TRIS POV
Tobias leans over the map of the factionless district spread out on the conference room table. His shoulders are tight with tension, which increases in him day after day as we approach the target date for the final takedown of the factionless regime.
In two days, this war will draw to a closing. In two days, either we will have established control over the factionless and captured Evelyn—the most likely outcome at this point—or they will find a way to overwhelm us. It is imperative that this operation is planned correctly.
"If we go with Zeke's idea of surrounding them," Tobias says, "will we have enough soldiers to cover these main blocks?"
After a moment of consideration and staring at the map, the military leader answers, "Yes, but not until we are able to close in. The factionless still occupy the streets outside of that area, and at that wide of a radius, we will be spread too thin."
"Then we block off the streets. We force them toward the center in massive groups, and then we worry about filling in the gaps when we're close enough," Mike contributes.
Tobias nods. "Okay, then I want snipers positioned at these buildings." He draws the spots on the map with an orange marker. "But they have to be in groups of three at least. It wouldn't surprise me if they ran into factionless guards on the way up to those rooftops."
I pinch the bridge of my nose in an attempt to force out the building headache. "How much of our army will we send?" I ask. Somehow, I must have missed it. Everything seems to be speeding to end not just this meeting, but this entire war; it worries me, like we could be missing something.
"The vast majority. We still need to defend every faction, especially ours, so there will be about 150 left behind, not including all of the leftover women who will probably help out," Zeke replies, crossing his arms. "But we will be sending the bulk of our force."
"Then we won't have enough guards for the traitor factionless," I point out. We can't allow them to roam free and potentially turn on us in the middle of the battle. I think we can all agree that they aren't even slightly trustworthy.
Uriah interjects, "We could spread them out between Dauntless, Erudite, and Candor. The Erudite and Candor could help us watch them. That way, if they did manage to escape, there would be fewer of them."
Mike immediately likes the idea. "We will move most of them from Candor tomorrow morning. We will reach out to the leaders to cooperate with us," he decides.
The planning continues on as each person gets an opportunity to express their concerns and every tiny detail gets worked out. We discuss the distribution of gas masks—since we still don't have enough for every soldier—and we figure out which groups will be tasked with clearing buildings or rounding up civilians.
And then it is concluded that all of the leaders should be present at this battle.
"Mike, Zeke, and I all took a vote before this meeting, and we unanimously decided that if for any reason some of us or none of us return, Tris will be a substitute leader by default," Tobias announces.
Maybe it is the notion that any one of them could easily be killed in action that opposes me to the decision. Maybe it is my constant need to be involved, to be on the front lines and not cowering in the shadows. Maybe I just hate that Tobias is desperate to protect me sometimes—and not himself, it seems—but either way, I am unhappy with this transfer of power.
With a stubborn stare fixated on my husband, I tell him, "No."
"This isn't up for debate."
I grit my teeth. "Four—"
He levels an equally heated gaze at me. "You're going to stay here and be in charge while we're gone. That's an order," he states.
Not willing to question his authority any further in front of the entire room of leaders and advisors, I stay silent and sit back in my chair.
"The most important thing we need to remember is to be careful," Mike says as he concludes the meeting. "Evelyn is not coming with us without kicking and screaming. The factionless will have something unexpected planned, and we need to be prepared to adapt to whatever situation arises."
I watch as Tobias remains emotionless at the mention of his mother, his head bowed. She may not have been at Candor, but she will certainly be present during this attack.
With a promise to talk about developments in our plan tomorrow, we adjourn. Determined to make a point, I leave before Tobias or Zeke or anyone can try to console me. I don't want to think about how we could lose all three leaders in a matter of seconds; I don't want to think about helplessly waiting to hear that my husband has died again before the authority is placed in my trembling hands.
So my feet carry me to the training room.
Christina happens to be there, working on a punching bag. It doesn't take long for her to notice me making my way over to her. When I step up next to the bag, she ceases her hitting and bends down to pick up her water bottle.
"You don't have to stop," I tell her apologetically.
