseme,”saysMax.“OrIwillordermyguardstofire.”

Ifrown.IfJeanineisspeakingthroughMax,shehadtobeabletoseehiminordertoknowthathewasgrabbed.Ileanforwardtolookatthebuildingsontheothersideofthebridge.Onmy left, the river bends, and a squat glass building stands at the edge.Thatmustbewheresheis.

I start toclimbbackward, toward themetal structure that supports thebridge, towardthe staircase that will lead me to Wacker Drive. Tobias follows me immediately, andShaunatapsLynnontheshoulder.ButLynnisdoingsomethingelse.

IwastoobusythinkingaboutJeanine.IfailedtonoticethatLynntookouthergunandstarted to climb toward the edge of the bridge. Shauna’smouth opens and her eyes gowideasLynnswingsherselfforward,grabbingthelipofthebridge,andshovesherarmoverit.Herfingersqueezesthetrigger.

Max gasps, his hand clapping over his chest, and stumbles back.When he pulls hishandaway,itisdarkwithblood.

Idon’tbothertoclimbanymore.Idropintothemud,closelyfollowedbyTobias,Lynn,andShauna.Mylegssinkintothemire,andmyfeetmakesuckingnoisesasIpullthemfree.MyshoesslipoffbutIkeepgoinguntilIreachtheconcrete.Gunsfireandbulletsstickinthemudnexttome.Ithrowmyselfagainstthewallunderthebridgesotheycan’taimatme.

Tobiaspressesintothewallbehindme,soclosetomethathischinfloatsovermyheadandIcanfeelhischestagainstmyshoulders.Shieldingme.

IcanrunbacktoCandorheadquarters,andtotemporarysafety.OrIcanfindJeanineinwhatisprobablythemostvulnerablestateshewilleverbein.

It’snotevenachoice.

“Comeon!”Isay.Isprintupthestairs,theothersonmyheels.Onthelowertierofthebridge, our Dauntless shoot at the Dauntless traitors. Jack is safe, bent over with aDauntlessarmslungacrosshisback. I runfaster. I runacross thebridgeanddon’t lookbehindme.IcanalreadyhearTobias’sfootsteps.Heistheonlyonewhocankeepupwithme.

Theglassbuilding is inmy sights.And then Ihearmore footsteps,moregunshots. IweaveasIrun,tomakeitmoredifficultfortheDauntlesstraitorstohitme.

I am close to the glass building. I am yards away. I grit my teeth and push myselfharder.My legs are numb; I barely feel the ground beneathme.But before I reach thedoors,Iseemovementinthealleytomyright.Iswerveandfollowitwithmyfeet.

Threefiguresrundownthealley.Oneisblond.Oneistall.AndoneisPeter.

Istumble,andalmostfall.

“Peter!”Ishout.Heliftshisgun,andbehindme,Tobiasliftshisown,andwestandjustyards away from each other, at a standstill. Behind him, the blond woman—Jeanine,probably—and the tallDauntless traitor turn thecorner.Though Idon’thaveaweapon,and Idon’thaveaplan, Iwant to runafter them,andmaybe Iwould ifTobiasdidnotclamphishandovermyshoulderandholdmeinplace.

“Youtraitor,”IsaytoPeter.“Iknewit.Iknewit.”

Ascreampiercestheair.Itisanguishedandfemale.

“Sounds like your friends need you,” Peter sayswith the flash of a smile—or baredteeth,Ican’ttell.Hekeepshisgunsteady.“Soyouhaveachoice.Youcanletusgo,andhelpthem,oryoucandietryingtofollowus.”

Ialmostscream.WebothknowwhatI’mgoingtodo.

“Ihopeyoudie,”Isay.

IbackupintoTobias,whobacksupwithme,untilwereachtheendofthealley,andthenturnandrun.

SHAUNA LIES ON the ground, facedown, blood pooling on her shirt.Lynn crouches at her side.Staring.Doingnothing.

“It’smyfault,”Lynnmumbles.“Ishouldn’thaveshothim.Ishouldn’thave…”

Istareatthepatchofblood.Abullethitherintheback.Ican’ttellifshe’sbreathingornot.Tobiasplacestwofingersonthesideofherneck,andnods.

“We’vegottogetoutofhere,”hesays.“Lynn.Lookatme.I’mgoingtocarryher,andit’sgoingtohurtheralot,butit’souronlyoption.”

Lynnnods.TobiascrouchesnexttoShaunaandputshishandsunderherarms.Heliftsher,andshemoans.Irushforwardtohelphimpullherlimpbodyoverhisshoulder.Mythroattightens,andIcoughtorelievethepressure.

Tobiasstandswithagruntofeffort,andtogetherwewalktowardtheMercilessMart—Lynninfront,withhergun,andmeintheback.Iwalkbackwardtowatchbehindus,butIdon’tseeanyone.IthinktheDauntlesstraitorsretreated.ButIhavetomakesure.

“Hey!”someoneshouts.It’sUriah,joggingtowardus.“ZekehadtohelpthemgetJack…ohno.”Hestops.“Ohno.Shauna?”

“Now’snotthetime,”saysTobiassharply.“RunbacktotheMercilessMartandgetadoctor.”

ButUriahjuststares.

“Uriah!Go,now!”Theshoutringswithnothingonthestreettosoftenthesoundofit.UriahfinallyturnsandsprintsinthedirectionoftheMercilessMart.

It’sonlyhalfamileback,butwithTobias’sgruntsandLynn’sunevenbreathingandtheknowledge that Shauna is bleeding to death, it feels endless. I watch the muscles inTobias’sbackexpandingandcontractingwitheach laboredbreath, and Idon’thearourfootsteps;Ihearonlymyheartbeat.Whenwefinallyreachthedoors,Ifeel likeImightthrowup,orfaint,orscreamatthetopofmylungs.

Uriah, an Eruditemanwith a comb-over, andCarameet us just inside the entrance.TheysetupasheetforShaunatolieon.Tobiaslowersherontoit,andthedoctorgetsto

workimmediately,cuttingtheshirtawayfromShauna’sback.Iturnaway.Idon’twanttoseethebulletwound.

Tobiasstandsinfrontofme,hisfaceredwithexertion.Iwanthimtofoldmeintohisarms again, like he did after the last attack, but he doesn’t, and I know better than toinitiateit.

“I’m not going to pretend to knowwhat’s going onwith you,” he says. “But if yousenselesslyriskyourlifeagain—”

“Iamnotsenselessly riskingmy life. Iam trying tomakesacrifices, likemyparentswouldhave,like—”

“Youarenotyourparents.Youareasixteen-year-oldgirl—”

Igritmyteeth.“Howdareyou—”

“—who doesn’t understand that the value of a sacrifice lies in its necessity, not inthrowingyourlifeaway!Andifyoudothatagain,youandIaredone.”

Iwasn’texpectinghimtosaythat.

“You’regivingmeanultimatum?”Itrytokeepmyvoicedownsotheotherscan’thear.

Heshakeshishead.“No,I’mtellingyouafact.”Hislipsarejustaline.“Ifyouthrowyourself into danger for no reason again, you will have become nothing more than aDauntless adrenaline junkie looking for ahit, and I’mnotgoing tohelpyoudo it.”Hespits thewordsoutbitterly.“I loveTris theDivergent,whomakesdecisionsapart fromfactionloyalty,whoisn’tsomefactionarchetype.ButtheTriswho’stryingashardasshecantodestroyherself…Ican’tloveher.”

Iwanttoscream.ButnotbecauseI’mangry,becauseI’mafraidhe’sright.MyhandsshakeandIgrabthehemofmyshirttosteadythem.

Hetoucheshisforeheadtomineandcloseshiseyes.“Ibelieveyou’restillinthere,”hesaysagainstmymouth.“Comeback.”

Hekissesmelightly,andIamtooshockedtostophim.

HewalksbacktoShauna’sside,andIstandoveroneoftheCandorscalesinthelobby,ataloss.

“It’sbeenawhile.”

IsinkdownonthebedacrossfromTori.Sheissittingup,herlegproppedonastackofpillows.

“Yes,ithas,”Isay.“Howareyoufeeling?”

“LikeIgotshot.”Asmileplaysoverherlips.“Ihearyou’refamiliarwiththefeeling.”

“Yeah.It’sgreat,right?”AllIcanthinkofisthebulletinShauna’sback.AtleastToriandIwillrecoverfromourwounds.

“DidyoudiscoveranythinginterestingatJack’smeeting?”shesays.

“Afewthings.DoyouknowhowwemightgoaboutcallingaDauntlessmeeting?”

“Icanmakeithappen.OnethingaboutbeingatattooartistinDauntlessis…youknowprettymucheveryone.”

“Right,”Isay.“Youalsohavetheprestigeofbeingaformerspy.”

Tori’smouthtwists.“Ihadalmostforgotten.”

“Didyoudiscoveranythinginteresting?Asaspy,Imean.”

“Mymissionwas primarily focused on JeanineMatthews.” She glares at her hands.“Howshespendsherdays.And,moreimportantly,whereshespendsthem.”

“Notinheroffice,then?”

Toridoesn’tansweratfirst.

“IguessIcantrustyou,Divergent.”Shelooksatmefromthecornerofhereye.“Shehas a private laboratory on the top level. Insane securitymeasures protecting it. I wastryingtogetuptherewhentheyfiguredoutwhatIwas.”

“Youweretryingtogetupthere,”Isay.Hereyesflitawayfrommine.“Nottospy,Itakeit.”

“I thought it would be more… expedient if JeanineMatthews didn’t survive muchlonger.”

Iseeakindofthirstinherexpression,thesameoneIsawwhenshetoldmeaboutherbrother in theback roomof the tattooparlor.Before theattack simulation Imighthavecalleditathirstforjustice,orevenrevenge,butnowIamabletoidentifyitasathirstforblood.Andevenasitfrightensme,Iunderstandit.

Whichshouldprobablyfrightenmeevenmore.

Torisays,“I’llworkoncallingthatmeeting.”

TheDauntless are gathered in the spacebetween the rowsof bunkbeds and the doors,which are held shut by a tightly wrapped bedsheet, the best lock the Dauntless couldmuster. Ihavenodoubt thatJackKangwillagree toJeanine’sdemands.Wearen’t safehereanymore.

“Whatweretheterms?”Torisays.Shesitsinachairbetweenafewofthebunks,herwoundedlegstuckoutinfrontofher.SheasksTobias,buthedoesn’tseemtobepayingattention.Heisleaningagainstoneofthebunks,hisarmscrossed,staringatthefloor.

Iclearmythroat.“Therewerethree.ReturnErictotheErudite.Reportthenamesofallpeoplewhodidnotgetshotwithneedleslasttime.AnddelivertheDivergenttoEruditeheadquarters.”

I lookatMarlene.Shesmilesbackatmealittlesadly.SheisprobablyworriedaboutShauna,whoisstillwiththeEruditedoctor.Lynn,Hector,theirparents,andZekearewith

her.

“If JackKang ismaking deals with the Erudite, we can’t stay here,” says Tori. “Sowherecanwego?”

IthinkofthebloodonShauna’sshirt,andlongfortheAmityorchards,thesoundofthewindintheleaves, thefeelingofbarkbeneathmyhands.IneverthoughtIwouldcravethatplace.Ididn’tthinkitwasinme.

Iclosemyeyesbriefly,andwhenIopenthemIaminreality,andAmityisadream.

“Home,”Tobias says, lifting his head at last. Everyone is listening. “We should takebackwhat’s ours.We can break the security cameras in Dauntless headquarters so theEruditecan’tseeus.Weshouldgohome.”

Someone assents with a shout, and someone else joins in. That is how things inDauntless are decided: with nods and yells. In these moments we don’t seem likeindividualsanymore.Weareallapartofthesamemind.

“Butbeforewedothat,”saysBud,whoonceworkedwithToriinthetattooparlorandwhonowstandswithhishandonthebackofTori’schair,“weneedtodecidewhattodoaboutEric.TolethimstayherewiththeErudite,ortoexecutehim.”

“Eric isDauntless,”Laurensays, turning thering inher lipwithher fingertips.“Thatmeanswedecidewhathappenstohim.NotCandor.”

This time a yell tears frommy body of its own volition, joining with the others inagreement.

“AccordingtoDauntlesslaw,onlyDauntlessleaderscanperformanexecution.AllfiveofourformerleadersareDauntlesstraitors,”saysTori.“SoIthinkit’stimewepicknewones.The lawsaysweneedmore thanone,andweneedanoddnumber. Ifyou’vegotsuggestions,youshouldshoutthemoutnow,andwe’llvoteifweneedto.”

“You!”someonecallsout.

“Okay,”saysTori.“Anyoneelse?”

Marlenecupsherhandsaroundhermouthandcallsout,“Tris!”

My heart pounds. But tomy surprise, no onemutters in dissent and no one laughs.Instead,afewpeoplenod,justliketheydidwhenTori’snamewasmentioned.IscanthecrowdandfindChristina.Shestandswithherarmscrossed,anddoesnotseemtoreactatalltomynomination.

IwonderhowIseemto them.TheymustseesomeoneIdon’t see.Someonecapableandstrong.SomeoneIcan’tbe;someoneIcanbe.

Tori acknowledges Marlene with a nod and scans the crowd for anotherrecommendation.

“Harrison,”someonesays.Idon’tknowwhoHarrisonisuntilsomeoneslapsamiddle-agedmanwithablondponytailontheshoulder,andhegrins.Irecognizehim—he’stheDauntless man who called me “girl” when Zeke and Tori came back from Eruditeheadquarters.

TheDauntlessarequietforamoment.

“I’mgoingtonominateFour,”saysTori.

Apartfromafewangrymurmursinthebackoftheroom,noonedisagrees.Nooneiscallinghimacowardanymore,notafterhebeatupMarcusinthecafeteria.Iwonderhowtheywouldreactiftheyknewhowcalculatedthatmovewas.

Nowhecouldgetexactlywhatheintendedtoget.UnlessIstandinhisway.

“Weonlyneedthreeleaders,”Torisays.“We’llhavetovote.”

TheywouldneverhaveconsideredmeifIhadnotstoppedtheattacksimulation.Andmaybe theywouldn’thaveconsideredme if Ihadn’tstabbedEricby thoseelevators,orputmyself under that bridge. Themore reckless I get, themore popular I amwith theDauntless.

Tobiaslooksatme.Ican’tbepopularwiththeDauntless,becauseTobiasisright—I’mnotDauntless;I’mDivergent.IamwhateverIchoosetobe.AndIcan’tchoosetobethis.Ihavetostayseparatefromthem.

“No,”Isay.Iclearmythroatandsayitlouder.“No,youdon’thavetovote.Irefusemynomination.”

Toriraiseshereyebrowsatme.“Areyousure,Tris?”

“Yes,”Isay.“Idon’twantit.I’msure.”

Andthen,withoutargumentandwithoutceremony,TobiasiselectedtobealeaderofDauntless.AndIamnot.

NOT TEN SECONDSafterwechooseournewleaders,somethingrings—onelongpulse, twoshortones.Imovetowardthesound,myrighteartowardthewall,andfindaspeakersuspendedfromtheceiling.Thereisanotheroneacrosstheroom.

ThenJackKang’svoicespeaksallaroundus.

“Attention all occupants of Candor headquarters. A few hours ago I met with arepresentative of Jeanine Matthews. He reminded me that we Candor are in a weakposition,dependentonErudite forour survival, and toldme that if I intend tokeepmyfactionfree,Iwillhavetomeetafewdemands.”

Istareupatthespeaker,stunned.Ishouldn’tbesurprisedthattheleaderofCandoristhisforthright,butIwasn’texpectingapublicannouncement.

“In order to complywith these demands, I ask that everyonemake their way to theGatheringPlacetoreportwhetheryouhaveanimplantornot,”hesays.“TheEruditehavealsoorderedallDivergenttobeturnedovertoErudite.Idonotknowforwhatpurpose.”

Hesoundslistless.Defeated.Well,heisdefeated,Ithink.Becausehewastooweaktofightback.

One thingDauntless knows thatCandor doesnot is how to fight evenwhen fightingseemsuseless.

Sometimes I feel like I am collecting the lessons each faction has to teachme, andstoringtheminmymindlikeaguidebookformovingthroughtheworld.Thereisalwayssomethingtolearn,alwayssomethingthatisimportanttounderstand.

JackKang’sannouncementendswiththesamethreeringsitstartedwith.TheDauntlessrush throughtheroom, throwing their things intobags.AfewyoungDauntlessmencutthesheetawayfromthedoor,screamingsomethingaboutEric.Someone’selbowpressesmetoawall,andIjuststandandwatchthepandemoniumintensify.

Ontheotherhand,onethingCandorknowsthatDauntlessdoesnotishownottogetcarriedaway.

TheDauntlessstand inasemicirclearound the interrogationchair,whereEricnowsits.He looksmore dead than alive. He is slumped in the chair, sweat shining on his paleforehead.He stares atTobiaswithhis head tilteddown, sohis eyelashesblend intohiseyebrows.Itrytokeepmyeyesonhim,buthissmile—howthepiercingspullwidewhenhislipsspread—isalmosttooawfultotake.

“Wouldyoulikemetotellyouyourcrimes?”saysTori.“Orwouldyouliketolistthemyourself?”

Rainspraysagainstthesideofthebuildingandstreamsdownthewalls.Westandintheinterrogationroom,onthetopflooroftheMercilessMart.Theafternoonstormislouderhere.Everycrackofthunderandflashoflightningmakesthebackofmyneckprickle,asifelectricityisdancingovermyskin.

Ilikethesmellofwetpavement.Itisfainthere,butoncethisisdone,alltheDauntlesswillstormdownthestairsandleavetheMercilessMartbehind,andwetpavementwillbetheonlythingIsmell.

Wehaveourbagswithus.Mineisasackmadeofasheetandsomerope.Itcontainsmyclothesandasparepairofshoes. Iwear the jacket I stole fromtheDauntless traitor—IwantErictoseeitifhelooksatme.

Eric scans the crowd for a fewseconds, and thenhis eyes settleonme.He laceshisfingersandsets them—gingerly—onhis stomach.“I’d likeher to list them.Sinceshe’stheonewhostabbedme,clearlysheisfamiliarwiththem.”

I don’t knowwhat game he’s playing, orwhat the point of rattlingme is, especiallynow,beforehisexecution.Heseemsarrogant,butInoticethathisfingerstremblewhenhemovesthem.EvenEricmustbeafraidofdeath.

“Leaveheroutofthis,”saysTobias.

“Why?Becauseyou’redoingher?”Ericsmirks.“Ohwait,Iforgot.Stiffsdon’tdothatsortofthing.Theyjusttieeachother’sshoesandcuteachother’shair.”

Tobias’sexpressiondoesnotchange.IthinkIunderstand:Ericdoesn’treallycareaboutme.ButheknowsexactlywheretohitTobias,andhowhard.AndoneoftheplacestohitTobiasthehardestistohitme.

ThisiswhatIwantedmosttoavoid:formyrisesandfallstobecomeTobias’srisesandfalls.That’swhyIcan’tlethimstepintodefendmenow.

“Iwanthertolistthem,”repeatsEric.

Isay,asevenlyaspossible:

“You conspired with Erudite. You are responsible for the deaths of hundreds ofAbnegation.”As I go on, I can’t keepmy voice steady anymore; I start to spit out thewords like venom. “You betrayed Dauntless. You shot a child in the head. You are aridiculousplaythingofJeanineMatthews.”

Hissmilefades.

“DoIdeservetodie?”hesays.

Tobiasopenshismouthtointerrupt.ButIrespondbeforehecan.

“Yes.”

“Fairenough.”Hisdarkeyesareempty,likepits,likestarlessnights.“Butdoyouhavetherighttodecidethat,BeatricePrior?Likeyoudecidedthefateofthatotherboy—whatwashisname?Will?”

Idon’tanswer.Ihearmyfatheraskingme,“Whatmakesyouthinkyouhavetherighttoshootsomeone?”aswefoughtourwaytothecontrolroominDauntlessheadquarters.He toldme there is a right way to do something, and I needed to figure it out. I feelsomethinginmythroat,likeaballofwax,sothickIcanbarelyswallow,barelybreathe.

“YouhavecommittedeverycrimethatwarrantsexecutionamongtheDauntless,”saysTobias.“Wehavetherighttoexecuteyou,underthelawsofDauntless.”

HecrouchesbythethreegunsonthefloornearEric’sfeet.Onebyone,heemptiesthechambersofbullets.Theyalmostjingleastheyhitthefloor,andthenroll,comingtorestagainstthetoesofTobias’sshoes.Hepicksupthemiddlegunandputsabulletintothefirstslot.

Then hemoves the three guns on the floor, around and around, untilmy eyes can’tfollowthemiddlegunanymore.Ilosetrackofwhichoneholdsthebullet.HepicksupthegunsandoffersonetoTori,andanotheronetoHarrison.

Itrytothinkoftheattacksimulation,andwhatitdidtotheAbnegation.Allthegray-clothedinnocentslyingdeadonthestreet.Thereweren’tevenenoughAbnegationlefttotakecareofthebodies,somostofthemareprobablystillthere.AndthatwouldnothavebeenpossiblewithoutEric.

IthinkoftheCandorboy,shotwithoutasecond’shesitation,howstiffhewasashehitthegroundnexttome.

Maybewe are not the ones deciding if Eric lives or dies.Maybe he is the onewhodecidedthat,whenhedidallthoseterriblethings.

Butit’sstillhardtobreathe.

I look at himwithoutmalice,without hatred, andwithout fear.The rings in his faceshine,andalockofdirtyhairfallsintohiseyes.

“Wait,”hesays.“Ihavearequest.”

“Wedon’ttakerequestsfromcriminals,”saysTori.She’sstandingononeleg,andhasbeenforthepastfewminutes.Shesoundstired—sheprobablywantstogetthisoverwithsoshecansitdownagain.Toherthisexecutionisjustaninconvenience.

“IamaleaderofDauntless,”hesays.“AndallIwantisforFourtobetheonewhofiresthatbullet.”

“Why?”Tobiassays.

“Soyoucan livewith theguilt,”Eric replies. “Ofknowing thatyouusurpedmeandthenshotmeinthehead.”

IthinkIunderstand.Hewantstoseepeoplebreak—hasalwayswantedto,eversincehesetupthecamerainmyexecutionroomwhenInearlydrowned,andprobablylongbeforethen.AndhebelievesthatifTobiashastokillhim,hewillseethatbeforehedies.

Sick.

“Therewon’tbeanyguilt,”saysTobias.

“Thenyou’llhavenoproblemdoingit.”Ericsmilesagain.

Tobiaspicksuponeofthebullets.

“Tell me,” says Eric quietly, “because I’ve always wondered. Is it your daddy whoshowsupineveryfearlandscapeyou’veevergonethrough?”

Tobiasputsthebulletintoanemptychamberwithoutlookingup.

“You didn’t like that question?” Eric says. “What, afraid the Dauntless are going tochangetheirmindsaboutyou?Realizethateventhoughyou’veonlygotfourfears,you’restillacoward?”

Hestraightensinthechairandputshishandsonthearmrests.

Tobiasholdshisgunoutfromhisleftshoulder.

“Eric,”hesays,“bebrave.”

Hesqueezesthetrigger.

Ishutmyeyes.

BLOODISAstrangecolor.It’sdarkerthanyouexpectittobe.

IstaredownatMarlene’shand,whichiswrappedaroundmyarm.Herfingernailsareshortandjagged—shebitesthem.Shepushesmeforward,andImustbewalking,becauseIcanfeelmyselfmoving,butinmymindIstandbeforeEricandheisstillalive.

HediedjustlikeWilldid.SlumpedjustlikeWilldid.

I thought the swollen feeling inmy throat would go away once hewas dead, but itdidn’t.Ihavetotakedeep,hardbreathstogetenoughair.Goodthingthecrowdaroundme is so loud thatnoonecanhearme.Wemarch toward thedoors.At the frontof thepack isHarrison, carryingTori on his back like a child. She laughs, her armswrappedaroundhisneck.

Tobiassetshishandonmyback.IknowbecauseIseehimcomeupbehindmeanddoit,notbecauseIfeelit.Idon’tfeelanythingatall.

Thedoorsopenfromtheoutside.WestopshortofstampedingJackKangandthegroupofCandorthatfollowedhimhere.

“Whathaveyoudone?”hesays.“IwasjusttoldthatEricismissingfromhisholdingcell.”

“Hewasunderourjurisdiction,”saysTori.“Wegavehimatrialandexecutedhim.Youshouldbethankingus.”

“Why…”Jack’sfaceturnsred.Bloodisdarkerthanblush,eventhoughoneconsistsoftheother.“WhyshouldIbethankingyou?”

“Becauseyouwantedhim tobeexecuted, too, right?Sincehemurderedoneofyourchildren?”Toritiltsherhead,hereyeswide,innocent.“Well,wetookcareofitforyou.Andnow,ifyou’llexcuseus,we’releaving.”

“Wha—Leaving?”Jacksplutters.

Ifweleave,hewillbeincapableoffulfillingtwoofthethreedemandsMaxhadofhim.Thethoughtterrifieshim,anditisalloverhisface.

“Ican’tletyoudothat,”hesays.

“Youdon’tletusdoanything,”saysTobias.“Ifyoudon’tstepaside,wewillbeforcedtowalkoveryouinsteadofpastyou.”

“Didn’tyoucomeheretofindallies?”Jackscowls.“Ifyoudothis,wewillsidewithErudite,Ipromiseyou,andyouwillneverfindanallyinusagain,you—”

“Wedon’tneedyouasanally,”saysTori.“We’reDauntless.”

Everyoneshouts, andsomehow their screamspierce thehaze inmymind.Theentirecrowdpressesforwardatonce.TheCandorinthecorridoryelpanddiveoutofthewayaswe spill into the hallway like a burst pipe,Dauntlesswater spreading to fill the emptyspace.

Marlene’s grip on my arm breaks. I run down the stairs, chasing the heels of theDauntlessinfrontofme,ignoringthejostleofelbowsandalltheshoutsaroundme.Ifeellike I am an initiate again, storming the stairs of the Hub right after the ChoosingCeremony.Mylegsburn,butthatisallright.

We reach the lobby.A group ofCandor and Erudite arewaiting there, including theblondDivergentwomanwhogot dragged to the elevators byher hair, the girl I helpedescape,andCara.TheywatchtheDauntlessstreampastthemwithhelplesslooksontheirfaces.

Caraspotsmeandgrabsmyarm,wrenchingmeback.“Whereareyouallgoing?”

“Dauntlessheadquarters.”Itrytopullmyarmfree,butshewon’tletgo.Idon’tlookatherface.Ican’tlookatherrightnow.

“GotoAmity,”Isay.“Theypromisedsafetytoanyonewhowantsit.Youwon’tbesafehere.”

Shereleasesme,almostpushingmeawayfromherintheprocess.

Outside, the ground feels slick beneathmy sneakers, andmy sack of clothes thumpsagainstmybackasIslowtoajog.Rainsprinklesmyheadandmyback.Myfeetsplashthroughpuddles,soakingmypantlegs.

Ismellwetpavement,andpretendthatthisisallthereis.

Istandattherailingoverlookingthechasm.Waterhitsthewallbeneathme,butitdoesn’tcomehighenoughtosplashmyshoes.

A hundred yards away, Bud passes out paintball guns. Someone else passes outpaintballs. Soon the hidden corners of Dauntless headquarters will be coated inmulticoloredpaint,blockingthelensesofthesurveillancecameras.

“Hey,Tris,”Zekesays,joiningmeattherailing.Hiseyesareredandswollen,buthismouthiscurledintoasmallsmile.

“Hey.Youmadeit.”

“Yeah.WewaiteduntilShaunawasstableandthentookherhere.”Herubsoneofhiseyeswithhisthumb.“Ididn’twanttomoveher,but…wasn’tsafewithCandoranymore.Obviously.”

“Howisshe?”

“Dunno.She’sgonnasurviveit,but thenurse thinksshemightbeparalyzedfromthewaistdown.Andthatwouldn’tbotherme,but…”Heliftsashoulder.“HowcanshebeDauntlessifshecan’twalk?”

I stare across the Pit, where some Dauntless children chase each other up the path,hurlingpaintballsatthewalls.Oneofthembreaksandsplattersthestonewithyellow.

IthinkofwhatTobiastoldmewhenwespentthenightwiththefactionless,abouttheolder Dauntless leaving the faction because they were no longer physically capable ofstayinginit.IthinkofCandor’srhymingsong,whichcallsusthecruelestfaction.

“Shecan,”Isay.

“Tris.Shewon’tevenbeabletomovearound.”

“Sureshewill.”Ilookupathim.“Shecangetawheelchair,andsomeonecanpushherupthepathsinthePit,andthere’sanelevatorinthebuildingupthere.”Ipointaboveourheads.“Shedoesn’tneedtobeabletowalktoslidedowntheziplineorfireagun.”

“Shewon’twantmetopushher.”Hisvoicecracksalittle.“Shewon’twantmetolifther,orcarryher.”

“She’llhave togetover it, then.Areyougoing to letherdropoutofDauntlessforastupidreasonlikenotbeingabletowalk?”

Zeke is quiet for a few seconds. His eyes shift over my face, and he squints, as ifweighingandmeasuringme.

Then he turns and bends and wraps his arms around me. It’s been so long sincesomeonehuggedmethatIstiffen.ThenIrelax,andletthegestureforcewarmthintomybody,whichischilledbydampclothing.

“I’mgonnagoshootthings,”hesaysashepullsaway.“Wanttocome?”

IshrugandchasehimacrossthePitfloor.Budhandseachofusapaintballgun,andIloadmine.Itsweight,shape,andmaterialaresodifferentfromarevolverthatIhavenotroubleholdingit.

“We’vemostlygot thePitand theundergroundcovered,”Budsays.“ButyoushouldtacklethePire.”

“ThePire?”

Budpointsupat theglassbuildingaboveus.Thesightpiercesmelikeaneedle.ThelasttimeIstoodinthisspotandstaredupatthisceiling,Iwasonamissiontodestroythesimulation.Iwaswithmyfather.

Zekeisalreadyonhiswayupthepath.Iforcemyselftofollowhim,onefootandthentheother.It’sdifficulttowalkbecauseit’sdifficulttobreathe,butsomehowImanage.BythetimeIreachthestairs,thepressureonmychestisalmostgone.

Oncewe’reinthePire,Zekeliftsuphisgunandaimsatoneof thecamerasneartheceiling.Hefires,andgreenpaintspraysacrossoneof thewindows,missing thecameralens.

“Ooh,”Isay,wincing.“Ouch.”

“Yeah?I’dliketoseeyoudoitperfectlythefirsttime.”

“Wouldyou?”Iliftmyowngun,proppingituponmyleftshoulderinsteadofmyright.Thegun feelsunfamiliar inmy left hand,but I can’tbear itsweightwithmy rightyet.ThroughthescopeIfindthecamera,andthensquinttostareatthelens.Avoicewhispersinmyhead.Inhale.Aim.Exhale.Fire. It takesmea fewseconds to realize it’sTobias’svoice,becausehe’stheonewhotaughtmetoshoot.Isqueezethetriggerandthepaintballhits the camera, spraying blue paint across the lens. “There. Now you have.With thewronghand,too.”

Zekemutterssomethingunderhisbreaththatdoesn’tsoundpleasant.

“Hey!”shoutsacheerfulvoice.Marlenepokesherheadabovetheglassfloor.Paintissmearedacrossherforehead,givingherapurpleeyebrow.Withawickedsmile,sheaimsatZeke,hittinghisleg,andthenatme.Thepaintballhitsmyarm,stinging.

Marlenelaughsandducksundertheglass.ZekeandIlookateachother,andthenrunafterMarlene.Shelaughsasshesprintsdownthepath,weavingthroughacrowdofkids.Ishoot at her, and hit the wall instead.Marlene fires at a boy near the railing—Hector,Lynn’slittlebrother.Helooksshockedatfirst,butthenfiresback,hittingthepersonnexttoMarlene.

PoppingsoundsfilltheairaseveryoneinthePitstartstofireatoneanother,youngandold, thecamerasmomentarilyforgotten. Ichargedownthepath,surroundedby laughterandshouting.Weclustertogethertoformteams,andthenturnagainstoneanother.

Bythetimethefightdiesdown,myclothesaremorepaint-coloredthanblack.IdecidetokeeptheshirttoremindmewhyIchoseDauntlessinthefirstplace:notbecausetheyareperfect,butbecausetheyarealive.Becausetheyarefree.

SOMEONE RAIDS THEDauntlesskitchens andheatsup the imperishableskept there, sowehaveawarmdinnerthatnight.IsitatthesametableIusedtoclaimwithChristina,Al,andWill.FromthemomentIsitdown,Ifeelalumpinmythroat.Howisitthatonlyhalfofusareleft?

Ifeelresponsiblefor that.MyforgivenesscouldhavesavedAl,butIwithheldit.MyclearheadednesscouldhavesparedWill,butIcouldnotsummonit.

BeforeIcansinktoofarintomyguilt,Uriahdropshistraynexttome.Itisloadedwithbeefstewandchocolatecake.Istareatthecakepile.

“Therewascake?”Isay,lookingatmyownplate,whichismoresensiblystockedthanUriah’s.

“Yeah,someonejustbrought itout.Foundacoupleboxesof themixin thebackandbakedit,”hesays.“Youcanhaveafewbitesofmine.”

“Afewbites?Soyou’replanningoneatingthatmountainofcakebyyourself?”

“Yes.”Helooksconfused.“Why?”

“Nevermind.”

Christinasitsacross thetable,asfarawayfrommeasshecanget.Zekeputshis traydown next to her.We are soon joined by Lynn, Hector, andMarlene. I see a flash ofmovement under the table, and see Marlene’s hand meet Uriah’s over his knee. Theirfingerstwisttogether.Theyarebothclearlytryingtolookcasual,buttheysneaklooksateachother.

ToMarlene’sleft,Lynnlookslikeshejusttastedsomethingsour.Sheshovelsfoodintohermouth.

“Where’sthefire?”Uriahasksher.“You’regoingtohurlifyoukeepeatingthatfast.”

Lynnscowlsathim.“I’mgoingtohurlanyway,withyoutwomakingeyesateachotherallthetime.”

Uriah’searsturnred.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”

“Iamnotanidiot,andneitherisanyoneelse.Sowhydon’tyoujustmakeoutwithherandgetitoverwith?”

Uriah looks stunned.Marlene, however, glares at Lynn, leans over, and kissesUriahfirmlyon themouth,her fingers slidingaroundhisneck,under thecollarofhis shirt. Inoticethatallthepeashavefallenoffmyfork,whichwasonitswaytomymouth.

Lynngrabshertrayandstormsawayfromthetable.

“Whatwasthatallabout?”saysZeke.

“Don’taskme,”saysHector.“She’salwaysangryaboutsomething.I’vestoppedtryingtokeeptrack.”

Uriah’sandMarlene’sfacesarestillclosetogether.Andtheyarestillsmiling.

Iforcemyselftostareatmyplate.It issostrangetoseetwopeopleyouhaveknownseparately join together, though I have watched it happen before. I hear a squeak asChristinascratchesherplatewithherforkidly.

“Four!”Zekecallsout,beckoning.Helooksrelieved.“C’mere,there’sroom.”

Tobias rests his hand onmy good shoulder.A few of his knuckles are split, and thebloodlooksfresh.“Sorry,Ican’tstay.”

Heleansdownandsays,“CanIborrowyouforawhile?”

Igetup,wavingagood-byetoeveryoneatthetablewhoispayingattention—whichisjustZeke, really,becauseChristinaandHectorarestaringat theirplates,andUriahandMarlenearetalkingquietly.TobiasandIwalkoutofthecafeteria.

“Wherearewegoing?”

“The train,” he says. “I have a meeting, and I want you there to help me read thesituation.”

WewalkuponeofthepathsthatlinesthePitwalls,towardthestairsthatleadustothePire.

“Whydoyouneedmeto—”

“Becauseyou’rebetteratitthanIam.”

Idon’thavearesponseto that.Weascendthestairsandcross theglassfloor.Onourwayout,wewalkthroughthedankroominwhichIfacedmyfearlandscape.Judgingbythesyringeonthefloor,someonehasbeenthererecently.

“Didyougothroughyourfearlandscapetoday?”Isay.

“Whatmakesyousaythat?”Hisdarkeyesskirtmine.Hepushesthefrontdooropen,andthesummerairswimsaroundme.Thereisnowind.

“Yourknucklesarecutupandsomeone’sbeenusingthatroom.”

“This is exactlywhat Imean.You’re farmore perceptive thanmost.”He checks hiswatch.“Theytoldmetocatchtheoneleavingat8:05.Comeon.”

Ifeelasurgeofhope.Maybewewon’targuethistime.Maybethingswillfinallyget

betterbetweenus.

Wewalktothetracks.Thelasttimewedidthis,hewantedtoshowmethatthelightswereonintheEruditecompound,wantedtotellmethatEruditewasplanninganattackonAbnegation.NowIgetthesenseweareabouttomeetwiththefactionless.

“Perceptiveenoughtoknowyou’reevadingthequestion,”Isay.

Hesighs.“Yes,Iwentthroughmyfearlandscape.Iwantedtoseeifithadchanged.”

“Andithas.Hasn’tit?”

Hebrushesastrayhairawayfromhisfaceandavoidsmyeyes.Ididn’tknowhishairwassothick—itwashardtotellwhenitwasbuzzedshort,Abnegationhair,butnowit’stwoincheslongandalmosthangsoverhisforehead.Itmakeshimlooklessthreatening,morelikethepersonI’vecometoknowinprivate.

“Yes,”hesays.“Butthenumberisstillthesame.”

I hear the train horn blasting tomy left, but the light fixed to the first car is not on.Insteaditslidesovertherailslikesomehidden,creepingthing.

“Fifthcarback!”heshouts.

Webothbreakintoasprint.Ifindthefifthcarandgrabthehandleonthesidewithmylefthand,pullingashardasIcan.Itrytoswingmylegsinside,buttheydon’tquitemakeit; they are dangerously close to thewheels—I shriek, and scrapemy knee against thefloorasIyankmyselfinside.

Tobiasgetsinaftermeandcrouchesbymyside.Iclutchmykneeandgritmyteeth.

“Here, letme see,” he says. He pushesmy jeans upmy leg and overmy knee.Hisfingersleavestreaksofcoldonmyskin,invisibletotheeye,andIthinkaboutwrappinghis shirt around my fist and pulling him in to kiss me; I think about pressing myselfagainsthim,butIcan’t,becausealloursecretswouldkeepaspacebetweenus.

Mykneeisredwithblood.“It’sshallow.It’llhealquickly,”hesays.

Inod.Thepainisalreadysubsiding.Herollsmyjeanssotheywillstayup.Ilieback,staringattheceiling.

“Soishestillinyourfearlandscape?”Isay.

Itlookslikesomeonelitamatchbehindhiseyes.“Yes.Butnotinthesameway.”

Hetoldme,once,thathisfearlandscapehadn’tchangedsincehefirstwentthroughit,duringhisinitiation.Soifithas,eveninasmallway,that’ssomething.

“You’reinit,though.”Hefrownsathishands.“Insteadofhavingtoshootthatwoman,likeIusedto,Ihavetowatchyoudie.Andthere’snothingIcandotostopit.”

