Thank you so so so much to Bamberlee for editing!
I'm trying to figure out how many chapters to make this story, but I'm thinking there will be at least another five. Thanks for following along and reviewing.
He pulls me closer.
Eric is warm and solid; strong and well defined by hours of working out, and I hadn't realized he would seem so large without his shirt on. He's pale against the darkness of his bedroom, his skin hidden beneath the heavy layers of his uniform, far different than the farmers who spent hours beneath the sun. His chest is broad, though his deceptively fragile collarbone spans across to each shoulder, and he watches me silently as my fingers trail along them. Every inhale and exhale is measured and even, but ultimately, Eric lets me observe him.
He's like nothing I've ever seen before.
The rest of him is waves of hard-earned muscle, born from hours of precise discipline, and not the lean figure that resulted from raising crops and having an occasional drink around a bonfire. I feel his thighs tense as I steady myself, and he spreads them wider so I don't fall.
"Everly…"
I'm in no hurry. After seeing him dressed, the dark clothes revealing only the barest hints of him –always the darkest and most intimidating flashes – I don't want him to move. I want to keep staring, figuring out how the black blocks on his throat are a permanent mark, or how he's let someone slide a needle through the skin above his eyes. Even his ear lobes, stretched to host the large black rings, are fascinating. The violence it took to pierce one's skin is fitting here, and I wonder if it felt good. Powerful. Exciting.
Sort of like him, unconsciously drawing me closer, until my hips face his and I can feel every single moment in itself. One of his hands stays on the back of my head, and he juts his chin out to stare at me. His gaze takes in everything, and I imagine anyone else would flinch.
I don't move. I sit on his lap like it's my rightful place, like I have no reason to sit anywhere else. He sits with his spine straight, holding onto the allusion of the soldier he is, and to anyone else, he would look like Eric –merciless and unyielding.
But beneath me, he looks human.
His eyes darken as I lean closer and his fingers flex to fix the space between us.
"You should go back to the dinner, Amity…"
Eric says the words before his mouth captures mine, and there is absolutely no command behind them. He doesn't want me to leave any more than I want to, but I understand what he's saying.
Somewhere, in this very faction, the other leaders and guests are about to eat dinner. The celebration is billed as a way to unite the factions and lessen the fear of the factionless. Our presence is an important part on both sides; him as a leader, me as a representative from Amity. At some point, someone would notice Eric and I hadn't returned, or maybe they wouldn't.
Maybe they'd carry on with their evening, moving onto dessert and drinks, and they'd leave feeling like they'd made a difference. Like they had united the factions through fancy, head spinning cocktails and a generous meal prepared for them. Even the ones from Abnegation would indulge for just a moment, because they had to so they wouldn't appear rude, just like I was about to indulge in this.
Being alone with Eric, without the threat of anyone coming between us, giving me the opportunity to stake my claim. I had spent weeks thinking about him, unraveling the clues of how he felt like it was my own personal mystery, until I was fairly sure I had him figured out.
I could be wrong, and every so often something small insisted I was, but I don't think I am.
"Now?" I mumble, and he smirks. His lips are soft and cold, and lusher than I remember. Our time at the market had been different –frantic and hurried and all too brief –and this is the exact opposite. He's not in a hurry, but there's still an air of desperate finality to all this. "Should I go back there now? Do I tell them-"
"No."
He stands up, taking me with him, only to turn and drop me right onto his bed. I watch his face as he undoes his belt, and once he pulls it free, he reaches for his pants. His fingers still at the button of the dressy fabric, but he's focused on me.
"There's nothing to tell anyone," he announces, and he kicks the pants off.
Eric stands at the end of his bed with his eyes on me. I should feel exposed with my dress long gone, but I'm not. His stare is the same as mine, grazing up and down with a slowness I wouldn't expect from him, but an impatience that I do. He takes a single step toward the bed, and before I can realize what he's doing, he's over me.
"I told you two weeks, but no more. I'm not putting the dress back on you."
Eric murmurs the words, but this is where the gentleness ends. It's like he's been driven mad by what's happened –our chance encounter, then weeks of back and forth until it was impossible not to end up like this – and he's everywhere. His lips crash into mine, rough and demanding but patient as I catch on, and he says my name roughly. Everly, groaned deeply from his very being, pressed against my cheek. My throat. My jaw, tilted up as his body covers mine, and I am completely encompassed by him.
"Eric."
His teeth scrape my skin, biting marks over Landon's and lustily claiming the pale expanse as his own. I gasp his name when he pushes himself against my leg, his erection taking me by surprise. I wasn't at all naïve to where this was going, or how quickly it was, but I'd never done anything like this. The sensation is new to me, sending a wave of warm desire through me like I've never felt before. Every single inch of me feels alive, burning at the thought of him continuing, sparking at the realization that he wanted this with me.
"Everly," he answers, catching my lip between his, and pushing me further into his pillows. My head sinks into the darkness, and I turn my face to the side when he kisses my cheek. I close my eyes when his hand finds mine, and he presses it up high, holding it there for a heartbeat.
"You are pretty." Eric announces, and my eyes open to look up at him. He's staring down in a daze, the sharpness of his stare softened, but that's it. The rest of him is taut, muscles pulled tight and tense, and he drops his head down to kiss me.
The act is quick, clearly not something he prefers, because he looks surprised at himself. I would imagine he didn't kiss very often; it felt secretive, too gentle and docile for him, when his whole body ached to do more than touch his mouth to mine.
It's clear he's far more experienced, though. His hands move quickly, greedily touching wherever he can. I try to figure out what he's doing next, then I don't.
"Too pretty," he hisses when I untangle my hand from his, and I reach for him. I loop my arms around his neck, pulling him down on top of me, until I can't breathe. He's solid and heavy, but there's a sense of overwhelming safeness with him. It rises up along with my legs. They close around him, desperate to keep him in place, liking how all this feels.
I touch all of him, anything I can grasp.
My fingers run through his hair, working through the longer pieces and undoing his perfect part. I skim down his neck, over his shoulders, and down his back. He keeps his mouth on my neck, sucking and biting wherever he pleases, and occasionally grunting my name. When I get to his lower back, my fingers grazing the waistband of his boxer briefs, he groans. His hips crush mine, rocking in search of friction, and he's hard.
I can feel him, pressing against my leg, unconsciously shoving himself closer.
I had never slept with anyone before, or even thought about why I would want to. My days were filled with distractions, all kinds of reasons that left me exhausted and uninterested in anyone, until now.
Now, I wanted him.
I wanted him just like this, slowly losing his patience for waiting a second longer.
