We're firmly into fall, but the air is convinced it's winter. As I run I try to force my way through the bitter chill as it tries to crystalize my lungs, but even I have a hard time breathing. This isn't my first run in the cold, but for me it doesn't get easier. We all have our weaknesses. This is one of mine. And cake, obviously.

For as much of a party time Dauntless wants to be perceived as being, life actually starts pretty early in the den, especially when there are initiates to train. I'm sure many of them would gladly take hits to the face instead of being rudely awakened before dawn. Like they get a choice.

Which means I have to be even earlier. It's barely four in the morning. Too early even for initiate torture. I'm burning through the ruins, places I know like the back of my hand, where I need little more than moonlight to guide my way. Still, I have infrared on me, just in case. It'll allow me to see without letting others see too much of me. I'll take it. No sense in putting a spotlight on me if I don't have to.

Somewhere out in neutral territory that doesn't belong to any faction but still falls within the fence, is my stash. My secrets hidden under a rock where only my closest Factionless associate knows to look. We hardly ever meet in person. Far too risky, and the intel I have isn't incredible enough to usually warrant a face-to-face visit. This morning's no different.

On a piece of paper triggered to ignite sixty seconds after unfolding, I have written information about the new initiate training, the increase in Dauntless deaths, initiate eliminations. I don't have anything new from Jeanine. I haven't seen her since my own transfer. But this will whet their appetites. Plus I know they're getting information from additional sources. It would be dumb of them to only have me.

It's dumb of me to even be doing this. Considering how much scrutiny I'm under from Dauntless and Jeanine, I wouldn't put it past them to follow me, to get a bird in the sky and report back on what I'm doing.

But they're not that paranoid yet. I haven't given them any reasons to doubt my loyalty like that. I'm still the perfect soldier in their eyes. Well, Jeanine's, at least. Maybe Eric and Max are coming around. I'm less than stellar to the rest still. It's a slow process.

Luckily for me I'm smart and the Factionless are invested in protecting my interests as well as theirs. They know I'm too valuable of a resource and the enemy of my enemy is my friend and all of that. Our society has been conditioned to hate them, and Jeanine is injecting a hard-on into the world for Divergents like me. She's created her own insurgency, her own army with which to fight against. I'm playing the arms dealer.

Well, not quite yet. Right now I'm just intelligence with one or two supply divergences to the Factionless. The stockpiling hasn't truly begun yet. But it will soon.

I slow to a brisk walk, and then a slow meander as I come upon my stash. I'm willing to bet my life no one but only the one person who should know does know about it. Still, I'm not willing to just sprint up to my spot and expose it to the world. Lucky I'm not, because as I come to the corner of the nearest building and peek my head around, I see something that makes my breath stop.

Night is darkest before the dawn, but the shadow that stands against the dark is even darker. I can't make out features; all I see is an outline, but once he steps into the moonlight the blue light casts enough shine on his face for me to see. My Factionless contact. Emmanuel.

When we first started this dangerous game we were going to remain anonymous to each other. Until one day when we got the timing on a patrol wrong and we both were nearly exposed. If it weren't for my quick thinking, neither of us would be alive now. At that moment we both figured names weren't too much to ask. At least just first names.

I step out of my protective shadows and meet him halfway, stepping around crushed chunks of cement and rusted rebar to get to him. Eight years and I don't think we've said eighty words to each other. We never needed to. And right now, the look on his face, shadowed by moonlight, says more than words ever could. But that doesn't keep him from talking.

"We need to amp it up."

I shake my head. "I don't have enough from Dauntless. There's something going on, but I need time to figure out what. Besides, Jeanine doesn't have her weapons ready yet. We have a year at least before anything comes down from Erudite. Trust me on that."

Emmanuel barely moves. I don't even think he blinks. "There was a raid."

I frown, not allowing myself to understand what he's saying. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, Madeline."

I do. Dauntless raids on the Factionless aren't unusual. Hell, they practically did it for fun. What else are they going to do around here? The Factionless are their biggest threat as far as most of them are concerned. But raids are usually no more than blatant shows of force. Someone might get a black eye or a broken nose, but that's the extent of it.

"Five are dead," he says, breaking through my internal rationalization. "Including two children. Dauntless is making a statement."

Jeanine placed me in Dauntless to make sure her coup against Abnegation goes according to plan. That's been my focus. But obviously I've missed something. I didn't hear something. Or I haven't been invited to the right meetings.

Regardless, my flesh goes cold, colder than the air around me, and I shiver despite myself. As if the body count in my new faction wasn't bad enough. Now they're amping up their raids. And the Factionless are paying a hearty price for it.

I feel useless. A waste. Like my focus has been off the entire time. I can't find the words to fill the silence. Nothing appropriate, anyway. "I've heard nothing."

"Listen harder," he says, a snarl embedded in his voice. "They're not doing this for no reason. If you care so much about our success, you'll find it."

Their success is my success. I can't help it. I'm completely self-serving there. But I care about children dying needlessly. I care about anybody dying needlessly. Jeanine may have beaten reactions out of me, but that doesn't mean I don't feel things on the inside. And right now it's taking everything in me not to break down sobbing. Inside I'm lost and wandering, having no idea where to go. Outside I'm firm and stoic, the rock for a cliff that's crumbling.

I hand him the piece of paper, not knowing what else to do. I was never good with grief. He pauses a moment before grabbing it and stuffing it in his pocket. Despite everything, we have a mission. But the mission will fail if Dauntless kills all of my allies before we can even fire off the first shot.

"I'll get you answers," I say. I hesitate, waffling between wanting to offer support and not, not sure whether it's appropriate or not. I err on the side of supportive. "Is there anything . . . Can I get . . ." And stuttering.

"Answers," he says. "Get us answers. And preferably someone's head."

I watch him blink, the whites of his eyes momentarily blinking out in the darkness before catching the moonlight again. Without another word he crunches over the debris, his back to me, and walks away.

I'm left in the dark, in a morning that could still double as a late night, wondering just what the hell I'm in the middle of. As if it wasn't bad enough trying to run a coup on a coup. Being a mole in a hawk's nest. Now the signs I'm seeing from within Dauntless are pointing to something far, far worse. Are the faction's own deaths related to the deadly raid on the Factionless? Only one way for me to find out.

With a turn I'm facing back the way I came and running back toward my Dauntless home, the cold stinging tears into my eyes. I don't bother to wipe them away. Right now the world looks better blurry and I have to focus on my steps, on where I'm going so I don't run into anything. It takes my mind off of . . . that. Let it process. Let it simmer. I'll get Emmanuel a head. I have to.