Hishandsshake.Itrytothinkofsomethinghelpfultosay.I’mnotgoingtodie—butIdon’tknowthat.Weliveinadangerousworld,andIamnotsoattachedtolifethatIwilldoanythingtosurvive.Ican’treassurehim.

Hecheckshiswatch.“They’llbehereanyminute.”

Igetup,andseeEvelynandEdwardstandingnext to the tracks.Theyrunbefore thetrain passes them, and jump inwith almost as little trouble asTobias. Theymust havebeenpracticing.

Edwardsmirksatme.Todayhiseyepatchhasabigblue“X”stitchedoverit.

“Hello,”Evelynsays.ShelooksonlyatTobiasasshesaysit,likeI’mnoteventhere.

“Nicemeetinglocation,”saysTobias.It isalmostdarknow,soIseeonlyshadowsofbuildingsagainstadarkbluesky,andafewglowinglightsnearthelakethatmustbelongtoEruditeheadquarters.

Thetraintakesaturnitdoesn’tusuallytake—left,awayfromtheglowofEruditeandinto the abandoned part of the city. I can tell by the growing quiet in the car that it isslowingdown.

“Itseemedsafest,”saysEvelyn.“Soyouwantedtomeet.”

“Yes.I’dliketodiscussanalliance.”

“Analliance,”repeatsEdward.“Andwhogaveyoutheauthoritytodothat?”

“He’saDauntlessleader,”Isay.“Hehastheauthority.”

Edwardraiseshiseyebrows, looking impressed.Evelyn’seyesfinallyshift tome,butonlyforasecondbeforeshesmilesatTobiasagain.

“Interesting,”shesays.“AndisshealsoaDauntlessleader?”

“No,”hesays.“She’sheretohelpmedecidewhetherornottotrustyou.”

Evelynpursesherlips.Partofmewantstothumbmynoseatherandsay,“Ha!”ButIsettleforasmallsmile.

“Wewill,ofcourse,agreetoanalliance…underacertainsetofconditions,”Evelynsays. “A guaranteed—and equal—place in whatever government forms after Erudite isdestroyed,andfullcontroloverEruditedataaftertheattack.Clearly—”

“WhatareyougoingtodowiththeEruditedata?”Iinterrupther.

“Obviously we will destroy it. The only way to deprive the Erudite of power is todeprivethemofknowledge.”

My first instinct is to tell her she’s a fool. But something stops me. Without thesimulationtechnology,withoutthedatatheyhadaboutalltheotherfactions,withouttheirfocusontechnologicaladvancement,theattackonAbnegationwouldnothavehappened.Myparentswouldbealive.

EvenifwemanagetokillJeanine,couldtheEruditebetrustednottoattackandcontrolusagain?Iamnotsure.

“Whatwouldwereceiveinreturn,underthoseterms?”Tobiassays.

“Ourmuch-neededmanpower,inordertotakeEruditeheadquarters,andanequalplaceingovernment,withus.”

“IamsurethatToriwouldalsorequesttherighttoridtheworldofJeanineMatthews,”

hesaysinalowvoice.

I raise my eyebrows. I didn’t know that Tori’s hatred of Jeanine was commonknowledge—ormaybeitisn’t.Hemustknowthingsaboutherthatothersdon’t,nowthatheandToriareleaders.

“I’m sure that could be arranged,”Evelyn replies. “I don’t carewho kills her; I justwantherdead.”

Tobiasglancesatme.IwishIcouldtellhimwhyIfeelsoconflicted…explaintohimwhyI,ofallpeople,havereservationsaboutburningEruditetotheground,sotospeak.ButIwouldnotknowhowtosayitevenifIhadthetimeto.HeturnstowardEvelyn.

“Thenweareagreed,”hesays.

Heextendshishand,andsheshakesit.

“We should convene in a week’s time,” she says. “In neutral territory. Most of theAbnegationhavegraciouslyagreedtoletusstayintheirsectorofthecitytoplanastheycleanuptheaftermathoftheattack.”

“Mostofthem,”hesays.

Evelyn’s expression turns flat. “I’m afraid your father still commands the loyalty ofmanyofthem,andheadvisedthemtoavoiduswhenhecametovisitafewdaysago.”Shesmilesbitterly.“And theyagreed, justas theydidwhenhepersuaded themtoexileme.”

“Theyexiledyou?”saysTobias.“Ithoughtyouleft.”

“No,theAbnegationwereinclinedtowardforgivenessandreconciliation,asyoumightexpect.Butyourfatherhasa lotof influenceover theAbnegation,andhealwayshas. Idecidedtoleaveratherthanfacetheindignityofpublicexile.”

Tobiaslooksstunned.

Edward, who has been leaning out the side of the car for a few seconds, says, “It’stime!”

“Seeyouinaweek,”Evelynsays.

As the train dips down to street level, Edward leaps. A few seconds later, Evelynfollows. Tobias and I remain on the train, listening to it hiss against the rails, withoutspeaking.

“Why did you even bring me along, if you were just going to make an allianceanyway?”Isayflatly.

“Youdidn’tstopme.”

“WhatwasIsupposedtodo,wavemyhandsintheair?”Iscowlathim.“Idon’tlikeit.”

“Ithastobedone.”

“Idon’tthinkitdoes,”Isay.“Therehastobeanotherway—”

“What other way?” he says, folding his arms. “You just don’t like her. You haven’tsinceyoufirstmether.”

“ObviouslyIdon’tlikeher!Sheabandonedyou!”

“Theyexiledher.AndifIdecidetoforgiveher,youhadbettertrytodoittoo!I’mtheonewhogotleftbehind,notyou.”

“Thisisaboutmorethanthat.Idon’ttrusther.Ithinkshe’stryingtouseyou.”

“Well,itisn’tforyoutodecide.”

“Whydidyoubringme,again?”Isay,mirroringhimbyfoldingmyarms.“Ohyeah—sothatIcouldreadthesituationforyou.Well,Ireadit,andjustbecauseyoudon’tlikewhatIdecideddoesn’tmean—”

“Iforgotabouthowyourbiasescloudyourjudgment.IfIhadremembered,Imightnothavebroughtyou.”

“My biases.What about your biases?What about thinking everyonewho hates yourfatherasmuchasyoudoisanally?”

“Thisisnotabouthim!”

“Ofcourse it is!Heknows things,Tobias.Andweshouldbe trying to findoutwhattheyare.”

“Thisagain?Ithoughtweresolvedthis.Heisaliar,Tris.”

“Yeah?” I raise my eyebrows. “Well, so is your mother. You think the Abnegationwouldreallyexilesomeone?BecauseIdon’t.”

“Don’ttalkaboutmymotherthatway.”

Iseelightupahead.ItbelongstothePire.

“Fine.”Iwalktotheedgeofthecardoor.“Iwon’t.”

I jumpout, runningafewsteps tokeepmybalance.Tobias jumpsoutafterme,butIdon’tgivehimachancetocatchup—Iwalkstraightintothebuilding,downthestairs,andbackintothePittofindaplacetosleep.

SOMETHINGSHAKESMEawake.

“Tris!Getup!”

Ashout.Idon’tquestionit.Ithrowmylegsovertheedgeofthebedandletahandpullmetowardthedoor.Myfeetarebare,andthegroundisunevenhere.Itscrapesatmytoesand the edges of my heels. I squint ahead of me to figure out who’s dragging me.Christina.She’salmostpullingmyleftarmfromitssocket.

“Whathappened?”Isay.“What’sgoingon?”

“Shutupandrun!”

We run to the Pit, and the roar of the river follows me up the paths. The last timeChristinapulledmeoutofbed,itwastoseeAl’sbodyliftedoutofthechasm.Igritmyteethandtrynottothinkaboutthat.Itcan’thavehappenedagain.Itcan’t.

I gasp—she runs faster than I do—as we sprint across the glass floor of the Pire.Christinaslamsherpalmintoanelevatorbuttonandslipsinsidebeforethedoorsarefullyopen,draggingmebehindher.ShejabstheDOORCLOSEbutton,andthenthebuttonforthetopfloor.

“Simulation,”shesays.“There’sasimulation.It’snoteveryone,it’sjust…justafew.”

Sheputsherhandsonherkneesandtakesdeepbreaths.

“OneofthemsaidsomethingabouttheDivergent,”shesays.

“Saidthat?”Isay.“Whileunderasimulation?”

Shenods.“Marlene.Didn’tsoundlikeher,though.Too…monotone.”

Thedoorsopen,andIfollowherdownthehallwaytothedoormarkedROOFACCESS.

“Christina,”Isay,“whyarewegoingtotheroof?”

Shedoesn’tanswerme.Thestairstotheroofsmelllikeoldpaint.Dauntlessgraffitiisscrawled on the cement-block walls in black paint. The symbol of Dauntless. Initialspairedtogetherwithplussigns:RG+NT,BR+FH.Coupleswhoareprobablyoldnow,maybebrokenup.Itouchmychesttofeelmyheartbeat.It’ssofast,it’sawonderI’mstill

breathingatall.

Thenightairiscool;itgivesmegoosebumpsonmyarms.Myeyeshaveadjustedtothedarknessbynow,andacrosstheroofIseethreefiguresstandingontheledge,facingme. One is Marlene. One is Hector. One is someone I don’t recognize—a youngDauntless,barelyeightyearsold,withagreenstreakinherhair.

Theystandstillontheledge,thoughthewindisblowinghard,tossingtheirhairovertheirforeheads,intotheireyes,intotheirmouths.Theirclothessnapinthewind,butstilltheystandmotionless.

“Justcomedownofftheledgenow,”Christinasays.“Don’tdoanythingstupid.Comeon,now…”

“Theycan’thearyou,”IsayquietlyasIwalktowardthem.“Orseeyou.”

“Weshouldalljumpatthematonce.I’lltakeHec,you—”

“We’llriskshovingthemofftheroofifwedothat.Standbythegirl,justincase.”

Sheistooyoungforthis,Ithink,butIdon’thavethehearttosayit,becauseitmeansMarleneisoldenough.

IstareatMarlene,whoseeyesareblanklikepaintedstones,likespheresofglass.Ifeelas if those stones are slipping downmy throat and settling inmy stomach, pullingmetowardtheground.Thereisnowaytogetheroffthatledge.

Finallysheopenshermouthandspeaks.

“IhaveamessagefortheDivergent.”Hervoicesoundsflat.Thesimulationisusinghervocalcords,butrobsthemofthenaturalfluctuationsofhumanemotion.

I look fromMarlene toHector.Hector,whowas so afraid ofwhat I ambecause hismother told him to be. Lynn is probably still at Shauna’s bedside, hoping Shauna canmoveherlegswhenshewakesupagain.Lynncan’tloseHector.

Istepforwardtoreceivethemessage.

“This is not a negotiation. It is a warning,” says the simulation through Marlene,moving her lips and vibrating in her throat. “Every two days until one of you deliversyourselftoEruditeheadquarters,thiswillhappenagain.”

This.

Marlenestepsback,and I throwmyself forward,butnotather.NotatMarlene,whoonceletUriahshootamuffinoffherheadonadare.Whogatheredastackofclothingformetowear.Whoalways,alwaysgreetedmewithasmile.No,notatMarlene.

AsMarleneandtheotherDauntlessgirlstepofftheedgeoftheroof,IdiveatHector.

Igrabwhatevermyhandscanfind.Anarm.Afistfulofshirt.Theroughrooftopscrapesmykneesashisweightdragsmeforward.Iamnotstrongenoughtolifthim.Iwhisper,“Help,”becauseIcan’tspeakanylouderthanthat.

Christina is already atmy shoulder. She helpsme haulHector’s limp body onto theroof.Hisarmflopstotheside,lifeless.Afewfeetaway,thelittlegirlliesonherbackon

therooftop.

Thenthesimulationends.Hectoropenshiseyes,andtheyarenolongerempty.

“Ow,”hesays.“What’sgoingon?”

The little girl whimpers, and Christina walks over to her, mumbling something in areassuringvoice.

I stand,my entire body shaking. I inch toward the edge of the roof and stare at theground.Thestreetbelowisn’t litverywell,but IcanseeMarlene’s faintoutlineon thepavement.

Breathing—whocaresaboutbreathing?

Iturnfromthesight,listeningtomyheartbeatinmyears.Christina’smouthmoves.Iignoreher,andwalkto thedooranddownthestairsanddownthehallwayandintotheelevator.

ThedoorscloseandasIdroptotheearth,justasMarlenedidafterIdecidednottosaveher,Iscream,myhandstearingatmyclothes.Mythroatisrawafterjustafewseconds,andtherearescratchesonmyarmswhereImissedthefabric,butIkeepscreaming.

Theelevatorstopswithading.Thedoorsopen.

Istraightenmyshirt,smoothmyhairdown,andwalkout.

IhaveamessagefortheDivergent.

IamDivergent.

Thisisnotanegotiation.

No,itisnot.

Itisawarning.

Iunderstand.

EverytwodaysuntiloneofyoudeliversyourselftoEruditeheadquarters…

Iwill.

…thiswillhappenagain.

Itwillneverhappenagain.

IWEAVE THROUGH thecrowdnext to thechasm. It’s loud in thePit,andnot justbecauseof theriver’s roar. Iwant to find some silence, so I escape into the hallway that leads to thedormitories. I don’twant to hear the speech Toriwillmake onMarlene’s behalf or bearound for the toasting and the shouting as the Dauntless celebrate her life and herbravery.

This morning Lauren reported that we missed some of the cameras in the initiatedormitories,whereChristina,Zeke,Lauren,Marlene,Hector, andKee, thegirlwith thegreen hair, were sleeping. That’s how Jeanine figured out who the simulation wascontrolling. I do not doubt that Jeanine chose youngDauntless because she knew theirdeathswouldaffectusmore.

Istopinanunfamiliarhallwayandpressmyforeheadtothewall.Thestonefeelsroughandcoolonmyskin.IcanheartheDauntlessshoutingbehindme,theirvoicesmuffledbylayersofrock.

I hear someone approaching, and look to the side. Christina, still wearing the sameclothessheworelastnight,standsafewfeetaway.

“Hey,”shesays.

“I’mnotreallyinthemoodtofeelmoreguiltrightnow.Sogoaway,please.”

“Ijustwanttosayonething,andthenIwill.”

Hereyesarepuffyandhervoicesoundsalittlesleepy,whichiseitherduetoexhaustionoralittlealcohol,orboth.Butherstareisdirectenoughthatshemustknowwhatshe’ssaying.Ipullawayfromthewall.

“I’d never seen that kind of simulation before. You know, from the outside. Butyesterday…”Sheshakesherhead.“Youwereright.Theycouldn’thearyou,couldn’tseeyou.JustlikeWill…”

Shechokesonhisname.Stops,takesabreath,swallowshard.Blinksafewtimes.Thenlooksatmeagain.

“Youtoldmeyouhadtodoit,orhewouldhaveshotyou,andIdidn’tbelieveyou.I

believeyounow,and…I’mgoingtotrytoforgiveyou.That’s…allIwantedtosay.”

There’sapartofmethatfeelsrelief.Shebelievesme,she’stryingtoforgiveme,eventhoughitwon’tbeeasy.

Butalargerpartofmefeelsanger.Whatdidshethink,beforenow?ThatIwanted toshoot Will, one of my best friends? She should have trusted me from the beginning,shouldhaveknownthatIwouldn’thavedoneitifIhadbeenabletoseeanotheroptionatthetime.

“HowfortunateformethatyoufinallygotproofthatI’mnotacold-bloodedmurderer.Youknow,otherthanmyword.Imean,whatreasonwouldyouhavetotrustthat?”Iforcealaugh,tryingtostaynonchalant.Sheopenshermouth,butIkeeptalking,unabletostopmyself.“You’dbetterhurryonthatforgiving-mething,becausethereisn’tmuchtime—”

My voice cracks, and I can’t hold myself together anymore. I start sobbing. I leanagainstthewallforsupportandfeelmyselfslidingdownasmylegsgetweak.

Myeyesaretooblurrytoseeher,butIfeelherwhenshewrapsherarmsaroundmeandsqueezessohardithurts.Shesmellslikecoconutoilandshefeelsstrong,exactlylikeshewas during initiation into Dauntless, when she hung over the chasm by her fingertips.Back then—whichwasnot so longago—shemademe feelweak,butnowher strengthmakesmefeellikeIcouldbestrongertoo.

Wekneeltogetheronthestonefloor,andIclutchherastightlyassheclutchesme.

“It’s already done,” she says. “That’s what I meant to say. That the forgiving wasalreadydone.”

AlltheDauntlessgoquietwhenIwalkintothecafeteriathatnight.Idon’tblamethem.AsoneoftheDivergent,IhavethepowertoletJeaninekilloneofthem.Mostofthemprobablywantmetosacrificemyself.OrtheyareterrifiedthatIwon’t.

IfthiswereAbnegation,noDivergentwouldbesittinghererightnow.

ForamomentIdon’tknowwheretogoorhowtogetthere.ButthenZekewavesmeovertohistable,lookinggrim,andIguidemyfeetinthatdirection.ButbeforeImakeitthere,Lynnapproachesme.

She isadifferentLynnfromtheone Ihavealwaysknown.Shedoesn’thavea fiercelookinhereyes.Insteadsheispaleandbitingherliptohideitswobble.

“Um…”shesays.Shelookstotheleft,totheright,anywherebutatmyface.“Ireally…ImissMarlene.I’veknownherforalongtime,andI…”Sheshakesherhead.“Thepoint is, don’t think thatmy saying thismeansanything aboutMarlene,” she says, likeshe’sscoldingme,“but…thankyouforsavingHec.”

Lynnshiftsherweight fromone foot to theother,hereyes flickingaround the room.Then she hugsmewith one arm, her hand grippingmy shirt. Pain shoots throughmyshoulder.Idon’tsayanythingaboutit.

She lets go, sniffs, andwalks back to her table like nothing happened. I stare at her

retreatingbackforafewseconds,andthensitdown.

ZekeandUriahsitsidebysideattheotherwiseemptytable.Uriah’sfaceisslack,likehe’snotcompletelyawake.Hehasadarkbrownbottleinfrontofhimthathesipsfromeveryfewseconds.

I feel cautious aroundhim. I savedHec—whichmeans I failed to saveMarlene.ButUriahdoesn’tlookatme.Ipulloutthechairacrossfromhimandsitontheedgeofit.

“Where’sShauna?”Isay.“Stillinthehospital?”

“No,she’soverthere,”saysZeke,noddingtothetableLynnwalkedbackto.Iseeherthere,sopaleshemightaswellbetranslucent,sittinginawheelchair.“Shaunashouldn’tbeup,butLynn’sprettymessedup,soshe’skeepinghercompany.”

“Butifyou’rewonderingwhythey’reallthewayoverthere…ShaunafoundoutI’mDivergent,”saysUriahsluggishly.“Andshedoesn’twanttocatchit.”

“Oh.”

“Shegotallweirdwithme,too,”saysZeke,sighing.“‘Howdoyouknowyourbrotherisn’tworkingagainstus?Haveyoubeenwatchinghim?’WhatIwouldn’tgivetopunchwhoeverpoisonedhermind.”

“You don’t have to give anything,” saysUriah. “Hermother’s sitting right there.Goaheadandhither.”

Ifollowhisgazetoamiddle-agedwomanwithbluestreaksinherhairandearringsallthewaydownherearlobe.Sheispretty,justlikeLynn.

Tobias enters the room amoment later, followed by Tori andHarrison. I have beenavoidinghim.Ihaven’tspokentohimsincethatfightwehad,beforeMarlene…

“Hello,Tris,”TobiassayswhenI’mcloseenoughtohearhim.Hisvoiceislow,rough.Ittransportsmetoquietplaces.

“Hi,”Isayinatightlittlevoicethatdoesnotbelongtome.

Hesitsnexttomeandputshisarmonthebackofmychair,leaningclose.Idon’tstareback—Irefusetostareback.

Istareback.

Dark eyes—a peculiar shade of blue, somehow capable of shutting the rest of thecafeteriaout,ofcomfortingmeandalsoofremindingmethatwearefartherawayfromeachotherthanIwantustobe.

“Aren’tyougoingtoaskmeifI’mallright?”Isay.

“No,I’mprettysureyou’renotallright.”Heshakeshishead.“I’mgoingtoaskyounottomakeanydecisionsuntilwe’vetalkedaboutit.”

It’stoolate,Ithink.Thedecision’smade.

“Untilwe’veall talkedabout it,youmean,since it involvesallofus,”saysUriah.“Idon’tthinkanyoneshouldturnthemselvesin.”

“Noone?”Isay.

“No!”Uriahscowls.“Ithinkweshouldattackback.”

“Yeah,”Isayhollowly,“let’sprovokethewomanwhocanforcehalfofthiscompoundtokillthemselves.Thatsoundslikeagreatidea.”

Iwas too harsh.Uriah tips the contents of his bottle down his throat.He brings thebottledownonthetablesohardI’mafraiditwillshatter.

“Don’ttalkaboutitlikethat,”hesaysinagrowl.

“I’msorry,”Isay.“ButyouknowI’mright.Thebestwaytoensurethathalfourfactiondoesn’tdieistosacrificeonelife.”

Idon’tknowwhatIexpected.MaybethatUriah,whoknowstoowellwhatwillhappenifoneofusdoesnotgo,wouldvolunteerhimself.Buthelooksdown.Unwilling.

“Tori andHarrison and I decided to increase security.Hopefully if everyone ismoreawareoftheseattacks,wewillbeabletostopthem,”Tobiassays.“Ifitdoesn’twork,thenwewillthinkofanothersolution.Endofdiscussion.Butnooneisgoingtodoanythingyet.Okay?”

Helooksatmewhenheasksandraiseshiseyebrows.

“Okay,”Isay,notquitemeetinghiseyes.

Afterdinner,ItrytogobacktothedormitorywhereI’vebeensleeping,butIcan’tquitewalkthroughthedoor.InsteadIwalkthroughthecorridors,brushingthestonewallswithmyfingers,listeningtotheechoesofmyfootsteps.

Withoutmeaningto,IpassthewaterfountainwherePeter,Drew,andAlattackedme.IknewitwasAlbythewayhesmelled—Icanstillcall thescentoflemongrasstomind.NowIassociateitnotwithmyfriendbutwiththepowerlessnessIfeltastheydraggedmetothechasm.

Iwalkfaster,keepingmyeyeswideopensoitwillbehardertopicturetheattackinmymind. I have to get away fromhere, far from the placeswheremy friend attackedme,wherePeterstabbedEdward,whereasightlessarmyofmyfriendsbeganitsmarchtowardtheAbnegationsectorandallthisinsanitybegan.

I go straight toward the last place where I felt safe: Tobias’s small apartment. ThesecondIreachthedoor,Ifeelcalmer.

Thedoor isnotcompletelyclosed.Inudgeitopenwithmyfoot.Heisn’t there,butIdon’tleave.Isitonhisbedandgatherthequiltinmyarms,buryingmyfaceinthefabricandtakingdeepbreathsofitthroughmynose.Thesmellitusedtohaveisalmostgone,it’sbeensolongsincehesleptonit.

ThedooropensandTobiasslipsin.Myarmsgolimp,andthequiltfallsintomylap.HowwillIexplainmypresencehere?I’msupposedtobeangrywithhim.

Hedoesn’tscowl,buthismouthissotensethatIknowhe’sangrywithme.

“Don’tbeanidiot,”hesays.

“Anidiot?”

“Youwerelying.Yousaidyouwouldn’tgotoErudite,andyouwerelying,andgoingtoEruditewouldmakeyouanidiot.Sodon’t.”

Isettheblanketdownandgetup.

“Don’ttrytomakethissimple,”Isay.“It’snot.YouknowaswellasIdothatthisistherightthingtodo.”

“You choose thismoment to act like theAbnegation?”His voice fills the room andmakesfearprickleinmychest.Hisangerseemstoosudden.Toostrange.“Allthattimeyouspentinsistingthatyouweretooselfishforthem,andnow,whenyourlifeisontheline,you’vegottobeahero?What’swrongwithyou?”

“What’swrongwithyou?Peopledied.Theywalked rightoff theedgeofabuilding!AndIcanstopitfromhappeningagain!”

“You’retooimportanttojust…die.”Heshakeshishead.Hewon’tevenlookatme—hiseyeskeepshiftingacrossmyface,tothewallbehindmeortheceilingaboveme,toeverythingbutme.Iamtoostunnedtobeangry.

“I’mnotimportant.Everyonewilldojustfinewithoutme,”Isay.

“Whocaresabouteveryone?Whataboutme?”

Helowershisheadintohishand,coveringhiseyes.Hisfingersaretrembling.

Thenhecrossestheroomintwolongstridesandtoucheshislipstomine.Theirgentlepressureerases thepast fewmonths, and Iam thegirlwhosaton the rocksnext to thechasm,withriversprayonherankles,andkissedhimforthefirsttime.IamthegirlwhograbbedhishandinthehallwayjustbecauseIwantedto.

Ipullback,myhandonhischesttokeephimaway.Theproblemis,Iamalsothegirlwho shot Will and lied about it, and chose between Hector and Marlene, and now athousandotherthingsbesides.AndIcan’terasethosethings.

“Youwouldbefine.”Idon’tlookathim.IstareathisT-shirtbetweenmyfingersandtheblackinkcurlingaroundhisneck,butIdon’tlookathisface.“Notatfirst.Butyouwouldmoveon,anddowhatyouhaveto.”

Hewraps anarmaroundmywaist andpullsmeagainsthim. “That’s a lie,”hesays,beforehekissesmeagain.

Thisiswrong.It’swrongtoforgetwhoIhavebecome,andtolethimkissmewhenIknowwhatI’mabouttodo.

ButIwantto.Oh,Iwantto.

I stand onmy tiptoes andwrapmy arms around him. I press one hand between hisshoulderbladesandcurltheotheronearoundthebackofhisneck.Icanfeelhisbreathsagainstmy palm, his body expanding and contracting, and I know he’s strong, steady,unstoppable.AllthingsIneedtobe,butIamnot,Iamnot.

Hewalksbackward,pullingmewithhimsoIstumble.Istumblerightoutofmyshoes.HesitsontheedgeofthebedandIstandinfrontofhim,andwe’refinallyeyetoeye.

Hetouchesmyface,coveringmycheekswithhishands,slidinghisfingertipsdownmyneck,fittinghisfingerstotheslightcurveofmyhips.

Ican’tstop.

Ifitmymouthtohis,andhetasteslikewaterandsmellslikefreshair.Idragmyhandfromhisnecktothesmallofhisback,andputitunderhisshirt.Hekissesmeharder.

Iknewhewasstrong;Ididn’tknowhowstronguntilIfeltitmyself,themusclesinhisbacktighteningbeneathmyfingers.

Stop,Itellmyself.

Suddenlyit’sasifwe’reinahurry,hisfingertipsbrushingmysideundermyshirt,myhandsclutchingathim, strugglingcloserbut there isnocloser. Ihavenever longed forsomeonethisway,orthismuch.

Hepullsbackjustenoughtolookintomyeyes,hiseyelidslowered.

“Promiseme,”hewhispers,“thatyouwon’tgo.Forme.Dothisonethingforme.”

Could I do that?Could I stay here, fix thingswith him, let someone else die inmyplace?Lookingupathim,IbelieveforamomentthatIcould.AndthenIseeWill.Thecreasebetweenhiseyebrows.Theempty,simulation-boundeyes.Theslumpedbody.

Dothisonethingforme.Tobias’sdarkeyespleadwithme.

ButifIdon’tgotoErudite,whowill?Tobias?It’sthekindofthinghewoulddo.

IfeelastabofpaininmychestasIlietohim.“Okay.”

“Promise,”hesays,frowning.

The pain becomes an ache, spreads everywhere—allmixed together, guilt and terrorandlonging.“Ipromise.”

WHEN HE STARTS to fall asleep,hekeepshisarmsaroundme fiercely, a life-preservingprison.But Iwait,keptawakeby the thoughtofbodieshittingpavement,untilhisgrip loosensandhisbreathingsteadies.

IwillnotletTobiasgotoEruditewhenithappensagain,whensomeoneelsedies.Iwillnot.

Islipoutofhisarms.IshrugononeofhissweatshirtssoIcancarrythesmellofhimwithme.Islipmyfeetintomyshoes.Idon’ttakeanyweaponsorkeepsakes.

Ipausebythedoorwayandlookathim,halfburiedunderthequilt,peacefulandstrong.

“Iloveyou,”Isayquietly,tryingoutthewords.Iletthedoorclosebehindme.

It’stimetoputeverythinginorder.

IwalktothedormitorywheretheDauntless-borninitiatesonceslept.TheroomlooksjustliketheoneIsleptinwhenIwasaninitiate:itislongandnarrow,withbunkbedsoneithersideandachalkboardononewall. Iseebyablue light in thecorner thatnoonebotheredtoerasetherankingsthatarewrittenthere—Uriah’snameisstillatthetop.

Christina sleeps in the bottom bunk, beneath Lynn. I don’t want to startle her, butthere’snowaytowakeherotherwise,soIcoverhermouthwithmyhand.Shewakeswithastart,hereyeswideuntiltheyfindme.Itouchmyfingertomylipsandbeckonforhertofollowme.

Iwalktotheendofthehallwayandturnacorner.Thecorridorislitbyapaint-spatteredemergencylampthathangsoveroneoftheexits.Christinaisn’twearingshoes;shecurlshertoesundertoprotectthemfromthecold.

“Whatisit?”shesays.“Areyougoingsomewhere?”

“Yeah,I’m…”Ihavetolie,orshe’lltrytostopme.“I’mgoingtoseemybrother.He’swiththeAbnegation,remember?”

Shenarrowshereyes.

“I’m sorry towake you,” I say. “But there’s something I need you to do. It’s really

important.”

“Okay.Tris,you’reactingreallystrange.Areyousureyou’renot—”

“I’mnot.Listentome.Thetimingofthesimulationattackwasn’trandom.ThereasonithappenedwhenitdidisbecausetheAbnegationwereabouttodosomething—Idon’tknowwhatitwas,butithadtodowithsomeimportantinformation,andnowJeaninehasthatinformation….”

“What?”Shefrowns.“Youdon’tknowwhattheywereabouttodo?Doyouknowwhattheinformationis?”

“No.”Imustsoundcrazy.“Thethingis,Ihaven’tbeenabletofindoutverymuchaboutthis,becauseMarcusEaton is theonlypersonwhoknowseverything,andhewon’t tellme.Ijust…it’sthereasonfortheattack.It’sthereason.Andweneedtoknowit.”

Idon’tknowwhatelsetosay.ButChristinaisalreadynodding.

“ThereasonJeanineforcedustoattackinnocentpeople,”shesaysbitterly.“Yeah.Weneedtoknowit.”

Ihadalmostforgotten—shewasunderthesimulation.HowmanyAbnegationdidshekill, guided by the simulation? How did she feel when she awoke from that dream amurderer?Ihaveneverasked,andIneverwill.

“Iwantyourhelp, and soon. Ineed someone topersuadeMarcus tocooperate, and Ithinkyoucandoit.”

Shetiltsherheadandstaresatmeforafewseconds.

“Tris.Don’tdoanythingstupid.”

Iforceasmile.“Whydopeoplekeepsayingthattome?”

Shegrabsmyarm.“I’mnotkiddingaround.”

“I toldyou, I’mgoing tovisitCaleb. I’ll beback in a fewdays, andwecanmakeastrategythen.IjustthoughtitwouldbebetterifsomeoneelseknewaboutallthisbeforeIleft.Justincase.Okay?”

Sheholdsmyarmforafewseconds,andthenreleasesme.“Okay,”shesays.

Iwalktowardtheexit.IholdmyselftogetheruntilI’mthroughthedoor,andthenIfeelthetearscome.

ThelastconversationI’lleverhavewithher,anditwasfulloflies.

OnceI’moutside,IputupthehoodofTobias’ssweatshirt.WhenIreachtheendofthestreet,Iglanceupanddown,searchingforsignsoflife.Thereisnothing.

Thecoolairpricklesinmylungsonthewayin,andonthewayoutunfurlsinacloudofvapor. Winter will be here soon. I wonder if Erudite and Dauntless will still be at astandstillthen,waitingforonegrouptoobliteratetheother.I’mgladIwon’thavetoseeit.

BeforeIchoseDauntless,thoughtslikethatneveroccurredtome.Ifeltassuredofmylonglifespan,ifnothingelse.Nowtherearenoreassurances,exceptthatwhereIgo,IgobecauseIchooseto.

Iwalk in the shadows of buildings, hopingmy footstepswon’t attract any attention.Noneofthecitylightsareoninthisarea,butthemoonisbrightenoughthatIcanwalkbyitwithouttoomuchtrouble.

Iwalkbeneath theelevated tracks.Theyshudderwith themovementofanoncomingtrain. I have towalk fast if I want to get there before anyone notices that I’m gone. Isidestepalargecrackinthestreet,andjumpoverafallenstreetlight.

Ididn’tthinkabouthowfarIwouldhavetowalkwhenIsetout.Itisn’tlongbeforemybodywarmswith the exertion ofwalking and checking overmy shoulder and dodginghazardsintheroad.Ipickupthepace,halfwalkingandhalfjogging.

SoonIreachapartofthecitythatIrecognize.Thestreetsarebetterkepthere,sweptclean, with few holes. Far away I see the glow of Erudite headquarters, their lightsviolating our energy conservation laws. I don’t knowwhat I will dowhen I get there.DemandtoseeJeanine?Orjuststandthereuntilsomeonenoticesme?

My fingertips skim awindow in the building besideme.Not long now. Tremors gothroughmybodynowthatIamclose,makingitdifficulttowalk.Breathingistrickytoo;Istoptryingtobequiet,andletairwheezeinandoutofmylungs.WhatwilltheydowithmewhenIgetthere?WhatplansdotheyhaveformebeforeIoutlivemyusefulness,andthey kill me? I don’t doubt that theywill kill me eventually. I concentrate on forwardmotion,onmovingmylegseventhoughtheyseemtobeunwillingtosupportmyweight.

AndthenI’mstandinginfrontofEruditeheadquarters.

Inside, crowds of blue-shirted people sit around tables, typing on computers or bentoverbooksorpassingsheetsofpaperbackandforth.Someofthemaredecentpeoplewhodonotunderstandwhattheirfactionhasdone,butiftheirentirebuildingcollapsedinonthembeforemyeyes,Imightnotfinditinmyselftocare.

ThisisthelastmomentIwillbeabletoturnback.Thecoldairstingsmycheeksandmyhands as I hesitate. I canwalk awaynow.Take refuge in theDauntless compound.Hopeandprayandwishthatnooneelsediesbecauseofmyselfishness.

ButIcan’twalkaway,ortheguilt,theweightofWill’slife,andmyparents’lives,andnowMarlene’slife,willbreakmybones,willmakeitimpossibletobreathe.

Islowlywalktowardthebuildingandpushopenthedoors.

Thisistheonlywaytokeepfromsuffocating.

Forasecondaftermyfeettouchthewoodfloors,andIstandbeforethegiantportraitofJeanine Matthews hung on the opposite wall, no one notices me, not even the twoDauntless traitorguardsmillingaroundnear the entry-way. Iwalkup to the frontdesk,whereamiddle-agedmanwithabaldpatchonthecrownofhisheadsits,sortingthrough

astackofpaper.Isetmyhandsonthedesk.

“Excuseme,”Isay.

“Givemeamoment,”hesayswithoutlookingup.

“No.”

At that he looks up, his glasses askew, scowling like he’s about to chastise me.Whateverwordshewasabouttouseseemtostickinhisthroat.Hestaresatmewithanopenmouth,hiseyesskippingfrommyfacetotheblacksweatshirtIwear.

In my terror, his expression seems amusing. I smile a little and conceal my hands,whicharetrembling.

“IbelieveJeanineMatthewswantedtoseeme,”Isay.“SoIwouldappreciateitifyouwouldcontacther.”

HesignalstotheDauntlesstraitorsbythedoor,butthereisnoneed.Theguardshavefinally caught on.Dauntless soldiers from theother parts of the roomhave also startedforward,andtheyallsurroundme,butdon’ttouchme,anddon’tspeaktome.Iscantheirfaces,tryingtolookasplacidaspossible.

“Divergent?”oneofthemfinallyasksasthemanbehindthedeskpicksupthereceiverofthebuilding’scommunicationsystem.

IfIclosemyhandsintofists,Icanstopthemfromshaking.Inod.

MyeyesshifttotheDauntlesscomingoutoftheelevatorontheleftsideoftheroom,andthemusclesinmyfacegoslack.Peteriscomingtowardus.

A thousand potential reactions, ranging from launching myself at Peter’s throat tocryingtomakingsomekindofjoke,rushthroughmymindatonce.Ican’tdecideonone.SoIstandstillandwatchhim.JeaninemusthaveknownthatIwouldcome,shemusthavechosenPeteronpurposetocollectme,shemusthave.

“We’vebeeninstructedtotakeyouupstairs,”saysPeter.

Imeantosaysomethingsharp,ornonchalant,buttheonlysoundthatescapesmeisanassentingnoise,squeezedtightbymyswollenthroat.Peterstartstowardtheelevators,andIfollowhim.

Wewalkdownaseriesofsleekcorridors.Despitethefactthatweclimbafewflightsofstairs,IstillfeellikeIamplungingintotheearth.

I expect them to take me to Jeanine, but they don’t. They stop walking in a shorthallwaywithaseriesofmetaldoorsoneachside.Petertypesinacodetoopenoneofthedoors, and the traitor Dauntless surround me, shoulder to shoulder, forming a narrowtunnelformetopassthroughonmywayintotheroom.

Theroomissmall,maybesixfeetlongbysixfeetwide.Thefloor,thewalls,andtheceiling are allmadeof the same light panels, dimnow, that glowed in the aptitude testroom.Ineachcornerisatinyblackcamera.

Ifinallyletmyselfpanic.

I look from corner to corner, at the cameras, and fight the scream building in mystomach,chest,and throat, thescream that fillseverypartofme.Again I feelguiltandgriefclawinginsideme,warringwitheachotherfordominance,butterrorisstrongerthanboth.Ibreathein,anddon’tbreatheout.Myfatheroncetoldmeitwasacureforhiccups.IaskedhimifIcoulddiefromholdingmybreath.

“No,”hesaid.“Yourbody’sinstinctswilltakeover,andforceyoutobreathe.”

Ashame,really.Icoulduseawayout.Thethoughtmakesmewanttolaugh.Andthenscream.

IcurlupsoIcanpressmyface tomyknees. Ihave tomakeaplan. If Icanmakeaplan,Iwon’tbesoafraid.

But there is no plan. No escape from deep in Erudite headquarters, no escape fromJeanine,andnootherescapefromwhatI’vedone.

IFORGOTMYwatch.

Minutesorhourslater,whenthepanicsubsides,thatiswhatImostregret.Notcominghere in the first place—that seemed like an obvious choice—butmy barewrist, whichmakesitimpossibleformetoknowhowlongIhavebeensittinginthisroom.Mybackaches,whichissomeindication,butitisnotdefiniteenough.

After awhile I get up andpace, stretchingmyarms abovemyhead. I hesitate todoanythingwhilethecamerasarethere,buttheycan’tlearnanythingbywatchingmetouchmytoes.