"You like this?" he mutters, and his hands leave my hair. One skims down my neck, over my throat, pausing for a moment. He continues down my sternum, to cup my breast, and he sinks against me even further. His palm is warm, as rough as it was when he held my hand, and strong. My eyes shut on their own when he squeezes his hand, and the feeling is surprisingly good. I smile lazily, opening my eyes when he nudges me, and his exploration doesn't stop there. His thumb grazes over my nipple, and he watches my face to gauge my reaction.
He's done almost nothing other than kiss me, and take off my dress, but my brain is already a warm mess of lust.
"You just admitted you do think I'm pretty," I try to form a coherent sentence, because I hated that Landon had told me the only reason anyone would ever like me was my looks. The times I felt pretty were fleeting but splayed out beneath Eric is definitely one of them. "This isn't just because I said you should ambush Colton, is it?"
Eric laughs loudly. It's his true laugh, rare and throaty, and he shakes his head.
"That's just one of the reasons I like you. Always willing to help," he smirks, and it falters when I slide my fingers beneath the waistband. I watch his eyes darken at the touch, and I like his expression. His skin is warm, and he waits to see what I'll do. "What are you planning Amity? You gonna take them off? You gonna prove how brave you really are?"
He grins at the very thought, and in that moment, I know Ashley rarely got to touch him. She might have slept with him, but it wasn't like this. I can tell by the way he stares, his gaze intense as he waits to see what happens, and his expression falters again when I tug the fabric down.
I pull them down right as he finishes talking, and he doesn't look away. I can only move them down so far, thanks to the awkward angle, but I give it my best shot.
He seems to appreciate it.
His smile is tight, but smug. Eric reaches down to take them off completely, growling when they stick between his feet, and he pulls back to kick them off. I dislike the feeling of him away from me, the cold air squeezing between us, and I sit up to be closer. I'm rewarded with the sight of him completely naked, and I have to admit, it's impressive.
"Um…"
My train of thought derails completely as I stare, wondering how on Earth I'd never thought of doing this sooner. He stares back at me, faint disbelief crossing his face, then he smiles. He lunges at my waist, and my own underwear is his next victim. They are similar to the ones he'd touched before at the market, and he knows this. He tears the soft fabric away before I can utter his name, and then he covers my body with his.
There is nothing between us.
Just him, his bare legs tangled with mine, and his hands everywhere. They skim my sides, over my ribcage, down to my hip bones, and along the top of my thighs. I move my legs wider, wiggling away and giggling when his fingers hit a particularly ticklish spot, and he snarls when my hands touch his ass. I slide my hands over him, digging my fingers in to urge him closer, and it's as if a switch is flipped.
Eric reacts immediately, knocking my hands away and slipping his own between my legs.
Up until this point, I had always thought having sex would be a very basic situation. I knew it could result in a thousand children. Sophia claimed it was enjoyable, though I wasn't sure who she'd even be having sex with. Courtney claimed it was messy, and then shook her head and looked at me sympathetically at the unspoken knowledge that it was likely Landon would be who I ended up sleeping with. My mother, in the world's least informative and most awkward parenting moment ever, told me the most important part of all, was that I was with someone I trusted. I had groaned and told her to go away, but she meant well.
I trusted Eric, despite every reason not to.
Which is why, when his fingers go right where I want them to, to the most sensitive spot begging for his touch, I shove my hips up at him. I blurt out his name as he strokes through slick wetness, and I had no clue it could feel like this.
He must. He's impatiently patient.
He quickly figures out what I like, and it only takes a few minutes before everything starts to feel too good. I'm only able to gasp his name, especially when he circles my clit, over and over, pressing gradually harder until my legs are squeezing and closing to urge him on. He obliges by sliding a finger inside me, then another, and I nearly come right then and there. The sensation evokes all kinds of sighs and gasps, and I'd normally be mortified.
Instead, I just want him to keep going.
"You really never did anything with Landon? Ever?"
Eric's words crack into my thoughts as he curls his fingers, and I blearily gaze up at him. He's still over me, but on his side, and he slows down as he waits for me to answer.
"No," I groan, both in response and when he pulls his hand away. The feeling of loss is immediate, but he shifts to kiss me. I whimper when his lips touch mine, because everything is now amplified. The action feels a thousand times more intense, and I blindly reach for him. I touch his stomach, and I trail down to his hips, and he grunts when I graze his length. "Never."
I look down to see him stroking himself, swollen and dripping, and I put my hand over his. His eyes widen at the action, and with no real experience, I make the snap decision to follow what he was doing. I stroke him from base to tip, touching the very head with my thumb, and despite my inexperience, it evokes a violent shudder from him.
Or maybe he likes the inexperience. He doesn't tear his stare away, and instead urges me on by groaning my name.
"Do you like that?" I ask lowly, watching him like a hawk. "Is that right?"
His eyes are half hooded now, his lips are parted open, and he's thrusting into my hand. He's quite the sight when he groans, hard and thick in my hand, urging me on. He doesn't answer right away, and I watch in pure fascination as he struggles to stay focused.
"Eric?"
"Yes," he grunts, slowing himself down. He then opens his eyes wide and knocks my hand away. "But I want you. I've wanted you since the minute I saw you. Since you crashed right into me in that stupid dress."
He hisses the last part, and there's no time for me to respond. Eric moves over me, nudging my legs apart and glancing down. I can feel him pressed against me, so tantalizingly close yet so far away, and he makes the decision for us. He lines himself up, and with one painfully slow thrust, he pushes inside me.
I groan his name at the same time he groans mine. He doesn't move right away; he stays there, pushing deeper until he's all I can feel, then he stops. He brushes his thumb over my cheek, mumbling Amity in a quiet groan, and he moves my hair off my face. He waits, bending down to press his lips to my forehead in a startling gentle way, and I nod.
It's a clever way to see if I'm alright, and I am.
He starts to move, sliding in and out, sometimes far enough that I sink my nails into his skin and whimper his name.
The feeling of him inside me is surreal. I'd half expected it to hurt, for he was larger than I would think would feel good, but I was pleasantly surprised. I liked how it felt physically, the thrusting in and out, slow and steady, then faster and stronger, hitting something deep inside me. I liked how he felt over me, his muscled arms holding his weight off me, his mouth returning to mine to kiss me, and his nose bumping mine, as he screws his eyes closed.
Mostly, I liked how it felt to be close to him.
There is a connection between us –strong and unwavering, now blurred between a casual fling and a deeply rooted attraction – and this only makes it more apparent. My body rises and falls beneath him; my limbs tangled with his, and my hands buried in his hair. My feet hit his shins, pressing there to gain traction then slipping when the wave of pleasure threatens to become too much.
He looks at me, lifting his head to really look at me, and I pause.