She shakes her head, tilting it back to drain the bottle. "I was done anyway," she says. "Where have you been? Actually, where has everyone been?"
"Planning the attack." I run my hand down my face. "I couldn't stand to be in there anymore. It was long. Exhausting."
"Promising?" she offers hopefully.
"Stressful."
"Oh." She uses her shirt to dab the beads of sweat off her forehead. "I mean, it is the end of the world we're preparing for, so."
Biting my lip and watching a brawl take place on one of the mats, I admit, "I'm worried about Four."
"Why?" she asks. When I raise my eyebrows at her, she amends, "You know what I mean. Besides the obvious."
"He doesn't...seem to be in the right mindset. He has taken on so much pressure that I'm afraid it's going to get him killed."
As the words spill out past the lump in my throat, I realize that this is the real reason for my sullen behavior. The tension in this city has culminated to this point, and too much could happen. There is too much to lose and only a messy peace to gain.
And I am distraught, though I won't admit it. I am worried for Zeke and Uriah, who will be on the front lines. I am apprehensive about how Tobias has been distracted and buried in leadership for the past few weeks, and it only makes matters worse that I won't be able to prevent anything from happening to him since I am confined to Dauntless now—though I wouldn't be able to anyway in warfare.
"If there's one thing I know about Four, it is that he can take care of himself," Christina remarks. She places a hand on my arm. "If you really are concerned about it though, then say something to him."
I twist my ring around my finger, a new nervous habit of mine. Staring down at it, I don't reply. A part of me wants to tell her that I can't go through this again but even remembering the feeling of being so utterly alone threatens to fill my eyes with tears.
Pure powerlessness sinks in, and as soon as it does, I know that I have to pull myself together. The outcome of this war is something I have no control over, and I need to have the same courage that Tobias does when he thinks about Evelyn's fate.
So I shake my head, responding, "You're right. I'll mention it to him."
Christina swings her arm around my neck. "I know there's not exactly a lot of time right now, but I'm still upset that you two didn't get a proper celebration. We should—" She cuts herself off as she stares across the training room. "What in the world is your brother doing here?"
Caleb stands at the shooting range, examining the empty racks where guns normally are. Since we are on such short supply after the factionless nearly cleared out the training room, none are left out for practicing anymore. I assume that he came here to shoot but quickly discovered that he does not have a gun to work with.
"I don't know," I sigh. "Let's go find out."
We walk over to the targets. Caleb straightens at the sight of us, clearly embarrassed.
"Hi," he greets awkwardly. I don't know if it has anything to do with me being married now, but he has been standoffish the last few days, as if he doesn't know how to act around me.
"Need a gun?" I guess.
He nods. "I thought there might be some here, but it appears that—"
I remove the pistol from my waistband and take out the clip, checking to see exactly how many bullets are in it. He seems unexplainably surprised.
"What?"
"You just have that with you?" he laughs nervously.
I look at him incredulously. "All the time."
He studies me like I am someone unfamiliar before clearing his throat. "I wanted to practice a little. I've only had to use a gun once, and that was enough to tell me that I need proper training. Especially with the war at its height. I didn't even know how to hold that one I was given for the Erudite attack."
Maybe he is starting to catch on to surviving as the rest of us do. Nodding, I say, "I only have seven bullets with me. Make them count."
After showing him the basic mechanics of a gun and how to hold it, I step back and let Caleb shoot at the target. The first bullet shocks him, which is obvious by the way his entire body jerks. Christina chuckles next to me. He flinches less during the next shot, and by the time he has used the whole clip, he has hit the target three times, albeit sloppily.
When he carefully returns the gun to me, he is still jittery.
"Let's hope the factionless don't ever invade," he jokes.
Christina snickers at his personal jab. I tuck my gun away and set my hand on his shoulder before he can move away.
"Hey," I say seriously. "You don't have to worry about it. I would protect you. You know that, right?"
His green eyes lock on mine, unable to hide his unmistakable fear. We may have never been on the same page about anything, Caleb and I, but I hope that he can depend on me if something really does go wrong. This is the time when trust stretches beyond all arguments.