Thethoughtmakesmyhandstremble,butIdon’ttrytopushitfrommymind.InsteadItellmyselfthatIamDauntlessandIamnostrangertofear.Iwilldieinthisplace.Perhapssoon.Thosearethefacts.

Butthereareotherwaystothinkofit.SoonIwillhonormyparentsbydyingastheydied.And if all they believed about deathwas true, soon Iwill join them inwhatevercomesnext.

IshakemyhandsasIpace.They’restill trembling. Iwant toknowwhat time it is. Iarrived a little aftermidnight. Itmust be early in themorning by now,maybe 4:00, or5:00.Ormaybeithasn’tbeenthatlong,andonlyseemsthatwaybecauseIhaven’tbeendoinganything.

The door opens, and at last I stand face-to-face with my enemy and her Dauntlessguards.

“Hello,Beatrice,”Jeaninesays.ShewearsEruditeblueandEruditespectaclesandanEruditelookofsuperioritythatIwastaughtbymyfathertohate.“Ithoughtyoumightbetheonewhocame.”

ButIdon’tfeelhatewhenIlookather.Idon’tfeelanythingatall,eventhoughIknowshe’sresponsibleforcountlessdeaths,includingMarlene’s.Thedeathsexistinmymindasastringofmeaninglessequations,andIstandfrozen,unabletosolvethem.

“Hello,Jeanine,”Isay,becauseitistheonlythingthatcomestomind.

IlookfromJeanine’swaterygrayeyestotheDauntlesswhoflankher.Peterstandsatherrightshoulder,andawomanwithlinesoneithersideofhermouthstandsatherleft.Behindherisabaldmanwithsharpplanesinhisskull.Ifrown.

How does Peter find himself in such a prestigious position, as Jeanine Matthews’sbodyguard?Whereisthelogicinthat?

“I’dliketoknowwhattimeitis,”Isay.

“Wouldyou,”shesays.“That’sinteresting.”

I should have known she wouldn’t tell me. Every piece of information she receivesfactors into her strategy, and shewon’t tell mewhat time it is unless she decides thatprovidingtheinformationismoreusefulthanwithholdingit.

“I’m suremyDauntless companions are disappointed,” she says, “that you have nottriedtoclawmyeyesoutyet.”

“Thatwouldbestupid.”

“True.Butinkeepingwithyour‘actfirst,thinksecond’behavioraltrend.”

“I’msixteen.”Ipursemylips.“Ichange.”

“How refreshing.” She has a way of flattening even those phrases that should haveinflectionbuiltintothem.“Let’sgoonalittletour,shallwe?”

Shestepsbackandgesturestowardthedoorway.ThelastthingIwanttodoiswalkoutof this room and toward an uncertain destination, but I don’t hesitate. I walk out, thesevere-lookingDauntlesswomaninfrontofme.Peterfollowsmesoonafterward.

Thehallwayislongandpale.Weturnacornerandwalkdownasecondoneexactlylikethefirst.

Twomorehallways follow. Iamsodisoriented Icouldnever findmywayback.Butthenmysurroundingschange—thewhitetunnelopenstoalargeroomwhereEruditemenandwomen in long blue jackets stand behind tables, some holding tools, somemixingmulticoloredliquids,somestaringatcomputerscreens.IfIhadtoguess,Iwouldsaytheyaremixingsimulationserum,butIhesitatetoconfineErudite’sworktosimulationsalone.

Mostofthemstoptowatchusaswewalkdownthecenteraisle.Orrather,theywatchme.Someofthemwhisper,butmostremainsilent.Itissoquiethere.

IfollowtheDauntlesstraitorwomanthroughadoorway,andstopsoabruptlyPeterrunsintome.

Thisroomisjustaslargeasthelastone,butthereisonlyonethinginit:alargemetaltablewithamachinenext to it.Amachine Ivaguely recognizeasaheartmonitor.Anddanglingaboveit,acamera.Ishudderwithoutmeaningto.BecauseIknowwhatthisis.

“Iamverypleased thatyou, inparticular,arehere,”saysJeanine.Shewalkspastmeandperchesonthetable,herfingerscurledaroundtheedge.

“Iampleased,ofcourse,becauseofyouraptitudetestresults.”Herblondhair,pulledtighttoherskull,reflectsthelight,catchesmyattention.

“EvenamongtheDivergent,youaresomewhatofanoddity,becauseyouhaveaptitudeforthreefactions.Abnegation,Dauntless,andErudite.”

“How…”Myvoicecroaks.Ipushthequestionout.“Howdoyouknowthat?”

“Allingoodtime,”shesays.“FromyourresultsIhavedeterminedthatyouareoneofthestrongestDivergent,whichIsaynottocomplimentyoubuttoexplainmypurpose.IfIamtodevelopasimulationthatcannotbethwartedbytheDivergentmind,Imuststudythe strongest Divergent mind in order to shore up all weaknesses in the technology.Understand?”

Idon’trespond.Iamstillstaringattheheartmonitornexttothetable.

“Therefore, for as longaspossible,my fellowscientists and Iwill be studyingyou.”Shesmilesalittle.“Andthen,attheconclusionofmystudy,youwillbeexecuted.”

Iknew that. Iknew it, sowhydomyknees feelweak,why ismystomachwrithing,why?

“Thatexecutionwilltakeplacehere.”Sherunsherfingertipsoverthetablebeneathher.“Onthistable.Ithoughtitwouldbeinterestingtoshowittoyou.”

Shewantstostudymyresponse.Ibarelybreathe.Iusedtothinkthatcrueltyrequiredmalice,but that isnot true. Jeaninehasno reason toactoutofmalice.But she is cruelbecause shedoesn’t carewhat shedoes, as longas it fascinatesher. Imayaswellbeapuzzleorabrokenmachineshewantstofix.Shewillbreakopenmyskulljusttoseetheinnerworkingsofmybrain;Iwilldiehere,andthatwillbethemercifulthing.

“IknewwhatwouldhappenwhenIcamehere,”Isay.“It’sjustatable.AndI’dliketogobacktomyroomnow.”

Idon’treallycomprehendtime’spassing,atleastnotinthewaythatIusedto,whentimewasavailabletome.SowhenthedooropensagainandPeterwalksintomycell,Idon’tknowhowmuchtimehasgoneby,onlythatIamexhausted.

“Let’sgo,Stiff,”hesays.

“I’mnotAbnegation.”Istretchmyarmsabovemyheadsotheybrushagainstthewall.“Andnowthatyou’reanEruditelackey,youcan’tcallme‘Stiff.’It’sinaccurate.”

“Isaid,let’sgo.”

“What,nosnidecomments?”Ilookupathimwithmocksurprise.“No‘You’reanidiotforcominghere;yourbrainmustbedeficientaswellasDivergent’?”

“Thatreallygoeswithoutsaying,doesn’tit?”hesays.“YoucaneithergetuporIcandragyoudownthehallway.Yourchoice.”

Ifeelcalmer.Peterisalwaysmeantome;thisisfamiliar.

Istandandwalkoutoftheroom.InoticeasIwalkthatPeter’sarm,theoneIshot,isnolongerinasling.

“Didtheyfixupyourbulletwound?”

“Yeah,”hesays.“Nowyou’llneedtofindadifferentweaknesstoexploit.ToobadI’mfreshoutofthem.”Hegrabsmygoodarmandwalksfaster,pullingmealongbesidehim.“We’relate.”

Despitethelengthandemptinessofthehallway,ourfootstepsdon’techomuch.IfeellikesomeoneputtheirhandsovermyearsandIonlyjustnoticedit.Itrytokeeptrackofthehallwayswewalkdown,butIlosecountafterawhile.Wereachtheendofoneandturn left, intoadimroomthat remindsmeofanaquarium.Oneof thewalls ismadeofone-wayglass—reflectiveonmyside,butI’msureit’stransparentontheotherside.

A largemachine stands on the other side, with aman-sized tray coming out of it. IrecognizeitfrommyFactionHistorytextbook,theunitonEruditeandmedicine.AnMRImachine.Itwilltakepicturesofmybrain.

Somethingsparksinsideme.It’sbeensolongsinceIfeltitthatIbarelyrecognizeitatfirst.Curiosity.

Avoice—Jeanine’svoice—speaksoveranintercom.

“Liedown,Beatrice.”

Ilookattheman-sizedtraythatwillslidemeintothemachine.

“No.”

Shesighs.“Ifyoudon’tdoityourself,wehavewaysofmakingyou.”

Peter is standing behindme. Even with an injured arm, he was stronger thanme. Iimagine his hands onme,wrestlingme toward the tray, shovingme against themetal,pullingthestrapsthatdanglefromthetrayacrossmybody,tootightly.

“Let’smakeadeal,”Isay.“IfIcooperate,Igettoseethescan.”

“Youwillcooperatewhetheryouwanttoornot.”

Iholdupafinger.“That’snottrue.”

Ilookatthemirror.It’snotsodifficulttopretendthatI’mspeakingtoJeaninewhenIspeaktomyownreflection.Myhairisblondlikehers;wearebothpaleandstern-looking.ThethoughtissodisturbingtomethatIlosemytrainofthoughtforafewseconds,andinsteadstandwithmyfingerintheairinsilence.

Iampale-skinned,pale-haired,andcold.Iamcuriousaboutthepicturesofmybrain.IamlikeJeanine.AndIcaneitherdespiseit,attackit,eradicateit…orIcanuseit.

“That’snottrue,”Irepeat.“Nomatterhowmanyrestraintsyouuse,youcan’tkeepmeasstillasIneed tobefor thepictures tobeclear.”Iclearmythroat.“Iwant tosee thescans.You’regoingtokillmeanyway,sodoesit reallymatterhowmuchIknowaboutmyownbrainbeforeyoudo?”

Silence.

“Whydoyouwanttoseethemsobadly?”shesays.

“Surely you, of all people, understand. I have equal aptitude for Erudite as I do for

DauntlessandAbnegation,afterall.”

“Allright.Youcanseethem.Liedown.”

Iwalkovertothetrayandliedown.Themetalfeelslikeice.Thetrayslidesback,andIaminsidethemachine.Istareupatwhiteness.WhenIwasyoung,Ithoughtthatwaswhatheavenwould be like, allwhite light and nothing else.Now I know that can’t be true,becausewhitelightismenacing.

I hear thumping, and I closemyeyes as I rememberoneof theobstacles inmy fearlandscape,thefistspoundingagainstmywindowsandthesightlessmentryingtokidnapme.Ipretendthepoundingisaheartbeat,adrumbeat.TherivercrashingagainstthewallsofthechasmintheDauntlesscompound.Feetstampingattheend-of-initiationceremony.FeetpoundingonthestaircaseaftertheChoosingCeremony.

Idon’tknowhowmuchtimehaspassedwhenthe thumpingstopsand the trayslidesback.Isitupandrubmyneckwithmyfingertips.

Thedooropens,revealingPeterinthehallway.Hebeckonstome.“Comeon.Youcangoseethescansnow.”

Ihopdownfromthetrayandwalktowardhim.Whenwe’reinthehallway,heshakeshisheadatme.

“What?”

“Idon’tknowhowyoumanagetoalwaysgetwhatyouwant.”

“Yeah,becauseIwantedtogetmyselfintoacellinEruditeheadquarters.Iwantedtobeexecuted.”

Isoundcavalier, likeexecutionsaresomethingI faceona regularbasis.But formingmylipsaroundtheword“executed”makesmeshudder.IpretendI’mcold,squeezingmyarmswithmyhands.

“Didn’t you, though?” he says. “I mean, you did come here of your own free will.That’snotwhatIcallagoodsurvivalinstinct.”

Hetypesinaseriesofnumbersonakeypadoutsidethenextdoor,anditopens.Ienterthe roomon theother sideof themirror. It’s fullof screensand light, reflectingoff theglass in theErudites’ spectacles.Across the room,anotherdoorclicks shut.There isanemptychairbehindoneofthescreens,stillturning.Someonejustleft.

Peterstandstooclosebehindme—readytograbmeifIdecidetoattackanyone.ButIwon’tattackanyone.HowfarcouldIgetifIdid?Downonehallway,ortwo?AndthenIwouldbe lost. Icouldn’tgetoutofhereeven if thereweren’tguardsstoppingmefromleaving.

“Putthemupthere,”saysJeanine,pointingtowardthelargescreenontheleftwall.Oneof theEruditescientists tapshisowncomputerscreen,andanimageappearsonthe leftwall.Animageofmybrain.

Idon’tknowwhatI’mlookingat,exactly.Iknowwhatabrainlookslike,andgenerallywhateachregionofitdoes,butIdon’tknowhowminecomparestoothers.Jeaninetapsherchinandstaresforwhatfeelslikealongtime.

Finallyshesays,“SomeoneinstructMs.Priorastowhattheprefrontalcortexdoes.”

“It’stheregionofthebrainbehindtheforehead,sotospeak,”oneofthescientistssays.Shedoesn’tlookmucholderthanIam,andwearslargeroundglassesthatmakehereyeslook bigger. “It’s responsible for organizing your thoughts and actions to attain yourgoals.”

“Correct,” Jeanine says. “Now someone tellmewhat they observe aboutMs.Prior’slateralprefrontalcortex.”

“It’slarge,”anotherscientist—thisoneamanwiththinninghair—says.

“Specificity,”saysJeanine.Likeshe’schastisinghim.

Iaminaclassroom,Irealize,becauseeveryroomwithmorethanoneEruditeinitisaclassroom.Andamong them, Jeanine is theirmost valued teacher.Theyall stare at herwithwideeyesandeager,openmouths,waitingtoimpressher.

“It’smuchlargerthanaverage,”themanwiththinninghaircorrectshimself.

“Better.”Jeaninetiltsherhead.“Infact,itisoneofthelargestlateralprefrontalcortexesI’veeverseen.Yettheorbitofrontalcortexisremarkablysmall.Whatdothesetwofactsindicate?”

“Theorbitofrontalcortexistherewardcenterofthebrain.Thosewhoexhibitreward-seekingbehaviorhavealargeorbitofrontalcortex,”someonesays.“ThatmeansthatMs.Priorengagesinverylittlereward-seekingbehavior.”

“Not just that.” Jeanine smiles a little. Blue light from the screens makes hercheekbones and forehead brighter but casts shadows in her eye sockets. “It does notmerely indicate something about her behavior, but about her desires. She is not rewardmotivated. Yet she is extremely good at directing her thoughts and actions toward hergoals.Thisexplainsbothhertendencytowardharmful-but-selflessbehaviorand,perhaps,herabilitytowriggleoutofsimulations.Howdoesthischangeourapproachtothenewsimulationserum?”

“It should suppress some, but not all, of the activity in the prefrontal cortex,” thescientistwiththeroundglassessays.

“Precisely,” says Jeanine. She finally looks at me, her eyes gleaming with delight.“Thenthatishowwewillproceed.Didthissatisfymyendofouragreement,Ms.Prior?”

Mymouthisdry,soit’sdifficulttoswallow.

Andwhathappensiftheysuppresstheactivityinmyprefrontalcortex—iftheydamagemy ability to make decisions?What if this serumworks, and I become a slave to thesimulationslikeeveryoneelse?WhatifIforgetrealityentirely?

Ididnotknow thatmyentirepersonality,myentirebeing, couldbediscardedas thebyproductofmyanatomy.WhatifIreallyamjustsomeonewithalargeprefrontalcortex…andnothingmore?

“Yes,”Isay.“Itdid.”

InsilencePeterandImakeourwaybacktomyroom.Weturnleft,andagroupofpeoplestands at the other end of the hallway. It is the longest of the corridors wewill travelthrough,butthatdistanceshrinkswhenIseehim.

HeldateitherarmbyaDauntlesstraitor,agunaimedatthebackofhisskull.

Tobias,blood trailingdown thesideofhis faceandmarkinghiswhiteshirtwith red;Tobias,fellowDivergent,standinginthemouthofthisfurnaceinwhichIwillburn.

Peter’shandsclamparoundmyshoulders,holdingmeinplace.

“Tobias,”Isay,anditsoundslikeagasp.

TheDauntless traitorwith the gun pressesTobias towardme. Peter tries to pushmeforwardtoo,butmyfeetremainplanted.Icameheresothatnooneelsewoulddie.Icamehere to protect asmany people as I could.And I caremore about Tobias’s safety thananyoneelse’s.SowhyamIhere,ifhe’shere?What’sthepoint?

“Whatdidyoudo?”Imumble.Heisjustafewfeetawayfrommenow,butnotcloseenough tohearme.Ashepassesmehe stretchesout his hand.Hewraps it aroundmypalmandsqueezes.Squeezes,thenletsgo.Hiseyesarebloodshot;heispale.

“Whatdidyoudo?”Thistimethequestiontearsfrommythroatlikeagrowl.

Ithrowmyselftowardhim,strugglingagainstPeter’sgrip,thoughhishandschafe.

“Whatdidyoudo?”Iscream.

“Youdie,Idietoo.”Tobiaslooksoverhisshoulderatme.“Iaskedyounottodothis.Youmadeyourdecision.Thesearetherepercussions.”

Hedisappearsaroundthecorner.ThelastIseeofhimandtheDauntlesstraitorsleadinghimisthegleamofthegunbarrelandbloodonthebackofhisearlobefromaninjuryIdidn’tseebefore.

Allthelifegoesoutofmeassoonashe’sgone.IstopstrugglingandletPeter’shandspushmetowardmycell.IslumptothegroundassoonasIwalkin,waitingforthedoortoslideshuttosignifyPeter’sdeparture,butitdoesn’t.

“Whydidhecomehere?”Petersays.

Iglanceathim.

“Becausehe’sanidiot.”

“Well,yeah.”

Irestmyheadagainstthewall.

“Didhethinkhecouldrescueyou?”Petersnortsalittle.“SoundslikeaStiff-bornthingtodo.”

“I don’t think so,” I say. If Tobias intended to rescueme, hewould have thought itthrough;hewouldhavebroughtothers.HewouldnothaveburstintoEruditeheadquartersalone.

Tearswellup inmyeyes,and Idon’t try toblink themaway. Instead I stare throughthemandwatchmysurroundingssmeartogether.AfewdaysagoIwouldneverhavecriedinfrontofPeter,butIdon’tcareanymore.Heistheleastofallmyenemies.

“Ithinkhecametodiewithme,”Isay.Iclampmyhandovermymouthtostifleasob.If I can keep breathing, I can stop crying. I didn’t need orwant him to diewithme. Iwantedtokeephimsafe.Whatanidiot,Ithink,butmyheartisn’tinit.

“That’s ridiculous,” he says. “That doesn’tmake any sense.He’s eighteen; he’ll findanothergirlfriendonceyou’redead.Andhe’sstupidifhedoesn’tknowthat.”

Tears rundownmycheeks, hot at first and thencold. I closemyeyes. “If you thinkthat’swhatit’sabout…”Iswallowanothersob.“…you’rethestupidone.”

“Yeah.Whatever.”

Hisshoessqueakasheturnsaway.Abouttoleave.

“Wait!”Ilookupathisblurrysilhouette,unabletomakeouthisface.“Whatwilltheydotohim?Thesamethingthey’redoingtome?”

“Idon’tknow.”

“Canyoufindout?”Iwipemycheekswiththeheelsofmyhands,frustrated.“Canyouatleastfindoutifhe’sallright?”

Hesays,“WhywouldIdothat?WhywouldIdoanythingforyou?”

AmomentlaterIhearthedoorslideshut.

I READ SOMEWHERE, once, that crying defies scientific explanation. Tears are only meant tolubricatetheeyes.Thereisnorealreasonfortearglandstooverproducetearsatthebehestofemotion.

I thinkwecry torelease theanimalpartsofuswithout losingourhumanity.Becauseinsideme isabeast that snarls,andgrowls,andstrains toward freedom, towardTobias,and,aboveall,towardlife.AndashardasItry,Icannotkillit.

SoIsobintomyhandsinstead.

Left,right,right.Left,right,left.Right,right.Ourturns,inorder,fromourpointoforigin—mycell—toourdestination.

Itisanewroom.Initisapartiallyreclinedchair,likeadentist’schair.Inonecornerisascreenandadesk.Jeaninesitsatthedesk.

“Whereishe?”Isay.

Ihavebeenwaitingforhourstoaskthatquestion.IfellasleepanddreamedthatIwaschasingTobiasthroughDauntlessheadquarters.NomatterhowfastIranhewasalwaysjustfarenoughaheadofmethatIwatchedhimdisappeararoundcorners,catchingsightofasleeveortheheelofashoe.

Jeaninegivesmeapuzzledlook.Butsheisnotpuzzled.Sheisplayingwithme.

“Tobias,” I say anyway. My hands shake, but not from fear this time—from anger.“Whereishe?Whatareyoudoingtohim?”

“Iseenoreasontoprovidethatinformation,”saysJeanine.“Andsinceyouarealloutofleverage,Iseenowayforyoutogivemeareason,unlessyouwouldliketochangethetermsofouragreement.”

Iwanttoscreamatherthatofcourse,ofcourseIwouldratherknowaboutTobiasthanaboutmyDivergence, but I don’t. I can’t make hasty decisions. Shewill dowhat sheintends todo toTobiaswhether Iknowabout itornot. It ismore important that I fully

understandwhatishappeningtome.

Ibreatheinthroughmynose,andoutthroughmynose.Ishakemyhands.Isitdowninthechair.

“Interesting,”shesays.

“Aren’tyousupposedtoberunningafactionandplanningawar?”Isay.“Whatareyoudoinghere,runningtestsonasixteen-year-oldgirl?”

“Youchoosedifferentwaysofreferringtoyourselfdependingonwhatisconvenient,”shesays,leaningbackinherchair.“Sometimesyouinsistthatyouarenotalittlegirl,andsometimesyouinsistthatyouare.WhatIamcurioustoknowis:Howdoyoureallyviewyourself?Asoneortheother?Asboth?Asneither?”

I make my voice flat and factual, like hers. “I see no reason to provide thatinformation.”

Ihearafaintsnort.Peteriscoveringhismouth.Jeanineglaresathim,andhislaughtereffortlesslytransformsintoacoughingfit.

“Mockeryischildish,Beatrice,”shesays.“Itdoesnotbecomeyou.”

“Mockeryischildish,Beatrice,”Irepeatinmybestimitationofhervoice.“Itdoesnotbecomeyou.”

“The serum,” Jeanine says, eyeingPeter.He steps forward and fumbleswith a blackboxonthedesk,takingoutasyringewithaneedlealreadyattachedtoit.

Peterstartstowardme,andIholdoutmyhand.

“Allowme,”Isay.

He looksat Jeanine forpermission, and she says, “All right, then.”Hehandsme thesyringeand I shove theneedle into the sideofmyneck,pressingdownon theplunger.Jeaninejabsoneofthebuttonswithherfinger,andeverythinggoesdark.

Mymotherstandsintheaislewithherarmstretchedaboveherheadsoshecanholdthebar.Her face is turned,not toward thepeoplesittingaroundme,but toward thecitywepassasthebuslurchesforward.Iseewrinklesinherforeheadandaroundhermouthwhenshefrowns.

“Whatisit?”Iaskher.

“Thereissomuchtobedone,”shesayswithasmallgesturetowardthebuswindows.“Andsofewofuslefttodoit.”

Itisclearwhatshe’sreferringto.BeyondthebusisrubbleasfarasIcansee.Acrossthestreet,abuildingliesinruins.Fragmentsofglasslitterthealleyways.Iwonderwhatcausedsomuchdestruction.

“Wherearewegoing?”Isay.

Shesmilesatme,andIseedifferentwrinkles thanbefore,at thecornersofhereyes.

“We’regoingtoEruditeheadquarters.”

Ifrown.MostofmylifehasbeenspentavoidingEruditeheadquarters.Myfatherusedtosaythathedidn’tevenliketobreathetheairinthere.“Whyarewegoingthere?”

“They’regoingtohelpus.”

Why do I feel a pang inmy stomachwhen I think ofmy father? I picture his face,weatheredbyalifetimeoffrustrationwiththeworldaroundhim,andhishair,keptshortbyAbnegationstandardpractice,andfeelthesamekindofpaininmystomachthatIgetwhenIhavenoteatenintoolong—ahollowpain.

“DidsomethinghappentoDad?”Isay.

Sheshakesherhead.“Whywouldyouaskthat?”

“Idon’tknow.”

Idon’tfeelthepainwhenIlookatmymother.ButIdofeellikeeverysecondwespendstanding these inches apart is one that I must impress upon my mind until my entirememoryconformstoitsshape.Butifsheisnotpermanent,whatisshe?

Thebusstops,andthedoorscreakopen.Mymotherstartsdowntheaisle,andIfollowher.SheistallerthanIam,soIstarebetweenhershoulders,atthetopofherspine.Shelooksfragile,butsheisnot.

Istepdownontothepavement.Piecesofglasscrinklebeneathmyfeet.Theyareblueand,judgingbytheholesinthebuildingtomyright,usedtobewindows.

“Whathappened?”

“War,”mymothersays.“Thisiswhatwe’vebeentryingsohardtoavoid.”

“AndtheEruditewillhelpus…bydoingwhat?”

“Iworrythatallyourfather’sblusteringaboutEruditehasbeentoyourdetriment,”shesaysgently.“They’vemademistakes,ofcourse,butthey,likeeveryoneelse,areablendof good and bad, not one or the other. What would we do without our doctors, ourscientists,ourteachers?”

Shesmoothsdownmyhair.

“Takecaretorememberthat,Beatrice.”

“Iwill,”Ipromise.

Wekeepwalking.But somethingaboutwhat shesaidbothersme. Is itwhat shesaidaboutmyfather?No—myfatherisalwayscomplainingaboutErudite.IsitwhatshesaidaboutErudite?Ihopoveralargeshardofglass.No,thatcan’tbeit.ShewasrightaboutErudite.Allmy teacherswereErudite,andsowas thedoctorwhosetmymother’sarmwhenshebrokeitseveralyearsago.

It’s the last part. “Take care to remember.” As if she won’t have the opportunity toremindmelater.

Ifeelsomethingshiftinmymind,likesomethingthatwasclosedhasjustopened.

“Mom?”Isay.

Shelooksbackatme.Alockofblondhairfallsfromitsknotandtoucheshercheek.

“Iloveyou.”

Ipointatawindowtomyleft,anditexplodes.Particlesofglassrainoverus.

I don’twant towakeup in a room inErudite headquarters, so I don’t openmyeyesrightaway,notevenwhenthesimulationfades.Itrytopreservetheimageofmymotherand the hair sticking to her cheekbone for as long as I can. But when all I see is therednessofmyowneyelids,Iopenthem.

“You’llhavetodobetterthanthat,”IsaytoJeanine.

Shesays,“Thatwasonlythebeginning.”

THATNIGHTIdream,notofTobias,andnotofWill,butofmymother.WestandintheAmityorchards,wheretheapplesareripeanddanglejustinchesaboveourheads.Leafshadowspatternherface,andshewearsblack,thoughIneversawherinblackwhenshewasalive.Sheisteachingmetobraidhair,demonstratingonalockofherown,laughingwhenmyfingersfumble.

IwakewonderinghowIdidnotnotice,everydayIsatacrossfromheratthebreakfasttable,thatshewasfulltoburstingwithDauntlessenergy.Wasitbecauseshehiditwell?OrwasitbecauseIwasn’tlooking?

IburymyfaceinthethinmattressIslepton.Iwillneverknowher.ButatleastshewillneverknowwhatIdidtoWill,either.AtthispointIdon’tthinkIcouldbearitifshedid.

I am still blinking the haze of sleep from my eyes when I follow Peter down thecorridor,secondsorminuteslater,Ican’ttell.

“Peter.”Mythroataches;ImusthavescreamedwhileIslept.“Whattimeisit?”

Hewearsawatch,butthefaceiscovered,soIcan’tseeit.Hedoesn’tevenbothertolookatit.

“Whyareyouconstantlyescortingmeplaces?” I say.“Isn’t thereadepravedactivityyou’re supposed to be taking part in? Kicking puppies or spying on girls while theychange,orsomething?”

“Iknowwhatyoudid toWill,youknow.Don’tpretend thatyou’rebetter than Iam,becauseyouandI,we’reexactlythesame.”

The only thing that distinguishes one hallway from another, here, is their length. IdecidetolabelthemaccordingtohowmanystepsItakebeforeIturn.Ten.Forty-seven.Twenty-nine.

“You’rewrong,”Isay.“Wemaybothbebad,butthere’sahugedifferencebetweenus—I’mnotcontentwithbeingthisway.”

Petersnortsalittle,andwewalkbetweentheEruditelabtables.That’swhenIrealizewhere I am, and where we’re going: back to the room Jeanine showedme. The roomwhere Iwill be executed. I shudder so hardmy teeth chatter, and it’s difficult to keep

walking,hardtokeepmythoughtsstraight.It’sjustaroom,Itellmyself.Justaroomlikeanyotherroom.

Iamsuchaliar.

This time theexecutionchamber isnot empty.FourDauntless traitorsmill around inonecorner, and twoof theErudite,oneadark-skinnedwoman,oneanolderman,bothwearinglabcoats,standwithJeaninenearthemetaltableinthecenter.Severalmachinesaresetuparoundit,andtherearewireseverywhere.

Idon’tknowwhatmostofthosemachinesdo,butamongthemisaheartmonitor.WhatdoesJeanineplantodothatrequiresaheartmonitor?

“Getheronthetable,”saysJeanine,soundingbored.Istareforasecondatthesheetofsteelthatawaitsme.Whatifshechangedhermindaboutwaitingtoexecuteme?Whatifthis iswhen I die?Peter’s hands clamp aroundmy arms and Iwrithe, throwing allmystrengthintothestruggle.

Buthejustliftsmeup,dodgingmykickingfeet,andslamsmedownonthemetalslab,knockingthewindoutofme.Igasp,andflingafistoutatwhateverIcanhit,whichjusthappenstobePeter’swrist.Hewinces,butbynowtheotherDauntlesstraitorshavecomeforwardtohelp.

Oneof themholdsdownmyankles,and theotherholdsdownmyshouldersasPeterpullsblackstrapsacrossmybodytokeepmepinned.Iflinchatthepaininmywoundedshoulderandstopstruggling.

“Whatthehellisgoingon?”Idemand,craningmynecktolookatJeanine.“Weagreed—cooperationinexchangeforresults!Weagreed—”

“This is entirely separate from our agreement,” says Jeanine, glancing at her watch.“Thisisnotaboutyou,Beatrice.”

Thedooropensagain.

Tobias walks in—limps in—flanked by Dauntless traitors. His face is bruised andthere’s a cut above his eyebrow. He does not move with his usual care; he’s holdinghimselfperfectlystraight.Hemustbeinjured.Itrynottothinkabouthowhegotthatway.

“Whatisthis?”hesays,hisvoiceroughandcreaky.

Fromscreaming,probably.

Mythroatfeelsswollen.

“Tris,”hesays,andhelurchestowardme,buttheDauntlesstraitorsaretooquick.Theygrabhimbeforehecanmovemorethanafewsteps.“Tris,areyouokay?”

“Yeah,”Isay.“Areyou?”

Henods.Idon’tbelievehim.

“Ratherthanwasteanymoretime,Mr.Eaton,IthoughtIwouldtakethemostlogicalapproach.Truth serumwouldbepreferable, of course,but itwould takedays to coerceJackKangintohandingsomeover,asitisjealouslyguardedbytheCandor,andI’drathernotwasteafewdays.”Shestepsforward,asyringeinhand.Thisserumistintedgray.It

couldbeanewversionofthesimulationserum,butIdoubtit.

Iwonderwhatitdoes.Itcan’tbegood,ifshelooksthispleasedwithherself.

“Inafewseconds,IwillinjectTriswiththisliquid.Atthatpoint,Itrust,yourselflessinstinctswilltakeoverandyouwilltellmeexactlywhatIneedtoknow.”

“Whatdoessheneedtoknow?”Isay,interruptingher.

“Informationaboutthefactionlesssafehouses,”hereplieswithoutlookingatme.

Myeyeswiden.Thefactionlessarethelasthopeanyofushas,nowthathalftheloyalDauntlessandalltheCandoraresimulation-ready,andhalftheAbnegationaredead.

“Don’tgiveittoher.I’mgoingtodieanyway.Don’tgiveheranything.”

“Remindme,Mr.Eaton,”saysJeanine.“WhatdoDauntlesssimulationsdo?”

“Thisisn’taclassroom,”herepliesthroughgrittedteeth.“Tellmewhatyou’regoingtodo.”

“Iwillifyouanswermyverysimplequestion.”

“Fine.”Tobias’s eyes shift tome. “The simulations stimulate the amygdala,which isresponsibleforprocessingfear,induceahallucinationbasedonthatfear,andthentransmitthedatatoacomputertobeprocessedandobserved.”

Itsoundslikehe’shadthatmemorizedforalongtime.Maybehehas—hedidspendalotoftimerunningsimulations.

“Verygood,”shesays.“WhenIwasdevelopingtheDauntlesssimulations,yearsago,we discovered that certain levels of potency overwhelmed the brain and made it tooinsensiblewithterrortoinventnewsurroundings,whichwaswhenwedilutedthesolutionsothatthesimulationswouldbemoreinstructive.ButIstillrememberhowtomakeit.”

Shetapsthesyringewithherfingernail.

“Fear,” shesays,“ismorepowerful thanpain.So is thereanythingyou’d like tosay,beforeIinjectMs.Prior?”

Tobiaspresseshislipstogether.

AndJeanineinsertstheneedle.

Itbeginsquietly,withthepoundingofaheart.Iamnotsure,atfirst,whoseheartbeatI’mhearing,becauseit’sfartooloudtobemyown.ButthenIrealizethatitismyown,andit’sgettingfasterandfaster.

Sweatcollectsinmypalmsandbehindmyknees.

AndthenIhavetogaspinordertobreathe.

That’swhenthescreamingstarts

AndI

Can’t

Think.

TobiasisfightingtheDauntlesstraitorsbythedoor.

Ihearwhatsoundslikeachild’sscreambesideme,andwrenchmyheadaroundtoseewhereit’scomingfrom,butthereisonlyaheartmonitor.Abovemethelinesbetweentheceilingtileswarpandtwistintomonstrouscreatures.ThescentofrottingfleshfillstheairandIgag.Themonstrouscreaturestakeonamoredefiniteshape—theyarebirds,crows,withbeaksaslongasmyforearmandwingssodarktheyseemtoswallowallthelight.

“Tris,”saysTobias.Ilookawayfromthecrows.

Hestandsbythedoor,wherehewasbeforeIwasinjected,butnowhehasaknife.Heholds it out from his body and turns it so the blade points in, at his stomach. Then hebringsittowardhimself,touchingthetipofthebladetohisstomach.

“Whatareyoudoing?Stop!”

Hesmilesalittleandsays,“I’mdoingthisforyou.”

Hepushes theknife in farther, slow,andbloodstains thehemofhisshirt. Igag,andthrowmyself against the bonds holdingme to the table. “No, stop!” I thrash and in asimulationIwouldhavepulledfreebynowsothismustmeanthatthisisreal,it’sreal.Iscreamandhe sticks theknife in to thehandle.Hecollapses to the floorandhisbloodspillsfastandsurroundshim.Theshadow-birdsturntheirbeadyeyesonhimandswarminatornadoofwingsandtalons,peckingathisskin.Iseehiseyesthroughthewhirlingfeathersandheisstillawake.

Abirdlandsonthefingersthatholdtheknife.HedrawsitoutagainanditclatterstothegroundandIshouldhopethatheisdeadbutI’mselfishsoIcan’t.Mybackliftsfromthetableandallmymusclesclenchandmythroatachesfromthisscreamthatnolongershapesitselfintowordsandwillnotstop.

“Sedative,”asternvoicecommands.

Anotherneedle inmyneck,andmyheartbegins toslowdown.Isobwithrelief.ForsecondsallIcandoissobwithrelief.

Thatwasnotfear.Thatwassomethingelse;anemotionthatshouldnotexist.

“Letmego,”Tobiassays,andhesoundsscratchierthanbefore.IblinkfastsoIcanseehimthroughmytears.ThereareredmarksonhisarmsfromwheretheDauntlesstraitorsheldhimback,butheisnotdying;heisallright.“That’stheonlywayI’lltellyou,isifyouletmego.”

Jeaninenods,andherunstome.Hewrapsonehandaroundmineandtouchesmyhairwith the other.His fingertips come awaywetwith tears.Hedoesn’twipe themoff.He

leansoverandpresseshisforeheadtomine.

“Thefactionlesssafehouses,”hesaysdully,rightagainstmycheek.“GetmeamapandI’llmarkthemforyou.”

His foreheadfeelscoolanddryagainstmine.Mymusclesache,probablyfrombeingclenchedforhoweverlongJeanineleftmewiththatserumpulsingthroughme.

Hepullsback,hisfingerswrappedaroundmyfingersforaslongastheycanbeuntilthe Dauntless traitors pull him frommy grasp to escort him elsewhere.My hand fallsheavyonthetable.Idon’twanttostruggleagainsttherestraintsanymore.AllIwanttodoissleep.

“Whileyou’rehere…”JeaninesaysonceTobiasandhisescortsaregone.Shelooksupandfocusesherwateryeyesononeof theErudite.“Gethimandbringhiminhere.It’stime.”

Shelooksbackdownatme.

“While you sleep, wewill be performing a short procedure to observe a few thingsabout your brain. It will not be invasive. But before that … I promised you fulltransparencywiththeseprocedures.SoIfeelit’sonlyfairthatyouknowexactlywhohasbeenassistingmeinmyendeavors.”Shesmilesalittle.“Whotoldmewhatthreefactionsyouhadanaptitudefor,andwhatourbestchancewastogetyoutocomehere,andtoputyourmotherinthelastsimulationtomakeitmoreeffective.”

She looks toward the doorway as the sedative sets in,making everything blur at theedges.Ilookovermyshoulder,andthroughthehazeofdrugsIseehim.

Caleb.

IWAKETOaheadache.Itrytogobacktosleep—atleastwhenI’masleep,I’mcalm—buttheimage of Caleb standing in the doorway runs through my mind over and over again,accompaniedbythesoundofsquawkingcrows.

Why did I never wonder how Eric and Jeanine knew that I had aptitude for threefactions?

Whydiditneveroccurtomethatonlythreepeopleintheworldknewthatparticularfact:Tori,Caleb,andTobias?

Myheadpounds.Ican’tmakesenseofit.Idon’tknowwhyCalebwouldbetrayme.Iwonderwhenithappened—aftertheattacksimulation?AftertheescapefromAmity?Orwasitearlierthanthat—wasitbackwhenmyfatherwasstillalive?CalebtoldusheleftEruditewhenhefoundoutwhattheywereplanning—washelying?

Hemust have been. I press the heel ofmy hand tomy forehead.My brother chosefactionoverblood.Therehastobeareason.Shemusthavethreatenedhim.Orcoercedhiminsomeway.

Thedooropens.Idon’tliftmyheadoropenmyeyes.

“Stiff.”It’sPeter.Ofcourse.

“Yes.”WhenI letmyhandfall frommyface,a lockofhair fallswith it. I lookat itfromthecornerofmyeye.Myhairhasneverbeenthisgreasybefore.

Peter sets abottleofwaternext to thebed, anda sandwich.The thoughtof eating itnauseatesme.

“Youbrain-dead?”heasks.

“Don’tthinkso.”