His expression makes me freeze, because no one has ever looked at me this way. Even in his highest moment of infatuation, Landon looked at me like I was something to own. A future wife of no real value, except to do what he asked.
Eric is nothing like him.
His gaze is burning with a mix of lust and want, a longing neither of us knew existed, and the tiniest, most fleeting hint of affection. There's some desire to claim me for his own mixed in, but it's different. It's not Landon, thinking I was stupid or someone who couldn't survive on my own, but Eric, thinking I could be someone to walk alongside him.
The combination is deadly, almost as deadly as the snap of his hips and the groan when he touches me, slick fingers finding slick need, and my eyes shut.
"Don't stop, please," I practically beg, and he willingly obliges. He manages to hold himself up while I try to claw him back down, and his strokes are enough that everything in me tightens. It starts in my thighs, warm and slow, then builds to a wave of pleasure too good to be true. "Eric, I…I'm…."
I have no clue what he's doing, or how. Only that the high of this is so good that I almost can't think straight, and neither can he.
I forget everything.
Landon. Colton. Getting attacked. The Leadership Dinner. My friends, probably wondering where I had gone.
All of that fizzles away as Eric's thrusting speeds up. I dig my nails into his shoulders, struggling to pull him closer, and when he does, I take his face in my hands. I kiss him, slowly, pressing my lips against his and enjoying the lush rush of this between us, and he moans. It's guttural and hot, pleading as he loses control.
"I'm… I'm…" he groans when I tighten my legs around him, but I can't answer him. He keeps touching me until my world turns bright white. Until the feeling of him is oh so good that everything else falls away, and I'm dimly aware of him tensing up. He croaks out my name, grunting it with every slam of his body against mine, and I realize he's come right after me. He finally crashes on top of me, pulsing inside me until his hips stop completely and his breathing comes in sharp pants. He stays there for a long time, until my eyes are closed and my fingers soften against his skin, and he slowly slides out of me.
The feeling is cruel.
After everything that just happened, I want him back over me, saying my name and letting me touch him.
"Are you okay, Amity?"
Eric mumbles these words at me, and there's a shuffling and dizzying drop as he moves. He's somehow on his back, and I find myself with my head on his chest. He works quickly, flipping the side of the comforter over us. He pulls me closer and slides his leg between mine, and the only thing I can focus on is how right this feels.
He brushes my hair out of my eyes, the braid trashed as he works to undo the ends, and he triumphantly works his fingers through it. It tangles, but he doesn't care. He angles me closer, one arm slid around me and the other in my hair, and he lowly informs me he'll have our dinners brought up.
I barely hear him.
My eyes stay shut while my mind sways, slowly drifting down from the high of what's happened to the feeling of lying in bed with him. It feels monumental. He's the only one I've ever done this with, and the only one I can see myself doing it with again.
He must feel the same way.
He has to.
Despite us being in opposing factions, Eric sighs in total contentment. His breathing deepens, slowing down to match mine, and he says my name one more time before we both fall asleep and forget about the dinner.
The glow from the TV screen is bright.
It bathes us in a blueish light, giving my skin a ghostly appearance. I sit in between Eric's legs with my back against his chest, slowly eating the salad that was delivered. He eats a few bites of his salad as well, the plates carefully balanced on dark sheets, and every so often, I can feel him wince when they shift.
I can only assume he's never once eaten breakfast in bed.
We both move onto the main course, still warm and agonizingly prepared, and I have to admit it's good. We're both quiet, until his phone vibrates. He reaches over with minimal interest, then declines the call.
He doesn't say anything, but he sets the phone back down on his nightstand and settles back against the pillows.
"You good?" He reaches for his fork, and I nod.
For a single second, I wonder what time it really is. The clock beside him reads eleven thirty, but it felt like I'd been gone for ages. I am surprised to discover dinner might still be going on, because I'd woken up to Eric climbing out of bed, and announcing he'd had our food brought up.
I thought perhaps I was dreaming.
When he returned, he pulled me back against him, him with only the boxer briefs thrown back on, and me with absolutely nothing on, and pushed a button so the TV screen lit up. It wasn't the same entertainment that the dinner would have provided; I knew we were missing out on what could have been happening, maybe Rylan performing some sort of dance number, or Jerry, amazing everyone with the tales of his murdered chicken. But this was fine, even better than all that, because it is just us.
I lean back against Eric further, and his dinner is long forgotten. His mouth finds my neck, and one arm slides around my waist to pull me back even tighter.
"Thank you," I smile as he nudges the plate away, and to my surprise, he doesn't even blink when it threatens to tip. "This is nice."
"Nice," he repeats, and his mouth moves down my neck, retracing its path from earlier. I squirm when he gets to a particularly ticklish spot, and I can feel him grin. He likes every reaction he's evoked, and he seems to be taking careful note of them. "I guess you could say it was nice."
"You know what I mean," I smile even wider when his palm presses flat across my stomach, and the man on the screen tries to mediate someone putting someone else's stapler in jello to no avail. "Did we miss dessert?"
"No." Eric's answer is dry, slow and lazy now that he's gotten what he wanted. "I can order whatever you want. But I have something you might like better."
He kisses the juncture of my neck and shoulder, less a kiss and more of a bold claim that I belong to him, and his attempt to erase Landon's mark is complete. I'd stumbled to the bathroom when he went to answer the door, and there was no way I could return to the dinner.
My hair was the first casualty.
My skin was the next.
It was raw, but in the most vibrant way possible. His lips and teeth had been everywhere, and Landon's handprint was now faint, almost gone, beneath the declaration of Eric. I had reached up to touch it, the place where he'd sunk his teeth and the bite mark he'd left on my collarbone, and for a second, I couldn't move.
It wasn't love.
It wasn't anything but pure and primal want, but hidden beneath it, were the faintest stirrings of something else. Eric was far more experienced than I was, and I imagined Ashley had done whatever he'd asked. Or maybe he'd never asked, and she just willing gave herself over to him, hoping he'd want her.
But when I saw her in Amity, I couldn't picture them together at all.
She was uptight. Perfectly rigid and perfectly intent on keeping her appearance spotless. I couldn't imagine him on top of her, or his lips brushing her cheek. Eric hadn't been slow or gentle, but he'd done his best to prove he wouldn't hurt me. Even if this wound up being nothing, a fleeting night together after weeks of slow and careful teasing, it was worth it.
For one night, I was Eric's whole world.
I wasn't entirely willing to give that up, not just yet.
Which is why it's not much later when I find myself on top of him, his thighs tensed and his eyes glued to me, and as I sink down onto him. It's easier the second time, and I dare say, even better.
Or maybe it's the look on his face.
His arrogance is lessened as he reaches for me, hands grasping my hips and fingers tensing, which tells me this is far from over.