"I know," he answers.
And in those two words, I can tell that he understands. He understands that I put family first, that that will always be my priority, and that "faction before blood" was a flawed ideal. Maybe he will fully grasp the concept of family one day. For now, I just need him to know that I would stand between him and a factionless army.
The pillow under my head is about as soft as a cement block. My eyelids are heavy yet my mind refuses to follow the procedure of falling asleep. No matter how desperately I try to forget that the factionless attack is happening tomorrow—or today, since it must be far into the night—I can't deny the heavy dread in my chest.
I don't know if I ever lost consciousness or if I have been frustratedly digging myself into the bed for hours. How could anyone sleep on the eve of this critical battle? I wonder if any of the Dauntless are struggling to, or if they have trained themselves not to even glance that far ahead into the future.
Tobias is perfectly still on his stomach, too still, and that is how I know he is just as awake as I am. Probably running through possible scenarios and driving himself insane the closer we get to dawn.
My back is turned to him. With war at its precipice, we haven't had the opportunity to talk about anything that didn't involve battle plans in the last couple of days. Well, except for the several scenarios where we snapped at each other. In between those tough, heated moments, we settle for chaste hugs and kisses so brief that neither of us believe them.
He is worn down to the bone, and I am distressed to the point of hyperventilation at times. And we are caving to fear of the unknown outcome of this war, refusing to spend time together in order to soften the blow if one of us doesn't make it.
As his breaths tickle the back of my neck in the miserable quiet, I know that we can't ignore each other anymore. It may agonize us to consider what lies ahead, but it is worse to not grasp at the seconds we have left.
"Tobias," I finally breathe.
I roll over to face him, and he meets me in the middle as if he was having similar thoughts. Our kisses are initially tortured and dragging, but as soon as his hand drifts from my cheek to my thigh, the tone is urgent.
He is needy, the way he pulls my leg higher until I am forced on top of him. I am desperate, barely pausing for a breath. His hand moves higher until I am dizzy, and I work on getting his shirt off.
We are a team, the way we coordinate to remove the rest of our clothing, to find a way closer to each other. It may be cold and cruel outside, but underneath the sheets we are hidden in the warm shadows of disaster if only for tonight.
"Tobias, I—"
"I know," he says, his eyes so dark with conflict that they make my breath hitch in my throat.
He knows. He knows that I love him; he knows that everything changes tomorrow, for better or for worse. He knows that he could die on the front lines, and he knows the same terror that shakes my bones at the prospect of being separated.
I have never been so connected to someone this emotionally. Because he feels as threatened as I do, I know that I can share that depth of myself with him. That mutual apprehension comforts me, like if we can sympathize with and reassure each other, then maybe we will have a fighting chance.
So I kiss him until both of us know that we are going to be okay, if only for tonight.
My legs burn as I rush through the Pit. I glance around as if the time will be displayed on the walls, but there are no clocks in sight. The last one told me that I was late, maybe even too late.
There is a group of factionless traitors tied up in the middle of the Pit, and because they are blocking the immediate pathway, they slow me down. Frustrated, I hurry around them and race to the stairs.
When I reach the top, I burst out of the doors and step out on the pavement that lines the train tracks. A breath of relief leaves my lungs when I see that none of the several trains have departed yet. And straight ahead are Zeke and Uriah.
"I thought I was going to miss you," I sigh, throwing my arms around both of them.
Zeke pats my back. "We got delayed," he explains. "Some people weren't clear about their assignments."
Letting the brothers go, I say, "Well, good thing there are still idiots. Otherwise, I wouldn't have been here." I suppose I am one of those idiots though, considering I spaced on the time when I was stationing guards around the compound entrances.
Uriah jabs my shoulder. "You'll hold down the fort until we get back?" he teases.
I roll my eyes playfully. "It's not like I haven't done it before."
Beneath the light banter, there is an overwhelming anxiety that we pass between glances. It presents itself in my shivering, in Uriah's fidgeting hands.
"Please be careful," I beg them.