“Don’tbesosure.”

“Ha-ha,”Isay.“HowlonghaveIbeenasleep?”

“Aboutaday.I’msupposedtoescortyoutotheshowers.”

“IfyousaysomethingabouthowbadlyIneedone,”Isaytiredly,“Iwillpokeyouinthe

eye.”

TheroomspinswhenIliftmyhead,butImanagetoputmylegsovertheedgeofthebedandstand.PeterandIstartdownthehallway.Whenweturnthecornertogettothebathroom,though,therearepeopleattheendofthehallway.

OneofthemisTobias.Icanseewhereourpathswillintersect,betweenwhereIstandnowandmycelldoor.Istare,notathimbutatwherehewillbewhenhereachesformyhand,ashedidthelasttimewepassedeachother.Myskintingleswithanticipation.Forjustamoment,Iwilltouchhimagain.

Sixstepsuntilwepasseachother.Fivesteps.

Atfoursteps,though,Tobiasstops.Hisentirebodygoeslimp,catchinghisDauntlesstraitor escort off guard. The guard loses his grip on him for just a second, and Tobiascrumplestothefloor.

Thenhe twistsaround.Lurches forward.AndgrabsagunfromtheshorterDauntlesstraitor’sholster.

Thegungoesoff.Peterdives to theright,draggingmewithhim.Myheadskims thewall.TheDauntlessguard’smouthisopen—hemustbescreaming.Ican’thearhim.

Tobiaskickshimhardinthestomach.TheDauntlessinmeadmireshisform—perfect—and his speed—incredible. Then he turns, training the gun on Peter. But Peter hasalreadyreleasedme.

Tobiasreachesformyleftarm,helpsmetomyfeet,andstartsrunning.Istumbleafterhim.Eachtimemyfoothitstheground,painslicesintomyhead,butIcan’tstop.Iblinktearsfrommyeyes.Run,Itellmyself,asifthatwillmakeiteasier.Tobias’shandisroughandstrong.Iletitguidemearoundacorner.

“Tobias,”Iwheeze.

Hestops,andlooksbackatme.“Ohno,”hesays,brushingmycheekwithhisfingers.“Comeon.Onmyback.”

Hebends,andIputmyarmsaroundhisneck,buryingmyfacebetweenhisshoulderblades.Heliftsmewithoutdifficultyandholdsontomylegwithhislefthand.Hisrighthandstillholdsthegun.

Heruns,andevenwithmyweight,heisfast.IdlyIthink,HowcouldheeverhavebeenAbnegation? He seems designed specifically for speed and deadly accuracy. But notstrength,notparticularly—heissmart,butnotstrong.Onlystrongenoughtocarryme.

Thehallwaysareemptynow,butnotforlong.SooneveryDauntlessinthebuildingwillrushtowardusfromeveryangle,andwewillbetrappedinthispalemaze.IwonderhowTobiasplanstogetpastthem.

Iliftmyheadlongenoughtoseethathejustranpastanexit.

“Tobias,youmissedit.”

“Missed…what?”hesaysbetweenbreaths.

“Anexit.”

“Nottryingtoescape.We’dgetshotifwedid,”hesays.“Tryingto…findsomething.”

Iwould suspect that I’mdreaming if thepain inmyheadwasn’t so intense.Usuallyonlymydreamsmakethislittlesense.Why,ifhewasnottryingtoescape,didhetakemewithhim?Andwhatishedoing,ifnotescaping?

He stops abruptly, almost droppingme, as he reaches awide hallwaywith panes ofglassoneitherside,revealingoffices.TheEruditesitfrozenattheirdesks,staringatus.Tobiaspaysnoattentiontothem;hiseyes,asfarasIcantell,arefixedonthedoorattheendofthecorridor.AsignoutsidethedoorsaysCONTROL-A.

Tobiassearcheseverycorneroftheroom,andthenshootsatthecameraattachedtotheceilingonourright.Thecameradrops.Heshootsatthecameraattachedtotheceilingonourleft.Itslensshatters.

“Timetogetdown,”hesays.“Nomorerunning,Ipromise.”

Islideoffhisbackandtakehishandinstead.Hewalks towardacloseddoor thatwepassed already, and into a supply closet. He shuts the door andwedges a busted chairunderthedoorknob.Ifacehim,ashelfstackedwithpaperatmyback.Aboveus,thebluelightflickers.Hiseyesroamovermyfacealmosthungrily.

“Idon’thavemuchtime,soI’mgoingtobedirect,”hesays.

Inod.

“Ididn’tcomehereonsomesuicidemission,”hesays.“Icamefor tworeasons.ThefirstwastofindErudite’stwocentralcontrolroomssothatwhenweinvade,we’llknowwhat to destroy first to get rid of all the simulation data, so she can’t activate theDauntless’stransmitters.”

Thatexplainstherunningwithoutescaping.Andwefoundacontrolroom,attheendofthathallway.

Istareathim,stilldazedfromthepastfewminutes.

“Thesecond,”he says,clearinghis throat, “is tomakesureyouholdon,becausewehaveaplan.”

“Whatplan?”

“According to one of our insiders, your execution is tentatively scheduled for twoweeksfromtoday,”hesays.“Atleast,that’sJeanine’stargetdateforthenew,Divergent-proofsimulation.Sofourteendaysfromnow,thefactionless,theloyalDauntless,andtheAbnegationwhoarewillingtofightwillstormtheEruditecompoundandtakeout theirbestweapon—theircomputersystem.Thatmeanswe’lloutnumberthetraitorDauntless,andthereforetheErudite.”

“ButyoutoldJeaninewherethefactionlesssafehouseswere.”

“Yeah.”He frownsa little. “That isproblematic.But asyouand Iknow, a lotof thefactionlessareDivergent,andmanyofthemwerealreadymovingtowardtheAbnegationsectorwhenIleft,soonlysomeofthesafehouseswillbeaffected.Sotheywillstillhaveahugepopulationtocontributetotheinvasion.”

Twoweeks.WillIbeabletomakeitthroughtwoweeksofthis?IamalreadysotiredI’m finding it difficult to stand on my own. Even the rescue that Tobias is proposingbarelyappealstome.Idon’twantfreedom.Iwantsleep.Iwantthistoend.

“Idon’t…”Ichokeonthewordsandstarttocry.“Ican’t…makeit…thatlong.”

“Tris,”hesayssternly.Henevercoddlesme.Iwishthat,justthisonce,hewouldcoddleme.“Youhaveto.Youhavetosurvivethis.”

“Why?”Thequestionformsinmystomachandlaunchesfrommythroatlikeamoan.Ifeellikethumpingmyfistsagainsthischest,likeachildthrowingatantrum.Tearscovermycheeks,andIknowI’mactingridiculousbut Ican’tstop.“WhydoIhave to?Whycan’tsomeoneelsedosomethingforonce?WhatifIdon’twanttodothisanymore?”

Andwhat this is, I realize, is life. I don’twant it. Iwantmy parents and I have forweeks.I’vebeentryingtoclawmywaybacktothem,andnowIamsocloseandheistellingmenotto.

“I know.” I havenever heardhis voice sound so soft. “I know it’s hard.Thehardestthingyou’vehadtodo.”

Ishakemyhead.

“Ican’tforceyou.Ican’tmakeyouwanttosurvivethis.”Hepullsmeagainsthimandrunshishandovermyhair,tuckingitbehindmyear.Hisfingerstraildownmyneckandovermyshoulder,andhesays,“Butyouwilldoit.Itdoesn’tmatterifyoubelieveyoucanornot.Youwill,becausethat’swhoyouare.”

Ipullbackandfitmymouthtohis,notgently,nothesitantly.IkisshimlikeIusedto,whenIfeltsureofus,andrunmyhandsoverhisback,downhisarms,likeIusedto.

Idon’twanttotellhimthetruth:thatheiswrong,andIdonotwanttosurvivethis.

Thedooropens.Dauntlesstraitorscrowdintothesupplycloset.Tobiasstepsback,turnstheguninhishand,andoffersit,handlefirst,tothenearestDauntlesstraitor.

“BEATRICE.”

Ijerkawake.TheroomIaminnow—forwhateverexperimenttheywanttorunonme—islarge,withscreensalongthebackwallandbluelightsglowingjustabovethefloorandrowsofpaddedbenchesacrossthemiddle.I’msittingonthefarthestbenchbackwithPeteratmyleftshoulder,myheadleaningagainstthewall.Istillcan’tseemtogetenoughsleep.

NowIwishIhadn’twokenup.Calebstandsafewfeetaway,hisweightononefoot,anuncertainposture.

“DidyoueverleaveErudite?”Isay.

“It’snotthatsimple,”hestarts.“I—”

“Itisthatsimple.”Iwanttoyell,butinsteadmyvoicecomesoutflat.“Atwhatpointdidyoubetrayourfamily?Beforeourparentsdied,orafter?”

“Ididwhat Ihad todo.You thinkyouunderstand this,Beatrice,butyoudon’t.Thiswhole situation… it’s much bigger than you think it is.” His eyes plead with me tounderstand,butIrecognizehistone—it’stheoneheemployedwhenwewereyounger,toscoldme.Itiscondescending.

ArroganceisoneoftheflawsintheEruditeheart—Iknow.Itisofteninmine.

Butgreedistheother.AndIdonothavethat.SoIamhalfwayinandhalfwayout,asalways.

Ipushmyselftomyfeet.“Youstillhaven’tansweredmyquestion.”

Calebstepsback.

“Thisisn’taboutErudite;it’sabouteveryone.Allthefactions,”hesays,“andthecity.Andwhat’soutsidethefence.”

“Idon’tcare,”Isay,butthatisn’ttrue.Thephrase“outsidethefence”pricklesinmybrain.Outside?Howcouldanyofthishavetodowithwhat’soutside?

Somethingitchesatthebackofmymind.MarcussaidthatinformationtheAbnegation

possessedmotivated Jeanine’s attack onAbnegation. Does that information have to dowithwhat’soutside,too?

Ipushthethoughtawayforthetimebeing.

“I thoughtyouwere all about facts.About freedomof information?Well, howaboutthisfact,Caleb?When—”Myvoicequakes.“Whendidyoubetrayourparents?”

“I have always been Erudite,” he says softly. “Even when I was supposed to beAbnegation.”

“Ifyou’rewithJeanine,thenIhateyou.Justlikeourfatherwouldhave.”

“Ourfather.”Calebsnortsalittle.“OurfatherwasErudite,Beatrice.Jeaninetoldme—hewasinheryearatschool.”

“Hewasn’tErudite,” I sayaftera fewseconds.“Hechose to leave them.Hechoseadifferent identity, just likeyou,andbecamesomethingelse.Onlyyouchose this…thisevil.”

“Spoken like a trueDauntless,” saysCaleb sharply. “It’s either oneway or the otherway. No nuances. The world doesn’twork like that, Beatrice. Evil depends on whereyou’restanding.”

“Nomatterwhere I stand, I’ll still thinkmind controlling an entire city of people isevil.” I feel my lip wobble. “I’ll still think delivering your sister to be prodded andexecutedisevil!”

Heismybrother,butIwanttotearhimtopieces.

Insteadof trying to, though, I findmyself sittingdownagain. I couldneverhurthimenoughtomakehisbetrayalstophurting.Andithurts,ineverypartofmybody.Ipressmyfingerstomychesttomassagesomeofthesmartingtensionaway.

JeanineandherarmyofEruditescientistsandDauntlesstraitorswalkinjustasIwipetearsfrommycheeks.Iblinkrapidlysoshewon’tsee.Shebarelyevengivesmeaglance.

“Letusviewtheresults,shallwe?”sheannounces.Caleb,nowstandingbythescreens,pressessomethingatthefrontoftheroom,andthescreensturnon.WordsandnumbersIdon’tunderstandfillthem.

“Wediscoveredsomethingextremelyinteresting,Ms.Prior.”Ihaveneverseenhersocheerfulbefore.Shealmostsmiles—butnotquite.“Youhaveanabundanceofaparticularkindofneuron,called,quitesimply,amirrorneuron.Wouldsomeone like toexplain toMs.Priorexactlywhatmirrorneuronsdo?”

TheEruditescientistsraisetheirhandsinunison.Shepointstoanolderwomaninthefront.

“Mirror neurons fire both when one performs an action and when one sees anotherpersonperformingthataction.Theyallowustoimitatebehavior.”

“What else are they responsible for?” Jeanine scans her “class” the same way myteachersdidinUpperLevels.AnotherEruditeraiseshishand.

“Learning language, understanding other people’s intentions based on their behavior,

um…”Hefrowns.“Andempathy.”

“Morespecifically,”Jeaninesays,andthistimeshedoessmileatme,broadly,forcingcreasesintohercheeks,“someonewithmany,strongmirrorneuronscouldhaveaflexiblepersonality—capableofmimickingothersasthesituationcallsforitratherthanremainingconstant.”

Iunderstandwhyshe smiles. I feel likemymind is crackedopen, its secrets spillingoverthefloorformetofinallysee.

“A flexible personality,” she says, “would probably have aptitude formore than onefaction,don’tyouagree,Ms.Prior?”

“Probably,”Isay.“Nowifonlyyoucouldgetasimulation tosuppress thatparticularability,wecouldbedonewiththis.”

“Onethingatatime.”Shepauses.“Imustadmit,itconfusesmethatyouaresoeagerforyourownexecution.”

“No,itdoesn’t.”Iclosemyeyes.“Itdoesn’tconfuseyouatall.”Isigh.“CanIgobacktomycellnow?”

Imustseemnonchalant,butI’mnot.IwanttogobacktomyroomsothatIcancryinpeace.ButIdon’twanthertoknowthat.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” she chirps. “We’ll have a simulation serum to try outsoon.”

“Yeah,”Isay.“Whatever.”

Someoneshakesmyshoulder.Ijerkawake,myeyeswideandsearching,andIseeTobiaskneelingoverme.HewearsaDauntlesstraitorjacket,andonesideofhisheadiscoatedwith blood. The blood streams from awound on his ear—the top of his ear is gone. Iwince.

“Whathappened?”Isay.

“Getup.Wehavetorun.”

“It’stoosoon.Ithasn’tbeentwoweeks.”

“Idon’thavetimetoexplain.Comeon.”

“OhGod.Tobias.”

Isitupandwrapmyarmsaroundhim,pressingmyfaceintohisneck.Hisarmstightenaround me and squeeze.Warmth courses through me, and comfort. If he is here, thatmeansI’msafe.Mytearsmakehisskinslippery.

Hestandsandpullsmetomyfeet,whichmakesmywoundedshoulderthrob.

“Reinforcementswillbeheresoon.Comeon.”

Ilethimleadmeoutoftheroom.Wemakeitdownthefirsthallwaywithoutdifficulty,

butinthesecondhallway,weencountertwoDauntlessguards,oneayoungmanandoneamiddle-agedwoman.Tobiasfirestwiceinamatterofseconds,bothhits,oneintheheadandonein thechest.Thewoman,whowashit in thechest,slumpsagainst thewallbutdoesn’tdie.

Wekeepmoving.Onehallway,thenanother,allofthemlookthesame.Tobias’sgriponmyhandneverfalters.Iknowthatifhecanthrowaknifesothatithitsjustthetipofmyear,hecanfireaccuratelyat theDauntlesssoldierswhoambushus.Westepoverfallenbodies—thepeopleTobiaskilledonthewayin,probably—andfinallyreachafireexit.

Tobiasletsgoofmyhandtoopenthedoor,andthefirealarmscreechesinmyears,butwekeeprunning.IamgaspingforairbutIdon’tcare,notwhenI’mfinallyescaping,notwhen thisnightmare is finallyover.Myvisionstarts togoblackat theedges, so IgrabTobias’sarmandholdontight,trustinghimtoleadmesafelytothebottomofthestairs.

I runoutof steps to rundown, and Iopenmyeyes.Tobias is about toopen theexitdoor,butIholdhimback.“Gotto…catchmybreath….”

Hepauses,andIputmyhandsonmyknees, leaningover.Myshoulderstill throbs.Ifrown,andlookupathim.

“Comeon,let’sgetoutofhere,”hesaysinsistently.

Mystomachsinks.Istareintohiseyes.Theyaredarkblue,withapatchoflightblueonhisrightiris.

Itakehischininhandandpullhislipsdowntomine,kissinghimslowly,sighingasIpullback.

“Wecan’tgetoutofhere,”Isay.“Becausethisisasimulation.”

Hepulledmetomyfeetwithmyrighthand.TherealTobiaswouldhaverememberedthewoundinmyshoulder.

“What?”Hescowlsatme.“Don’tyouthinkIwouldknowifIwasunderasimulation?”

“Youaren’tundera simulation.Youare the simulation.” I lookupand say ina loudvoice,“You’llhavetodobetterthanthat,Jeanine.”

AllIhavetodonowiswakeup,andIknowhow—Ihavedoneitbefore, inmyfearlandscape,whenIbrokeaglasstankjustbytouchingmypalmtoit,orwhenImadeagunappearinthegrasstoshootdescendingbirds.Itakeaknifefrommypocket—aknifethatwasn’tthereamomentago—andwillmylegtobehardasdiamond.

Ithrusttheknifetowardmythigh,andthebladebends.

Iwakewithtearsinmyeyes.IwaketoJeanine’sscreamoffrustration.

“Whatisit?”ShegrabsPeter’sgunoutofhishandandstalksacrosstheroom,pressingthe barrel to my forehead. My body stiffens, goes cold. She won’t shoot me. I am aproblemshecan’tsolve.Shewon’tshootme.

“Whatisitthatcluesyouin?Tellme.TellmeorIwillkillyou.”

Islowlypushmyselfupfromthechair,comingtomyfeet,pushingmyskinharderintothecoldbarrel.

“YouthinkI’mgoingtotellyou?”Isay.“YouthinkIbelievethatyouwouldkillmewithoutfiguringouttheanswertothisquestion?”

“Youstupidgirl,”shesays.“Youthinkthisisaboutyou,andyourabnormalbrain?Thisisnotaboutyou.Itisnotaboutme.Itisaboutkeepingthiscitysafefromthepeoplewhointendtoplungeitintohell!”

Isummonthelastofmystrengthandlaunchmyselfather,clawingatwhateverskinmyfingernailsfind,digginginashardasIcan.Shescreamsatthetopofherlungs,asoundthatturnsmybloodintofire.Ipunchherhardintheface.

Apairofarmswraparoundme,pullingmeoffher,andafistmeetsmyside.Igroan,andlungetowardher,heldatbaybyPeter.

“Paincan’tmakeme tellyou.Truthserumcan’tmakeme tellyou.Simulationscan’tmakemetellyou.I’mimmunetoallthree.”

Hernoseisbleeding,andIseelinesoffingernailscrapesinhercheeks,onthesideofherthroat,turningredwithblossomingblood.Sheglaresatme,pinchinghernoseclosed,herhairdisheveled,herfreehandtrembling.

“Youhave failed.You can’t controlme!” I scream, so loud it hurtsmy throat. I stopstrugglingandsagagainstPeter’schest.“Youwillneverbeabletocontrolme.”

Ilaugh,mirthless,amadlaugh.Isavorthescowlonherface,thehateinhereyes.Shewaslikeamachine;shewascoldandemotionless,boundbylogicalone.AndIbrokeher.

Ibrokeher.

ONCEI’MIN thehallway,IstopstrugglingtowardJeanine.MysidethrobsfromwherePeterpunchedme,butit’snothingcomparedtothepulseoftriumphinmycheeks.

Peterwalksmebacktomycellwithoutaword.Istandinthemiddleoftheroomforalongtime,staringatthecameraintheback-leftcorner.Whoiswatchingmeallthetime?IsitDauntlesstraitors,guardingme,ortheErudite,observingme?

Oncetheheatleavesmyfaceandmysidestopshurting,Iliedown.

ApictureofmyparentsfloatsintomyheadthemomentIclosemyeyes.Once,whenIwasabouteleven,Istoppedatthedoorwaytomyparents’bedroomtowatchthemmakethe bed together. My father smiled at my mother as they pulled the sheets back andsmoothedthemdowninperfectsynchronicity.Iknewbythewayhelookedatherthatheheldherinahigherregardthanheheldevenhimself.

Noselfishnessorinsecuritykepthimfromseeingthefullextentofhergoodness,asitsooftendoeswiththerestofus.ThatkindoflovemayonlybepossibleinAbnegation.Idonotknow.

Myfather:Erudite-born,Abnegation-grown.Heoftenfounditdifficulttoliveuptothedemandsofhischosenfaction, justas Idid.Buthe tried,andheknewtrueselflessnesswhenhesawit.

Iclutchmypillowtomychestandburymyfaceinit.Idon’tcry.Ijustache.

Griefisnotasheavyasguilt,butittakesmoreawayfromyou.

“Stiff.”

Iwakewith a start,my hands still clutching the pillow.There is awet patch on themattressundermyface.Isitup,wipingmyeyeswithmyfingertips.

Peter’seyebrows,whichusuallyturnupinthemiddle,arefurrowed.

“Whathappened?”Whateveritis,itcan’tbegood.

“Yourexecutionhasbeenscheduledfortomorrowmorningateighto’clock.”

“Myexecution?Butshe…shehasn’tdevelopedtherightsimulationyet;shecouldn’tpossibly…”

“ShesaidthatshewillcontinuetheexperimentsonTobiasinsteadofyou,”hesays.

AllIcansayis:“Oh.”

Iclutchthemattressandrockforwardandback,forwardandback.Tomorrowmylifewillbeover.Tobiasmaysurvive longenough toescape in thefactionless invasion.TheDauntlesswillelectanewleader.AllthelooseendsIwillleavewillbeeasilytiedup.

Inod.Nofamilyleft,nolooseends,nogreatloss.

“Icouldhaveforgivenyou,youknow,”Isay.“Fortryingtokillmeduringinitiation.Iprobablycouldhave.”

Wearebothquietforawhile.Idon’tknowwhyItoldhimthat.Maybejustbecauseit’strue, and tonight, of all nights, is the time for honesty. Tonight I will be honest, andselfless,andbrave.Divergent.

“Ineveraskedyouto,”hesays,andturnstoleave.Butthenhestopsatthedoorframeandsays,“It’s9:24.”

Tellingmethetimeisasmallactofbetrayal—andthereforeanordinaryactofbravery.ItismaybethefirsttimeI’veseenPeterbetrulyDauntless.

I’mgoingtodietomorrow.IthasbeenalongtimesinceIfeltcertaintyaboutanything,sothisfeelslikeagift.Tonight,nothing.Tomorrow,whatevercomesafterlife.AndJeaninestilldoesn’tknowhowtocontroltheDivergent.

WhenIstarttocry,Iclutchthepillowtomychestandletithappen.Icryhard,likeachildcries,untilmyfaceishotandIfeellikeImightbesick.Icanpretendtobebrave,butI’mnot.

IsupposethatnowwouldbethetimetoaskforforgivenessforallthethingsI’vedone,but I’msuremylistwouldneverbecomplete. Ialsodon’tbelieve thatwhatevercomesafter life depends onmy correctly reciting a list ofmy transgressions—that sounds toomuchlikeanEruditeafterlifetome,allaccuracyandnofeeling.Idon’tbelievethatwhatcomesafterdependsonanythingIdoatall.

IambetteroffdoingasAbnegation taughtme: turningawayfrommyself,projectingalwaysoutward,andhopingthatinwhateverisnext,IwillbebetterthanIamnow.

Ismilealittle.IwishIcouldtellmyparentsthatIwilldieliketheAbnegation.Theywouldbeproud,Ithink.

THISMORNINGIputonthecleanclothesIamgiven:blackpants—tooloose,butwhocares?—andalong-sleevedblackshirt.Noshoes.

It is not time yet. I find myself lacing my fingers together and bowing my head.Sometimesmyfatherdidthisinthemorningbeforesittingdownatthebreakfasttable,butIneveraskedhimwhathewasdoing.Still,IwouldliketofeellikeIbelongtomyfatheragainbeforeI…well,beforeit’sover.

Afewsilentmomentslater,Petertellsmeit’stimetogo.Hebarelylooksatme,scowlsatthebackwallinstead.Isupposeitwouldhavebeentoomuchtoask,toseeafriendlyfacethismorning.Istand,andtogetherwewalkdownthehallway.

Mytoesarecold.Myfeetsticktothetiles.Weturnacorner,andIhearmuffledshouts.AtfirstIcan’ttellwhatthevoiceissaying,butaswedrawcloser,ittakesshape.

“Iwantto…her!”Tobias.“I…seeher!”

IglanceatPeter.“Ican’tspeaktohimonelasttime,canI?”

Peter shakeshishead.“There’sawindow, though.Maybe ifhe seesyouhe’ll finallyshutup.”

Hetakesmedownadead-endcorridor that’sonlysixfeet long.At theend isadoor,andPeterisright,there’sasmallwindownearthetop,aboutafootabovemyhead.

“Tris!”Tobias’svoiceisevenclearerhere.“Iwanttoseeher!”

Ireachupandpressmypalmtotheglass.Theshoutsstop,andhisfaceappearsbehindtheglass.Hiseyesarered;hisface,blotchy.Handsome.Hestaresdownatmeforafewsecondsandthenpresseshishandtotheglasssoitlinesupwithmine.IpretendIcanfeelthewarmthofitthroughthewindow.

Heleanshisforeheadagainstthedoorandsqueezeshiseyesshut.

Itakemyhanddownandturnawaybeforehecanopenhiseyes.Ifeelpaininmychest,worsethanwhenIgotshotintheshoulder.Iclutchthefrontofmyshirt,blinkawaytears,andrejoinPeterinthemainhallway.

“Thankyou,”Isayquietly.Imeanttosayitlouder.

“Whatever.”Peterscowlsagain.“Let’sjustgo.”

I hear rumbling somewhere aheadof us—the soundof a crowd.Thenext hallway ispackedwithDauntlesstraitors,tallandshort,youngandold,armedandunarmed.Theyallwearthebluearmbandofbetrayal.

“Hey!”Petershouts.“Clearapath!”

TheDauntlesstraitorsclosesttoushearhim,andpressagainstthewallstomakewayfor us. The otherDauntless traitors follow suit soon after, and everyone is quiet. Peterstepsbacktoletmegoaheadofhim.Iknowthewayfromhere.

Idon’tknowwherethepoundingstarts,butsomeonedrumstheirfistsagainstthewall,and someone else joins in, and I walk down the aisle between solemn-but-raucousDauntless traitors, theirhandsinmotionat theirsides.Thepoundingissofastmyheartracestokeepupwithit.

SomeoftheDauntlesstraitorsinclinetheirheadstome—I’mnotsurewhy.Itdoesn’tmatter.

Ireachtheendofthehallwayandopenthedoortomyexecutionchamber.

Iopenit.

Dauntless traitors crowded the hallway; the Erudite crowd the execution room, butthere,theyhavemadeapathformealready.SilentlytheystudymeasIwalktothemetaltableinthecenteroftheroom.Jeaninestandsafewstepsaway.Thescratchesonherfaceshowthroughhastilyappliedmakeup.Shedoesn’tlookatme.

Fourcamerasdanglefromtheceiling,oneateachcornerofthetable.Isitdownfirst,wipemyhandsoffonmypants,andthenliedown.

The table is cold.Frigid, seeping intomy skin, intomybones.Appropriate, perhaps,becausethatiswhatwillhappentomybodywhenallthelifeleavesit;itwillbecomecoldand heavy, heavier than I have ever been. As for the rest ofme, I am not sure. Somepeople believe that Iwill go nowhere, andmaybe they’re right, butmaybe they’re not.Suchspeculationsarenolongerusefultomeanyway.

Peterslipsanelectrodebeneaththecollarofmyshirtandpressesittomychest,rightovermyheart.Hethenattachesawiretotheelectrodeandswitchesontheheartmonitor.Ihear my heartbeat, fast and strong. Soon, where that steady rhythmwas, there will benothing.

Andthenrisingfromwithinmeisasinglethought:

Idon’twanttodie.

All those times Tobias scoldedme for riskingmy life, I never took him seriously. Ibelieved that Iwanted tobewithmyparentsand forallof this tobeover. Iwassure Iwantedtoemulatetheirself-sacrifice.Butno.No,no.

Burningandboilinginsidemeisthedesiretolive.

Idon’twanttodieIdon’twanttodieIdon’twantto!

Jeanine steps forward with a syringe full of purple serum. Her glasses reflect the

fluorescentlightaboveus,soIcanbarelyseehereyes.

Everypartofmybodychantsitinunison.Live,live,live.IthoughtthatinordertogivemylifeinexchangeforWill’s,inexchangeformyparents’,thatIneededtodie,butIwaswrong;Ineedtolivemylifeinthelightoftheirdeaths.Ineedtolive.

Jeanineholdsmyheadsteadywithonehandandinsertstheneedleintomyneckwiththeother.

I’mnotdone!Ishoutinmyhead,andnotatJeanine.Iamnotdonehere!

Shepressestheplungerdown.Peterleansforwardandlooksintomyeyes.

“Theserumwillgointoeffectinoneminute,”hesays.“Bebrave,Tris.”

Thewordsstartleme,becausethat isexactlywhatTobiassaidwhenheputmeundermyfirstsimulation.

Myheartbeginstorace.

WhywouldPetertellmetobebrave?Whywouldheofferanykindwordsatall?

Allthemusclesinmybodyrelaxatonce.Aheavy,liquidfeelingfillsmylimbs.Ifthisisdeath,itisn’tsobad.Myeyesstayopen,butmyheaddropstotheside.Itrytoclosemyeyes,butIcan’t—Ican’tmove.

Thentheheartmonitorstopsbeeping.

BUT I’M STILL breathing.Not deeply; not enough to satisfy, butbreathing. Peter pushesmyeyelids over my eyes. Does he know I’m not dead? Does Jeanine? Can she see mebreathing?

“Takethebodytothelab,”Jeaninesays.“Theautopsyisscheduledforthisafternoon.”

“Allright,”Peterreplies.

Peterpushes the table forward. Ihearmuttersall aroundmeaswepass thegroupofEruditebystanders.Myhandfallsofftheedgeofthetableasweturnacorner,andsmacksintothewall.Ifeelaprickleofpaininmyfingertips,butIcan’tmovemyhand,ashardasItry.

Thistime,whenwegodownthehallwayofDauntlesstraitors,itissilent.Peterwalksslowlyatfirst,thenturnsanothercornerandpicksupthepace.Healmostsprintsdownthenextcorridor,andstopsabruptly.WhereamI?Ican’tbeinthelabalready.Whydidhestop?

Peter’sarmsslideundermykneesandshoulders,andheliftsme.Myheadfallsagainsthisshoulder.

“Forsomeonesosmall,you’reheavy,Stiff,”hemutters.

HeknowsI’mawake.Heknows.

Ihearaseriesofbeeps,andaslide—alockeddoor,opening.

“Whatdo—”Tobias’svoice.Tobias!“OhmyGod.Oh—”

“Sparemeyour blubbering, okay?”Peter says. “She’s not dead; she’s just paralyzed.It’llonlylastforaboutaminute.Nowgetreadytorun.”

Idon’tunderstand.

HowdoesPeterknow?

“Letmecarryher,”Tobiassays.

“No.You’reabettershotthanIam.Takemygun.I’llcarryher.”

Ihear thegunslideoutof itsholster.Tobiasbrushesahandovermy forehead.Theybothstartrunning.

AtfirstallIhearisthepoundingoftheirfeet,andmyheadsnapsbackpainfully.Ifeeltinglinginmyhandsandfeet.Petershouts,“Left!”atTobias.

Thenashoutfromdownthehallway.“Hey,what—!”

Abang.Andnothing.

More running. Peter shouts, “Right!” I hear another bang, and another. “Whoa,” hemumbles.“Wait,stophere!”

Tingling down my spine. I open my eyes as Peter opens another door. He chargesthroughit,andjustbeforeIsmackmyheadagainstthedoorframe,Istickmyarmoutandstopus.

“Careful!”Isay,myvoicestrained.MythroatstillfeelsastightasitdidwhenhefirstinjectedmeandIfounditdifficult tobreathe.Peter turnssidewaystobringmethroughthedoor,thennudgesitshutwithhisheelanddropsmeonthefloor.

Theroomisalmostempty,exceptforarowofemptytrashcansalongonewallandasquaremetaldoorlargeenoughforoneofthecanstofitthroughitalongtheotherwall.

“Tris,”Tobiassays,crouchingnexttome.Hisfaceispale,almostyellow.

ThereistoomuchIwanttosay.Thefirstthingthatcomesoutis,“Beatrice.”

Helaughsweakly.

“Beatrice,”heamends,andtoucheshislipstomine.Icurlmyfingersintohisshirt.

“Unlessyouwantmetothrowupalloveryouguys,youmightwanttosaveitforlater.”

“Wherearewe?”Iask.

“Thisisthetrashincinerator,”saysPeter,slappingthesquaredoor.“Iturneditoff.It’lltakeustothealley.Andthenyouraimhadbetterbeperfect,Four,ifyouwanttogetoutoftheEruditesectoralive.”

“Don’tconcernyourselfwithmyaim,”Tobiasretorts.He,likeme,isbarefoot.

Peteropensthedoortotheincinerator.“Tris,youfirst.”

The trash chute is about three feetwide and four feet high. I slide one legdown thechuteand,withTobias’shelp,swingtheotherlegin.MystomachdropsasIslidedownashortmetaltube.ThenaseriesofrollerspoundagainstmybackasIslipoverthem.

Ismellfireandash,butIamnotburned.ThenIdrop,andmyarmsmacksintoametalwall,makingmegroan.Ilandonacementfloor,hard,andpainfromtheimpactpricklesupmyshins.

“Ow.”Ilimpawayfromtheopeningandshout,“Goahead!”

My legs have recovered by the time Peter lands, on his side instead of his feet. Hegroans,anddragshimselfawayfromtheopeningtorecover.

Ilookaround.Weareinsidetheincinerator,whichwouldbecompletelydarkifnotfor

thelinesoflightglowingintheshapeofasmalldoorontheotherside.Thefloorissolidmetal insomeplacesandmetalgratinginothers.Everythingsmells likerottinggarbageandfire.

“Don’tsayInevertookyouanywherenice,”Petersays.

“Wouldn’tdreamofit,”Isay.

Tobiasdropstothefloor,landingfirstonhisfeetandthentiltingforwardtohisknees,wincing.Ipullhimtohisfeetandthendrawclosetohisside.All thesmellsandsightsand feelings of the world feel magnified. I was almost dead, but instead I am alive.BecauseofPeter.

Ofallpeople.

Peterwalksacrossthegrateandopensthesmalldoor.Lightstreamsintotheincinerator.Tobiaswalkswithme away from the fire smell, away from themetal furnace, into thecement-walledroomthatcontainsit.

“Gotthatgun?”PetersaystoTobias.

“No,” saysTobias,“I figured Iwouldshoot thebulletsoutofmynostrils, so I left itupstairs.”

“Oh,shutup.”

Peterholdsanotherguninfrontofhimandleavestheincineratorroom.Adankhallwaywithexposedpipesintheceilinggreetsus,butit’sonlytenfeetlong.ThesignnexttothedoorattheendsaysEXIT.Iamalive,andIamleaving.

The stretch of land between Dauntless headquarters and Erudite headquarters does notlookthesameinreverse.Isupposeeverythingisboundtolookdifferentwhenyouaren’tonyourwaytodie.

Whenwereachtheendofthealley,Tobiaspresseshisshouldertoonewallandleansforwardjustenoughtoseearoundthecorner.Hisfaceblank,heputsonearmaroundthecorner,steadyingitwiththebuildingwall,andfirestwice.Ishovemyfingersinmyearsandtrynottopayattentiontothegunshotsandwhattheymakemeremember.

“Hurry,”Tobiassays.

Wesprint,Peterfirst,mesecond,andTobiaslast,downWabashAvenue.Ilookovermyshoulder to see what Tobias shot at, and see two men on the ground behind Eruditeheadquarters.Oneisn’tmoving,andtheotherisclutchinghisarmandrunningtowardthedoor.Theywillsendothersafterus.

My head feels muddled, probably from exhaustion, but the adrenaline keeps merunning.

“Taketheleastlogicalroute!”shoutsTobias.

“What?”Petersays.

“Theleastlogicalroute,”Tobiassays.“Sotheywon’tfindus!”

Peter swerves to the left, down another alley, this one full of cardboard boxes thatcontain frayed blankets and stained pillows—old factionless dwellings, I assume. HejumpsoveraboxthatIgocrashingthrough,kickingitbehindme.

At the end of the alley he turns left, toward the marsh. We are back on MichiganAvenue.InplainsightofEruditeheadquarters,ifanyonecarestoglancedownthestreet.

“Badidea!”Ishout.

Petertakesthenextright.Atleastallthestreetshereareclear—nofallenstreetsignstododgeorholestojumpover.MylungsburnlikeIinhaledpoison.Mylegs,whichachedatfirst,arenownumb,whichisbetter.Somewherefaraway,Ihearshouts.

Thenitoccurstome:Theleastlogicalthingtodoisstoprunning.

I grabPeter’s sleeve and drag him toward the nearest building. It is six stories high,withwidewindowsarrangedintoagrid,dividedbypillarsofbrick.ThefirstdoorItryislocked,butTobiasfiresatthewindownexttoituntilitbreaks,andunlocksthedoorfromtheinside.

Thebuildingiscompletelyempty.Notasinglechairortable.Andtherearetoomanywindows.Wewalktowardtheemergencystairwell,andIcrawlbeneaththefirstflightsothatwearehiddenbythestaircase.Tobiassitsnexttome,andPeteracrossfromusboth,hiskneesdrawntohischest.

Itrytocatchmybreathandcalmmyselfdown,butitisn’teasy.Iwasdead.Iwasdead,andthenIwasn’t,andwhy?BecauseofPeter?Peter?

Istareathim.Hestilllookssoinnocent,despiteallthathehasdonetoprovethatheisnot.Hishairliessmoothagainsthishead,shinyanddark,likewedidn’tjustrunforamileatfullspeed.Hisroundeyesscanthestairwellandthenrestonmyface.

“What?”hesays.“Whyareyoulookingatmelikethat?”

“Howdidyoudoit?”Isay.

“Itwasn’tthathard,”hesays.“Idyedaparalyticserumpurpleandswitcheditoutwiththedeathserum.Replacedthewirethatwassupposedtoreadyourheartbeatwithadeadone. The bitwith the heartmonitorwas harder; I had to get someErudite helpwith aremoteandstuff—youwouldn’tunderstanditifIexplainedittoyou.”

“Why didyoudo it?” I say. “Youwantmedead.Youwerewilling to do it yourself!Whatchanged?”

Hepresseshislipstogetheranddoesn’tlookaway,notforalongtime.Thenheopenshismouth,hesitates,andfinallysays,“Ican’tbeinanyone’sdebt.Okay?TheideathatIowedyousomethingmademesick. Iwouldwakeup in themiddleof thenight feelinglikeIwasgoingtovomit.IndebtedtoaStiff?It’sridiculous.Absolutelyridiculous.AndIcouldn’thaveit.”

“Whatareyoutalkingabout?Youowedmesomething?”