I wake up from a dreamless sleep to darkness.
I slowly lift my head to see black sheets and inky pillows. It only takes a second before everything comes crashing back, and I realize where I am.
I'm in Dauntless.
I'm still in Dauntless, despite it being morning, and my friends have gone home. I sit up in a wave of panic, because it was unlikely they'd just left me behind. Sophia and Courtney wouldn't have gone home with Jerry and called it a day, nor would Jerry drive off without at least asking where I was. I have no clue how to explain that I'd walked away with Eric and wound up in his bed, and no way of even knowing where I am in the faction.
Before the panic can become all consuming, the bedroom door opens, and there he is.
Eric strolls into his bedroom lazily, fully dressed in clothes far more casual than his uniform. His hair is clean and neat, his black t-shirt is fitted, and his black pants are not ones I've seen before. I sit up slowly, shoving my hair out of my eyes and clutching the sheets to my chest like he hadn't watched me atop of him, completely naked, and he smiles.
It's a smug one, brimming with secret glee that I'm still here.
"Um, do you know where my dress is?" I stare up at him, noticing he has a cup of coffee in his hand, and he doesn't answer. He looks at me like he's going to be quizzed on this scene later, and his eyes darken when he takes a step toward me. "I don't see it anywhere and…"
I stop talking when he sits down on the bed. It dips beneath his weight, and he holds the cup of coffee out to me.
"Here. Rylan and Christina are coming by with clothes for you. I don't know where your dress is, but my guess is Carol took it to the laundry."
"Carol?" I stare in horror, and his amusement is immediate.
"Different Carol. This one hasn't murdered anyone. Not that I know of. Though, I wouldn't be too upset if she had," Eric answers dryly, watching as I take the cup from him. I take a slow sip, and it's surprisingly better than what I've had in Amity. "I told them you're going to take a shower. Christina wants you to eat lunch with her."
"What time is it?" I glance around, noticing far more things about his bedroom now. The nightstands are practically empty. One has a light, and one has a phone charger. The plates from last night are gone, and the only thing that possibly hints it even happened is the warm ache in my hips, and the hope that he'll climb back into bed and explain that I don't have to leave just yet. "Did everyone leave?"
"Last night," Eric smirks. "I called Rylan when you fell asleep. He told Jerry we were keeping you for interrogation about your attack in Amity. Rylan said the guy turned white and told him he understood. He also told Rylan he hasn't seen Landon since he was made factionless and he doesn't expect him to come back."
"I do," I answer quickly, sitting up a little more.
Eric's bed is large, larger than mine back home, and it's cold. It's strange to wake up by myself, but even stranger to have so much space. I've still wound up mostly on his side of the bed, having gravitated toward him during the night.
"I think you'd be naïve to think otherwise," Eric's eyes flash in triumph, and I wonder if this is how he kidnaps me.
It would be smart.
I'd willingly come to his faction, and now everyone in Amity would believe I was staying to talk about Landon.
It was the perfect plan, if not the one he'd been working on.
"If you want to take a shower, I'll bring the clothes in. Rylan has called nine times asking if you're ready." Eric stands up, but not before staring at me. "They want to take you to Clyde's. It's eleven now, but you seemed tired, so I let you sleep."
I don't know what Clyde's is, not entirely, but I nod.
"Thank you."
I hand him back his coffee, and I move to slide out of the bed. He waits, just for a second, until his phone rings. He leaves before I'm actually out of bed, and his disappointment is vibrant as he sighs and informs someone to check a second camera.
Mine is too.
The shower is luxurious.
It's a shocking sight in Dauntless, and more so for Eric's bathroom. Forrest's bathroom had always been a mess. Leif and Wesley's was a war zone; you could easily break your neck tripping over their towels, and neither seemed to think they had to ever wipe their sink down. There were usually clothes and boots piled high, and my mother only asked them to help when she was overwhelmed.
Eric's bathroom is so clean I'm almost afraid to take a shower.
I stare at the blinding white tile, lined with black, and it takes me a minute to figure out how to turn it on. The shower is large –spanning the length of the bathroom and wide enough for more than one person – and his shampoo bottles are black. I smile at the label, printed with scrolling letters spelling out the name, and the darkly rich smell.
But it works.
It lathers quickly, and I wonder what made him pick out this one. I rinse my hair for a few minutes, then I reach for the one beside it. The second bottle is just as dark, and he's used the exact same amount of both. I ruin this by squeezing out enough conditioner to get through my hair, and I get a rush of satisfaction that he even has any.
I stand there for a while, enjoying the hot water rushing over me, and I bask in the silence.
For such a violent, aggressive faction, it's oddly quiet here.
I use his body wash, his razor, and I put everything back where it was. I reluctantly turn the shower off when I'm done, and I hate the thought of leaving. It's a strange moment, considering my presence here has to feel invasive. Eric clearly liked his alone time and kept his apartment in perfect order, so I wonder if anyone else has stayed the night, or if they'd ever used his shampoo.
I get my answer when I wrap myself in a dark towel and stop in the bathroom doorway.
He opens it right as I reach for the doorknob, and in his arms are all kinds of dark fabrics. His eyes immediately go to my face –my eyes, my nose, my lips, then my neck. He watches the water drip down from my hair to my collarbone, and he swallows thickly.
"I told them we'd be there in a half hour," he moves closer, not breaking his stare. His eyes stay on the marks on my neck, his own, and his lips turn up slightly. "Christina brought you every kind of outfit imaginable. I told her to get whatever she thought would fit you."
He makes no move to hand me the clothes, dark and soft looking, and it's a strange contrast to my pastel life back in Amity.
"Did Ashley ever spend the night?"
I blurt this out before I can thank him for even asking someone to grab me clothes, and his eyes narrow. His amusement from before is gone, but he blinks, and I can see the struggle to answer me.
My heart clenches painfully, because I assume she has. Maybe I'd used her shampoo, left over from a time when she got to come here and I didn't, and it was meant to remind him of her.
"Eric?"
He steps closer, shaking his head slowly, and he bends down. His nose touches mine, followed by his lips.
His answer is spoken only once he's able to kiss me, a firm and quick no.
My tour of Dauntless is quick.
Once dressed, in a dark dress that was a size too big and the sleeves too long, I brushed my hair. I combed it until it was tangle free, and Eric watched. He waited patiently, staring with mild interest as I used his brush to comb my hair, and once I was done, he handed me a jacket.
It was his.
It's heavy and far too large, but warm.
"The faction is cold. You were cold last night so I'm assuming you'll be cold in Clyde's," he informs me, and his eyes linger as I fix it. It smells like him, and I now know he smells good because of the shampoo and body wash.