Uriah attempts to lighten the mood for a positive send-off. "Since when are the Pedrads not careful?"
I try to smile, but it is weak. Humor can only mask pain momentarily, and it cannot save anyone on the battlefield.
Zeke nods in the direction behind me. "Four's over there. You better hurry; we're leaving in a minute."
Wishing them good luck, I slide between the soldiers boarding the trains. Several people bump into me unapologetically, and even when someone's lowered gun catches my hip, I continue forcing my way through. It is not until I am free from the crowd that I see Tobias, who is about to get on the train himself before we lock eyes. He steps away from the train and meets me with open arms.
I pull him down to my height, weighing on his shoulders tightly. He sighs against my ear, but his rigid body doesn't loosen.
"I didn't know if you would make it," he says.
"Even if I wouldn't have," I say, staring up at the graying sky, "you know that I love you."
We have come a long way from regretting our potentially final partings and dreaming of more appropriate goodbyes. Now, I think both of us are confident in knowing that this world isn't ideal or accommodating, and in knowing how we would spend our last moments. If he dies, then he dies as my husband and nothing less; if I die, then I die as the person in his memories, not the person who might have been holding a grudge recently.
Tobias is noticeably alert yet worn, jumpy over the enemy that he has yet to face directly. His fingers brush a stray strand of hair out of my way, and his jaw tightens as he glances over my head at the preparations happening behind me.
"Next time I see you, everything will be different," he tells me quietly.
I hope so, I think to myself. But that wish leaves room for an irreparable, catastrophic outcome that is still possible.
A train horn blares, signaling departure. My hands desperately cling to his jacket so that he won't see me tremble. It is he who should be carrying this immeasurable fear, since he is ten times more likely than I am to die today, yet I can't control my movements.
Before it is too late, he kisses me. And for those few seconds I feel his anguish and his dread and his beautiful hope pulse through my veins as the urgency around us fades into background noise.
"Be brave," I whisper against his lips. It is the only advice I can offer, but it meant enough when he first said it to me.
He is torn away from me by duty. I watch as he smoothly pulls himself on the first train, which has already started moving. Still, he hangs halfway out of the car to look back at me one last time. We hold gazes as he rides off into the obscure future of the city.
"How long has it been?"
Christina checks her watch. "An hour."
Tapping my fingers against the railing, I stare down into the depths of the chasm. It seems endless, just like this wait. The knowledge of how useless I am in this momentous evening makes the time pass even slower.
"You know, biting your fingernails isn't going to make the time go by fast," Christina points out.
"Yes, I'm aware of that, thank you."
She sets her hand on my shoulder. "I mean you need to find a distraction. We all do," she sighs. "Come on, let's go to the training room. We can throw knives or something."
The fight goes out of me as I let her lead me into the Pit. The factionless traitors are still corralled and bound and surrounded by guards who frown down at them. It seems that most of the soldiers left here are women.
"I don't trust them," Christina says, glaring at the factionless. Among them sits Cassie, her face passive. "I certainly don't trust her."
"Nobody does," I agree. "But where are they going to go?"
We disappear from the lighter section of the compound and into one of the hidden hallways. Our footsteps echo on the stone; it is dismally silent.
"Did you get to say goodbye?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "Not to Zeke, but I did see Uriah for a minute."
I open my mouth to ask another casual question that breaks off into a gasp when she is attacked from an intersecting hallway. My gun is immediately drawn, but not before the man is able to hold a knife to Christina's throat.
"Drop it," I warn, slightly unsteady from the sudden turn of events. It doesn't matter though, because I have shot someone in his position before.
Something metal nudges my back. "How about you drop it?" a voice says behind me.
My blood runs cold at the realization that there is a second. The man holding Christina wears Dauntless black, but his posture alone—which lacks pride—lets me know otherwise. He could only be one other thing: factionless.
But how?
I weigh my limited options, and all of them end with my death. All except one.
Gritting my teeth, I toss my gun aside in surrender. It hits the ground with a loud clang, and Christina watches me, horrified that I would drop my weapon.
"Good girl," the man behind me says.