He rolls his eyes. “TheAmity compound.Someone shotme—thebulletwas at head

level;itwouldhavehitmerightbetweentheeyes.Andyoushovedmeoutoftheway.Wewereevenbeforethat—Ialmostkilledyouduringinitiation,youalmostkilledmeduringtheattacksimulation;we’resquare,right?Butafterthat…”

“You’re insane,” saysTobias. “That’snot theway theworldworks…witheveryonekeepingscore.”

“It’snot?”Peterraiseshiseyebrows.“Idon’tknowwhatworldyoulivein,butinmine,peopleonlydothingsforyouforoneoftworeasons.Thefirstisiftheywantsomethinginreturn.Andthesecondisiftheyfeelliketheyoweyousomething.”

“Those aren’t theonly reasonspeopledo things foryou,” I say. “Sometimes theydothembecausetheyloveyou.Well,maybenotyou,but…”

Petersnorts.“That’sexactlythekindofgarbageIexpectadelusionalStifftosay.”

“Iguesswejusthavetomakesureyouoweus,”saysTobias.“Oryou’llgorunningtowhoeveroffersyouthebestdeal.”

“Yeah,”Petersays.“That’sprettymuchhowitis.”

Ishakemyhead.Ican’timaginelivingthewayhedoes—alwayskeepingtrackofwhogave me what and what I should give them in return, incapable of love or loyalty orforgiveness,aone-eyedmanwithaknifeinhand,lookingforsomeoneelse’seyetopokeout.Thatisn’tlife.It’ssomepalerversionoflife.Iwonderwherehelearneditfrom.

“Sowhencanwegetoutofhere,youthink?”Petersays.

“Couplehours,”saysTobias.“WeshouldgototheAbnegationsector.That’swherethefactionlessandtheDauntlesswhoaren’twiredforsimulationswillbebynow.”

“Fantastic,”saysPeter.

Tobiasputshisarmaroundme.Ipressmycheekintohisshoulder,andclosemyeyessoIdon’thavetolookatPeter.Iknowthereisalottosay,thoughI’mnotsureexactlywhatitis,butwecan’tsayithere,ornow.

AswewalkthestreetsIoncecalledhome,conversationssputteranddie,andeyesclingtomyfaceandbody.Asfarastheyknew—andI’msuretheyknew,becauseJeanineknowshowtospreadnews—Idiedlessthansixhoursago.InoticethatsomeofthefactionlessIpassaremarkedwithpatchesofbluedye.Theyaresimulation-ready.

Nowthatwe’rehere,andsafe,Irealizethattherearecutsalloverthebottomsofmyfeetfromrunningoverroughpavementandbitsofglassfrombrokenwindows.Everystepstings.Ifocusonthatinsteadofallthestares.

“Tris?”someonecallsoutaheadofus.I liftmyhead,andseeUriahandChristinaonthesidewalk,comparingrevolvers.Uriahdropshisguninthegrassandsprintstowardme.Christinafollowshim,butataslowerpace.

Uriahreachesforme,butTobiassetsahandonhisshouldertostophim.Ifeelasurgeofgratitude.Idon’tthinkIcanhandleUriah’sembrace,orhisquestions,orhissurprise,

rightnow.

“She’sbeen througha lot,”Tobias says.“She justneeds to sleep.She’llbedown thestreet—numberthirty-seven.Comevisittomorrow.”

Uriah frowns atme.TheDauntless don’t usually understand restraint, andUriah hasonlyeverknowntheDauntless.ButhemustrespectTobias’sassessmentofme,becausehenodsandsays,“Okay.Tomorrow.”

ChristinareachesoutasIpassherandsqueezesmyshoulderlightly.I trytostandupstraighter, but my muscles feel like a cage, holding my shoulders hunched. The eyesfollowmedownthestreet,pinchingthebackofmyneck.IamrelievedwhenTobiasleadsusupthefrontwalkofthegrayhousethatbelongedtoMarcusEaton.

Idon’tknowbywhatstrengthTobiasmarchesthroughthedoorway.Forhimthishousemustcontainechoesof screamingparentsandbelt snapsandhoursspent insmall,darkclosets,yethedoesn’tlooktroubledasheleadsPeterandmeintothekitchen.Ifanythinghestandstaller.ButmaybethatisTobias—whenhe’ssupposedtobeweak,he’sstrong.

Tori,Harrison,andEvelynstand in thekitchen.Thesightoverwhelmsme. I leanmyshoulder into thewall and squeezemy eyes shut. The outline of the execution table isprintedonmyeyelids.Iopenmyeyes.Itrytobreathe.TheyaretalkingbutIcan’thearwhatthey’resaying.WhyisEvelynhere,inMarcus’shouse?WhereisMarcus?

Evelynputsone armaroundTobias and toucheshis facewith theother, pressinghercheektohis.Shesayssomethingtohim.Hesmilesatherwhenhepullsaway.Motherandson,reconciled.Iamnotsureit’swise.

Tobias turnsme around and, keeping one hand onmy arm and one onmywaist, toavoidmyshoulderwound,pressesmetowardthestaircase.Weclimbthestepstogether.

Upstairsarehisparents’oldbedroomandhisoldbedroom,withabathroombetweenthem, and that’s it. He takesme into his bedroom, and I stand for amoment, lookingaroundattheroomwherehespentmostofhislife.

Hekeepshishandonmyarm.Hehasbeentouchingmeinsomewaysinceweleftthestairwellofthatbuilding,likehethinksImightbreakapartifhedoesn’tholdmetogether.

“Marcusdidn’tgo into this roomafter I left, I’mpretty sure,” saysTobias. “BecausenothingwasmovedwhenIcamebackhere.”

Members ofAbnegation don’t ownmany decorations, since they are viewed as self-indulgent,butwhatfewthingswewereallowed,hehas.Astackofschoolpapers.Asmallbookshelf.And,strangely,asculpturemadeofblueglassonhisdresser.

“MymothersmuggledthattomewhenIwasyoung.Toldmetohideit,”hesays.“Thedayoftheceremony,IputitonmydresserbeforeIleft.Sohewouldseeit.Asmallactofdefiance.”

Inod.Itisstrangetobeinaplacethatcarriesonesinglememorysocompletely.Thisroomissixteen-year-oldTobias,abouttochooseDauntlesstoescapehisfather.

“Let’stakecareofyourfeet,”hesays.Buthedoesn’tmove,justshiftshisfingerstotheinsideofmyelbow.

“Okay,”Isay.

Wewalkintotheadjoinedbathroom,andIsitontheedgeofthetub.Hesitsnexttome,ahandonmykneeasheturnsonthefaucetandplugsthedrain.Waterspillsintothetub,coveringmytoenails.Mybloodturnsthewaterpink.

Hecrouches in the tubandputsmyfoot inhis lap,dabbingat thedeepercutswithawashcloth. I don’t feel it. Even when he smears soap lather over them, I don’t feelanything.Thebathwaterturnsgray.

I pickup thebarof soap and turn it inmyhandsuntilmy skin is coatedwithwhitelather. I reach forhimand runmyfingersoverhishands,careful toget the lines inhispalms and the spaces between his fingers. It feels good to do something, to cleansomething,andtohavemyhandsonhimagain.

Wegetwaterallover thebathroomflooraswebothsplash itonourselves toget thesoapoff.Thewatermakesmecold,butIshiverandIdon’tcare.Hegetsatowelandstartstodrymyhands.

“Idon’t…”IsoundlikeIambeingstrangled.“Myfamilyisalldead,ortraitors;howcanI…”

I am notmaking any sense. The sobs take overmy body,mymind, everything. Hegathersmetohim,andbathwatersoaksmylegs.Hisholdistight.Ilistentohisheartbeatand,afterawhile,findawaytolettherhythmcalmme.

“I’llbeyourfamilynow,”hesays.

“Iloveyou,”Isay.

Isaidthatonce,beforeIwenttoEruditeheadquarters,buthewasasleepthen.Idon’tknowwhy I didn’t say itwhen he could hear it.Maybe Iwas afraid to trust himwithsomethingsopersonalasmydevotion.OrafraidthatIdidnotknowwhatitwastolovesomeone.ButnowIthinkthescarythingwasnotsayingitbeforeitwasalmosttoolate.Notsayingitbeforeitwasalmosttoolateforme.

Iamhis,andheismine,andithasbeenthatwayallalong.

Hestaresatme.Iwaitwithmyhandsclutchinghisarmsforstabilityasheconsidershisresponse.

Hefrownsatme.“Sayitagain.”

“Tobias,”Isay,“Iloveyou.”

Hisskinisslipperywithwaterandhesmellslikesweatandmyshirtstickstohisarmswhenheslidesthemaroundme.Hepresseshisfacetomyneckandkissesmerightabovethecollarbone,kissesmycheek,kissesmylips.

“Iloveyou,too,”hesays.

HELIESNEXTtomeasIfallsleep.Iexpecttohavenightmares,butImustbetootired,becausemymindstaysempty.WhenIopenmyeyesnext,he’sgone,butthere’sastackofclothesonthebedbesideme.

IgetupandwalkintothebathroomandIfeelraw,likemyskinwasscrapedcleanandeverybreathofairstingsita little,butstable.Idon’t turnonthelights in thebathroombecauseIknowtheywillbepaleandbright,justlikethelightsintheEruditecompound.Ishower in thedark,barelyable to tell soap fromconditioner, and tellmyself that Iwillemergenewandstrong,thatthewaterwillhealme.

BeforeIleavethebathroom,Ipinchmycheekshardtobringbloodtothesurfaceofmyskin.It’sstupid,butIdon’twanttolookweakandexhaustedinfrontofeveryone.

When I walk back into Tobias’s room, Uriah is sprawled across the bed facedown;Christina is holding the blue sculpture above Tobias’s desk, examining it; and Lynn ispoisedaboveUriahwithapillow,awickedgrincreepingacrossherface.

LynnsmacksUriahhardinthebackofthehead,Christinasays,“HeyTris!”andUriahcries,“Ow!Howonearthdoyoumakeapillowhurt,Lynn?”

“Myexceptionalstrength,”shesays.“Didyougetsmacked,Tris?Oneofyourcheeksisbrightred.”

Imustnothavepinchedtheotheronehardenough.“No,it’sjust…mymorningglow.”

Itrythejokeoutonmytonguelikeit’sanewlanguage.Christinalaughs,maybealittleharderthanmycommentwarrants,butIappreciatetheeffort.Uriahbouncesonthebedafewtimeswhenhemovestotheedge.

“So, the thingwe’re all not talking about,” he says.He gestures tome. “You almostdied,asadisticpansycakesavedyou,andnowwe’reallwagingsomeseriouswarwiththefactionlessasallies.”

“Pansycake?”saysChristina.

“Dauntless slang.” Lynn smirks. “Supposed to be a huge insult, only no one uses itanymore.”

“Becauseit’ssooffensive,”saysUriah,nodding.

“No.Becauseit’ssostupidnoDauntlesswithanysensewouldspeakit,letalonethinkit.Pansycake.Whatareyou,twelve?”

“Andahalf,”hesays.

Igetthefeelingtheirbanterisformybenefit,sothatIdon’thavetosayanything;Icanjustlaugh.AndIdo,enoughtowarmthestonethathasformedinmystomach.

“There’s fooddownstairs,”saysChristina.“Tobiasmadescrambledeggs,which,as itturnsout,isadisgustingfood.”

“Hey,”Isay.“Ilikescrambledeggs.”

“MustbeaStiffbreakfast,then.”Shegrabsmyarm.“C’mon.”

Togetherwegodownthestairs,ourfootstepsthunderingastheyneverwouldhavebeenallowedtoinmyparents’house.Myfatherusedtoscoldmeforrunningdownthestairs.“Donotcallattentiontoyourself,”hesaid.“Itisnotcourteoustothepeoplearoundyou.”

Ihearvoicesinthelivingroom—achorusofthem,infact,joinedbyoccasionalburstsoflaughterandafaintmelodypluckedonaninstrument,abanjooraguitar.ItisnotwhatIexpectinanAbnegationhouse,whereeverythingisalwaysquiet,nomatterhowmanypeoplearegatheredwithin.Thevoicesandthelaughterandthemusicbreathelifeintothesullenwalls.Ifeelevenwarmer.

I stand in the doorway to the living room. Five people are crowded onto the three-personcouch,playingacardgameIrecognizefromCandorheadquarters.Amansits inthearmchairwithawomanbalancedonhislap,andsomeoneelseperchesonthearm,acanofsoupinhand.Tobiassitsonthefloor,hisbackagainstthecoffeetable.Everypartof his posture suggests ease—one leg bent, the other straight, an arm slung across hisknee,hisheadtiltedtolisten.Ihaveneverseenhimlooksocomfortablewithoutagun.Ididn’tthinkitwaspossible.

IgetthesamesinkingfeelinginmystomachthatIalwaysgetwhenIknowI’vebeenliedto,butIdon’tknowwhoitwasthatliedtomethistime,oraboutwhat,exactly.ButthisisnotwhatIwastaughttoexpectoffactionlessness.Iwastaughtthat itwasworsethandeath.

I stand there for just a few seconds before people realize that I’m there. Theirconversationpetersout.Iwipemypalmsoffonthehemofmyshirt.Toomanyeyes,andtoomuchsilence.

Evelynclearsherthroat.“Everyone,thisisTrisPrior.Ibelieveyoumayhaveheardalotaboutheryesterday.”

“AndChristina,Uriah,andLynn,”suppliesTobias.I’mgratefulforhisattempttodiverteveryone’sattentionfromme,butitdoesn’twork.

Istandgluedtothedoorframeforafewseconds,andthenoneofthefactionlessmen—older,hiswrinkledskinpatternedwithtattoos—speaksup.

“Aren’tyousupposedtobedead?”

Someoftheotherslaugh,andItryasmile.Itemergescrookedandsmall.

“Supposedtobe,”Isay.

“Wedon’tliketogiveJeanineMatthewswhatshewants,though,”Tobiassays.Hegetsupandhandsmeacanofpeas—butitisn’tfullofpeas;it’sfullofscrambledeggs.Thealuminumwarmsmyfingers.

He sits, so I sit next to him, and scoop some of the eggs intomymouth. I am nothungry,butIknowIneedtoeat,soIchewandswallowanyway.Iamfamiliarwiththeway the factionlesseat, so Ipass theeggs toChristina, and takea canofpeaches fromTobias.

“WhyiseveryonecampedoutinMarcus’shouse?”Iaskhim.

“Evelynkickedhimout.Saiditwasherhouse,too,andhe’dgottentouseitforyears,and it was her turn.” Tobias grins. “It caused a huge blowup on the front lawn, buteventuallyEvelynwon.”

IglanceatTobias’smother.She is in the farcornerof the room, talking toPeterandeatingmore eggs from another can.My stomach churns. Tobias talks about her almostreverently.ButIstillrememberwhatshesaidtomeaboutmytransienceinTobias’slife.

“There’sbreadsomewhere.”Hepicksupabasketfromthecoffeetableandhandsittome.“Taketwopieces.Youneedit.”

AsIchewonthebreadcrust,IlookatPeterandEvelynagain.

“I think she’s trying to recruit him,” Tobias says. “She has a way of making thefactionlesslifesoundextraordinarilyappealing.”

“AnythingtogethimoutofDauntless.Idon’tcareifhesavedmylife,Istilldon’tlikehim.”

“Hopefullywewon’thavetoworryaboutfactiondistinctionsanymorebythetimethisisover.It’llbenice,Ithink.”

Idon’tsayanything.Idon’tfeellikepickingafightwithhimhere.Orremindinghimthatitwon’tbesoeasytopersuadeDauntlessandCandortojointhefactionlessintheircrusadeagainstthefactionsystem.Itmaytakeanotherwar.

The front door opens, and Edward enters. Today he wears a patch with a blue eyepaintedonit,completewithahalf-loweredeyelid.Theeffectoftheoverlargeeyeagainsthisotherwisehandsomefaceisbothgrotesqueandamusing.

“Eddie!”someonecallsout ingreeting.ButEdward’sgoodeyehasalready fallenonPeter.Hestartsacrosstheroom,nearlykickingacanoffoodoutofsomeone’shand.Peterpressesintotheshadowofthedoorframelikeheistryingtodisappearintoit.

Edward stops inches fromPeter’s feet, and then jerks towardhim likehe is about tothrowapunch.Peterjoltsbacksohardheslamshisheadintothewall.Edwardgrins,andallaroundus,thefactionlesslaugh.

“Notsobraveinbroaddaylight,”Edwardsays.Andthen, toEvelyn,“Makesureyoudon’tgivehimanyutensils.Neverknowwhathemightdowiththem.”

Ashespeaks,hepluckstheforkfromPeter’shand.

“Givethatback,”saysPeter.

EdwardslamshisfreehandintoPeter’sthroat,andpressesthetinesoftheforkbetweenhisfingers,rightagainstPeter’sAdam’sapple.Peterstiffens,bloodrushingintohisface.

“Keepyourmouthshutaroundme,”hesays,hisvoicelow,“orIwilldothisagain,onlynexttime,I’llshoveitrightthroughyouresophagus.”

“That’senough,”Evelynsays.EdwarddropstheforkandreleasesPeter.Thenhewalksacrosstheroomandsitsnexttothepersonwhocalledhim“Eddie”amomentbefore.

“Idon’tknowifyouknowthis,”Tobiassays,“butEdwardisalittleunstable.”

“I’mgettingthat,”Isay.

“ThatDrewguy,whohelpedPeterperform thatbutter-knifemaneuver,”Tobias says.“Apparently when he got kicked out of Dauntless, he tried to join the same group offactionlessEdwardwasapartof.Noticethatyouhaven’tseenDrewanywhere.”

“DidEdwardkillhim?”Isay.

“Nearly,” Tobias says. “Evidently that’s why that other transfer—Myra, I think hernamewas?—leftEdward.Toogentletobearit.”

I feel hollow at the thought of Drew, almost dead at the hands of Edward. Drewattackedme,too.

“Idon’twanttotalkaboutthis,”Isay.

“Okay,”Tobiassays.Hetouchesmyshoulder.“IsithardforyoutobeinanAbnegationhouseagain?Imeanttoaskbefore.Wecangosomewhereelse,ifitis.”

I finishmysecondpieceofbread.AllAbnegationhousesare thesame,so this livingroom is exactly the same asmy own, and it does bring backmemories, if I look at itcarefully.Lightglowingthroughtheblindseverymorning,enoughformyfathertoreadby. The click ofmymother’s knitting needles every evening. But I don’t feel like I’mchoking.It’sastart.

“Yes,”Isay.“Butnotashardasyoumightthink.”

Heraisesaneyebrow.

“Really.ThesimulationsinEruditeheadquarters…helpedme,somehow.Toholdon,maybe.” I frown.“Ormaybenot.Maybe theyhelpedme tostopholdingonso tightly.”Thatsoundsright.“SomedayI’lltellyouaboutit.”Myvoicesoundsfaraway.

He touchesmy cheek and, even thoughwe’re in a room full of people, crowded bylaughterandconversation,slowlykissesme.

“Whoathere,Tobias,”saysthemantomyleft.“Weren’tyouraisedaStiff?I thoughtthemostyoupeopledidwas…grazehandsorsomething.”

“ThenhowdoyouexplainalltheAbnegationchildren?”Tobiasraiseshiseyebrows.

“They’rebroughtintobeingbysheerforceofwill,”thewomanonthearmofthechair

interjects.“Didn’tyouknowthat,Tobias?”

“No,Iwasn’taware.”Hegrins.“Myapologies.”

Theyalllaugh.Wealllaugh.AnditoccurstomethatImightbemeetingTobias’struefaction. They are not characterized by a particular virtue. They claim all colors, allactivities,allvirtues,andallflawsastheirown.

Idon’tknowwhatbindsthemtogether.Theonlycommongroundtheyhave,asfarasIknow,isfailure.Whateveritis,itseemstobeenough.

I feel, as I lookathim, that Iamfinally seeinghimashe is, insteadofhowhe is inrelationtome.SohowwelldoIreallyknowhim,ifIhavenotseenthisbefore?

Thesunisbeginningtoset.TheAbnegationsectorisfarfromquiet.TheDauntlessandfactionlesswander thestreets, somewithbottles in theirhands, somewithguns in theirotherhands.

Aheadofme,ZekepushesShaunainherwheelchairpastthehouseofAliceBrewster,formerAbnegationleader.Theydon’tseeme.

“Doitagain!”shesays.

“Areyousure?”

“Yes!”

“Okay…”Zeke starts to jog behind thewheelchair. Then,when he’s almost too farawayformetosee,hepusheshimselfupwiththehandlessothathisfeetaren’ttouchingtheground,and together theyflydownthemiddleof thestreet,Shaunashrieking,Zekelaughing.

I turn left at the next intersection and start down the cracked sidewalk toward thebuildingwhereAbnegationhaditsmonthlyfaction-widemeetings.ThoughitfeelslikeithasbeenalongtimesinceIlastwentthere,Istillrememberwhereitis.Oneblocksouth,twoblockswest.

The sun inches toward the horizon as Iwalk.The color drains from the surroundingbuildingsintheeveninglight,sothattheyallappeartobegray.

The face of Abnegation headquarters is just a cement rectangle, like all the otherbuildingsintheAbnegationsector.ButwhenIshovethefrontdooropen,familiarwoodfloors and rowsofwoodenbenches arranged in a square greetme. In the center of theroomisaskylightthatletsinasquareoforangesunlight.Itistheroom’sonlyadornment.

Isitonmyfamily’soldbench. Iused tositnext tomyfather,andCaleb,next tomymother.NowIfeelliketheonlyoneleft.ThelastPrior.

“It’snice,isn’tit?”Marcuswalksinandsitsdownacrossfromme,hishandsfoldedinhislap.Thesunlightisbetweenus.

He has a large bruise on his jaw fromwhere Tobias hit him, and his hair is freshlybuzzed.

“It’sfine,”Isay,straightening.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”

“Isawyoucomein.”Heexamineshisfingernailscarefully.“AndIwanttohaveawordwithyouabouttheinformationJeanineMatthewsstole.”

“Whatifyou’retoolate?WhatifIalreadyknowwhatitis?”

Marcus looksupfromhisfingernails,andhisdarkeyesnarrow.The look is farmorepoisonous than any Tobias could muster, though he has his father’s eyes. “You can’tpossibly.”

“Youdon’tknowthat.”

“Ido,actually.BecauseIhaveseenwhathappenstopeoplewhentheyhearthetruth.Theylookliketheyhaveforgottenwhattheyweresearchingfor,andarejustwanderingaroundtryingtoremember.”

Achillmakesitswayupmyspineandspreadsdownmyarms,givingmegoosebumps.

“IknowthatJeaninedecidedtomurderhalfafactiontostealit,soitmustbeincrediblyimportant,”Isay.Ipause.Iknowsomethingelse,too,butIonlyjustrealizedit.

RightbeforeIattackedJeanine,shesaid,“Thisisnotaboutyou!It’snotaboutme!”

Andthismeantwhatshewasdoingtome—tryingtofindasimulationthatworkedonme.OntheDivergent.

“IknowithassomethingtodowiththeDivergent,”Iblurtout.“Iknowtheinformationisaboutwhat’soutsidethefence.”

“Thatisnotthesamethingasknowingwhat’soutsidethefence.”

“Well,areyougoingtotellmeorareyougoingtodangleitovermyheadandmakemejumpforit?”

“Ididnotcomehereforself-indulgentarguing.Andno,Iamnotgoingtotellyou,butnotbecauseIdon’twantto.It’sbecauseIhavenoideahowtodescribeittoyou.Youhavetoseeitforyourself.”

Ashespeaks,Inoticethesunlightturningmoreorangethanyellow,andcastingdarkershadowsoverhisface.

“IthinkTobiasmightberight,”Isay.“Youliketobetheonlyonewhoknows.YoulikethatIdon’tknow.Itmakesyoufeelimportant.That’swhyyouwon’ttellme,notbecauseit’sindescribable.”

“That’snottrue.”

“HowamIsupposedtoknowthat?”

Marcusstares,andIstareback.

“Aweek before the simulation attack, theAbnegation leaders decided itwas time toreveal the information in the file to everyone.Everyone, in the entire city. The dayweintendedtorevealitwasapproximatelysevendaysafterthesimulationattack.Obviouslywewereunabletodoso.”

“Shedidn’twantyoutorevealwhatwasoutsidethefence?Whynot?Howdidsheevenknowaboutitinthefirstplace?IthoughtyousaidonlytheAbnegationleadersknew.”

“We are not from here, Beatrice.Wewere all placed here, for a specific purpose.Awhileago,theAbnegationwereforcedtoenlistthehelpofEruditeinordertoachievethatpurpose, but eventually everythingwent awry because of Jeanine. Because she doesn’twanttodowhatwearesupposedtodo.Shewouldratherresorttomurder.”

Placedhere.

My brain feels like it is buzzing with information. I clutch the edge of the benchbeneathme.

“Whatarewesupposedtodo?”Isay,myvoicebarelymorethanawhisper.

“IhavetoldyouenoughtoconvinceyouthatIamnotaliar.Asfortherest,Itrulyfindmyselfunequaltothetaskofexplainingittoyou.IonlytoldyouasmuchasIdidbecausethesituationhasbecomedire.”

Dire.SuddenlyIunderstandtheproblem.Thefactionlessplantodestroy,notonlytheimportantfiguresinErudite,butallthedatatheyhave.Theywillleveleverything.

Ihavenever thought thatplanwasagood idea,but Iknewthatwecouldcomebackfrom it,because theErudite stillknow the relevant information, even if theydon’thavetheirdata.ButthisissomethingeventhemostintelligentEruditedonotknow;somethingthat,ifeverythingisdestroyed,wecannotreplicate.

“IfIhelpyou,IbetrayTobias.Iwilllosehim.”Iswallowhard.“Soyouhavetogivemeagoodreason.”

“Asidefromthegoodofeveryoneinoursociety?”Marcuswrinkleshisnoseindisgust.“Thatisn’tenoughforyou?”

“Oursocietyisinpieces.Sono,it’snot.”

Marcussighs.

“Your parents died for you, it’s true. But the reason yourmotherwas inAbnegationheadquarters thenightyouwerealmostexecutedwasnot to saveyou.Shedidn’tknowyouwerethere.ShewastryingtorescuethefilefromJeanine.Andwhensheheardthatyouwereabouttodie,sherushedtosaveyou,andleftthefileinJeanine’shands.”

“That’snotwhatshetoldme,”Isayhotly.

“Shewas lying. Because she had to. But Beatrice, the point is… the point is, yourmotherknewsheprobablywouldnotgetoutofAbnegationheadquarters alive,but shehadtotry.Thisfile,itwassomethingshewaswillingtodiefor.Understand?”

TheAbnegationarewillingtodieforanyperson,friendorenemy,ifthesituationcallsforit.Thatis,perhaps,whytheyfinditdifficult tosurviveinlife-threateningsituations.Buttherearefewthings theyarewillingtodiefor.Theydon’tvaluemanythingsinthephysicalworld.

So if he’s telling me the truth, and my mother really was willing to die for thisinformation tobecomepublic…Iwoulddo justaboutanything toaccomplish thegoal

shefailedtoachieve.

“You’retryingtomanipulateme.Aren’tyou.”

“I suppose,” he says as shadows slip into his eye sockets like dark water, “that issomethingyoumustdecideforyourself.”

ITAKE MY timeonmywalkback to theEatonhouse,and try to rememberwhatmymothertoldmewhenshesavedmefromthetankduringthesimulationattack.Somethingabouthavingwatchedthetrainssincetheattackstarted.Ididn’tknowwhatIwoulddowhenIfoundyou.Butitwasalwaysmyintentiontosaveyou.

ButwhenIgoover thememoryofhervoiceinmymind, itsoundsdifferent.Ididn’tknowwhatIwoulddo,whenIfoundyou.Meaning:Ididn’tknowhowtosavebothyouandthefile.Butitwasalwaysmyintentiontosaveyou.

Ishakemyhead.Isthathowshesaidit,oramImanipulatingmyownmemorybecauseofwhatMarcustoldme?Thereisnowaytoknow.AllIcandoisdecideifItrustMarcusornot.

Andwhile he has done cruel, evil things, our society is not divided into “good” and“bad.”Crueltydoesnotmakeapersondishonest,thesamewaybraverydoesnotmakeapersonkind.Marcusisnotgoodorbad,butboth.

Well,heisprobablymorebadthangood.

Butthatdoesn’tmeanhe’slying.

Onthestreetaheadofme,Iseetheorangeglowoffire.Alarmed,Iwalkfaster,andseethat the fire rises from large, man-sized metal bowls set up on the sidewalks. TheDauntlessandthefactionlesshavegatheredbetweenthem,anarrowdivideseparatingonegroupfromtheother.AndbeforethemstandEvelyn,Harrison,Tori,andTobias.

I spot Christina, Uriah, Lynn, Zeke, and Shauna on the right side of the cluster ofDauntless,andstandwiththem.

“Where’veyoubeen?”Christinasays.“Welookedalloverforyou.”

“Iwentforawalk.What’sgoingon?”

“They’refinallygoingtotellustheattackplan,”saysUriah,lookingeager.

“Oh,”Isay.

Evelynliftsherhands,palmsout,andthefactionlessfallsilent.Theyarebettertrained

thantheDauntless,whosevoicestakethirtysecondstopeterout.

“The past fewweeks,we have been developing a plan to fight the Erudite,” Evelynsays, her lowvoice carrying easily. “Andnow thatwe have finished,wewould like toshareitwithyou.”

EvelynnodsatTori,whotakesover.“Ourstrategyisnotpointed,butbroad.Thereisnoway toknowwhoamong theEruditesupportsJeanineandwhodoesnot. It is thereforesafer to assume that all those who do not support her have already vacated Eruditeheadquarters.”

“Weall know thatErudite’spower liesnot in its peoplebut in its information,” saysEvelyn. “As long as they still possess that information,wewill never be free of them,especially while large numbers of us are wired for simulations. They have usedinformationtocontrolusandkeepusundertheirthumbforfartoolong.”

Ashout,beginningamongthefactionlessandspreadingtotheDauntless,risesupfromthecrowdlikeweareallpartsofoneorganism,followingthecommandsofasinglebrain.ButIamnotsurewhatIthink,orhowIfeel.Thereisapartofmethatisshouting,too—clamoringforthedestructionofeverysingleEruditeandallthattheyholddear.

I lookatTobias.Hisexpressionisneutral,andhestandsbehindtheglowoffirelight,whereheisdifficulttosee.Iwonderwhathethinksofthis.

“Iamsorrytotellyouthatthoseofyouwhowereshotwithsimulationtransmitterswillhavetoremainhere,”saysTori,“oryoucanbeactivatedasaweaponofEruditeatanytime.”

Thereareafewcriesofprotest,butnooneseemsallthatsurprised.TheyknowtoowellwhatJeaninecandowithsimulations,maybe.

LynngroansandlooksatUriah.“Wehavetostay?”

“Youhavetostay,”hesays.

“Yougotshottoo,”shesays.“Isawit.”

“Divergent, remember?”he says.Lynn rolls her eyes, andhehurries on, probably toavoid hearing Lynn’s Divergent conspiracy theory again. “Anyway, I bet you no onechecks,andwhataretheoddsshe’llactivateyou,specifically,ifsheknowseveryoneelsewithsimulationtransmittersisstayingbehind?”

Lynnfrowns,consideringthis.Butshelooksmorecheerful—ascheerfulasLynngets,anyway—asToribeginsspeakingagain.

“TherestofuswilldivideintogroupsofmixedfactionlessandDauntless,”saysTori.“Asingle,largegroupwillattempttopenetrateEruditeheadquartersandworkitswayupthroughthebuilding,cleansingitofErudite’sinfluence.Severalother,smallergroupswillproceed immediately to the higher levels of the building to dispense with certain keyEruditeofficials.Youwillreceiveyourgroupassignmentslaterthisevening.”

“Theattackwilloccurinthreedays’time,”saysEvelyn.“Prepareyourselves.Thiswillbedangerousanddifficult.Butthefactionlessarefamiliarwithdifficulty—”

At this the factionlesscheer, and Iamreminded thatwe, theDauntless, are the same

peoplewho,justafewweeksago,werecriticizingAbnegationforgivingthefactionlessfoodandothernecessaryitems.Howwasthatsoeasytoforget?

“AndtheDauntlessarefamiliarwithdanger—”

Everyone aroundme punches the airwith their fists and screams. I feel their voicesinsidemyhead,andtheburnoftriumphinmychestthatmakesmewanttojointhem.

Evelyn’sexpressionistooemptyforsomeonegivinganimpassionedspeech.Herfacelookslikeamask.

“DownwithErudite!”Toriyells,andeveryonerepeatsher,allvoicesjoiningtogether,regardlessoffaction.Weshareacommonenemy,butdoesthatmakeusfriends?

InoticethatTobiasdoesnotjoininthechant,andneitherdoesChristina.

“Thisdoesn’tfeelright,”shesays.

“Whatdoyoumean?”Lynnsaysas thevoices risearoundus. “Don’tyou rememberwhat they did to us? Put our minds under a simulation and forced us to shoot peoplewithoutevenknowingit?MurderedeverysingleAbnegationleader?”

“Yeah,” says Christina. “It’s just … Invading a faction’s headquarters and killingeveryone,isn’tthatwhattheEruditejustdidtoAbnegation?”

“This is different. This is not an attack out of nowhere, unprovoked,” says Lynn,scowlingather.

“Yeah,”Christinasays.“Yeah,Iknow.”

Shelooksatme.Idon’tsayanything.Shehasapoint—itdoesn’tfeelright.

IwalktowardtheEatonhouseinsearchofsilence.

Iopenthefrontdoorandclimbthestairs.WhenIreachTobias’soldroom,Isitonthebed and look out thewindow,where factionless andDauntless are gathered around thefires,laughingandtalking.Buttheyaren’tmixedtogether;thereisstillanuneasydividebetweenthem,factionlessononesideandDauntlessontheother.

IwatchLynn,Uriah,andChristinabyoneofthefires.Uriahsnatchesattheflames,tooquicklytobeburned.Hissmilelooksmorelikeagrimace,twistedasitisbygrief.

After a fewminutes I hear footsteps on the stairs, and Tobias comes into the room,slippingoffhisshoesbythedoorway.

“What’swrong?”hesays.

“Nothing, really,” I say. “Iwas just thinking, I’m surprised the factionless agreed toworkwithDauntlesssoeasily.It’snotliketheDauntlesswereeverkindtothem.”

Hestandsbesidemeatthewindowandleansintotheframe.

“It’snotanaturalalliance,isit,”hesays.“Butwehavethesamegoal.”

“Rightnow.Butwhathappenswhenthegoalschange?Thefactionlesswanttogetridoffactions,andtheDauntlessdon’t.”

Tobias presses his mouth into a line. I suddenly remember Marcus and Johanna,

walking together through the orchard—Marcuswore the same expressionwhen hewaskeepingsomethingfromher.

DidTobiasgetthatexpressionfromhisfather?Ordoesitmeansomethingdifferent?

“You’re in my group,” he says. “During the attack. I hope you don’t mind. We’resupposedtoleadthewaytothecontrolrooms.”

Theattack. If Iparticipate in theattack, Ican’tgoafter the informationJeaninestolefromAbnegation.Ihavetochooseoneortheother.

Tobias said that dealingwith Eruditewasmore important than finding out the truth.AndifhehadnotpromisedthefactionlesscontroloverallofErudite’sdata,hemighthavebeenright.Butheleftmenochoice.IhavetohelpMarcus,ifthereisevenachancethatheistellingthetruth.IhavetoworkagainstthepeopleIlovebest.

Andrightnow,Ihavetolie.

Itwistmyfingerstogether.

“Whatisit?”hesays.

“I still can’t fire a gun.” I look up at him. “And after what happened in Eruditeheadquarters…”Iclearmythroat.“Riskingmylifedoesn’tseemsoappealinganymore.”

“Tris.”Hebrushesmycheekwithhisfingertips.“Youdon’thavetogo.”

“Idon’twanttoseemlikeacoward.”

“Hey.”Hisfingersfitbeneathmyjaw.Theyarecoolagainstmyskin.Helookssternlyatme.“Youhavedonemoreforthisfactionthananyotherperson.You…”

Hesighs,andtoucheshisforeheadtomine.

“You’rethebravestpersonI’veevermet.Stayhere.Letyourselfmend.”

Hekissesme,andIfeellikeIamcrumblingagain,beginningwiththedeepestpartsofme.HethinksIwillbehere,butIwillbeworkingagainsthim,workingwiththefatherhedespises.Thislie—thislieistheworstIhaveevertold.Iwillneverbeabletotakeitback.

Whenwepart,Iamafraidhewillhearmybreathsshake,soIturntowardthewindow.

“OHYEAH.YOUtotallylooklikeabanjo-strummingsoftie,”saysChristina.

“Really?”

“No.Notatall,actually.Just…letmefixit,okay?”

Sherummagesinherbagforafewsecondsandpullsoutasmallbox.Initaredifferent-sizedtubesandcontainersthatIrecognizeasmakeup,butwouldn’tknowwhattodowith.

Weareinmyparents’house.ItwastheonlyplaceIcouldthinkoftogotogetready.Christinahasnoreservationsaboutpokingaround—shealreadydiscoveredtwotextbookswedgedbetweenthedresserandthewall,evidenceofCaleb’sEruditeleanings.

“Letmegetthisstraight.SoyoulefttheDauntlesscompoundtogetreadyforwar…andtookyourmakeupbagwithyou?”

“Yep.FigureditwouldbeharderforanyonetoshootmeiftheysawhowdevastatinglyattractiveIwas,”shesays,archinganeyebrow.“Holdstill.”

Shetakesthecapoffablacktubeaboutthesizeofoneofmyfingers,revealingaredstick.Lipstick,obviously.Shetouchesittomymouthanddabsituntilmylipsarecoveredincolor.IcanseeitwhenIpursethem.

“Has anyone ever talked to you about the miracle of eyebrow tweezing?” she says,holdingupapairoftweezers.

“Getthoseawayfromme.”

“Fine.”Shesighs.“Iwouldtakeouttheblush,butI’mprettysureit’snottherightcolorforyou.”

“Shocking,consideringwe’resosimilarinskintone.”

“Ha-ha,”shesays.

Bythetimeweleave,Ihaveredlipsandcurledeyelashes,andI’mwearingabrightreddress.Andthere’saknifestrappedtotheinsideofmyknee.Thisallmakesperfectsense.

“Where’sMarcus,Destroyer of Lives, going tomeet us?”Christina says. ShewearsAmityyellowinsteadofred,anditglowsagainstherskin.

Ilaugh.“BehindAbnegationheadquarters.”

Wewalkdownthesidewalkinthedark.Alltheothersshouldbeeatingdinnernow—Imade sure of that—but in casewe run into someone,wewear black jackets to concealmostofourAmityclothing.Ihopoveracrackinthecementoutofhabit.

“Whereareyoutwogoing?”Peter’svoicesays.Ilookovermyshoulder.He’sstandingonthesidewalkbehindus.Iwonderhowlonghe’sbeenthere.

“Whyaren’tyouwithyourattackgroup,eatingdinner?”Isay.

“Idon’thaveone.”HetapsthearmIshot.“I’minjured.”

“Yeahright,youare!”saysChristina.

“Well,Idon’twanttogotobattlewithabunchoffactionless,”hesays,hisgreeneyesglinting.“SoI’mgoingtostayhere.”