"I was cold?" I catch a glimpse of myself in his mirror, and it's a version of Everly that I didn't know could ever exist.
She looks nothing like the one back in Amity.
My skin is pale against the dark dress, and pale beneath my hair. The marks on my neck are not as noticeable anymore, and there's a flash of disappointment that the visible proof of our night together is fading. The dress I picked out is different. It's not frilly or loose, but fitted and shorter than anything I've ever worn. His jacket makes it look tough, despite the soft fabric and low neckline.
I'm still me, but a stronger version. I suddenly get why he's always dressed in dark clothes, because they feel invincible.
"All night, apparently," Eric retorts. "You almost knocked me off my own bed."
He stares in a way that makes me smile, because I can tell he didn't hate it.
If he had, he would have shoved me away or told me to go home.
"Where is Clyde's?" I ask, and he gestures for me to follow him. We head out of his apartment together, and the door shuts with a loud thud.
"Not far," Eric offers, and he keeps a careful distance between us while we walk down the hallway. It only lasts until we get to the elevators. He catches my elbow, then pushes the call button. Once inside, he pushes the button for the fifth floor, and moves to stand very close to me. My back is pressed against him, and he's quiet while the elevator moves.
I follow him once the doors open to a floor I don't remember, and I take everything in while we walk.
The hallways here are still dark, but lighter. There are a few skylights that allow sunlight to pour in, and Eric is right: it is cold. The flooring here is slicker, but also full of jagged steps. Being so far beneath the Earth means the faction holds a chill that Amity doesn't, and the further we walk, the colder it gets. When I look up at a particularly long stretch of hallway, a section where a camera blinks a red light, Eric's hand grazes mine. Just like in Amity, I feel his fingers touch mine with hesitancy, and I smile when it takes him a whole minute to slide his fingers between mine. Considering I'd fallen asleep with his hands in my hair and his naked legs shoved through mine, the hand holding should be nothing.
Coming from him, it's everything.
"We're almost there. This is the quieter part of the faction. After lunch, I'll show you the rest. The lower levels have housing. The initiates live one floor up from the very bottom. There's a basement that no one goes in. Above there are the shops. On one of the higher floors is the training room. You might even catch a glimpse of the initiates if you time it right," Eric informs me, and he slows down so I can walk up the stairs carefully to a suspension bridge. "Four changed their schedule this week for some bullshit reason, so they're training today."
"Was he at the dinner?" I pause to glance over the railing, and beneath us, is a cavernous hole. Eric waits as I try to see the bottom, but it's useless. Almost as useless as my question, since I'd been at the dinner for a whopping twenty minutes.
"No, he was not invited," Eric sneers, but he looks pleased. "He's not a leader. When he's not training the initiates, he works in the control room."
I nod, having no real clue what a control room was. I'm sure he'd mentioned it before, but I'm not really thinking about that. I'm thinking about how hungry I am, and how nice he looks staring at me.
"Can I see the control room?" I tilt my head up to look at him, and he smiles down at me. All of his grins hold some delight, like he rarely smiles and he's finding me more entertaining than anything. His smile is the same way right now, slick and pleased, and he raises his eyebrows at me.
"I'll show you whatever you want, Amity."
He tightens his grip on my hand, and we resume walking, both lost in our respective thoughts.
Clyde's looks exactly the same as it did in the pictures.
I've never seen anything like it except for the photos Rylan had left on the phone. The bar is huge; it goes back further than I can see, and it's dark. There are wooden tables and metal chairs, a row of oversized booths, a section meant for larger parties, and all kinds of interesting décor. Raw, wooden beams run along the ceiling, and rusty metal lanterns are hung every so often. Their glow is warm, bathing the members in an orange light. The bar is just as big as the restaurant. There are more barstools than I can count, and plenty of dark clad members sitting at them, clinking their glasses together.
Of course, everyone turns to look the second we walk in. Eric immediately drops my hand, but I'm not insulted. It moves to my lower back, pushing me into the lion's den. The looks on the faces of everyone staring tells me that Eric here is a rare sighting, let alone with someone else. A few members avert their eyes when he walks by, one scoots their chair out of his way, and another looks panicked.
Eric ignores all of them.
He leads me to a booth smack in the middle, and wordlessly points for me to sit down.
There, beaming up at us, are Rylan and Christina.
"That dress is my favorite out of everything I got!" Christina all but yells, and she looks as excited as Zander was when he saw his tiny Dauntless uniform. I smile as I take my seat, and Eric slides in beside me. He shoves me over further, then instantly closes the distance between us. He slings his arm behind me, jerking me back toward him, and his leg touches mine.
I sink against him before I can stop myself, and Rylan and Christina watch us. Her stare is as intense as Eric's, but more out of pure, indulgent joy. She watches as Eric shifts closer, as his fingers touch the ends of my hair, and as they slide in, grazing against my neck. Her head tilts when someone drops off menus in front of us, and Eric slowly works to move me closer to him.
Which is impossible.
I'd be on his lap if I were any closer.
"Do I…what do you do with those?"
I stare at the paper in front of me, thick and covered in a sheer plastic, and the categories are endless. There are sections labeled in boxes with a slew of things: drinks, appetizers, salads, entrees, sides, desserts, a list of beers, a list of expensive liquors, and even more items printed on the back.
I notice you can also purchase a pack of ammunition, delivered straight to your table, for thirty-nine points.
"What do you mean?" Rylan asks, but he doesn't get very far. The server hovers by the table, her mouth slightly agape as her stare lingers on me, but she eventually asks what we all want to drink.
"You just order. I will have a beer. Make that two beers," Rylan is the first to speak, and he turns to Christina. "What do you want? A milkshake?"
"Um, no." She looks at him like he's insane. "I'll have a water. And a coffee."
"I'll have whatever Rylan is drinking," Eric answers dismissively, and the girl waits patiently for me to respond.
I stare up at her, at the line of rings in her eyebrow, the ring through the side of her nose, and the vibrant purple streaks in her hair. Her outfit is black, a very fitted shirt with tears and rips strategically torn through the fabric, and her skirt is short. She's halfway patient, and I try to figure out what the drinks are.
I recognize none of them except water and coffee.
"She'll have a ginger ale," Eric barks, and he waves the server away. "You pick what you want to eat and she'll go tell the kitchen. They make it and she brings it out. She'll bring us our check at the very end."
"And we have to tip her," Rylan adds, and he stares. His shirt is not black, but a dark green, and his hair is a disaster. "Do you have restaurants in Amity? I swore someone said there's a bar but I've never seen one."
"No, just the Dome. They'll make you whatever you want, but it's not like this. It's just a serving line," I explain, and Rylan thinks this over. "It's not quite the same. They just give the food to you. You don't have to pay for it."