"You want me," I remind our captors, whoever they are. "Let her go."
Christina's attacker shrugs at the other, slamming the knife handle into her temple so forcefully that she is out cold. I wince as she slumps to the ground. Better than dead, I suppose.
"If you scream, I'll shoot both of you."
My hands are tied in front of me with some kind of thin rope, and a mesh bag is thrown over my head. I blink against the sudden darkness and let the factionless men lead me on unsure feet.
An odd calm settles over me. I expected to panic in this type of situation, but it seems as though my Dauntless instincts tend to take over when I am in danger. I need a level head; the post-traumatic stress can come later.
"Where are you taking me?" I finally ask after moments of walking through winding hallways. If there is one thing that scares me more than being kidnapped, it is the unknowns of my kidnapping.
"To Evelyn, of course," one of them answers. "Sorry, Tris. Nothing personal, it just seems that you are our last chance of surviving this war."
I close my eyes with defeat, even though it doesn't change my surroundings. Because if Evelyn has me in her custody, she can threaten me, and Tobias won't stand for it.
He would do anything for me. He would even have his army stand down when he was moments from victory.
There is the screech of a swinging door, and we step out into gravel. An unexpected gust of frigid wind almost knocks me over.
"So are all of your factionless friends in on this too?" I snap.
There is a pause. The other voice answers this time. "Unfortunately, Cassie has most of them fooled into believing that we will be taken care of at the end of this war. Unlike them, we aren't stupid."
Yes, because their false prophet has taken much better care of them so far. I shake my head.
"How did you escape?"
"Let's just say, your name may be famous around this city," one of them laughs, "but that doesn't mean it isn't notorious to some."
I roll my eyes, despite the hood blocking my reaction. "I know it has to be someone from Dauntless that helped you. Why does it matter if I know their name or not? It's over for me."
It never is over; my mind speeds through a million different ways I could slip the knife from my boot as we speak. But it is advantageous if I convince them that I won't struggle.
"The name is Jessica. Recognize her?"
My cheeks burn with hostility at the mention of my old rival. I suppose that proves how trivial initiation competitions are representative of real life. She may have been desperate for Tobias's attention and hellbent on passing me in the rankings, but those battles couldn't compare to selling me out to the opposing army. No, I will make sure she suffers the ramifications this time. If I make it back.
"Not unexpected," I say.
The sound of a car door opening gives me a shred of optimism. They guide me inside, and I slump into the back seat. I hold my breath, and neither of them climb in beside me. They will both be in the front seats. Good.
The car ride is bumpy and with the bag obstructing my view, I end up with aggressive nausea by the end of the trip. But what they don't know is that I was able to reach my knife and tuck it safely in my sleeve.
A decent plan has formed in my mind by the time they demand me to get out. I know that I have to make my escape attempt before we get to Evelyn's headquarters, because as soon as we arrive, she has won control over the Dauntless military.
"Go scout ahead. Make sure the Dauntless haven't closed in yet," one of the men orders.
I hear footsteps hit the pavement until they grow weaker into silence. This is my chance. I may not be able to take both, but I could possibly take one of them on.
Panic attacks come to my advantage for once. Now I know how to realistically fake hyperventilation, and so I do just that.
"What's your problem? Why are you panting like a dog?" the man scoffs.
"I-I can't," I gasp in between rapid breaths. "I can't breathe. I can't—"
"Oh God, would you shut up?" he mocks.
My inconsistent breathing continues until he sees me pretend to wobble on my feet. As soon as he lifts the bag off of my head and returns my vision, I thrust my knife into his shoulder.
He screams as I take off away from him in an unknown direction. But with my hands still tied together, I can't run as fast as I would like to. Before I know it, his partner is tackling me into the cement, and we both crash with a pained groan.
"Bitch!" the one with the stab wound shouts.
"Shhh!" the other factionless hisses as he hauls me to my feet. "Do you want the nearby Dauntless army to hear you whining?"
The last of my ambition drains out of me as I am forced back into the bag and hauled in the direction of the factionless district again. No, no, no, this will ruin everything.