“Likeacoward,”saysChristina,herlipcurledindisgust.“Leteveryoneelsecleanupthemessforyou.”

“Yep!”hesayswithakindofmaliciouscheer.Heclapshishands.“Havefundying.”

Hecrossesthestreet,whistling,andwalksintheotherdirection.

“Well,wedistractedhim,”shesays.“Hedidn’taskwhereweweregoingagain.”

“Yeah.Good.”Iclearmythroat.“So,thisplan.It’skindofstupid,right?”

“It’snot…stupid.”

“Oh,comeon.TrustingMarcusisstupid.TryingtogetpasttheDauntlessatthefenceisstupid.Goingagainst theDauntlessandfactionlessisstupid.All threecombinedis…adifferentkindofstupidformerlyunheardofbyhumankind.”

“Unfortunatelyit’salsothebestplanwehave,”shepointsout.“Ifwewanteveryonetoknowthetruth.”

I trustedChristina to take up thismissionwhen I thought Iwould die, so it seemedstupidnottotrusthernow.Iwasworriedshewouldn’twanttocomewithme,butIforgotwhere Christina came from: Candor, where the pursuit of truth ismore important thananythingelse.ShemaybeDauntlessnow,butifthere’sonethingI’velearnedthroughallthis,it’sthatweneverleaveouroldfactionsbehind.

“Sothisiswhereyougrewup.Didyoulikeithere?”Shefrowns.“Iguessyoucouldn’thave,ifyouwantedtoleave.”

The sun inches toward the horizon as we walk. I never used to like evening lightbecause itmade everything in theAbnegation sector lookmoremonochromatic than italreadyis,butnowIfindtheunchanginggraycomforting.

“I liked some things and hated some things,” I say. “And there were some things Ididn’tknowIhaduntilIlostthem.”

WereachAbnegationheadquarters,anditsfaceisjustacementsquarelikeeverythingelseintheAbnegationsector.Iwouldlovetowalkintothemeetingroomandbreathethesmellofoldwood,butwedon’thavetime.Weslipintothealleynexttothebuildingand

walktotheback,whereMarcustoldmehewouldbewaiting.

Apowder-bluepickuptruckwaitsthere,itsenginerunning.Marcusisbehindthewheel.IletChristinawalkaheadofmesothatshecanbetheonetoslideintothemiddle.Idon’twanttositclosetohimifIcanhelpit.IfeellikehatinghimwhileIworkwithhimlessensmybetrayalofTobiassomehow.

Youhavenootherchoice,Itellmyself.Thereisnootherway.

Withthatinmind,Ipullthedoorshutandlookforaseatbelttobuckle.Ifindonlythefrayedendofaseatbeltandabrokenbuckle.

“Wheredidyoufindthispieceofjunk?”saysChristina.

“Istoleitfromthefactionless.Theyfixthemup.Itwasn’teasytogetittostart.Betterditchthosejackets,girls.”

Iballupour jacketsand toss themout thehalf-openwindow.Marcusshifts the truckintodrive,anditgroans.Ihalfexpectittostaystillwhenhepressesthegaspedal,butitmoves.

FromwhatI remember, it takesaboutanhour todrivefromtheAbnegationsector toAmityheadquarters, and the trip requires a skilleddriver.Marcuspulls ontooneof themain thoroughfares and pushes his foot into the gas pedal.We lurch forward, narrowlyavoidingagapingholeintheroad.Igrabthedashboardtosteadymyself.

“Relax,Beatrice,”saysMarcus.“I’vedrivenacarbefore.”

“I’vedonealotofthingsbefore,butthatdoesn’tmeanI’manygoodatthem!”

Marcus smiles and jerks the truck to the left so that we don’t hit a fallen stoplight.Christinawhoopsaswebumpoveranotherpieceofdebris,likeshe’shavingthetimeofherlife.

“Adifferentkindofstupid,right?”shesays,hervoiceloudenoughtobeheardovertherushofwindthroughthecab.

IclutchtheseatbeneathmeandtrynottothinkofwhatIatefordinner.

Whenwereachthefence,weseetheDauntlessstandinginourheadlightbeams,blockingthegate.Theirbluearmbandsstandoutagainsttherestoftheirclothing.Itrytokeepmyexpressionpleasant.IwillnotbeabletofoolthemintothinkingI’mAmitywithascowlonmyface.

A dark-skinned man with a gun in hand approachesMarcus’s window. He shines aflashlightatMarcusfirst,thenChristina,thenme.Isquintintothebeam,andforceasmileatthemanlikeIdon’tmindbrightlightsintheeyesandgunspointedatmyheadintheslightest.

TheAmitymustbederangedifthisishowtheyreallythink.Orthey’vebeeneatingtoomuchofthatbread.

“Sotellme,”themansays.“What’sanAbnegationmemberdoinginatruckwithtwo

Amity?”

“These two girls volunteered to bring provisions to the city,” Marcus says, “and Ivolunteeredtoescortthemsothattheywouldbesafe.”

“Also,wedon’tknowhowtodrive,”saysChristina,grinning.“MydadtriedtoteachmeyearsagobutIkeptconfusingthegaspedalforthebrakepedal,andyoucanimaginewhat a disaster thatwas!Anyway, itwas really nice of Joshua to volunteer to take us,becauseitwouldhavetakenusforeverotherwise,andtheboxesweresoheavy—”

TheDauntlessmanholdsuphishand.“Okay,Igetit.”

“Oh,ofcourse.Sorry.”Christinagiggles.“IjustthoughtIwouldexplain,becauseyouseemedsoconfused,andnowonder,becausehowmanytimesdoyouencounterthis—”

“Right,”themansays.“Anddoyouintendtoreturntothecity?”

“Notanytimesoon,”Marcussays.

“All right.Goahead, then.”Henods to theotherDauntlessby thegate.Oneof themtypesaseriesofnumbersonthekeypad,andthegateslidesopentoadmitus.MarcusnodstotheguardwholetusthroughanddrivesoverthewornpathtoAmityheadquarters.Thetruck’sheadlightscatchtiretracksandprairiegrassandinsectsweavingbackandforth.InthedarknesstomyrightIseefireflieslightinguptoarhythmthatislikeaheartbeat.

Afterafewseconds,MarcusglancesatChristina.“Whatonearthwasthat?”

“There’snothingtheDauntlesshatemorethancheerfulAmitybabble,”saysChristina,liftingashoulder.“Ifiguredifhegotannoyeditwoulddistracthimandhewouldletusthrough.”

Ismilewithallmyteeth.“Youareagenius.”

“Iknow.”Shetossesherheadlikeshe’sthrowingherhairoveroneshoulder,onlyshedoesn’thaveenoughtothrow.

“Except,”saysMarcus,“JoshuaisnotanAbnegationname.”

“Whatever.Asifanyoneknowsthedifference.”

I see theglowofAmityheadquartersahead, the familiarclusterofwoodenbuildingswith thegreenhouse in their center.Wedrive through the appleorchard.The air smellslikewarmearth.

Again I remembermymother stretching to pick an apple in this orchard, years agowhenwecametohelptheAmitywiththeharvest.Apanghurtsmychest,butthememorydoesn’toverwhelmmeasitdidafewweeksago.Maybeit’sbecauseIamonamissiontohonorher.OrmaybeIamtooapprehensiveaboutwhat’scomingtogrieveproperly.Butsomethinghaschanged.

Marcusparksthetruckbehindoneofthesleepingcabins.ForthefirsttimeInoticethattherearenokeysintheignition.

“Howdidyougetittostart?”Iaskhim.

“Myfathertaughtmealotaboutmechanicsandcomputers,”hesays.“Knowledgethat

Ipassedtomyownson.Youdidn’tthinkhefigureditalloutonhisown,didyou?”

“Actuallyyes,Idid.”Ipushthedooropenandclimboutofthetruck.Grassbrushesmytoesand thebackofmycalves.Christinastandsatmyright shoulderand tiltsherheadback.

“It’s so different out here,” she says. “You could almost forget what’s going on inthere.”Shepointsherthumbtowardthecity.

“Andtheyoftendo,”Isay.

“Theyknowwhat’sbeyondthecity,though,right?”sheasks.

“TheyknowaboutasmuchastheDauntlesspatrols,”saysMarcus.“Whichisthattheoutsideworldisunknownandpotentiallydangerous.”

“Howdoyouknowwhattheyknow?”Isay.

“Becausethat’swhatwetoldthem,”hesays,andhewalkstowardthegreenhouse.

IexchangealookwithChristina.Thenwejogtocatchuptohim.

“Whatdoesthatmean?”

“Whenyouareentrustedwithalltheinformation,youhavetodecidehowmuchotherpeopleshouldknow,”saysMarcus.“TheAbnegationleaderstoldthemwhatwehadtotellthem. Now, let’s hope Johanna is keeping up her normal habits. She is usually in thegreenhousethisearlyintheevening.”

Heopensthegreenhousedoor.TheairisjustasdenseasthelasttimeIwasinhere,butnowitismisty,too.Themoisturecoolsmycheeks.

“Wow,”Christinasays.

Theroomislitbymoonlight,soitishardtodistinguishplantfromtreefromman-madestructure.LeavesbrushmyfaceasImakemywayaroundtheouteredgeoftheroom.AndthenIseeJohanna,crouchedbesideabushwithabowlinherhands,pickingwhatappeartoberaspberries.Herhairispulledback,soIcanseeherscar.

“Ididn’tthinkIwouldseeyouhereagain,Ms.Prior,”shesays.

“IsthatbecauseI’msupposedtobedead?”Isay.

“Ialwaysexpectthosewholivebytheguntodiebyit.Iamoftenpleasantlysurprised.”Shebalancesthebowlonherkneesandlooksupatme.“AlthoughIalsoknowbetterthantothinkyoucamebackbecauseyoulikeithere.”

“No,”Isay.“Wecameforsomethingelse.”

“Allright,”shesays,standing.“Let’sgotalkaboutit,then.”

Shecarriesthebowltowardthemiddleoftheroom,wheretheAmitymeetingsareheld.Wefollowherontothetreeroots,whereshesitsandoffersmethebowlofraspberries.ItakeasmallhandfulofberriesandpassthebowltoChristina.

“Johanna,thisisChristina,”Marcussays.“Candor-bornDauntless.”

“Welcome toAmity headquarters,Christina.” Johanna smiles knowingly. It seems so

strange,thattwopeopleborninCandorcouldendupinsuchdifferentplaces:Dauntless,andAmity.

“Tellme,Marcus,”saysJohanna.“Whyhaveyoucometovisit?”

“IthinkBeatriceshouldhandlethat,”hesays.“Iammerelythetransportation.”

Sheshiftsherfocustomewithoutquestion,butIcantellbythewarylookinhereyesthat shewould rather talk toMarcus.Shewoulddeny it if I askedher,but IamalmostcertainJohannaReyeshatesme.

“Um…”Isay.Notmymostbrilliantopening.Iwipemypalmsonmyskirt.“Thingshavegottenbad.”

The words start to spill out, without finesse or sophistication. I explain that theDauntlesshavealliedwiththefactionless,andtheyplantodestroyallofErudite,leavinguswithoutoneofthetwoessentialfactions.ItellherthatthereisimportantinformationintheEruditecompound,inadditiontoalltheknowledgetheypossess,thatespeciallyneedstobe recovered.When I finish, I realize Ihaven’t toldherwhy thathasanything todowithherorherfaction,butIdon’tknowhowtosayit.

“I’mconfused,Beatrice,”shesays.“Whatexactlydoyouwantustodo?”

“Ididn’tcomeheretoaskyouforhelp,”Isay.“Ithoughtyoushouldknowthatalotofpeoplearegoingtodie,verysoon.AndIknowyoudon’twanttostayheredoingnothingwhilethathappens,evenifsomeofyourfactiondoes.”

Shelooksdown,hercrookedmouthbetrayingjusthowrightIam.

“IalsowantedtoaskyouifwecantalktotheEruditeyou’rekeepingsafehere,”Isay.“Iknowthey’rehidden,butIneedaccesstothem.”

“Andwhatdoyouintendtodo?”shesays.

“Shootthem,”Isay,rollingmyeyes.

“Thatisn’tfunny.”

Isigh.“Sorry.Ineedinformation.That’sall.”

“Well,you’llhavetowaituntiltomorrow,”Johannasays.“Youcansleephere.”

Isleepassoonasmyheadtouchesthepillow,butwakeearlierthanIplanned.Icantellbytheglownearthehorizonthatthesunisabouttorise.

AcrossthenarrowaislebetweentwobedsisChristina,herfacepressedtothemattresswithherpillowoverherhead.Adresserwithalampontopofitstandsbetweenus.Thewooden floorboards creaknomatterwhereyou stepon them.Andon the leftwall is amirror,casuallyplaced.EveryonebuttheAbnegationtakesmirrorsforgranted.IstillfeelaprickleofshockwheneverIseeoneintheopen.

Igetdressed,notbotheringtobequiet—fivehundredstompingDauntlesscan’twakeChristinawhen she’sdeeplyasleep, thoughanEruditewhispermightbeable to.She is

oddthatway.

Iwalk outside as the sun peeks through the tree branches, and see a small group ofAmitygatheredneartheorchard.Imoveclosertoseewhattheyaredoing.

Theystandinacircle,handsclasped.Halfofthemareintheirearlyteens,andtheotherhalfareadults.Theoldestone,awomanwithbraidedgrayhair,speaks.

“WebelieveinaGodwhogivespeaceandcherishesit,”shesays.“Sowegivepeacetoeachother,andcherishit.”

Iwouldnothearthatasacue,buttheAmityseemto.Theyallbegintomoveatonce,findingsomeoneacrossthecircleandclaspinghandswiththem.Wheneveryoneispairedoff,theystandforseveralseconds,lookingateachother.Someofthemmutteraphrase,somesmile,someremainsilentandstill.Thentheybreakapartandmovetosomeoneelse,performingthesameseriesofactionsagain.

I have never seen an Amity religious ceremony before. I am only familiar with thereligion ofmy parents’ faction,which part ofme still holds to and the other rejects asfoolishness—the prayers before dinner, the weekly meetings, the acts of service, thepoemsaboutaselflessGod.Thisissomethingdifferent,somethingmysterious.

“Comeandjoinus,”thegray-hairedwomansays.Ittakesmeafewsecondstorealizeshe’stalkingtome.Shebeckonstome,smiling.

“Ohno,”Isay.“I’mjust—”

“Come,”shesaysagain,andIfeellikeIhavenochoicebuttowalkforwardandstandamongthem.

Sheapproachesmefirst,claspingmyhand.Herfingersaredryandroughandhereyesseekmine,persistent,thoughIfeelstrangemeetinghergaze.

OnceIdo,theeffectisimmediateandpeculiar.Istandstill,andeverypartofmeisstill,likeitweighsmorethanitusedto,onlytheweightisnotunpleasant.Hereyesarebrown,thesameshadethroughout,andunmoving.

“May thepeaceofGodbewithyou,” she says,hervoice low, “even in themidstoftrouble.”

“Whywouldit?”Isaysoftly,sonooneelsecanhear.“AfterallI’vedone…”

“Itisn’taboutyou,”shesays.“Itisagift.Youcannotearnit,oritceasestobeagift.”

She releasesme andmoves to someone else, but I standwithmy hand outstretched,alone.Someonemoves to takemyhand,but Iwithdrawfromthegroup, firstatawalk,andthenatarun.

IsprintintothetreesasfastasIcan,andonlywhenmylungsfeelliketheyareonfiredoIstop.

Ipressmyforehead to thenearest tree trunk, thoughitscrapesmyskin,andfightofftears.

LaterthatmorningIwalkthroughlightraintothemaingreenhouse.Johannahascalledanemergencymeeting.

Istayashiddenaspossibleattheedgeoftheroom,betweentwolargeplantsthataresuspended inmineral solution. It takesme a fewminutes to find Christina, dressed inAmityyellowontherightsideoftheroom,butitiseasytospotMarcus,whostandsontherootsofthegianttreewithJohanna.

Johannahasherhandsclaspedinfrontofherandherhairpulledback.Theinjurythatgaveherthescaralsodamagedhereye—herpupilissodilateditoverwhelmsheriris,andherlefteyedoesn’tmovewiththerightoneasshescanstheAmityinfrontofher.

But there are not just Amity. There are people with close-cropped hair and tightlytwistedbunswhomustbelong toAbnegation,anda fewrowsofpeople inglasseswhomustbeErudite.Caraisamongthem.

“Ihavereceivedamessagefromthecity,”saysJohannawheneveryonequietsdown.“AndIwouldliketocommunicateittoyou.”

She tugs at the hem of her shirt, then clasps her hands in front of her. She seemsnervous.

“The Dauntless have allied with the factionless,” she says. “They intend to attackErudite in twodays’ time.Their battlewill bewaged not against theErudite-Dauntlessarmy but against Erudite innocents and the knowledge they have worked so hard toacquire.”

Shelooksdown,breathesdeeply,andcontinues:“Iknowthatwerecognizenoleader,soIhavenorighttoaddressyouasifthatiswhatIam,”shesays.“ButIamhopingthatyouwillforgiveme,justthisonce,foraskingifwecanreconsiderourpreviousdecisiontoremainuninvolved.”

There aremurmurs.They arenothing likeDauntlessmurmurs—they aregentler, likebirdslaunchingfrombranches.

“OurrelationshipwithEruditenotwithstanding,weknowbetter thananyfactionhowessential their role in this society is,” she says. “Theymust be protected fromneedlessslaughter,ifnotbecausetheyarehumanbeings,thenbecausewecannotsurvivewithoutthem. I propose thatwe enter the city as nonviolent, impartial peacekeepers in order tocurb inwhateverwaypossible theextremeviolence thatwillundoubtedlyoccur.Pleasediscussthis.”

Rainduststheglasspanelsaboveourheads.Johannasitsonatreeroottowait,buttheAmitydonotburstintoconversationastheydidthelasttimeIwashere.Whispers,almostindistinguishablefromtherain,turntonormalspeech,andIhearsomevoicesliftaboveothers,almostyelling,butnotquite.

Everyliftedvoicesendsajoltthroughme.I’vesatthroughplentyofargumentsinmylife,mostlyinthelasttwomonths,butnoneofthemeverscaredmelikethis.TheAmityaren’tsupposedtoargue.

Idecidenot towaitany longer. Iwalkalong theedgeof themeetingarea, squeezingpasttheAmitywhoareontheirfeetandhoppingoverhandsandoutstretchedlegs.Some

ofthemstareatme—Imaybewearingaredshirt,butthetattoosalongmycollarboneareclearasever,evenfromadistance.

IpauseneartherowofErudite.CarastandswhenIgetclose,herarmsfolded.

“Whatareyoudoinghere?”shesays.

“IcametotellJohannawhatwasgoingon,”Isay.“Andtoaskyouforhelp.”

“Me?”shesays.“Why—”

“Notyou,”Isay.Itrytoforgetwhatshesaidaboutmynose,butit’shard.“Allofyou.Ihaveaplantosavesomeofyourfaction’sdata,butIneedyourhelp.”

“Actually,”Christinasays,appearingatmyleftshoulder,“wehaveaplan.”

CaralooksfrommetoChristinaandbacktomeagain.

“YouwanttohelpErudite?”shesays.“I’mconfused.”

“YouwantedtohelpDauntless,”Isay.“Youthinkyou’retheonlyonewhodoesn’tjustblindlydowhatyourfactiontellsyouto?”

“Itisinkeepingwithyourpatternofbehavior,”saysCara.“ShootingpeoplewhogetinyourwayisaDauntlesstrait,afterall.”

Ifeelapinchatthebackofmythroat.Shelookssomuchlikeherbrother,downtothecreasebetweenhereyebrowsandthedarkstreaksinherotherwiseblondhair.

“Cara,”saysChristina.“Willyouhelpus,ornot?”

Cara sighs. “Obviously I will. I’m sure the others will, too.Meet us in the Eruditedormitoryattheendofthemeeting,andtellustheplan.”

The meeting lasts for another hour. By then the rain has stopped, though water stillsprinklesthewallandceilingpanels.ChristinaandIhavebeensittingagainstoneofthewalls,playingagameinwhicheachofustriestopindowntheother’sthumb.Shealwayswins.

FinallyJohannaandtheotherswhoemergedasdiscussionleadersstandinalineonthetreeroots.Johanna’shairnowhangsoverherloweredface.Sheissupposedtotellustheoutcomeoftheconversation,butshejuststandswithherarmsfolded,herfingerstappingagainstherelbow.

“What’sgoingon?”Christinasays.

FinallyJohannalooksup.

“Obviouslyitwasdifficulttofindagreement,”shesays.“Butthemajorityofyouwishtoupholdourpolicyofuninvolvement.”

ItdoesnotmattertomewhethertheAmitydecidetogointothecityornot.ButIhadbeguntohopetheywerenotallcowards,andtome,thisdecisionsoundsverymuchlikecowardice.Isinkbackagainstthewindow.

“Itisnotmywishtoencouragedivisioninthiscommunity,whichhasgivensomuchtome,”saysJohanna.“Butmyconscienceforcesmetogoagainstthisdecision.Anyoneelsewhoseconsciencedrivesthemtowardthecityiswelcometocomewithme.”

AtfirstI, likeeveryoneelse,amnotsurewhatshe’ssaying.Johannatiltsherheadsothat her scar is again visible, and adds, “I understand if thismeans I can’t be a part ofAmityanymore.”Shesniffs.“ButpleaseknowthatifIhavetoleaveyou,Ileaveyouwithlove,ratherthanmalice.”

Johannabowsinthegeneraldirectionofthecrowd,tucksherhairbehindherears,andwalks toward theexit.A fewof theAmityscramble to their feet, thena fewmore,andsoon the entire crowd is on their feet, and some of them—not many, but some—arewalkingoutbehindher.

“That,”saysChristina,“isnotwhatIwasexpecting.”

THE ERUDITE DORMITORY is one of the larger sleeping rooms in Amity headquarters. There aretwelvebeds total: a rowof eight crammed together along the farwall, and twopressedtogether on each side, leaving a huge space in the middle of the room. A large tableoccupies that space,coveredwith toolsandscrapsofmetalandgearsandoldcomputerpartsandwires.

ChristinaandIjustfinishedexplainingourplan,whichsoundedalotdumberwithmorethanadozenEruditestaringusdownaswetalked.

“Yourplanisflawed,”Carasays.Sheisthefirsttorespond.

“That’swhywecametoyou,”Isay.“Soyoucouldtellushowtofixit.”

“Well,firstofall,thisimportantdatayouwanttorescue,”shesays.“Puttingitonadiscis a ridiculous idea.Discs just endupbreakingor in thewrongperson’shands, like allotherphysicalobjects.Isuggestyoumakeuseofthedatanetwork.”

“The…what?”

She glances at the other Erudite.One of the others—a brown-skinned youngman inglasses—says,“Goon.Tellthem.There’snoreasontokeepsecretsanymore.”

Caralooksbackatme.“ManyofthecomputersintheEruditecompoundaresetuptoaccessdatafromthecomputersinotherfactions.That’showitwassoeasyforJeaninetoruntheattacksimulationfromaDauntlesscomputerinsteadofanEruditeone.”

“What?” saysChristina. “Youmeanyoucan just takea stroll throughevery faction’sdatawheneveryouwant?”

“Youcan’t‘takeastroll’throughdata,”theyoungmansays.“That’sillogical.”

“It’sametaphor,”saysChristina.Shefrowns.“Right?”

“Ametaphor,orsimplyafigureofspeech?”hesays,alsofrowning.“Orisametaphoradefinitecategorybeneaththeheadingof‘figureofspeech’?”

“Fernando,”saysCara.“Focus.”

Henods.

“The fact is,” Cara continues, “the data network exists, and that is ethicallyquestionable,but Ibelieve itcanwork toouradvantagehere.Justas thecomputerscanaccessdatafromotherfactions, theycansenddata tootherfactions. Ifwesent thedatayouwishedtorescuetoeveryotherfaction,destroyingitallwouldbeimpossible.”

“Whenyousay‘we,’”Isay,“areyouimplyingthat—”

“Thatwewouldbegoingwithyou?”shesays.“Obviouslynotallofuswouldgo,butsomeofusmust.HowdoyouexpecttonavigateEruditeheadquartersonyourown?”

“You do realize that if you come with us, you might get shot,” says Christina. Shesmiles. “And no hiding behind us because you don’t want to break your glasses, orwhatever.”

Cararemovesherglassesandsnapstheminhalfatthebridge.

“Weriskedourlivesbydefectingfromourfaction,”saysCara,“andwewillriskthemagaintosaveourfactionfromitself.”

“Also,”pipesup a small voicebehindCara.Agirl noolder than tenor elevenpeersaroundCara’selbow.Herblackhairisshort,likemine,andahalooffrizzsurroundsherhead.“Wehaveusefulgadgets.”

ChristinaandIexchangealook.

Isay,“Whatkindsofgadgets?”

“They’rejustprototypes,”Fernandosays,“sothere’snoneedtoscrutinizethem.”

“Scrutiny’snotreallyourthing,”saysChristina.

“Thenhowdoyoumakethingsbetter?”thelittlegirlasks.

“Wedon’t,really,”Christinasays,sighing.“Theykindofjustkeepgettingworse.”

Thelittlegirlnods.“Entropy.”

“What?”

“Entropy,”shechirps.“It’sthetheorythatallmatterintheuniverseisgraduallymovingtowardthesametemperature.Alsoknownas‘heatdeath.’”

“Elia,”Carasays,“thatisagrossoversimplification.”

EliasticksouthertongueatCara.Ican’thelpbutlaugh.IhaveneverseenoneoftheEruditestickouthertonguebefore.Butthenagain,Ihaven’tinteractedwithmanyyoungErudite.OnlyJeanineandthepeoplewhoworkforher.Includingmybrother.

Fernandocrouchesnexttooneofthebedsandtakesoutabox.Hedigsinsideitforafewseconds,thenpicksupasmall,rounddisc.ItismadeofapalemetalthatIsawofteninEruditeheadquartersbuthaveneverseenanywhereelse.Hecarriesittowardmeonhispalm.WhenIreachforit,hejerksitawayfromme.

“Careful!”hesays.“Ibrought this fromheadquarters. It’snotsomethingwe inventedhere.WereyoutherewhentheyattackedCandor?”

“Yes,”Isay.“Rightthere.”

“Rememberwhentheglassshattered?”

“Wereyouthere?”Isay,narrowingmyeyes.

“No.TheyrecordeditandshowedthefootageatEruditeheadquarters,”hesays.“Well,itlookedliketheglassshatteredbecausetheyshotatit,butthat’snotreallytrue.OneoftheDauntless soldiers tossed one of these near thewindows. It emits a signal that youcan’thear,butthatwillcauseglasstoshatter.”

“Okay,”Isay.“Andhowwillthatbeusefultous?”

“Youmayfind that it’s ratherdistractingforpeoplewhenall theirwindowsshatteratonce,”hesayswithasmallsmile.“EspeciallyinEruditeheadquarters,wheretherearealotofwindows.”

“Right,”Isay.

“Whatelsehaveyougot?”saysChristina.

“TheAmitywilllikethis,”Carasays.“Whereisit?Ah.Here.”

She picks up a black boxmade of plastic, small enough for her towrap her fingersaround it.At the topof theboxare twopiecesofmetal that look like teeth.She flipsaswitchatthebottomofthebox,andathreadofbluelightstretchesacrossthegapbetweentheteeth.

“Fernando,”saysCara.“Wanttodemonstrate?”

“Are you joking?” he says, his eyes wide. “I’m never doing that again. You’redangerouswiththatthing.”

Caragrinsathim,andexplains,“IfItouchedyouwiththisstunnerrightnow,itwouldbeextremelypainful,andthenitwoulddisableyou.Fernandofoundthatoutthehardwayyesterday.ImadeitsothattheAmitywouldhaveawayofdefendingthemselveswithoutshootinganyone.”

“That’s…”Ifrown.“Understandingofyou.”

“Well, technology is supposed to make life better,” she says. “No matter what youbelieve,there’satechnologyoutthereforyou.”

Whatdidmymothersay,inthatsimulation?“Iworrythatyourfather’sblusteringaboutEruditehasbeentoyourdetriment.”Whatifshewasright,evenifshewasjustapartofasimulation?MyfathertaughtmetoseeEruditeaparticularway.Henevertaughtmethattheymadenojudgmentsaboutwhatpeoplebelieved,butdesignedthingsforthemwithintheconfinesofthosebeliefs.Henevertoldmethattheycouldbefunny,orthattheycouldcritiquetheirownfactionfromtheinside.

CaralungestowardFernandowiththestunner,laughingwhenhejumpsback.

HenevertoldmethatanEruditecouldoffertohelpmeevenafterIkilledherbrother.

Theattackwillbeginintheafternoon,beforeitistoodarktoseethebluearmbandsthat

mark some of the Dauntless as traitors. As soon as our plans are finalized, we walkthrough theorchard to the clearingwhere the trucks arekept.When I emerge from thetrees, I see that Johanna Reyes is perched on the hood of one of the trucks, the keysdanglingfromherfingers.

BehindherwaitsasmallconvoyofvehiclespackedwithAmity—butnot justAmity,because Abnegation, with their severe hairstyles and still mouths, are among them.Robert,Susan’solderbrother,iswiththem.

Johannahopsdownfromthehood.Inthebackofthetruckshewasjustsittingonisastack of cratesmarked APPLES and FLOUR and CORN. It’s a good thing we only have to fit twopeopleintheback.

“Hello,Johanna,”saysMarcus.

“Marcus,”shesays.“Ihopeyoudon’tmindifweaccompanyyoutothecity.”

“Ofcoursenot,”hesays.“Leadtheway.”

Johanna gives Marcus the keys and climbs into the bed of one of the other trucks.Christinastartstowardthetruckcab,andIgoforthetruckbed,withFernandobehindme.

“Youdon’twanttositupfront?”saysChristina.“AndyoucallyourselfaDauntless….”

“IwentforthepartofthetruckinwhichIwasleastlikelytovomit,”Isay.

“Pukingisapartoflife.”

Iamabouttoaskherexactlyhowoftensheintendstothrowupinthefuturewhenthetrucksurgesforward.IgrabthesidewithbothhandssothatIdon’tfallout,butafterafewminutes,whenIgetused to thebumpingand jostling, I letgo.Theother trucks trundlealonginfrontofus,behindJohanna’s,whichleadstheway.

Ifeelcalmuntilwereachthefence.Iexpecttoencounterthesameguardswhotriedtostopusonthewayin,butthegateisabandoned,leftopen.Atremorstartsinmychestandspreadstomyhands.Inthemidstofmeetingnewpeopleandmakingplans,Iforgotthatmyplanistowalkstraightintoabattlethatcouldclaimmylife.RightafterIrealizedthatmylifewasworthliving.

The convoy slows down as we pass through the fence, like they expect someone tojumpoutandstopus.Everythingissilentapartfromthecicadasinthedistanttreesandthetruckengines.

“Doyouthinkit’salreadystarted?”IsaytoFernando.

“Perhaps.Perhapsnot,”hesays.“Jeaninehasmanyinformants.Someoneprobablytoldher that somethingwas going to happen, so she called all theDauntless forces back toEruditeheadquarters.”

Inod,butIamreallythinkingofCaleb.Hewasoneofthoseinformants.Iwonderwhyhe believed so strongly that the outsideworld should be hidden fromus that hewouldbetrayeveryonehesupposedlycaredaboutforJeanine,whocaresaboutnoone.

“DidyouevermeetsomeonenamedCaleb?”Isay.

“Caleb,”Fernandosays.“Yes, therewasaCalebinmyinitiateclass.Brilliant,buthe

was…what’s the colloquial term for it?A suck-up.”He smirks. “Therewas abit of adivisionbetween initiates.Thosewho embraced everything Jeanine said and thosewhodidn’t.ObviouslyIwasamemberofthelattergroup.Calebwasamemberoftheformer.Whydoyouask?”

“ImethimwhileIwasimprisoned,”Isay,andmyvoicesoundsfarawayeventome.“Iwasjustcurious.”

“I wouldn’t judge him too harshly,” says Fernando. “Jeanine can be extraordinarilypersuasive to those who aren’t naturally suspicious. I have always been naturallysuspicious.”

Istareoverhisleftshoulder,attheskylinethatgetsclearerthecloserwegettothecity.IsearchforthetwoprongsatthetopoftheHub,andwhenIfindthem,Ifeelbetterandworse at the same time—better, because thebuilding is so familiar, andworse, becauseseeingtheprongsmeansthatwearegettingcloser.

“Yeah,”Isay.“SohaveI.”

BYTHETIMEwereachthecity,allconversationhashaltedinthetruck,replacedbypressedlipsandpalefaces.Marcussteersaroundpotholesthesizeofapersonandpartsfrombroken-downbuses.The ride is smootherwhenweget out of factionless territory and into thecleanpartsofthecity.

ThenIheargunshots.Fromthisdistancetheysoundlikepopping.

ForamomentIamdisoriented,andallIcanseearetheleadersofAbnegationontheirkneesonthepavementandtheslack-facedDauntlesswithgunsinhand;allIcanseeismymotherturningtoembracethebullets,andWilldroppingtotheground.Ibitemyfisttokeepfromcryingout,andthepainbringsmebacktothepresent.

Mymothertoldmetobebrave.Butifshehadknownthatherdeathwouldmakemesoafraid,wouldshehavesacrificedherselfsowillingly?

Breakingawayfromtheconvoyoftrucks,MarcusturnsonMadisonAvenueand,whenweare just twoblocksaway fromMichiganAvenue,where the fighting is,hepulls thetruckintoanalleyandturnsofftheengine.

Fernandohopsoutofthetruckbedandoffersmehisarm.

“Comeon,Insurgent,”hesayswithawink.

“What?”Isay.Itakehisarmandslidedownthesideofthetruck.

Heopensthebaghewassittingwith.Itisfullofblueclothes.Hesortsthroughthem,tossinggarmentstoChristinaandme.IgetabrightblueT-shirtandapairofbluejeans.

“Insurgent,” he says. “Noun. A person who acts in opposition to the establishedauthority,whoisnotnecessarilyregardedasabelligerent.”

“Doyouneedtogiveeverythinganame?”saysCara,runningherhandsoverherdullblondhairtotuckthestraypiecesback.“We’rejustdoingsomethingandithappenstobeinagroup.Noneedforanewtitle.”

“Ihappentoenjoycategorization,”Fernandoreplies,archingadarkeyebrow.

I lookatFernando.The last timeIbroke intoa faction’sheadquarters, Idid itwithaguninmyhand,andIleftbodiesbehindme.Iwantthistimetobedifferent.Ineedthis

timetobedifferent.“Ilikeit,”Isay.“Insurgent.It’sperfect.”

“See?”FernandosaystoCara.“I’mnottheonlyone.”

“Congratulations,”shesayswryly.

IstareatmyEruditeclotheswhiletheothersstripofftheirouterlayersofclothing.

“Notimeformodesty,Stiff!”Christinasays,givingmeapointedlook.

I know she’s right, so I pull off the red shirt Iwaswearing andput on the blue oneinstead.IglanceatFernandoandMarcustomakesuretheyaren’twatching,andchangeout ofmypants too. I have to roll up the jeans four times, andwhen I belt them, theybunchatthetopliketheneckofacrushedpaperbag.

“Didshejustcallyou‘Stiff’?”Fernandosays.

“Yeah,”Isay.“ItransferredintoDauntlessfromAbnegation.”

“Huh.” He frowns. “That’s quite a shift. That kind of leap in personality betweengenerationsisalmostgeneticallyimpossiblethesedays.”

“Sometimes personality has nothing to do with a person’s choice of faction,” I say,thinkingofmymother.SheleftDauntlessnotbecauseshewasill-suitedforitbutbecauseit was safer to be Divergent in Abnegation. And then there’s Tobias, who switched toDauntlesstoescapehisfather.“Therearemanyfactorstoconsider.”

ToescapethemanIhavemademyally.Ifeelatwingeofguilt.

“Keeptalkinglikethatandthey’llneverdiscoveryou’renotreallyErudite,”Fernandosays.

Irunacombthroughmyhairtosmoothitdownandthentuckitbehindmyears.

“Here,”saysCara.Sheliftsapieceofhairfrommyfaceandpinsitbackwithasilverhairclip,thewayEruditegirlsdo.

Christinatakesoutthegunswebroughtwithusandlooksatme.

“Doyouwantone?”shesays.“Orwouldyourathercarrythestunner?”

I stare at the gun in her hand. If I don’t take the stunner, I leavemyself completelyundefendedagainstpeoplewhowillgladlyshootme.IfIdo,IadmittoweaknessinfrontofFernando,Cara,andMarcus.

“YouknowwhatWillwouldsay?”saysChristina.

“What?”Isay,myvoicebreaking.

“Hewouldtellyoutogetover it,”shesays.“Tostopbeingso irrationalandtake thestupidgun.”

Willhadlittlepatiencefortheirrational.Christinamustberight;sheknewhimbetterthanIdid.

Andshe—wholostsomeonedeartoherthatday,justasIdid—wasabletoforgiveme,anactthatmusthavebeennearlyimpossible.Itwouldhavebeenimpossibleforme,ifthesituationwerereversed.Sowhyisitsodifficultformetoforgivemyself?

IclosemyhandaroundthegunChristinaofferedme.Themetal iswarmfromwhereshetouchedit.Ifeelthememoryofshootinghimpokingatthebackofmymind,andtrytostifleit.Butitwon’tbestifled.Iletgoofthegun.

“The stunner is a perfectly good option,” Cara says as she plucks a hair from hershirtsleeve.“Ifyouaskme,theDauntlessaretoogun-happyanyway.”

Fernandooffersmethestunner.IwishIcouldcommunicatemygratitudetoCara,butsheisn’tlookingatme.

“HowamIgoingtoconcealthisthing?”Isay.

“Don’tbother,”Fernandosays.

“Right.”

“We’dbettergo,”saysMarcus,glancingathiswatch.

Myheartbeatssoharditmarkseachsecondforme,buttherestofmeisnumb.Icanbarelyfeeltheground.Ihaveneverbeenthisafraidbefore,andconsideringallthatIhaveseeninsimulations,andallthatIdidduringtheattacksimulation,thatdoesn’tmakeanysense.

Ormaybe itdoes.Whatever theAbnegationwereabout to showeveryonebefore theattack,itwasenoughtomakeJeaninetakedrasticandterriblemeasurestostopthem.AndnowIamabouttofinishtheirwork,theworkmyoldfactiondiedfor.Somuchmorethanmylifeisatstakenow.

Christina and I lead the way. We run down the clean, even sidewalks on MadisonAvenue,passingStateStreet,towardMichiganAvenue.

HalfablockfromEruditeheadquarters,Icometoasuddenstop.

Standinginfourrowsinfrontofusareagroupofpeople,mostlydressedinblackandwhite,spacedtwofeetapart,gunsheldupandready.Iblinkandtheybecomesimulation-controlledDauntless in theAbnegation sector, during the simulation attack.Getagrip!Getagripgetagripgetagrip…. IblinkagainandtheyaretheCandoragain—thoughsomeofthem,dressedallinblack,dolooklikeDauntless.IfI’mnotcarefulI’lllosetouchwithwhere,andwhen,Iam.