"Oh, you have to pay here," Christina checks her phone, and casually taps away with frightening speed. "It's overpriced, for sure, but Harrison owns it and Rylan loves Harrison."
"Who doesn't? He caught a wild boar with his bare hands!" Rylan protests, and he shrugs. "Plus, he's smart. He invested in this years ago, and no one else did. Max was just complaining he'll have to work until he dies."
"Everyone works until they die," Eric answers, and this time, his fingers loop into my hair. "It's that or jump. What does he expect?"
"You jump? Into what?"
"The chasm," both Rylan and Christina answer, and they sound sort of glum.
"Let me be honest, you don't really have to," Christina sets her phone down, and her gaze flies to me. "Some people just sneak out. Vanish right in the middle of the night. It's rumored they go to Amity to live out their days. Maybe Rylan should look into that. Is it true? Do you have people show up so they don't have to die in Dauntless?"
"Maybe?" I don't react when Eric tenses beside me at the idea of anyone flocking to Amity, and the girl returns to drop off our drinks. "It would be hard to tell. There's so many people and I doubt they would turn anyone away. There's a lot of work to do."
I stop when I realize the server is waiting to take our order, and I slide my menu closer. "Sorry, let me look at this again."
"It's no big deal," she says, and I can feel her gaze on me. "Um, I can start with the others. Rylan, do you want chicken nuggets? We don't have the kid's menu available right now, but Paul will make them."
"Yes," he slams his fist down on the table. "Two orders. With fries. Don't forget the ketchup. And tell Harrison I demand adult chicken fingers."
"I'll get right on that," she rolls her eyes while she scrawls his order down. "Christina?"
"I'll have a chicken sandwich," Christina swats at Rylan. "Don't bug Harrison. Maybe try ordering adult food for once."
"Never."
"I'll have a hamburger," Eric shoves the menu away from him, and he looks at me. "Did you pick something?"
I nod, but the menu is oddly intimidating. The Dome served lots of food, but not special orders. You could always ask, and more than likely, someone would try if they weren't too busy. The little kids were expected to eat what the adults ate, and they provided enough of a variety that everyone could find something they liked.
But here, the items are neatly laid out, and it's clear they come as a meal. I've never had french fries or onion rings, and I don't know what some of the stuff is. I finally order a chicken salad, since it sounded safe, and Eric hands the server my menu.
"Great, so chicken fingers for Rylan, a chicken sandwich for Christina, one hamburger with everything on it for Eric, and one chicken salad for…" She pauses, and everyone looks at me.
"Everly. Her name is Everly and she's Eric's future wife!" Rylan answers brightly, and Christina smacks him.
"Rylan! You promised to behave!" she hisses, and I force myself not to laugh. Rylan is full on snickering into his drink, and next to me, Eric looks murderous. His smile is forced and tight, and his eyes are unamused. I'd be worried, except he shakes his head, and moves his arm closer.
"Okay, so I'm gonna go put this in and I'll be back to check on you." The server glances around quickly, then stops at me again. She says my name under her breath, slowly, then she walks away. She repeats it again, and I wonder if she knows everyone's name.
"Don't mind her," Christina catches my stare. "Lucy is a little nosy. She's sort of…interesting."
"She's obsessed with everything Eric does. Because she hates him," Rylan laughs. "She one time spilled a drink on him and he threatened to kill her. Paul made her pay to have his clothes dry cleaned."
I peek up at Eric out of the corner of my eye, and he feigns innocence.
"They were my good pants."
"Right, right. Like you can't afford to buy new pants. Or, you know, wash your own." Rylan jeers, but it's good natured. "Hey, Everly, is Zander…he's not a narc is he?"
"Zander?" I stare at Rylan, wondering if he's serious. "You really think Zander would tell on you?"
"I thought you adored him! You said he was a cool little kid," Christina turns in surprise, and she stares at him. "Out of everything we talked about asking Everly, you really want to know if her little brother is spying on you for Harrison."
"Uh yeahhhh," Rylan sneaks a glance at me, and Eric shakes his head. "He knows a lot, okay?"
"What else did you want to ask her? You better hurry up. I have to get her back to Amity after this."
"What?! No! Absolutely not! That's not enough time! I have a lot of questions! Starting with…how does your mom keep her house so clean?"
I smile along with Christina, but his question is a good one.
"She just…cleans it. Or we help her." I take a sip of the drink Lucy brought me, and it's sweet. "Or someone will. My dad stays up late sometimes."
"Your…dad," Rylan looks at Eric, then at Christina, then back at Eric. He doesn't look at me, but at my drink. "Is he…nice?"
"Yeah," I shrug, and Eric doesn't like this answer. His fingers move to the back of my neck, and they tighten in my hair. "There are a lot of us. We aren't super close, but he's a good dad. He's…" I stop when Lucy returns to set down some chips. "He was really upset I got attacked."
"You got attacked by that guy…the ex-boyfriend right?" Christina takes a chip, and she looks at Rylan out of the corner of her eye. "I thought Harrison talked to him. Eric told us they were doing everything they could to keep you alive, including threatening anyone who came near you. Didn't Harrison come back and say the dude agreed not to touch her."
"He did!" Rylan declares, and he tries not to look at my throat. "I wasn't there when he went to find Landon, but we've been working on it. All of us."
"Oh," I answer, because I had no clue they were really doing anything.
Eric had told me they were trying to find the factionless and he told me Rylan and Jason had gone to look for their army. I knew they were making attempts to watch the cameras, and Jeremy had been in and out of Amity, but I had to admit it didn't feel like it was enough. I wasn't incredibly knowledgeable about how to take down an army, but as the person who'd caught Evelyn's attention, I was willing to learn.
Maybe I should learn.
Maybe I should ask Eric if I could go find them, taking along him and his friends, and leading them right to her. There is a chance it would work, especially if I went looking for Landon.
I think about this while I eat lunch, with my foot bumping Eric's shin and his arm touching mine. I fall quiet when the conversation turns to talking about Four, and I listen as Rylan recants a tale about how he and Four got into an argument over who got the last chocolate muffin. He gets more and more worked up, ranting about how Four had outright sulked when all that was left was blueberry, and Christina gently reminds him to be nice.
"You don't have to be nice to him because you feel bad for him," Rylan points out, and Eric laughs as he drinks his beer. "He and Tris broke up forever ago. She's dating that dumbass now and Four is dating no one. We don't have to pretend she's not better off with someone who doesn't cry themselves to sleep."