"Try anything again and I will blow a hole through your spine," the injured man snaps, pressing a gun into my back. "Evelyn didn't mention anything about needing you alive."
My eyes are hopelessly wet, but I vow to bury the tears by the time we arrive. I have to accept that I am now a detrimental part to us winning this war. The sooner I come to peace with it, the stronger I can face Evelyn. And if she is planning on dragging me down, I will ensure that she takes no pleasure from it.
I am led through a series of tunnels and foul-smelling alleys. We step into a building with wood floor at the end of it all, and then I am shoved into a chair.
"She's a stubborn one," one of my captors growls as my ankles and torso are tied down. "Nearly killed Henry."
"She always has been."
Her voice makes my hair stand on end. I straighten further if possible, and finally the bag is removed so I can see her smug face. The vague similarities in her expression that she shares with Tobias make me shift uncomfortably.
"Can someone cover my eyes again?" I beg, disgusted by the sight of her.
Evelyn crosses her arms, and in the dim light, I swear the war has aged her ten years. "Hello, Beatrice."
Ignoring her greeting, I try to decipher where I am. We must be nearby the old safe house she used to live in, but it certainly isn't the one I recognize. I count two exits that probably will not serve me in any way, considering I am skillfully restrained.
"I assume you have figured out why you are here?"
I don't answer. She steps in front of my line of sight and grasps my chin tightly, forcing me to look up at her.
"You are here as a bargain only," she tells me. "My son may not stand down to save your life, but I know how important you seem to be to the Dauntless. If you obey, there will be no reason to harm you. Though I might regardless."
I can't help it; I laugh. She really is delusional if she is convincing herself of Tobias's indifference. We both know that she is counting on him to save me, not the Dauntless. If it was up to them, I am not positive that they would bat an eye given what is at stake.
Evelyn releases me roughly. "I fail to see what is so humorous about this situation."
"This is all you have," I shrug stiffly. "Last time we met, I told you that there was nothing stopping us from taking over the other three factions. I told you that we would control the food, and I asked you how your factionless club was going to stand against professional soldiers. You're terrified, Evelyn. We are going to win this war, and you think I am your last hope when you have no hope at all."
As if on cue, the popping outside begins. She swallows, pretending that her fear isn't there when it is consuming her.
"You foolish girl," she spits. "You also told me you were going to kill me for a crime I didn't commit. You are so deranged that you thought I killed my own son—"
"Don't call him that," I growl. He is hers by blood only.
"You think he would want you—or anyone—to murder his mother?" She shakes her head as she pushes her manipulation. "He would never forgive you for it. I suggest you start defending me from this moment forward, because if the Dauntless come banging down these doors, he would despise you for letting them hurt me."
"If the Dauntless come banging down these doors, you can be certain that Tobias would be leading them, and he would tear you apart to get to me."
A blast suddenly rumbles the ground beneath us, and everyone in the room takes a deep, anxious breath. That must be one of the defenses the factionless have resorted to: the same bombs that were used to blow up the train tracks and the Pit.
Evelyn glances at her guards before she says, "I'm warning you, Beatrice. I can make sure you end up just like Jeanine, torn apart by a mob piece by piece."
So that is how Jeanine met her end. Her own methods were brutal, but I think it is safe to say that the factionless are a special kind of barbaric.
At this point, I know that Evelyn is threatening me because I have knocked her off of her high pedestal. The Dauntless are drawing in every minute, and she cannot handle the added heat that I offer.
But I am her final assurance to prevent the Dauntless from destroying everything in their path. She can't kill me, no matter how much I irritate her.
"It's over, Evelyn," I state. "Nobody is going to save you. A large portion of your soldiers already deserted you, and the sooner you surrender, the less lives will be—"
She nods at one of the guards who brought me here—the one without a deep incision in his shoulder—and he smashes his fist into my face. For a moment, my jaw is a burst of fiery pain, but I recover, just as I was taught to do during initiation.
And I know I shouldn't take a stand, but I do. That is who I am, and if there is a chance that she is unhinged enough to end my life, then I will not go quietly.