“OhmyGod,”Christinasays.“Mysister,myparents…whatifthey…”

She looks atme, and I think I know her thoughts, because I have experienced thembefore.Where are my parents? I have to find them. But if her parents are like theseCandor,simulationcontrolledandarmed,thereisnothingshecandoforthem.

IwonderifLynnstandsinoneoftheserows,somewhereelse.

“Whatdowedo?”Fernandoasks.

I step toward the Candor. Maybe they aren’t programmed to shoot. I stare into theglazedeyesofawomaninawhiteblouseandblackslacks.Shelookslikeshejustcamefromwork.Itakeanotherstep.

Bang.ByinstinctIdroptotheground,coveringmyheadwithmyarms,andscramblebackward,towardFernando’sshoes.Hehelpsmetomyfeet.

“Howaboutlet’snotdothat?”hesays.

Ileanforward—nottoofar—andpeerintothealleybetweenthebuildingnexttousandEruditeheadquarters.TheCandorareinthealleytoo.Iwouldn’tbesurprisediftherewasadenselayerofCandorsurroundingtheentirecomplexofEruditebuildings.

“IsthereanyotherwaytoEruditeheadquarters?”Isay.

“NotthatIknowof,”saysCara.“Unlessyouwanttojumpfromonerooftoanother.”

Shelaughsalittleasshesaysit,likeit’sajoke.Iraisemyeyebrowsather.

“Wait,”shesays.“Youaren’tconsidering—”

“Theroof?”Isay.“No.Windows.”

Iwalktotheleft,carefulnottoadvanceevenaninchtowardtheCandor.ThebuildingonmyleftoverlapswithEruditeheadquartersonitsfarleftside.Therehavetobeafewwindowsthatfaceeachother.

CaramutterssomethingaboutcrazyDauntlessstunts,butrunsafterme,andFernando,Marcus,andChristinafollow.Itrytoopenthebackdoorofthebuilding,butit’slocked.

Christinastepsforwardandsays,“Standback.”Shepointshergunatthelock.Ishieldmy face with an arm as she fires.We hear a loud bang, and then a high ringing, theaftereffectsoffiringaguninsuchaclosespace.Thelockisbroken.

Ipullthedooropenandwalkinside.Alonghallwaywithatilefloorgreetsme,doorsoneitherside,someopen,someclosed.WhenIlookintotheopenrooms,Iseerowsofolddesks,andchalkboardsonthewalls liketheonesinDauntlessheadquarters.Theairsmellsmusty,likethepagesofalibrarybookmixedwithcleaningsolution.

“Thisusedtobeacommercialbuilding,”saysFernando,“butEruditeconverteditintoaschool,forpost-Choosingeducation.AfterthemajorrenovationsinEruditeheadquartersabout a decade ago—you know, when all the buildings across fromMillennium wereconnected?—theystoppedteachingthere.Tooold,hardtoupdate.”

“Thanksforthehistorylesson,”saysChristina.

WhenIreachtheendofthehallway,IwalkintooneoftheclassroomstoseewhereIam.Isee thebackofEruditeheadquarters,but therearenowindowsacross thealleyatstreetlevel.

Rightoutsidethewindow,socloseIcouldtouchherifIstretchedmyhandthroughthewindow,isaCandorchild,agirl,holdingagunthatisaslongasherforearm.ShestandssostillIwonderifsheisevenbreathing.

I cranemy neck to see thewindows above street level.Overmy head in the schoolbuilding thereareplentyofwindows.At thebackofEruditeheadquarters, there isonlyonethatlinesup.Andit’sonthethirdstory.

“Goodnews,”Isay.“Ifoundawayacross.”

EVERYONE SPREADS THROUGHOUT thebuildinginsearchofjanitor’sclosets,permyinstructiontofindaladder.Ihearsneakerssqueakingonthetileandshoutsof“Ifoundone—no,wait,it’sjustgotbuckets in it,nevermind”and“Howlongdoes the ladderhave tobe?Astepladderwon’twork,right?”

Whiletheysearch,Ifindthethird-floorclassroomthatlooksintotheEruditewindow.Ittakesmethreetriestoopentherightwindow.

I leanout,over thealley,andshout,“Hey!”ThenIduckas fastas Ican.But Idon’theargunshots—Good,Ithink.Theydon’trespondtonoise.

Christinamarchesintotheclassroomwithaladderunderherarm,theothersbehindher.“Gotone!Ithinkit’llbelongenoughoncewestretchitout.”

Shetriestoturntoosoon,andtheladdersmacksintoFernando’sshoulder.

“Oh!Sorry,Nando.”

The jolt knockedhis glasses askew.He smiles atChristina and takes the glasses off,shovingthemintohispocket.

“Nando?”Isaytohim.“IthoughttheEruditedidn’tlikenicknames?”

“Whenaprettygirlcallsyoubyanickname,”hesays,“itisonlylogicaltorespondtoit.”

Christinalooksaway,andatfirstIthinksheisbashful,butthenIseeherfacecontortlikeheslappedherinsteadofcomplimentedher.ItistoosoonafterWill’sdeathforhertobeflirtedwith.

Ihelpherguidetheendoftheladderthroughtheclassroomwindowandacrossthegapbetweenbuildings.Marcushelpsussteadyit.FernandowhoopswhentheladderhitstheEruditewindowacrossthealley.

“Timetobreaktheglass,”Isay.

Fernando takes the glass-breaking device from his pocket and offers it to me. “Youprobablyhavethebestaim.”

“Iwouldn’tcountonit,”Isay.“Myrightarmisoutofcommission.I’dhavetothrow

withmyleft.”

“I’lldoit,”saysChristina.

She presses the button on the side of the device and tosses it across the alley,underhand.IclenchmyhandsasIwaitforittoland.Itbouncesontothewindowsillandrollsintotheglass.Anorangelightflashes,andallatoncethewindow—andthewindowsabove,below,andnexttoit—shattersintohundredsoftinypebblesthatshowerovertheCandorbelow.

Atthesametime,theCandortwistandfireupintothesky.Everyoneelsedropstotheground,butIstayonmyfeet,partofmemarvelingattheperfectsynchronicityofit,andthe other part disgusted at how JeanineMatthews has turned yet another faction fromhuman beings into parts of a machine. None of the bullets even hit the classroomwindows,letalonepenetratetheroom.

WhentheCandordonotfireanotherround,Ipeerdownatthem.Theyhavereturnedtotheiroriginalposition,halffacingMadisonAvenueandhalffacingWashingtonStreet.

“Theyrespondtomovementonly,so…don’tfallofftheladder,”Isay.“Whoevergoesfirstwillsecuretheladderontheotherside.”

InoticethatMarcus,whoissupposedtoselflesslyofferhimselfupforeverytask,doesnotvolunteer.

“NotfeelingveryStifftoday,Marcus?”saysChristina.

“IfIwereyou,Iwouldbecarefulwhoyouinsult,”hesays.“Iamstilltheonlypersonherewhocanfindwhatwe’relookingfor.”

“Isthatathreat?”

“I’llgo,”Isay,beforeMarcuscananswer.“I’mpartStifftoo,right?”

I shove the stunner under thewaistband ofmy jeans and climb onto a desk to get abetterangleonthewindow.ChristinaholdstheladderfromthesideasIclamberontopofitandstartforward.

OnceI’mthroughthewindow,Ipositionmyfeetonthenarrowedgesoftheladderandmyhandsontherungs.Theladderfeelsaboutassolidandstableasanaluminumcan.Itcreaksandsagsbeneathmyweight.ItrynottolookdownattheCandor;trynottothinkabouttheirgunsliftingandfiringatme.

Takingquickbreaths, I stareatmydestination, theEruditewindow. Justa few rungsleft.

Abreezeblows through the alley, pushingme to one side, and I thinkof scaling theFerriswheelwithTobias.Hekeptmesteadythen.Thereisnoonelefttokeepmesteadynow.

Icatchaglimpseoftheground,threestoriesdown,thebrickssmallerthantheyshouldbe, thelinesofCandorJeanineenslaved.Myarms—especiallymyrightarm—acheasIinchmywayacrossthegap.

The ladder shifts,moving closer to the edge of thewindow frame on the other side.

Christina isholdingoneside steady,but shecan’tkeep the ladder fromslippingoff theotherwindowsill.Igritmyteethandtrynottomoveittoomuch,butIcan’tmovebothlegsatthesametime.Ihavetolettheladderswayalittle.Justfourmorerungstogo.

Theladderjerkstotheleft,andthen,asImovemyrightfootforward,Imisstheedgeoftherung.

Iyellasmybodyshifts to theside,myarmswrappingaround the ladderandmylegdanglinginspace.

“Areyouokay?”Christinacallsfrombehindme.

I don’t answer. I bringmy leg up andwedge it beneathmy body.My fallmade theladder slip even farther off thewindowsill. It is now supported by just amillimeter ofconcrete.

Idecidetomovefast.Ilurchtowardtheoppositewindowsilljustastheladderslipsoff.Myhandscatchthesillandconcretescrapesmyfingertipsastheybearmybodyweight.Severalvoicesbehindmescream.

IgritmyteethasIpullmyselfup,myrightshouldershriekingwithpain.Ikickatthebrickbuilding,hopingitwillgivemetraction,butitdoesn’thelp.IscreamintomyteethasIpullmyselfupandover thewindowsill,halfmybodyin thebuildingandtheotherhalf still dangling. Thankfully Christina didn’t let the ladder drop too far. None of theCandorshootme.

IpullmyselfintotheEruditeroomacrossthealley.Itisabathroom.Icollapsetothefloor onmy left shoulder, and try to breathe through the pain.Sweat trickles downmyforehead.

AnEruditewomancomesoutofastall,andI scramble tomyfeet,draw thestunner,andpointitather,allwithoutthinking.

Shefreezes,herarmsup,toiletpaperstucktohershoe.

“Don’tshoot!”Hereyesbulgefromherhead.

Iremember,then,thatIamdressedliketheErudite.Isetthestunnerontheedgeofasink.

“Myapologies,”Isay.I trytoadopttheformalspeechcommontotheErudite.“Iamslightlyedgy,witheverythingthat’soccurring.Wearereenteringinordertoretrievesomeofourtestresultsfrom…Laboratory4-A.”

“Oh,”thewomansays.“Thatseemsratherunwise.”

“Thedataisoftheutmostimportance,”Isay,tryingtosoundasarrogantassomeoftheEruditeI’vemet.“Iwouldrathernotleaveittogetriddledwithbullets.”

“It’shardlymyplacetopreventyoufromtryingtorecoverit,”shesays.“Nowifyou’llexcuseme,I’mgoingtowashmyhandsandtakecover.”

“Soundsgood,”Isay.Idecidenottotellhershehastoiletpaperonhershoe.

Iturnbacktothewindow.Acrossthealley,ChristinaandFernandoaretryingtolifttheladderbackontothewindowsill.Thoughmyarmsandhandsache,Ileanoutthewindow

andgrabtheotherendoftheladder,liftingitbackontothewindowsill.ThenIholditinplaceasChristinacrawlsacross.

This time the ladder is more stable, and Christina makes it across the gap withouttrouble.ShetakesmyplaceholdingitasIshovethetrashcaninfrontofthedoorsonooneelsecancomein.Ithenrunmyfingersundercoolwatertosoothethem.

“Thisisprettysmart,Tris,”shesays.

“Youdon’thavetosoundsosurprised.”

“It’sjust…”Shepauses.“YouhadaptitudeforErudite,didn’tyou?”

“Doesitmatter?”Isaytoosharply.“Thefactionsaredestroyed,anditwasallstupidtobeginwith.”

I have never said anything like that before. I have never even thought it. But I’msurprisedtofindthatIbelieveit—surprisedtofindthatIagreewithTobias.

“Iwasn’ttryingtoinsultyou,”saysChristina.“HavingaptitudeforEruditeisn’tabadthing.Especiallyrightnow.”

“Sorry.I’mjust…tense.That’sall.”

Marcus comes through the window and drops to the tile floor. Cara is surprisinglynimble—shemovesover the rungs like she’s pluckingbanjo strings, touching eachoneonlybrieflybeforeshemovestothenextone.

Fernandowill be last, and hewill be in the same position Iwas in, with the laddersecuredfromonlyoneside.ImoveclosertothewindowsoIcantellhimtostopifIseetheladderslip.

Fernando,whoIdidn’tthinkwouldhavetrouble,movesmoreawkwardlythananyoneelse. He has probably spent his entire life behind a computer or a book. He shufflesforward,hisfacebrightred,andholdstherungssotightlythathishandsturnblotchyandpurple.

Halfwayacrossthealley,Iseesomethingslipoutofhispocket.Itishisspectacles.

Iscream,“Fernan—”

ButIamtoolate.

Thespectaclesfall,hittheedgeoftheladder,andtoppletothepavement.

In a wave, the Candor below twist and fire upward. Fernando yells, and collapsesagainst the ladder.Onebullethithis leg.Ididn’tseewhere theotherswent,butIknowwhenIseeblooddripbetweentherungsoftheladderthatitwasnotagoodplace.

Fernando stares at Christina, his face ashen. Christina surges forward, through thewindow,abouttoreachforhim.

“Don’tbeanidiot!”hesays,hisvoiceweak.“Leaveme.”

Itisthelastthinghesays.

CHRISTINASTEPSBACKintotheroom.Weareallstill.

“Idon’tmeantobeinsensitive,”saysMarcus,“butwehavetogobeforetheDauntlessandfactionlessenterthisbuilding.Iftheyhaven’talready.”

I hear tapping against the window and jerk my head to the side, for a split secondbelievingthatitisFernando,tryingtogetin.Butit’sjustrain.

We follow Cara out of the bathroom. She is our leader now. She knows Eruditeheadquartersbest.Christinafollows, thenMarcus, thenme.Weleavethebathroom,andweareinanEruditehallwaylikeeveryotherEruditehallway:pale,bright,sterile.

But thishallwayismoreactive thanIhaveeverseenit.People inEruditebluesprintback and forth, in groups and alone, shouting things at eachother like, “They’re at thefront doors!Go as high as you can!” and “They’ve disabled the elevators!Run for thestairs!” It’s only there, in the midst of chaos, that I realize I forgot the stunner in thebathroom.Iamunarmedagain.

Dauntless traitors also run past us, though they are less frantic than the Erudite. Iwonderwhat Johanna, theAmity, and theAbnegationaredoing in this chaos.Are theytending to the wounded? Or are they standing between Dauntless guns and Eruditeinnocents,takingbulletsforthesakeofpeace?

Ishudder.Caraleadsustoabackstaircase,andwejoinagroupofterrifiedEruditeaswerunupone,two,threeflightsofstairs.ThenCarashoveshershoulderintoadoornexttothelanding,holdinghergunclosetoherchest.

Irecognizethisfloor.

Itismyfloor.

Mythoughtsbecomesluggish.Ialmostdiedhere.Icraveddeathhere.

Islowdownandfallbehind.Ican’tbreakoutofthedaze,thoughpeoplekeeprushingpastme,andMarcusshoutssomethingatme,buthisvoiceismuffled.Christinadoublesbackandgrabsme,draggingmetowardControl-A.

Insidethecontrolroom,IseerowsofcomputersbutIdon’treallyseethem;thereisa

filmcoveringmyeyes. I try toblink it away.Marcus sits at oneof the computers, andCarasitsatanother.Theywillsendall thedatafromtheEruditecomputers to theotherfactioncomputers.

Behindme,thedooropens.

AndIhearCalebsay,“Whatareyoudoinghere?”

Hisvoicewakesme.Iturnandstarerightathisgun.

Hiseyesaremymother’seyes—adullgreen,almostgray,thoughhisblueshirtmakestheircolorappearmorepotent.

“Caleb,”Isay.“Whatdoyouthinkyou’redoing?”

“I’mhere tostopwhateveryou’redoing!”Hisvoice trembles.Thegunwavers inhishands.

“We’reheretosavetheEruditedatathatthefactionlesswanttodestroy,”Isay.“Idon’tthinkyouwanttostopus.”

“That’s not true,” he says.He jerks his head towardMarcus. “Whywouldyoubringhimifyouweren’ttryingtofindsomethingelse?SomethingmoreimportanttohimthanalltheEruditedatacombined?”

“Shetoldyouaboutit?”Marcussays.“You,achild?”

“She didn’t tell me at first,” Caleb says. “But she didn’t want me to choose a sidewithoutknowingthefacts!”

“Thefacts,”saysMarcus,“arethatsheisterrifiedofreality,andtheAbnegationwerenot.Arenot.Andneitherisyoursister.Tohercredit.”

Iscowl.Evenwhenheiscomplimentingme,Iwanttosmackhim.

“Mysister,”saysCalebgently,lookingatmeagain,“doesn’tknowwhatshe’sgettinginto.Doesn’tknowwhatitisthatyouwanttoshoweveryone…doesn’tknowitwillruineverything!”

“Weareheretoserveapurpose!”Marcusisalmostyellingnow.“Wehavecompletedourmission,anditistimeforustodowhatweweresentheretodo!”

Idon’tknowthepurposeorthemissionthatMarcusisreferringto,butCalebdoesn’tlookconfused.

“We were not sent here,” Caleb says. “We have no responsibility to anyone butourselves.”

“That kind of self-interested thinking iswhat I have come to expect from thosewhohavespenttoomuchtimewithJeanineMatthews.Youaresounwillingtorelinquishyourcomfortthatyourselfishnessdrainsyouofhumanity!”

I don’t care to hearmore.WhileCaleb stares downMarcus, I turn and kick hard atCaleb’swrist.Theimpactshockshim,andhisguntopplesfromhishands.Islideitacross

thefloorwithmytoes.

“Youneedtotrustme,Beatrice,”hesays,chinwobbling.

“Afteryouhelpedhertortureme?Afteryouletheralmostkillme?”

“Ididn’thelphertort—”

“Youcertainlydidn’tstopher!Youwererightthere,andyoujustwatched—”

“WhatcouldIhavedone?What—”

“Youcouldhavetried,youcoward!”Iscreamsoloudmyfacegetshotandtearsjumpintomyeyes.“Tried,andfailed,becauseyouloveme!”

Igasp,justtotakeinenoughair.AllIhearistheclickofkeysasCaraworksonthetaskat hand. Caleb doesn’t seem to have a response. His pleading look slowly disappears,replacedbyablankstare.

“You won’t find what you’re looking for here,” he says. “She wouldn’t keep suchimportantfilesonpubliccomputers.Thatwouldbeillogical.”

“Soshehasn’tdestroyedit?”Marcussays.

Calebshakeshishead.“Shedoesnotbelieveinthedestructionofinformation.Onlyitscontainment.”

“Well,thankGodforthat,”saysMarcus.“Whereisshekeepingit?”

“I’mnotgoingtotellyou,”Calebsays.

“I think I know,” I say. Caleb said she wouldn’t keep the information on a publiccomputer.Sohemustmeansheiskeepingitonaprivateone:eithertheoneinherofficeortheoneinthelaboratoryToritoldmeabout.

Calebdoesn’tlookatme.

Marcus picks up Caleb’s revolver and turns it in his hand so the butt of the gunprotrudes fromhis fist.Thenhe swings, strikingCalebunder the jaw.Caleb’s eyes rollback,andhefallstothefloor.

Idon’twanttoknowhowMarcusperfectedthatmaneuver.

“Wecan’thavehimrunningofftotellsomeonewhatwe’redoing,”saysMarcus.“Let’sgo.Caracantakecareoftherest,right?”

Cara nods without looking up from her computer. A sick feeling in my stomach, IfollowMarcusandChristinaoutofthecontrolroomandtowardthestairs.

Thehallwayoutside isnowempty.Thereare scrapsofpaperand footprintson the tile.Marcus,Christina,andIjoginalinetothestairwell.Istareatthebackofhishead,wheretheshapeofhisskullshowsthroughhisbuzzedhair.

AllIcanseewhenIlookathimisabeltswingingtowardTobias,andthebuttofagunslammingintoCaleb’sjaw.Idon’tcarethathehurtCaleb—Iwouldhavedoneit, too—

butthatheissimultaneouslyamanwhoknowshowtohurtpeopleandamanwhoparadesaroundastheself-effacingleaderofAbnegation,suddenlymakesmesoangryIcan’tseestraight.

EspeciallybecauseIchosehim.IchosehimoverTobias.

“Your brother is a traitor,” says Marcus as we turn a corner. “He deserved worse.There’snoneedtolookatmethatway.”

“Shutup!”Ishout,shovinghimhardintothewall.Heistoosurprisedtopushback.“Ihateyou,youknowthat!Ihateyouforwhatyoudidtohim,andIamnottalkingaboutCaleb.”Ileanclosetohisfaceandwhisper,“AndwhileImaynotshootyoumyself,Iwilldefinitelynothelpyouifsomeonetriestokillyou,soyou’dbetterhopetoGodwedon’tgetintothatsituation.”

Hestaresatme,apparentlyindifferent.Ireleasehimandstart towardthestairsagain,Christinaonmyheels,Marcusafewstepsbehind.

“Wherearewegoing?”shesays.

“Calebsaidwhatwe’relookingforwon’tbeonapubliccomputer,soithastobeonaprivateone.AsfarasIknow,Jeanineonlyhastwoprivatecomputers,oneinheroffice,andoneinherlaboratory,”Isay.

“Sowhichonedowegoto?”

“Tori toldme therewere insane securitymeasures protecting Jeanine’s laboratory,” Isay.“AndI’vebeentoheroffice;it’sjustanotherroom.”

“So…laboratory,then.”

“Topfloor.”

We reach the door to the stairwell, and when I throw it open, a group of Erudite,includingchildren,aresprintingdownthestairs.Iclingtotherailingandforcemywaythrough themwithmyelbow,not lookingat their faces, like theyarenothuman, justawallofmasstopushaside.

Iexpectthestreamtostop,butmorecomefromthenextlanding,asteadyflowofblue-clad people in dim blue light, the whites of their eyes bright as lamps by contrast toeverything else. Their terrified sobs echo in the cement chamber a hundred times, theshrieksofthedemonswithglowingeyes.

Whenwereach theseventh-floor landing, thecrowd thins,and thendisappears. I runmyhandsalongmyarms toget ridof theghostsofhair, sleeves,andskin thatbrushedagainstmeonthewayup.Icanseethetopofthestairsfromwherewestand.

Ialsoseethebodyofaguard,hisarmdanglingovertheedgeofastair,andstandingoverhim,afactionlessmanwithaneyepatch.

Edward.

“Lookwho it is,”Edward says.He stands at the top of a short flight, only seven steps

long, and I stand at the bottom. The Dauntless traitor guard lies between us, his eyesglazed,adarkpatchonhischestfromwheresomeone—Edward,probably—shothim.

“That’sa strangeoutfit for someonewho is supposed todespiseErudite,”hesays.“Ithought youwere supposed to be at home,waiting for your boyfriend to come back ahero?”

“As you may have gathered,” I say, walking up a step, “that was never going tohappen.”

ThebluelightcastsshadowsintothefainthollowsbeneathEdward’scheekbones.Hereachesbehindhim.

If he is here, that means Tori is already up here. Which means that Jeanine mightalreadybedead.

IfeelChristinaclosebehindme;Ihearherbreaths.

“Wearegoingtogetpastyou,”Isay,walkingupanotherstep.

“Idoubt that,”he replies.Hegrabshisgun. I launchmyself forward,over the fallenguard.Hefires,butmyhandsarewrappedaroundhiswrist,sohedoesn’tfirestraight.

Myearsring,andmyfeetscrambleforstabilityonthedeadguard’sback.

Christina punches over my head. Her knuckles connect with Edward’s nose. I can’tbalanceontopofthebody;Ifall tomyknees,diggingmyfingernailsintohiswrist.Hewrenchesmetothesideandfiresagain,hittingChristinaintheleg.

Gasping,Christinadrawshergunandshoots.Thebullethitshimin theside.Edwardscreamsanddropsthegun,pitchingforward.Hefallsontopofme,andIsmackmyheadagainstoneofthecementsteps.Thedeadguard’sarmisjammedintomyspine.

MarcuspicksupEdward’sgunandtrainsitonbothofus.

“Getup,Tris,”hesays.AndtoEdward:“You.Don’tmove.”

Myhandsearchesforthecornerofastep,andIsqueezefrombetweenEdwardandthedead guard. Edward pushes himself to a sitting position on top of the guard—like he’ssomekindofcushion—clutchinghissidewithbothhands.

“Youokay?”IaskChristina.

Herfacecontorts.“Ahh.Yeah.Ithittheside,notthebone.”

Ireachforher,tohelpherup.

“Beatrice,”Marcussays.“Wehavetoleaveher.”

“What do you mean leave?” I demand. “We can’t leave! Something terrible couldhappen!”

Marcuspresseshisindexfingertomysternum,inthegapbetweenmycollarbones,andleansoverme.

“Listentome,”hesays.“JeanineMatthewswillhaveretreatedtoherlaboratoryatthefirstsignofattack,becauseitisthesafestroominthisbuilding.Andatanymoment,she

will decide that Erudite is lost and it is better to delete the data than risk anyone elsefindingit,andthismissionofourswillbeuseless.”

AndIwillhavelosteveryone:myparents,Caleb,andfinally,Tobias,whowillneverforgiveme forworkingwithhis father, especially if Ihavenoway toprove that itwasworthwhile.

“Wearegoingtoleaveyourfriendhere.”Hisbreathsmellsstale.“Andmoveon,unlessyouwouldrathermegoonalone.”

“He’sright,”saysChristina.“There’snotime.I’llstayhereandkeepEdfromcomingafteryou.”

Inod.Marcusremoveshisfinger,leavinganachingcirclebehind.Irubthepainawayand open the door at the top of the landing. I look back before Iwalk through it, andChristinagivesmeapainedsmile,herhandpressedtoherthigh.

THENEXTROOMismorelikeahallway:itiswide,butnotdeep,withbluetile,bluewalls,andablue ceiling, all the same shade. Everything glows, but I can’t tell where the light iscomingfrom.

At first I don’t see anydoors, butoncemyeyes adjust to the shockof color, I see arectangleinthewalltomyleft,andanotheroneinthewalltomyright.Justtwodoors.

“Wehavetosplitup,”Isay.“Wedon’thavetimetotryeachonetogether.”

“Whichonedoyouwant?”Marcussays.

“Right,”Isay.“Wait,no.Left.”

“Fine.Iwillgoright.”

“IfI’mtheonewhofindsthecomputer,”Isay,“whatshouldIlookfor?”

“If you find the computer, youwill find Jeanine. I assume you know a fewways tocoerceherintodoingwhatyouwant.Sheisnot,afterall,accustomedtopain,”hesays.

Inod.Wewalkatthesamepacetowardourrespectivedoors.AmomentagoIwouldhave said that separating fromMarcuswouldbea relief.Butgoingonalone is itsownburden.WhatifIcan’tgetthroughthesecuritymeasuresJeanineundoubtedlyhasinplacetokeepoutintruders?Whatif,ifIsomehowmanagetogetthroughthem,Ican’tfindtherightfile?

I putmyhandon the door handle.There doesn’t seem to be a lock.WhenTori saidtherewereinsanesecuritymeasures,Ithoughtshemeanteyescannersandpasswordsandlocks,butsofar,everythinghasbeenopen.

Whydoesthatworryme?

Iopenmydoor,andMarcusopenshis.Wesharealook.Iwalkintothenextroom.

The room, like the hallway outside, is blue, though here it is clear where the light iscomingfrom.Itglowsfromthecenterofeverypanel,ceiling,floor,andwalls.

Oncethedoorclosesbehindme,Ihearathudlikeadeadboltshiftingintoplace.IgrabthedoorhandleagainandpushdownashardasIcan,butitdoesn’tbudge.Iamtrapped.

Small,piercing lightscomeatmefromallangles.Myeyelidsaren’tenough toblockthem,soIhavetopressmypalmsovermyeyesockets.

Ihearacalm,femininevoice:

“Beatrice Prior, second generation. Faction of origin: Abnegation. Selected faction:Dauntless.ConfirmedDivergent.”

HowdoesthisroomknowwhoIam?

Andwhatdoes“secondgeneration”mean?

“Status:Intruder.”

Ihearaclick,andpullmyfingersapartjustenoughtoseeifthelightsaregone.Theyaren’t,butfixturesintheceilingspraytintedvapor.InstinctivelyIclapmyhandovermymouth.InsecondsIstarethroughabluefog.AndthenIstareatnothing.

InowstandindarknesssocompletethatwhenIholdmyhandinfrontofmynose,Ican’tevenseeitssilhouette.Ishouldwalkforwardandsearchforadoorontheothersideoftheroom,butIamafraidtomove—whoknowswhatwouldhappentomehereifIdid?

Thenthelightslift,andIstandintheDauntlesstrainingroom,inthecircleinwhichweusedtospar.Ihavesomanymixedmemoriesofthiscircle,sometriumphant,likebeatingMolly,andsomehaunting—PeterpunchingmeuntilIfellunconscious.Isniff,andtheairsmellsthesame,likesweatanddust.

Acrossthecircleisabluedoorthatdoesn’tbelongthere.Ifrownatit.

“Intruder,” the voice says, and now it sounds like Jeanine, but that could be myimagination.“Youhavefiveminutestoreachthebluedoorbeforethepoisonwillkickin.”

“What?”

But I know what she said. Poison. Five minutes. I shouldn’t be surprised; this isJeanine’swork,justasemptyofconscienceassheis.Mybodyshudders,andIwonderifthatisthepoison,ifthepoisonisalreadyshuttingdownmybrain.

Focus.Ican’tgetout;Ihavetomoveforward,or…

Ornothing.Ihavetomoveforward.

Istarttowardthedoor,andsomeoneappearsinmypath.Sheisshort,thin,andblond,withdarkcirclesunderhereyes.Sheisme.

Areflection?Iwaveathertoseeifshewillmirrorme.Shedoesn’t.

“Hello,”Isay.Shedoesn’tanswer.Ididn’treallythinkshewould.

What is this? I swallow hard to pop my ears, which feel like they are stuffed withcotton.IfJeaninedesignedthis,itisprobablyatestofintelligenceorlogic,whichmeansIwillhavetothinkclearly,whichmeansIwillhavetocalmdown.Iclaspmyhandsovermychestandpressdown,hopingthepressurewillmakemefeelsafe,likeanembrace.

Itdoesn’t.

Isteptotherighttogetabetterangleonthedoor,andmydoublehopstotheside,hershoesscrapingthedirt,toblockmywayagain.

IthinkIknowwhatwillhappenifIstarttowardthedoor,butIhavetotry.Ibreakintoa run, intending to swerve aroundher, but she is ready forme: she grabsmywoundedshoulderandwrenchesme to theside. I screamso loud it scrapesmy throat; I feel likeknivesarestabbingdeeperanddeeperintomyrightside.AsIbegintosinktomyknees,shekicksmeinthestomachandIsprawlacrossthefloor,inhalingdust.

That,IrealizeasIclutchmystomach,isexactlywhatIwouldhavedoneifIhadbeeninherposition.Whichmeansthatinordertodefeather,Ihavetothinkofawaytodefeatmyself.AndhowcanIbeabetterfighterthanmyself,ifsheknowsthesamestrategiesIknow,andisexactlyasresourcefulandcleverasIam?

Shestartstowardmeagain,soIscrambletomyfeetandtrytoputasidethepaininmyshoulder.Myheartbeatsfaster.Iwanttopunchher,butshegetstherefirst.Iduckatthelastsecond,andherfisthitsmyear,knockingmeoffbalance.

Ibackupafewsteps,hopingthatshewon’tpursueme,butshedoes.Shecomesatmeagain,thistimeseizingmyshouldersandpullingmedown,towardherbentknee.

Iputmyhandsup,betweenmystomachandherknee,andpushashardasIcan.Shewasnotexpectingthat;shestumblesback,butdoesn’tfall.

Irunather,andasthedesiretokickherslipsintomymind,Irealizethatitisalsoherdesire.Itwistawayfromherfoot.

The second Iwant something, she alsowants it. She and I can only be, at best, at astandstill—butIneedtobeathertogetthroughthedoor.Tosurvive.

I try to think it through,butshe iscomingatmeagain,her forehead tightened intoascowl of concentration. She grabs my arm, and I grab hers, so that we are clutchedforearmtoforearm.

Atthesametime,weyankourelbowsbackandthrustthemforward.Ileaninatthelastsecond,andmyelbowsmashesintoherteeth.

Bothofuscryout.Bloodspillsoverherlip,andrunsdownmyforearm.Shegritsherteethandyells,divingatme,strongerthanIanticipated.

Herweightknocksmedown.Shepinsmetothefloorwithherkneesandtriestopunchmyface,butIcrossmyarmsinfrontofme.Herfistshitmyarmsinstead,eachonelikeastonestrikingmyskin.

Withaheavyexhale,Igrabatoneofherwrists,andInoticethatspotsaredancingatthecornersofmyeyes.Poison.

Focus.

Asshestrugglestofreeherself,Ibringmykneeuptomychest.ThenIpushherback,gruntingwitheffort,untilIcanpressmyfoottoherstomach.Ikickher,myfaceboilinghot.

Thelogicalpuzzle:Inafightbetweentwoperfectequals,howcanonewin?

Theanswer:Onecan’t.

Shepushesherselftoherfeetandwipesthebloodfromherlip.

Therefore:wemustnotbeperfectlyequal.Sowhatisdifferentaboutus?

Shewalkstowardmeagain,butIneedmoretimetothink,soforeverystepshetakesforward,I takeback.Theroomsways,andthentwists,andI lurchto theside,brushingmyfingertipsonthegroundtosteadymyself.

Whatisdifferentaboutus?Wehavethesamemass,skilllevel,patternsofthinking…

Isee thedooroverher shoulder,and I realize:Wehavedifferentgoals. Ihave togetthroughthatdoor.Shehastoprotectit.Buteveninasimulation,thereisnowaysheisasdesperateasIam.

I sprint toward the edge of the circle,where there is a table.Amoment ago, it wasempty,butIknowtherulesofsimulationsandhowtocontrolthem.AgunappearsonitassoonasIthinkit.

Islaminto the table, thespotscrowdingmyviewof it. Idon’tevenfeelpainwhenIcollide with it. I feel my heartbeat in my face, like my heart has detached from itsmooringsinmychestandbeguntomigratetomybrain.

Acrosstheroom,agunappearsonthegroundbeforemydouble.Webothreachforourweapons.

Ifeeltheweightofthegun,anditssmoothness,andIforgetabouther;Iforgetaboutthepoison;Iforgetabouteverything.

Mythroatconstricts,andIfeellikethereisahandaroundit,tightening.Myheadthrobsfromthesuddenlossofair,andIfeelmyheartbeateverywhere,everywhere.

Across the room, it’sno longermydoublewho standsbetweenmeandmygoal; it’sWill.No,no.Itcan’tbeWill.Iforcemyselftobreathein.Thepoisoniscuttingoffoxygentomybrain.Heisjustahallucinationwithinasimulation.Iexhaleinasob.

For a moment I see my double again, holding the gun but visibly shuddering, theweaponasfaroutfromherbodyasshecanpossiblyholdit.SheisasweakasIam.No,notasweak,becausesheisnotgoingblindandlosingair,butalmostasweak,almost.

ThenWill is back, his eyes simulation-dead, his hair a yellowhalo around his head.Brickbuildingsloomfromeachside,butbehindhimisthedoor,thedoorthatseparatesmefrommyfatherandbrother.

No,no,itisthedoorthatseparatesmefromJeanineandmygoal.

Ihavetogetthroughthatdoor.Ihaveto.

Iliftthegun,thoughithurtsmyshouldertodoit,andwraponehandaroundtheothertosteadyit.

“I…”Ichoke,andtearssmearmycheeks,runintomymouth.Itastesalt.“I’msorry.”

AndIdotheonethingmydoubleisunabletodo,becausesheisnotdesperateenough:

Ifire.

IDON’TSEEhimdieagain.

Iclosemyeyesatthemomentthetriggerpressesback,andwhenIopenthem,itistheotherTriswholiesonthegroundbetweenthedarkpatchesinmyvision;itisme.

Idrop thegunandsprint toward thedoor,almost trippingoverher. I throwmybodyagainst the door, twist the handle, and fall through.My hands numb, I press it closedbehindme,andshakethemtoregainfeeling.

Thenextroomistwiceasbigasthefirstone,andit,too,isblue-lit,butpaler.Alargetablestandsinthemiddle,andtapedtothewallsarephotographs,diagrams,andlists.

I takedeepbreaths,andmyvisionbegins toclear,myheart rate returning tonormal.Among the photographs on the walls, I recognize my own face, and Tobias’s, andMarcus’s, andUriah’s.A long listofwhatappear tobechemicals ispostedon thewallbesideourpictures.Eachoneiscrossedoutwithredmarker.ThismustbewhereJeaninedevelopsthesimulationserums.

Ihearvoicessomewhereaheadofme,andscoldmyself.Whatareyoudoing?Hurry!

“Mybrother’sname,”Ihear.“Iwanttohearyousayit.”

Tori’svoice.

Howdidshegetthroughthatsimulation?IssheDivergenttoo?

“Ididn’tkillhim.”Jeanine’svoice.

“Doyouthinkthatexoneratesyou?Doyouthinkthatmeansyoudon’tdeservetodie?”

Toriisnotscreaming,butwailing,thewholeofhergriefescapingthroughhermouth.Istart toward thedoor.Tooquickly, though,becausemyhip slams into thecornerof thetableinthemiddleoftheroom,andIhavetostop,wincing.

“The reasons for my actions are beyond your understanding,” Jeanine says. “I waswillingtomakeasacrificeforthegreatergood,somethingyouhaveneverunderstood,notevenwhenwewereclassmates!”

Ilimptowardthedoor,whichisapaneoffrostedglass.Itslidesbacktoadmitme,andI

seeJeanine,pressedagainstawall,withToristandingafewfeetaway,hergunhigh.

Behindthemisaglasstablewithasilverboxonit—acomputer—andakeyboard.Theentirefarwalliscoveredwithacomputerscreen.

Jeaninestaresatme,butToridoesn’tmoveaninch;doesn’tseemtohearme.Herfaceisredandtear-streaked,herhandshaking.

IhavenoconfidencethatIcanfindthevideofileonmyown.IfJeanineishere,Icangethertofinditforme,butifshe’sdead…

“No!”Iscream.“Tori,don’t!”

Buther finger isalreadyover the trigger. I launchmyselfatherashardas Ican,myarmsslammingintoherside.Thegungoesoff,andIhearascream.

Myheadhitsthetile.IignorethestarsinmyeyesandthrowmyselfacrossTori.Ishovethegunforwardanditslidesawayfromus.

Whydidn’tyougrabit,youidiot?!

Tori’sfistconnectswiththesideofmythroat.Ichoke,andsheusestheopportunitytothrowmeoff,tocrawltowardthegun.

Jeanineisslumpedagainstthewall,bloodsoakingherleg.Leg!Iremember,andpunchTorihardnearthebulletwoundinherthigh.Sheyells,andIfindmyfeet.

Isteptowardthefallenweapon,butToriistooquick.Shewrapsherarmsaroundmylegs and pulls themout from underme.My knees slam into the ground, but I am stillaboveher;Ipunchdown,atherribcage.

Shegroans,butitdoesn’tstopher;asIdragmyselftowardthegun,shesinksherteethintomyhand.ItisadifferentpainthananyblowI’veeverreceived,differentevenfromabulletwound.IscreamlouderthanIthoughtpossible,tearsblurringmyvision.