"Who is this Four?" I take a slow bite of the chicken, and they all look at me like they've just remembered I don't know who they're talking about. "Eric said he trains the initiates but…"
"Oh, he's real exciting," Rylan interrupts, and he waves one dinosaur shaped chicken nugget at me. "I'm sure you'll bump into him. If Eric keeps you here long enough."
"I told you," Eric responds, low and annoyed. "She has to go back to Amity at some point. Harrison said twenty fours hours past the dinner, maximum. Johanna is well aware of how long we can hold someone for questioning."
"Please. Keep interrogating Everly. She can stay forever if you don't stop asking questions," Rylan insists, and the two of them argue over whether or not Rylan's plan will actually work. He's determined to prove he's right, but I don't know any of the rules he's spouting off, so I turn to Christina. She smiles widely and shakes her head.
"He's been working on this for weeks. Rylan is fully committed to you staying here," she pushes her plate away, and Lucy shows up like she's been waiting for a reason to come by. She cheerfully takes the plate away, and Christina hands her a black card. "Will you run this? I want to pay for lunch."
"Sure," Lucy agrees, and Rylan and Eric stand up.
"We'll be right back. We gotta talk to Kacie. She just showed up looking like someone pissed in her cornflakes," Rylan climbs out of the booth with zero grace, and he practically sprints over to a blonde lady. She yelps when he grabs her, spinning around on one high shoe, and her eyes flash in pure annoyance. Her stares whips around to see where he came from, and I was right.
She's terrifying.
She's just as stern looking as I imagined and her icy blonde hair matches her expression. She snaps something at Rylan, and he waves his hands around dramatically, doing his best to convince her of something.
"What is he doing?" Christina squints, and he waves. "He's going to drive her insane."
"I'll be right back." Eric informs me, and our eyes lock. "If Christina gets too annoying, feel free to leave."
"Rude," Christina smiles up at him, and she waits until he leaves to flip him off. "Sorry, you might like him, but I only tolerate him because of Rylan. Eric and I aren't the best of friends."
"That's okay," I watch him walk away, and he looks back to see if I'm looking at him. When he's satisfied that I am, he smirks, and heads over to Rylan and Kacie. "I don't really know anything about his life here. Only what I've heard."
"I'm sure he hasn't told you much," she wrinkles her nose, but it's fleeting. "Come sit by me. I'll explain everything."
She gestures for me to move over by her, and twenty minutes later, Eric returns right as she finishes explaining just exactly who Eric Coulter is.
This time, the light pours in from daringly high windows.
The training room sprawls out before me, and the first thing I notice is the smell of sawdust and despair. The room is full of initiates, spilling onto the mats in violent bursts. They are fighting each other, some sloppy, some precise, some far better than the others, but all with a manic energy. I can feel their determination to prove themselves here, to stay in Dauntless and not be factionless, with each and every breath they take.
It makes me shiver.
The room is laid out in a giant rectangle, and most of the initiates are fighting, but a few are waiting and watching. There's a chalkboard with the names ranked, and the first is Karl. Right beneath him is Jake, followed by CJ, Kevin, and a slew of others. I read the names quickly, trying to see if I can figure out who is who, but I can't. There are a few girls, but mostly boys, and they pummel each other brutally.
"Fun, right?"
Rylan rocks back on his heels, cocking his head at the sight before us.
He'd walked me down here, eager to show me some of the faction. Eric and I made it a single step outside of Clyde's before his phone rang. News of my stay must have made it to someone who could pull rank over Eric, because his jaw clenched down, his eyes swept over to me, and he snarled that "Yes, she is still here." He hung up after a terse exchange, then instructed Rylan to show me around for thirty minutes. He said to meet him in the Pit after, and Rylan saluted in response.
He then showed me a few areas of the faction at warp speed.
We skipped past the stores, where we said goodbye to Christina as she headed into work. Rylan pointed out the coffee shop, a tattoo parlor, where someone eyed us warily while we walked by, and glared when he thought we were coming inside. There was a juice bar, a surprising addition that I wasn't expecting, but it makes sense in some way. A store with dark clothing. A store with darker clothing. A place to get your hair cut, where Rylan hurried me past.
"Don't get too close. They'll try to chop off your hair when you tell them just a trim."
After that, he showed me a water fountain.
A wall, where Eric had once slammed someone's face after they insulted his mother. Rylan insisted the insult was fine and accurate, but Eric still didn't care for it.
He showed me the best place to hide, the worst place to hide, and the spot where Tris had dumped Four. I didn't know who Tris was, but Rylan went on to explain she was a friend of Christina's and an enemy of Eric's. I put together that Christina hung around Eric because of Rylan, and Eric tolerated her because his friend liked her.
Rylan concluded our tour in the training room, and he led me down the row of mats and explained what was going on.
"So, right now, they've learned to fight. They've learned basic evasive maneuvers, basic fighting moves, and how to judge their opponent. Then they move to tactical fighting, or what happens if they're attacked. These are practice fights, but there's always a chance someone will take it too far. They're scored on how well they fight or how poorly." Rylan watches a few swing their fists and when they notice him, they stand up a little straighter.
He smiles, watching them as they punch each other in the face, and every so often, he grimaces.
"That one's gonna hurt."
We are near the end of the mats, and the fight between two of the boys escalates. I realize I'm watching Jake fight against someone. I barely recognize him as he pins the other guy to the ground, and he practically shakes with fury. His fist comes down, colliding with the guy's nose, and the gush of blood is immediate.
"Shit!"
Jake pulls away immediately, wiping his own face off, and he steps back. Despite his new life here, the Amity in him is hard to erase. He looks remorseful, and his face tightens. "You okay, man?! Shit, shit shit!"
"Fuck, dude. I didn't mean what I said. I take it back! You can fight!" The guy groans, rolling onto his side and dripping blood everywhere.
"Should you go…help?" I look at Rylan, and my instinct is to go make sure the guy is okay. But Rylan shrugs and points in the distance.
"Nah, Four is heading this way right now. He'll clean up the blood."
"Are you sure that guy is alright?" I watch as he stays down, but eventually, he shoves himself into a seated position and holds onto his head. He looks dizzy, but also crazy thanks to the blood. A few feet away, Jake looks torn, and he returns to his opponent to offer his hand.
"He'll live," Rylan answers casually, and we both watch as Jake reaches down to help him up.
A second later, Four jogs over and surveys the scene before him. He glances at the guy, reaching down to help pull him to his feet, and he pats Jake on the arm. There's some instruction between them that we can't hear, then he steps back off the mat. He points toward an exit, and Jake glances that way. Then, he looks confused, and he glances at me.
His jaw drops.
"Everly!"
Four turns in the direction Jake is staring, and I get a good look at the guy who Rylan deemed not exciting.
He couldn't have been more wrong.