"Can't even do it yourself?" I taunt.
Enraged, her hand flies to my cheek. The sting is nothing compared to what I was hit with a moment ago. There is a cut somewhere in my mouth judging by the blood wetting my bottom lip, and I turn my head to wipe off my lip on my shoulder, my entire head pulsing.
Something about the way I shift to make the movement causes her eyes to drop to the ring on my left hand. Her expression is total shock before she can settle back into wrath.
It gets me to smile condescendingly, despite how obviously it hurts. "What was it you said?" I ask. "About you being permanent and me being temporary?"
She does not appreciate the response. I watch as she steps forward, her fingers twitching towards the ring. But I am not done, and if she is tempted to steal my ring, I will convince her not to.
"Go ahead, take it," I encourage. "That won't change my last name from Eaton, and it won't change the fact that Tobias despises you."
Evelyn's stance begins to weaken, judging by the forlorn waver in her eyes. "My son is misguided in everything he is doing, and one day he will wake up and realize it."
For a brief moment, I pity her. How difficult is it to break free from a lie you have told yourself for years? It has become her truth that she is dismantling a corrupt system, that Tobias will come around one day and not only agree with her politics, but also accept her as his mother.
I want to tell her that although Tobias loathes her, he doesn't want her to die. And by resisting the Dauntless, she is increasing her chances. I want to shake the sympathy into her; I want to hold her back from causing him any further pain.
Then again, she isn't his mother.
Another explosion makes the room hum. Evelyn collects herself and orders, "Take her to Safe House G. Don't tell anyone where you are going. I'll spread the word that we have her."
The guards work to untie me, so they can take me to an undisclosed location that only she will know. Then, when the Dauntless find her, she will hold me over their heads.
When I am escorted outside, the guns become louder. Suddenly, the sounds of war are all around us, from all sides of this corner of the city. Up above us, factionless soldiers shout commands and warnings on the rooftops. The end of each street in my view is barricaded, like that will stop the Dauntless from advancing.
"This way," a guard barks, yanking me along with him.
We make a turn down an alley, and then the next few streets. Then, unexpectedly, we encounter the approaching Dauntless army, lining the end of the road.
The factionless decide to take their last stand.
"Gas!" someone shouts.
The word beams across the buildings above us. Canisters are launched downward upon the Dauntless—as well as the factionless in the street—and the entire space between the buildings looming on either side is flooded with a gray smoke.
This is the serum they had in their arsenal.
My guard isn't wearing a gas mask. He tries to back us away from the fog, but it spreads rapidly, and I figure that this is my last opportunity to break away.
With all the strength I have—which I hope is enough with my hands still bound—I swing my elbow back to make contact with his nose. He yelps with pain and loses his grip, and I dart straight into the gas before he can realize his mistake.
Because I can't see ten feet in front of me, I have no idea where the Dauntless are, aside from a general direction. There are guns firing, so I decide that my best course of action is to inch alongside the wall.
The gas is unavoidable. Before long I cannot keep my breath held in, and I try to breathe shallowly through my nose as if it will stop the effects of the serum, whatever they are. Fortunately most of our soldiers have masks, but definitely not all. And a few rogue soldiers could be catastrophic for all we know.
Footsteps smack on the pavement somewhere in the thick of it all. I freeze, not knowing who they belong to. Then there is a flash of a shot, and I carefully continue along the wall away from it.
It is when the next bomb explodes that I fall prisoner to the serum's effects.
How could I forget the silver serum that Jeanine once tormented me with? She told me it was a special concoction, one only a few knew how to batch. One that instilled unimaginable terror in its recipient. The last time I experienced it, I saw Tobias stab himself, and I screamed hysterically.
My heart beats forcefully in my chest, in my ears. The cries of war are lost somewhere in the fog as fear takes over every bump on my skin. Gunshots cause me to flinch as I run to a building corner, turning down the next street to hopefully find my way out.
And every gasp draws in more of the serum. Every cough ratchets up the unstoppable feeling of certain doom.