IhavenotcomethisfartoletTorishootJeaninebeforeI’vegottenwhatIneed.

Iyankmyhandfrombetweenherteeth,myvisiongoingblackattheedges,andwithalurch,smackmyhandaroundthehandleofthegun.Itwist,andpointitatTori.

Myhand.Myhandiscoveredinblood,andsoisTori’schin.Ihidemyhandfromviewsothatit’seasiertoignorethepainandgetup,stillpointingthegunather.

“Ididn’t takeyoufora traitor,Tris,”shesays,anditsoundslikeasnarl,notasoundanyhumancanmake.

“I’mnot,”Isay.IblinkthetearsdownmycheekssothatIcanseeherbetter.“Ican’texplainitrightnow,but…allI’maskingisforyoutotrustme,please.There’ssomethingimportant,somethingonlysheknowsthelocationof—”

“That’sright!”saysJeanine.“Itisonthatcomputer,Beatrice,andonlyIcanlocateit.Ifyoudon’thelpmesurvivethis,itwilldiewithme.”

“She isa liar,” saysTori.“A liar, and ifyoubelieveher,youarebothan idiotandatraitor,Tris!”

“I do believe her,” I say. “I believe her because it makes perfect sense! The most

sensitive information that exists and it’s hidden on that computer, Tori!” I take a deepbreath,andlowermyvoice.“Pleaselistentome.Ihateherasmuchasyoudo.Ihavenoreasontodefendher.I’mtellingyouthetruth.Thisisimportant.”

Toriissilent.Ithink,foramoment,thatI’vewon,thatI’vepersuadedher.Butthenshesays,“Nothingismoreimportantthanherdeath.”

“If that’swhat you insist upon believing,” I say, “I can’t help you.But I’m also notgoingtoletyoukillher.”

Toripushesherselftoherknees,andwipesmybloodfromherchin.Shelooksupintomyeyes.

“IamaDauntlessleader,”shesays.“Youdon’tgettodecidewhatIdo.”

AndbeforeIcanthink—

BeforeIcaneventhinkaboutfiringthegunI’mholding—

She draws a long knife from the side of her boot, lunges, and stabs Jeanine in thestomach.

I yell. Jeanine releases a horrible sound—a gurgling, screaming, dying sound. I seeTori’sgritted teeth, Ihearhermurmurherbrother’sname—“JonathanWu”—and then Iwatchtheknifegoinagain.

AndJeanine’seyesturnintoglass.

TORISTANDS,Awildlookinhereyes,andturnstowardme.

Ifeelnumb.

All the risks I took togethere—conspiringwithMarcus,asking theErudite forhelp,crawling across a ladder three stories up, shootingmyself in a simulation—and all thesacrificesImade—myrelationshipwithTobias,Fernando’slife,mystandingamongtheDauntless—werefornothing.

Nothing.

Amomentlater,theglassdooropensagain.TobiasandUriahstorminasiftofightabattle—Uriahcoughing,probablyfromthepoison—butthebattleisdone.Jeanineisdead,Toriistriumphant,andIamaDauntlesstraitor.

Tobiasstopsinthemiddleofastep,almoststumblingoverhisfeet,whenheseesme.Hiseyesopenwider.

“Sheisatraitor,”saysTori.“ShejustalmostshotmetodefendJeanine.”

“What?”saysUriah.“Tris,what’sgoingon?Issheright?Whyareyouevenhere?”

But I look only at Tobias. A sliver of hope pierces me, strangely painful, whencombinedwiththeguiltIfeelforhowIdeceivedhim.Tobiasisstubbornandproud,butheismine—maybehewilllisten,maybethere’sachancethatallIdidwasnotinvain—

“YouknowwhyI’mhere,”Isayquietly.“Don’tyou?”

IholdoutTori’sgun.Hewalksforward,alittleunsteadyonhisfeet,andtakesit.

“WefoundMarcusinthenextroom,caughtinasimulation,”Tobiassays.“Youcameupherewithhim.”

“Yes,Idid,”Isay,bloodfromTori’sbitetricklingdownmyarm.

“Itrustedyou,”hesays,hisbodyshakingwithrage.“Itrustedyouandyouabandonedmetoworkwithhim?”

“No.” I shake my head. “He told me something, and everything my brother said,everythingJeaninesaidwhileIwasinEruditeheadquarters,fitperfectlywithwhathetold

me.AndIwanted—Ineededtoknowthetruth.”

“The truth.”He snorts. “You think you learned the truth from a liar, a traitor, and asociopath?”

“Thetruth?”saysTori.“Whatareyoutalkingabout?”

TobiasandIstareateachother.Hisblueeyes,usuallysothoughtful,arenowhardandcritical,liketheyarepeelingbacklayerafterlayerofmeandsearchingeachone.

“Ithink,”Isay.Ihavetopauseandtakeabreath,becauseIhavenotconvincedhim;Ihavefailed,andthisisprobablythelastthingtheywillletmesaybeforetheyarrestme.

“Ithinkthatyouaretheliar!”Isay,myvoicequaking.“Youtellmeyouloveme,youtrustme,youthinkI’mmoreperceptivethantheaverageperson.Andthefirstsecondthatbeliefinmyperceptiveness, thattrust, that love isputtothetest, itallfallsapart.”Iamcryingnow,butIamnotashamedofthetearsshiningonmycheeksorthethicknessofmyvoice. “So you must have lied when you told me all those things… you must have,becauseIcan’tbelieveyourloveisreallythatfeeble.”

Istepclosertohim,sothatthereareonlyinchesbetweenus,andnoneoftheotherscanhearme.

“Iamstillthepersonwhowouldhavediedratherthankillyou,”Isay,rememberingtheattacksimulationandthefeelofhisheartbeatundermyhand.“IamexactlywhoyouthinkIam.Andrightnow,I’mtellingyouthatIknow…Iknowthisinformationwillchangeeverything.Everythingwehavedone,andeverythingweareabouttodo.”

IstareathimlikeIcancommunicatethetruthwithmyeyes,butthatisimpossible.Helooksaway,andI’mnotsureheevenheardwhatIsaid.

“Enoughofthis,”saysTori.“Takeherdownstairs.Shewillbetriedalongwithalltheotherwarcriminals.”

Tobiasdoesn’tmove.Uriah takesmyarmand leadsmeaway fromhim, through thelaboratory,throughtheroomoflight,throughthebluehallway.Thereseofthefactionlessjoinsusthere,eyeingmecuriously.

Oncewe’reinthestairwell,Ifeelsomethingnudgemyside.WhenIlookback,IseeawadofgauzeinUriah’shand.Itakeit,tryingtogivehimagratefulsmileandfailing.

Aswedescendthestairs,Iwrapthegauzetightlyaroundmyhand,sidesteppingbodieswithoutlookingattheirfaces.Uriahtakesmyelbowtokeepmefromfalling.Thegauzewrappingdoesn’thelpwiththepainofthebite,butitmakesmefeelalittlebetter,andsodoesthefactthatUriah,atleast,doesn’tseemtohateme.

ForthefirsttimetheDauntless’sdisregardforagedoesnotseemlikeanopportunity.Itseemslikethethingthatwillcondemnme.Theywillnotsay,Butshe’syoung;shemusthavebeenconfused.Theywillsay,Sheisanadult,andshemadeherchoice.

Ofcourse,Iagreewiththem.Ididmakemychoice.Ichosemymotherandfather,andwhattheyfoughtfor.

Walkingdownthestairsiseasierthangoingup.WereachthefifthlevelbeforeIrealizethatwe’regoingdowntothelobby.

“Givemeyourgun,Uriah,”saysTherese.“Someoneneedstobeabletoshootpotentialbelligerents,andyoucan’tdoitifyou’rekeepingherfromfallingdownthestairs.”

Uriahsurrendershisgunwithoutquestion.Ifrown—Theresealreadyhasagun,sowhydiditmatterforhimtogivehis?ButIdon’task.Iaminenoughtroubleasitis.

Wereachthebottomfloorandwalkpastalargemeetingroomfullofpeopledressedinblackandwhite.Ipauseforamomenttowatchthem.Someofthemarehuddledinsmallgroups, leaning on one another, tears streaking their faces. Others are alone, leaningagainstwalls or sitting in corners, their eyes hollow or staring at something that is faraway.

“We had to shoot somany,”Uriahmutters, squeezingmy arm. “Just to get into thebuilding,wehadto.”

“Iknow,”Isay.

IseeChristina’ssisterandmotherclutchedtogetherontherightsideoftheroom.Andon the left side,ayoungmanwithdarkhair thatgleams in the fluorescent light—Peter.Hishandisontheshoulderofamiddle-agedwomanIrecognizeashismother.

“Whatishedoinghere?”Isay.

“Littlecowardcameintheaftermath,afteralltheworkwasdone,”Uriahsays.“Iheardhisdad’sdead.Lookslikehismother’sokay,though.”

Peterlooksoverhisshoulder,andhisgazemeetsmine,justforasecond.InthatsecondItrytosummonsomepityforthepersonwhosavedmylife.ButwhilethehatredIoncehadforhimisgone,Istillfeelnothing.

“What’stheholdup?”demandsTherese.“Let’sgetgoing.”

Wewalkpastthemeetingroomtothemainlobby,whereIonceembracedCaleb.Thegiant portrait of Jeanine is in pieces on the floor. The smoke that hovers in the air iscondensedaroundthebookshelves,whichareburnedtocinders.Allthecomputersareinpieces,strewnacrossthefloor.

SittinginrowsinthecenteroftheroomaresomeoftheEruditewhodidn’tgetaway,and theDauntless traitorswho survived. I search the faces for anything familiar. I findCalebneartheback,lookingdazed.Ilookaway.

“Tris!”Ihear.Christinasitsnear thefront,next toCara,her legwrappedtightlywithfabric.Shebeckonstome,andIsitdownnexttoher.

“Nosuccess?”shesaysquietly.

Ishakemyhead.

Shesighs,andputsherarmaroundme.ThegestureissocomfortingIalmoststart tocry.ButChristinaandIarenotpeoplewhocrytogether;we’repeoplewhofighttogether.SoIholdmytearsin.

“Isawyourmomandyoursisterinthenextroom,”Isay.

“Yeah,metoo,”shesays.“Myfamilyisokay.”

“Good,”Isay.“How’syourleg?”

“Fine. Cara said it’ll be fine; it’s not bleeding toomuch. One of the Erudite nursesstuffed somepainmeds and antiseptic and gauze into her pockets before they took herdown here, so it doesn’t hurt too bad either,” she says. Beside her, Cara is examininganotherErudite’sarm.“Where’sMarcus?”

“Dunno,”Isay.“Wehadtosplitup.Heshouldbedownhere.Unlesstheykilledhimorsomething.”

“Iwouldn’tbethatsurprised,honestly,”shesays.

The room is chaotic for a while—people rushing in and rushing out again, ourfactionlessguardstradingplaces,newpeopleinEruditebluebroughttositamongus—butgradually everything gets quieter, and then I see him: Tobias, walking through thestairwelldoor.

I bite my lip, hard, and try not to think, try not to dwell on the cold feeling thatsurroundsmychestand theweight thathangsovermyhead.Hehatesme.Hedoesnotbelieveme.

Christinaclutchesmetighterashewalkspastus,withoutevenlookingatme.Iwatchhimovermy shoulder.He stopsnext toCaleb, grabshis arm, andwrencheshim tohisfeet.Calebwriggles forasecond,buthe isnothalfasstrongasTobiasandcan’tbreakaway.

“What?”Calebsays,panicking.“Whatdoyouwant?”

“IwantyoutodisarmthesecuritysystemforJeanine’slaboratory,”saysTobiaswithoutlookingback.“Sothatthefactionlesscanaccesshercomputer.”

And destroy it, I think, and if possible, my heart becomes even heavier. Tobias andCalebdisappearintothestairwellagain.

Christinaslumpsagainstme,andIslumpagainsther,soweholdeachotherup.

“JeanineactivatedalltheDauntlesstransmitters,youknow,”Christinasays.“Oneofthefactionlessgroupsgotambushedbysimulation-controlledDauntless,cominglatefromtheAbnegationsectorabouttenminutesago.Iguessthefactionlesswon,thoughIdon’tknowhowyoucallshootingabunchofbrain-deadpeoplewinning.”

“Yeah.”Thereisn’tmuchmoretosay.Sheseemstorealizethat.

“WhathappenedafterIgotshot?”shesays.

Idescribethebluehallwaywithtwodoors,andthesimulationthatfollowed,fromthemomentIrecognizedtheDauntless trainingroomtothemomentIshotmyself.IdonottellherabouthallucinatingWill.

“Wait,”shesays.“Itwasasimulation?Withoutatransmitter?”

I frown. I hadn’t bothered to wonder about that. Especially not at the time. “If thelaboratoryrecognizespeople,maybeitalsoknowsdataabouteveryone,andcanpresentacorrespondingsimulatedenvironmentdependingonyourfaction.”

Itdoesn’tmatter,now,tofigureouthowJeaninesetupthesecurityonherlaboratory,ofallthings.Butitfeelsgoodtoputmyselftosomeuse,tothinkofanewproblemtosolvenowthatIhavefailedtosolvethemostimportantone.

Christinasitsupstraighter.Maybeshefeelsthesameway.

“Orthepoisonsomehowcontainsatransmitter.”

Ihadn’tthoughtofthat.

“ButhowdidTorigetpastit?She’snotDivergent.”

Itiltmyhead.“Idon’tknow.”

Maybesheis,Ithink.Herbrotherwas,andafterwhathappenedtohim,shemightneveradmitit,nomatterhowaccepteditbecomes.

People,Ihavediscovered,arelayersandlayersofsecrets.Youbelieveyouknowthem,thatyouunderstand them,but theirmotivesarealwayshiddenfromyou,buried in theirownhearts.Youwillneverknowthem,butsometimesyoudecidetotrustthem.

“Whatdoyouthinkthey’regoingtodotouswhentheyfindusguilty?”shesaysafterafewminutesofsilencehavepassed.

“Honestly?”

“Doesnowseemlikethetimeforhonesty?”

Ilookatherfromthecornerofmyeye.“Ithinkthey’regoingtoforceustoeatlotsofcakeandthentakeanunreasonablylongnap.”

Shelaughs.Itrynotto—ifIletmyselflaugh,I’llstarttocry,too.

Ihearayell,andpeeraroundthecrowdtoseewhereitcamefrom.

“Lynn!”TheyellcamefromUriah.Herunstowardthedoor,wheretwoDauntlessarecarrying Lynn in on a makeshift stretcher, made of what looks like a shelf from abookcase.Sheispale—toopale—andherhandsarefoldedoverherstomach.

Ijumptomyfeetandstarttowardher,butafewfactionlessgunsstopmefromgoingmuchfarther.Iputupmyhandsandstandstill,watching.

Uriahwalksaroundthecrowdofwarcriminalsandpointstoasevere-lookingEruditewomanwithgrayhair.“You.Comehere.”

Thewomangets toher feetandbrushesoffherpants.Shewalks, light-footed, to theedgeoftheseatedcrowdandlooksexpectantlyatUriah.

“You’readoctor,right?”hesays.

“Iam,yes,”shesays.

“Thenfixher!”Hescowls.“She’shurt.”

ThedoctorapproachesLynnandasksthetwoDauntlesstosetherdown.Theydo,andshecrouchesoverthestretcher.

“Mydear,”shesays.“Pleaseremoveyourhandsfromyourwound.”

“Ican’t,”moansLynn.“Ithurts.”

“Iamawarethatithurts,”thedoctorsays.“ButIwon’tbeabletoassessyourwoundifyoudonotrevealittome.”

Uriah kneels across from the doctor andhelps her shiftLynn’s hands away fromherstomach.ThedoctorpeelsLynn’sshirtbackfromherstomach.Thebulletwounditselfisjustaround,redcircleinLynn’sskin,butsurroundingitiswhatlookslikeabruise.Ihaveneverseenabruisethatdark.

Thedoctorpursesherlips,andIknowthatLynnisasgoodasdead.

“Fixher!”saysUriah.“Youcanfixher,sodoit!”

“On the contrary,” the doctor says, looking up at him. “Because you set the hospitalfloorsofthisbuildingonfire,Icannotfixher.”

“Thereareotherhospitals!”hesays,almostshouting.“Youcangetstufffromthereandhealher!”

“Hercondition is far tooadvanced,” thedoctorsays,hervoicequiet.“Ifyouhadnotinsisteduponburningeverythingthatcameintoyourpath,Icouldhavetried,butasthesituationstands,tryingwouldbeworthless.”

“You shutup!”he says,pointinghisgunat thedoctor’s chest. “I’mnot theonewhoburnedyourhospital!She’smyfriend,andI…Ijust…”

“Uri,”saysLynn.“Shutup.It’stoolate.”

UriahletshisgunclattertothegroundandgrabsLynn’shand,hislipquivering.

“I’mherfriendtoo,”Isaytothefactionlesspointinggunsatme.“Canyouatleastpointgunsatmefromoverthere?”

Theyletmepass,andIruntoLynn’sside,holdingherfreehand,whichisstickywithblood.IignorethegunbarrelspointedatmyheadandfocusonLynn’sface,whichisnowyellowishinsteadofwhite.

Shedoesn’tseemtonoticeme.ShefocusesonUriah.

“I’mjustgladIdidn’tdiewhileunderthesimulation,”shesaysweakly.

“You’renotgonnadienow,”hesays.

“Don’tbestupid,”shesays.“Uri,listen.Ilovedhertoo.Idid.”

“Youlovedwho?”hesays,hisvoicebreaking.

“Marlene,”saysLynn.

“Yeah,wealllovedMarlene,”hesays.

“No,that’snotwhatImean.”Sheshakesherhead.Shecloseshereyes.

Still, it takes a fewminutesbeforeher handgoes limp inmine. I guide it across herstomach,andthentakeherotherhandfromUriahanddothesametoit.Hewipeshiseyes

beforehistearscanfall.Oureyesmeetacrossherbody.

“YoushouldtellShauna,”Isay.“AndHector.”

“Right.”He sniffs andpresses his palm toLynn’s face. Iwonder if her cheek is stillwarm.Idon’twanttotouchherandfindthatit’snot.

IriseandwalkbacktoChristina.

MYMINDKEEPStuggingmetowardmymemoriesofLynn,inanattempttopersuademethatsheis actually gone, but I push away the short flashes as they come. Someday Iwill stopdoingthat,ifI’mnotexecutedasatraitor,orwhateverournewleadershaveplanned.Butright now I fight to keepmymind blank, to pretend that this room is all that has everexistedandallthatwilleverexist.Itshouldnotbeeasy,butitis.Ihavelearnedhowtofendoffgrief.

Tori and Harrison come to the lobby after a while, Tori limping toward a chair—Ialmostforgotaboutherbulletwoundagain;shewassonimblewhenshekilledJeanine—andHarrisonfollowingher.

Behind both of them is one of the Dauntless with Jeanine’s body slung over hisshoulder.HeheavesitlikeastoneonatableinfrontoftherowsofEruditeandDauntlesstraitors.

Behindme Iheargaspsandmutters,butno sobs. Jeaninewasnot thekindof leaderpeoplecryfor.

Istareupatherbody,whichseemssomuchsmallerindeaththanitdidinlife.SheisonlyafewinchestallerthanIam,herhaironlyafewshadesdarker.Shelookscalmnow,almostpeaceful.IhavetroubleconnectingthisbodywiththewomanIknew,thewomanwithoutaconscience.

AndevenshewasmorecomplicatedthanIthought,keepingasecretthatshethoughtwastooterribletoreveal,outofaheinouslytwistedprotectiveinstinct.

JohannaReyesstepsintothelobby,soakedtothebonefromalltherain,herredclothessmearedwithadarkerred.Thefactionlessflankher,butshedoesn’tappeartonoticethemorthegunstheycarry.

“Hello,”shesaystoHarrisonandTori.“Whatisitthatyouwant?”

“Ididn’tknowtheleaderofAmitywouldbesocurt,”saysToriwithawrysmile.“Isn’tthatagainstyourmanifesto?”

“IfyouwereactuallyfamiliarwithAmity’scustoms,youwouldknowthat theydon’thaveaformalleader,”saysJohanna,hervoicesimultaneouslygentleandfirm.“ButI’m

nottherepresentativeofAmityanymore.Isteppeddowninordertocomehere.”

“Yeah,Isawyouandyourlittlebandofpeacekeepers,gettingineveryone’sway,”saysTori.

“Yes, thatwasintentional,”Johannareplies.“Sincegettinginthewaymeantstandingbetweengunsandinnocents,andsavedagreatnumberoflives.”

Colorfillshercheeks,andIthinkitagain:thatJohannaReyesmightstillbebeautiful.Except now I think that she isn’t just beautiful in spite of the scar, she’s somehowbeautifulwith it, like Lynnwith her buzzed hair, like Tobiaswith thememories of hisfather’scrueltythathewearslikearmor,likemymotherinherplaingrayclothing.

“Since you are still so very generous,” says Tori, “I wonder if you might carry amessagebacktotheAmity.”

“Idon’tfeelcomfortableleavingyouandyourarmytodoleoutjusticeasyouseefit,”saysJohanna,“butIwillcertainlysendsomeoneelsetoAmitywithamessage.”

“Fine,”saysTori.“Tellthemthatanewpoliticalsystemwillsoonbeformedthatwillexcludethemfromrepresentation.This,webelieve,istheirjustpunishmentforfailingtochooseasideinthisconflict.Theywill,ofcourse,beobligatedtocontinuetoproduceanddeliverfoodtothecity,buttheywillbeundersupervisionbyoneoftheleadingfactions.”

Forasecond,IthinkthatJohannamightlaunchherselfatToriandstrangleher.Butshedrawsherselfuptallerandsays,“Isthatall?”

“Yes.”

“Fine,” she says. “I’m going to go do something useful. I don’t suppose youwouldallowsomeofustocomeinhereandtendtothesewounded?”

Torigivesheralook.

“I didn’t think so,” says Johanna. “Do remember, though, that sometimes the peopleyouoppressbecomemightierthanyouwouldlike.”

Sheturnsandwalksoutofthelobby.

Somethingaboutherwordshitsme.Iamsureshemeantthemasathreat,andafeebleone,butitringsinmyheadlikeitwassomethingmore—likeshecouldeasilyhavebeentalkingnotabouttheAmity,butaboutanotheroppressedgroup.Thefactionless.

AndasIlookaroundtheroom,ateveryDauntlesssoldierandeveryfactionlesssoldier,Ibegintoseeapattern.

“Christina,”Isay.“Thefactionlesshavealltheguns.”

Shelooksaround,andthenbackatme,frowning.

InmymindIseeTherese,takingUriah’sgunwhenshealreadyhadoneherself.IseeTobias’s mouth pressed into a line when I asked him about the uneasy Dauntless-factionlessalliance,holdingsomethingback.

ThenEvelyn emerges into the lobby, her posture regal, like a queen returning to herkingdom.Tobiasdoesnotfollowher.Whereishe?

EvelynstandsbehindthetablewhereJeanineMatthews’sbodylies.Edwardlimpsintothelobbybehindher.Evelyntakesoutagun,pointsitatthefallenportraitofJeanine,andfires.

Ahushfallsovertheroom.Evelyndropsthegunonthetable,nexttoJeanine’shead.

“Thankyou,”shesays.“Iknowthatyouareallwonderingwhatwillhappennext,soIamheretotellyou.”

Tori sits up straighter in her chair and leans toward Evelyn, like she wants to saysomething.ButEvelynpaysnoattention.

“The faction system that has long supported itself on the backs of discarded humanbeingswillbedisbandedatonce,”saysEvelyn.“Weknowthistransitionwillbedifficultforyou,but—”

“We?”Toribreaksin,lookingscandalized.“Whatareyoutalkingabout,disbanded?”

“WhatIamtalkingabout,”saysEvelyn,lookingatToriforthefirsttime,“isthatyourfaction,which up until a fewweeks agowas clamoring alongwith the Erudite for therestrictionoffoodandgoodstothefactionless,aclamorthatresultedinthedestructionoftheAbnegation,willnolongerexist.”

Evelynsmilesalittle.

“Andifyoudecidetotakeuparmsagainstus,”shesays,“youwillbehardpressedtofindanyarmstotakeup.”

Iwatch,then,aseachfactionlesssoldierholdsupagun.Factionlessareevenlyspacedaroundtheedgeoftheroom,andtheydisappearintooneofthestairwells.Theyhaveusallsurrounded.

Itissoelegant,soclever,thatIalmostlaugh.

“Iinstructedmyhalfofthearmytorelieveyourhalfofthearmyoftheirweaponsassoon as their missions were completed,” says Evelyn. “I see now that they weresuccessful.Iregrettheduplicity,butweknewthatyouhavebeenconditionedtoclingtothe factionsystemlike it isyourownmother,and thatwewouldhave tohelpeaseyouintothisnewera.”

“Easeus?”Toridemands.ShepushesherselftoherfeetandlimpstowardEvelyn,whocalmlytakesherguninhandandpointsitatTori.

“IhavenotbeenstarvingformorethanadecadejusttogiveintoaDauntlesswomanwitha leg injury,”Evelyn says. “Sounlessyouwantme to shootyou, takea seatwithyourfellowex-factionmembers.”

IseeallthemusclesinEvelyn’sarmstandingatattention,hereyesnotcold,notquitelikeJeanine’s,butcalculating,assessing,planning. Idon’tknowhow thiswomancouldhaveeverbenttoMarcus’swill.Shemustnothavebeenthiswomanthen,allsteel,testedinfire.

ToristandsbeforeEvelynforafewseconds.Shethenlimpsbackward,awayfromthegunandtowardtheedgeoftheroom.

“Thoseof youwho assistedus in the effort to take downEruditewill be rewarded,”saysEvelyn.“Thoseofyouwhoresisteduswillbetriedandpunishedaccordingtoyourcrimes.” She raises her voice for the last sentence, and I am surprised by howwell itcarriesoverthespace.

Behindher,thedoortothestairwellopens,andTobiasstepsoutwithMarcusandCalebbehindhim,almostunnoticed.Almost,exceptInoticehim,becauseIhavetrainedmyselftonoticehim.Iwatchhisshoesashecomescloser.Theyareblacksneakerswithchromeeyeletsforthelaces.Theystoprightnexttome,andhecrouchesbymyshoulder.

Ilookathim,expectingtofindhiseyescoldandunyielding.

ButIdon’t.

Evelynisstilltalking,buthervoicefadesforme.

“Youwere right,”Tobias saysquietly,balancingon theballsofhis feet.He smiles alittle.“Idoknowwhoyouare.Ijustneededtobereminded.”

Iopenmymouth,butIdon’thaveanythingtosay.

Thenall thescreens in theErudite lobby—atleast those thatweren’tdestroyedin theattack—flickeron,includingaprojectorpositionedoverthewallwhereJeanine’sportraitusedtobe.

Evelyn stops in themiddle ofwhatever sentence shewas speaking. Tobias takesmyhandandhelpsmetomyfeet.

“Whatisthis?”Evelyndemands.

“This,”hesays,onlytome,“istheinformationthatwillchangeeverything.”

Mylegsshakewithreliefandapprehension.

“Youdidit?”Isay.

“Youdidit,”hesays.“AllIdidwasforceCalebtocooperate.”

I throwmyarmaroundhisneck,andpressmy lips tohis.Heholdsmy face inbothhandsandkissesmeback.Ipressintothedistancebetweenusuntilitisgone,crushingthesecretswehavekeptandthesuspicionswehaveharbored—forgood,Ihope.

AndthenIhearavoice.

We pull apart and turn toward the wall, where a woman with short brown hair isprojected.Shesitsatametaldeskwithherhandsfolded,inalocationIdon’trecognize.Thebackgroundistoodim.

“Hello,”shesays.“MynameisAmandaRitter.InthisfileIwilltellyouonlywhatyouneedtoknow.Iamtheleaderofanorganizationfightingforjusticeandpeace.Thisfighthas become increasingly more important—and consequently, nearly impossible—in thepastfewdecades.Thatisbecauseofthis.”

Imagesflashacrossthewall,almosttoofastformetosee.Amanonhiskneeswithagunpressedtohisforehead.Thewomanpointingitathim,herfaceemotionless.

Fromadistance,asmallpersonhangingbytheneckfromatelephonepole.

Aholeinthegroundthesizeofahouse,fullofbodies.

Andthereareotherimagestoo,buttheymovefaster,soIgetonlyimpressionsofbloodandboneanddeathandcruelty,emptyfaces,soullesseyes,terrifiedeyes.

JustwhenIhavehadenough,whenIfeellikeIamgoingtoscreamifIseeanymore,thewomanreappearsonthescreen,behindherdesk.

“Youdo not remember any of that,” she says. “But if you are thinking these are theactions of a terrorist group or a tyrannical government regime, you are only partiallycorrect. Half of the people in those pictures, committing those terrible acts, were yourneighbors. Your relatives. Your coworkers. The battle we are fighting is not against aparticulargroup.Itisagainsthumannatureitself—oratleastwhatithasbecome.”

ThisiswhatJeaninewaswillingtoenslavemindsandmurderpeoplefor—tokeepusallfromknowing.Tokeepusallignorantandsafeandinsidethefence.

Thereisapartofmethatunderstands.

“Thatiswhyyouaresoimportant,”Amandasays.“Ourstruggleagainstviolenceandcrueltyisonlytreatingthesymptomsofadisease,notcuringit.Youarethecure.

“Inordertokeepyousafe,wedevisedawayforyoutobeseparatedfromus.Fromourwater supply. From our technology. From our societal structure.We have formed yoursocietyinaparticularwayinthehopethatyouwillrediscoverthemoralsensemostofushavelost.Overtime,wehopethatyouwillbegintochangeasmostofuscannot.

“ThereasonIamleavingthisfootageforyouissothatyouwillknowwhenit’stimetohelp us. You will know that it is time when there are many among you whose mindsappear to bemore flexible than the others. The name you should give those people isDivergent. Once they become abundant among you, your leaders should give thecommand for Amity to unlock the gate forever, so that you may emerge from yourisolation.”

And that iswhatmyparentswanted todo: to takewhatwehad learnedanduse it tohelpothers.Abnegationtotheend.

“Theinformationinthisvideoistoberestrictedtothoseingovernmentonly,”Amandasays.“Youaretobeacleanslate.Butdonotforgetus.”

Shesmilesalittle.

“I am about to join your number,” she says. “Like the rest of you, Iwill voluntarilyforget my name, my family, and my home. I will take on a new identity, with falsememoriesandafalsehistory.ButsothatyouknowtheinformationIhaveprovidedyouwithisaccurate,IwilltellyouthenameIamabouttotakeasmyown.”

Hersmilebroadens,andforamoment,IfeelthatIrecognizeher.

“MynamewillbeEdithPrior,”shesays.“AndthereismuchIamhappytoforget.”

Prior.

Thevideostops.Theprojectorglowsblueagainstthewall.IclutchTobias’shand,andthereisamomentofsilencelikeawithheldbreath.

Thentheshoutingbegins.

Thankyou,God,forkeepingyourpromises.

Thankyou:

Nelson,betareader,tirelesssupporter,photographer,bestfriend,andmostimportantly,husband….IthinktheBeachBoyssaiditbest:GodonlyknowswhatI’dbewithoutyou.

JoannaVolpe,Icouldnotaskforabetteragentorfriend.MollyO’Neill,myeditorofwonder,foryourtirelessworkonthisbookinallarenas.KatherineTegen,forbeingkindanddiscerning,andthewholeKTBookscrew,foryoursupport.

Susan Jeffers, Andrea Curley, and the illustrious Brenna Franzitta, for watching mywords;JoelTippieandAmyRyan,formakingthisbooksobeautiful;andJeanMcGinleyand AlphaWong, for extending the reach of these books farther than I ever expected.JessicaBerg,SuzanneDaghlian,BarbFitzsimmons,LaurenFlower,KateJackson,SusanKatz, Alison Lisnow, Casey McIntyre, Diane Naughton, Colleen O’Connell, AubreyParks-Fried,AndreaPappenheimer,ShaynaRamos,PattyRosati, SandeeRoston, JennySheridan,MeganSugrue,MollyThomas,andAllisonVerost,aswellaseveryoneinaudio,design,finance,internationalsales,inventory,legal,managingeditorial,marketing,onlinemarketing, publicity, production, sales, school and librarymarketing, special sales, andsubrightsatHarperCollins,fordoingsuchfantasticworkintheworldofbooksaswellasmyworldofbooks.

All the teachers, librarians, and booksellers who have supported my books with somuch enthusiasm. Book bloggers, reviewers, and readers of all ages and varieties andcountriesoforigin.I’mprobablybiased,butIthinkIhavethebestreadersever.

LaraEhrlich,formuchwritingwisdom.Mywriterfriends—listingallofthepeopleinthewritercommunitywhohavebeenkindtomewouldtakemultiplepages,butIcouldnot ask for better peers. Alice,Mary Katherine,Mallory, and Danielle—what fantasticfriendsIhave.

NancyCoffey,foryoureyesandyourwisdom.PouyaShahbazianandSteveYounger,myfantasticfilmteam;andSummitEntertainment,RedWagon,andEvanDaugherty,forwantingtoliveinthisworldImade.

Myfamily:Myincrediblemother-slash-psychologist-slash-cheerleader,FrankSr.,Karl,Ingrid,FrankJr.,Candice,McCall,andDave.YouareincrediblepeopleandIamsogladIhaveyou.

Beth andDarby, who havewonmemore readers than I can possibly count throughcharmandsheerdetermination;andChase-baciandSha-neni,whotooksuchgoodcareofus in Romania. Also Roger, Trevor, Tyler, Rachel, Fred, Billie, and Granny, for soeffortlesslyembracingmeasoneofyou.

Multumesc/Köszönöm to Cluj-Napoca/Kolozsvár, for all the inspiration and the dear

friendsIleftthere—butnotforever.

“What’syourname?”

“Um…”Idon’tknowwhyIhesitate.But“Beatrice”justdoesn’tsoundrightanymore.

Anewplace,anewname.Icanberemadehere.

“Tris,”Isayfirmly.

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Amazon.ComBestBooksOfTheYear

PublishersWeeklyBestBooksOfTheYear

“DIVERGENTisacaptivating,fascinatingbookthatkeptmeinconstantsuspenseandwasnevershortonsurprises.ItwillbealongtimebeforeIquitthinkingaboutthis

hauntingvisionofthefuture.”

—JamesDashner,NewYorkTimesBestsellingAuthorofTheMazeRunner

“Atautandshiveringlyexcitingread!TrisisexactlythesortofunflinchingandfierceheroineIlove.Icouldn’tturnthepagesfastenough.”

—MelissaMarr,NewYorkTimesBestsellingAuthorofWickedLovely

“PromisingauthorRothtellstherivetingandcomplexstoryofateenagegirlforcedtochoosebetweenherroutinized,selflessfamilyandtheadventurous,unrestrainedfutureshelongsfor.Amemorable,unpredictablejourneyfromwhichitisnearlyimpossibleto

turnaway.”

—PublishersWeekly(starredreview)

“Thisisonefast-pacedreadthatsticksinyourheadfordaysafteryouputitdown,bothbecauseofitsvideo-game-likescenesanditsthought-provokingpremise.”

—Hollywoodcrush.mtv.com

“Thisgritty,paranoidworldisbuiltwithcarefuldetailsandintriguingscope.Theplotclipsalongatanaddictivepace,withsteadyjoltsofbrutalviolenceandswoonyromance.Fanssnaredbytheratchetingsuspensewillbeunabletoresistspeculatingontheirown

factionalallegiance.Guaranteedtoflyofftheshelves.”

—KirkusReviews

“Withbriskpacingandlavishflightsofimagination,DIVERGENTclearlyhasthrills,butitalsomovinglyexploresamorecommonadolescentanxiety—thepainfulrealizationthatcomingintoone’sownsometimesmeansleavingfamilybehind,bothideologicallyand

physically.”

—NewYorkTimesBookReview

“Iwasmostdefinitelyhookedbythissuperbworkoffiction.Ithadeverythingadystopiannovelneeds:afeistyheroine,anunyieldinggovernment,loveinterests,survivalinaharshworld,andshocksandtwistsgalore.Inshort,itwasfantastic!Rothmaintainsagripping

pacethroughoutthebook,withsuspenseandplottwistsaroundeverycorner.”

—Guardian.co.uk

“RothpaintshercanvaswiththesamebrushasSuzanneCollins.Theplot,scenes,andcharactersaredifferentbutthecolorsarethesameandjustasrich.FansofCollins,

dystopias,andstrongfemalecharacterswilllovethisnovel.”

—SLJ

OtherBooksbyVeronicaRoth

DIVERGENT

Copyright

FirstpublishedinhardbackintheUSAbyHarperCollinsPublishers,Inc.in2012FirstpublishedinpaperbackinGreatBritainbyHarperCollinsChildren’sBooksin2012HarperCollinsChildren’sBooksisadivisionofHarperCollinsPublishersLtd,77-85

FulhamPalaceRoad,Hammersmith,London,W68JB.

www.harpercollins.co.uk

InsurgentCopyright©2012byVeronicaRoth

SOURCEISBN:978-0-00-744292-8

EPubEdition©APRIL2012ISBN:978-0-00-747990-0

VeronicaRothassertsthemoralrighttobeidentifiedastheauthorofthework.

INSURGENT.Copyright©2012byVeronicaRoth.AllrightsreservedunderInternationalandPan-AmericanCopyrightConventions.Bypaymentoftherequiredfees,youhavebeengrantedthenonexclusive,nontransferablerighttoaccessandreadthetextofthise-bookon-screen.Nopartofthistextmaybereproduced,transmitted,downloaded,decompiled,reverse-engineered,orstoredinorintroducedintoanyinformationstorageandretrievalsystem,inanyformorbyanymeans,whetherelectronicormechanical,nowknownorhereinafterinvented,withouttheexpresswrittenpermissionofHarperCollinse-books.

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TableofContentsTitlePage

Dedication

Epigraph

ChapterOne

ChapterTwo

ChapterThree

ChapterFour

ChapterFive

ChapterSix

ChapterSeven

ChapterEight

ChapterNine

ChapterTen

ChapterEleven

ChapterTwelve

ChapterThirteen

ChapterFourteen

ChapterFifteen

ChapterSixteen

ChapterSeventeen

ChapterEighteen

ChapterNineteen

ChapterTwenty

ChapterTwenty-One

ChapterTwenty-Two

ChapterTwenty-Three

ChapterTwenty-Four

ChapterTwenty-Five

ChapterTwenty-Six

ChapterTwenty-Seven

ChapterTwenty-Eight

ChapterTwenty-Nine

ChapterThirty

ChapterThirty-One

ChapterThirty-Two

ChapterThirty-Three

ChapterThirty-Four

ChapterThirty-Five

ChapterThirty-Six

ChapterThirty-Seven

ChapterThirty-Eight

ChapterThirty-Nine

ChapterForty

ChapterForty-One

ChapterForty-Two

ChapterForty-Three

ChapterForty-Four

ChapterForty-Five

ChapterForty-Six

ChapterForty-Seven

Acknowledgments

Praise

OtherBooksbyVeronicaRoth

Copyright

AboutthePublisher