Four stands there with a look of pure and utter nausea, and I'm staring right into the face of Tobias Eaton.
"Why are you here?"
He's just as friendly as he was the last time I saw him. He stares at me, slow rage spilling out of him, and he gestures for me to follow him.
Tobias recognized me immediately. He stared without moving except for his jaw going slack, and his hands balling into fists. His eyes flew between Rylan and me a sickening number of times, and at one point, he rubbed the back of his neck.
Rylan missed all of this.
His phone rang so loudly I jumped, and he cheerfully said hello. The voice on the other end was rough, and I got the faint inkling he was talking to Eric. Their conversation drove him away from us, and eventually, Rylan covered the phone and yelled he'd be right back.
Tobias wasted no time. He all but dragged me away from Jake and his victim, and off into the dark hallway. It was so dark it took my eyes a minute to adjust, but once they did, it was hard to miss the sight before me.
I was right: Tobias is from Dauntless.
His hair is the same, his jacket is a heavy black one that echoes Eric's, and his t-shirt collar is loose enough to reveal a slew of tattoos curling over his shoulder. He towers over me the same way Eric does, but without the authority.
In fact, he wavers between looking like he's losing his grasp on his own sanity and wanting to punch me for being here.
I suddenly get that his life here might be a struggle. The way Rylan and Eric spoke about him, and the way he seemed to not fit anywhere, the way he clearly had made a mistake in helping his mother. It all culminates with seeing me, and his expression is pure raging fear.
"You're…you're Four? I knew you were from here!" I stare up at him, and he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"How do you think I know about Eric?" he struggles to stay calm, and his words are desperate. "Why are you here? Why are you dressed like him? Where is…why aren't you in Amity?"
"I came to the Leadership dinner. I just…spent the night." I answer honestly, and I shrug. "Christina brought me the dress. I'm staying to answer some questions."
Tobias, or Four –I really don't know what to call him now – blinks.
"You just spent the night? With him? You think that's smart?"
"I'm not the one training the factionless army. You train both the armies just so they can fight against each other?" I stare at his eyes, storming with rage, and he knows he's stuck. "Does Eric know?"
"No." He answers sharply, so sharp that I can feel it. "But I know you need to leave, right now. Tell him you need to go home."
"I'm waiting for Rylan," I answer, and I cross my arms. "Why are you still helping Evelyn? Did you know I got attacked by Landon a few days before the dinner? He said Colton knew they put a tracker in him and he could feel it. Landon was by the Dome after you left and then he tried to kill me a few houses away from my own. Why would you help them?"
"They're not all like that," he warns, but it comes out pleading. "Everly, go back to Amity. Go back and find someone there. It's not safe here. You're not safe."
"I'm not safe there, either. Not with your army just waiting to take over."
His frustration is palpable. His shoulders rise up, and he exhales heavily.
"You need to get out of here. I'll stop the army. I'll tell Evelyn not to hurt you. Just…go back and finish your initiation. Forget about Eric. Whatever he has you believing is a lie. He's using you. He's just…" Tobias stops talking, and his eyes darken. "Fuck."
"I'm sorry, do you two know each other?"
I turn the minute I hear the voice, low and slick and pleased, and there is Eric. He's watching from a few feet away, his head tilted and his spine straight, looking downright delighted.
Tobias says nothing, but his breathing picks up.
"Everly…have you met Four before?"
Eric walks slowly, his gaze fixed not on me, but on Tobias. I'm not sure where to look, because I can feel Tobias subconsciously lean away from me. I have the strange urge to stay in between them, because my stomach sinks when Eric gets closer. He's not even looking at me, but over me, like today is the best day of his life.
"Everly?"
"I met her in Amity. Once, on accident. She recognized me there, and she asked me about her friend who just punched someone. Jake's from Amity," Tobias lies slightly. I didn't ask him about Jake, but we did meet on accident.
If you count Landon introducing me as an accident.
"Is this true?" Eric murmurs, and he stops in front of me. He ignores Tobias completely, and he reaches for my hands. His fingers touch mine, and his smile is soft. "You met…Four in Amity?"
"Yes," I nod, and I realize I have to pick a side here.
I have no loyalty to Tobias. When I really look at it, his own mother is leading a crusade to take me down. I had lucked into being her target, a small blip on her mission to take over, but he hadn't stopped her, even though he knew what was going on.
His promise that he would, only came because he was afraid I would announce who he is.
"Interesting. I didn't know Four had a reason to be in Amity. He must know that your father was just attacked there," Eric looks at me, and my gasp is immediate. "He's fine. Just a little…routine head trauma. Nothing to be nervous about. I'll get you back to him as soon as I handle a few things."
"Is he alright? Is he going to be okay?" I stare up at him, and he nods.
"From what I heard, yes. More scared than anything. Harrison is on his way there now. Kacie called to alert us of some suspicious activity. The patrols found him in his greenhouse. It would be a shame if…. there's a connection to all this I'm missing. Someone who knew why the people of Amity would be attacked. Especially…a man who once spent his free time serving the factionless dinner."
Eric is very smart.
His words are soft but calculating, and he murmurs them with appropriate respect. My heart clenches at the thought of my dad being hurt, and the panic and guilt is enough for me to realize what I have to do.
I glance back once, and Tobias looks at the ground, and he knows what's coming.
"He's been helping them. He trained the factionless army. His mother is their leader." I stare up at Eric, and his grey eyes flash. He nods, almost sympathetically, and behind me, Tobias closes his eyes.
"So you're saying, that Four…or Tobias…knew that Landon has been coming after you, time and time again, and he hasn't done a single thing about it?" Eric's words are quiet, but they drip with venom. "He trained them to hurt you? And your father?"
I can't look away from Eric, and he steps even closer. One of his hands moves to touch my cheek, startling soft and slow, and his thumb grazes my lower lip. I flash back to last night, him over me, leaning down to kiss me while he groaned my name. It seems impossibly long ago, and the very last time I felt safe.
I wasn't safe in my own faction.
And I might not even be safe here.
Not if Tobias could walk around, with an army ready to attack.
"He said he'd tell them to stop, but it's too late now. My dad didn't do anything. He didn't hurt anyone, he wouldn't. He told me he'd tell Evelyn to leave me alone…"
I throw Tobias one last chance at redemption, but I have a feeling there is none. Eric leans down, and he takes my face in his hands. His eyes search mine, and somewhere in his, is reassurance that he can keep me safe.
"Oh little Amity, I don't think Four, has any intention of stopping his mother's army. If he did, he wouldn't have sent Colton for you or your father. I promised I'd keep you safe, and today, I'm going to keep that promise."
His lips touch mine, so brief it's like I imagined it, and then he takes off, lunging right for Tobias.