Someone rushes directly into me, so fast I didn't see them emerge from the smoke until it was too late to do anything but blink. He smacks into my shoulder so that I almost topple over, meeting my equally frightened eyes briefly before brushing imaginary fears off of his arms and disappearing in the mist.
Winged shadows loom over me. Shaking my head deliriously, I scramble to find the wall I was following. The flapping overwhelms the gunshots and the screams, and then crows are bearing down on me until I join in the vocal chaos.
"No!" I shout. "No!"
Defenseless, I try to fight off the talons tearing at my body, but my tied hands cannot deter the birds. A bullet ricochets off the brick near my head, and I duck immediately.
Suddenly, the crows are gone.
I am confused as I struggle to my feet. It seemed so real until that shot shocked me back into war.
A simulation, I realize. A fear landscape that exists in reality.
As soon as I come to my senses, the Divergence in me crushing the visions that the serum is generating, I am determined to find a way out of this gas. I am confident in myself because I am able to distinguish the flimsy fantasies from concrete existence.
"Tris!"
My head whips around at the cry. My heart plummets.
"Tobias?" I call, petrified. I tug on the rope chaining my hands. "Tobias!"
"Tris!" His excruciating sobbing echoes against the buildings all around me, never revealing an exact location. I rush into the street to get a better idea when I see another person without a gas mask. Factionless this time. He is injured on the ground, and his hands are shaking around his gun.
Before his fear-muddled mind can win over, I run to him, kicking the pistol out of his grip. Then I sprint away before he has time to aim at me all over again.
Fear. Why is that word so significant in my head? Why am I resisting the emotion?
Tobias screams again, and finally I understand.
I understand Dauntless initiation; I understand why part of it included exploring the horrifying depths of our minds in fear simulations. I thought our phobias were not indicative of real life because some of them we were unlikely to encounter. But as it turns out, they are always real to us, even real enough to blind us from the fact that we are in a war zone.
Embracing that sightless terror is the first step to conquering it. The next step is deciding that there are more important things than that fear, things that would make you forget about it completely.
Evelyn chose the wrong serum to mass-produce. We have always been preparing for this.
"Hold your ground!" a familiar voice shouts, loud and firm.
When I call Tobias's name again, I receive an answer. A real answer this time, not produced by my own mind. And as I run in the direction of his voice, I finally understand:
My fear is my strength.
TOBIAS POV
"Tobias!"
The scream is faint and it may be something else carried along through the battlefield. It has to be; she is clear across the city, safe behind the walls of Dauntless. She isn't in this living hell.
"Tris?" I call back incredulously. If there is a reply, it is covered by a blast that is invisible in the fog.
There is a flash of multicolored clothes, and I shoot. The only way I can tell that I hit my target is the sharp cry that follows.
A woman who has inhaled the serum shakes visibly on the ground before me. I shout, "Cover me!" to adjacent soldiers as I drag her away from the gas. The unmistakable terror in her face as I deposit her in an alley tells me all I need to know.
It is frigid, but nevertheless sweat builds underneath my gas mask. Screaming draws my attention, and I glance over to see a Dauntless woman wailing over a man's mutilated body—whether he was killed by a gun or an explosive, I can't tell. The endless gunfire makes my head spin, and for a moment I forget that I am supposed to be a leader. For a moment, I am nineteen years old, trying to make a difference in a situation that is impossible to fix.
"Four...Four!"
I blink at Zeke absently before he shakes my shoulder.
"Most people have retreated a block or two. The ones without masks are all lost somewhere in the gas. What now?" he asks desperately. "We can't go through that thick smoke. I can't see two feet in front of me."
It clicks a second later. "The alleys," I say. "Pull everyone back, and we will go through the alleys and buildings. There isn't as much gas."
This isn't what we had planned at all, but there is no option now. If just some of us can infiltrate the factionless headquarters we could surround them from the inside and outside.
Zeke nods, rushing off to spread the order.
"Tobias!"
This time, there is no mistaking who it is. Tris is barreling toward me at a panicked pace, her hands tied in front of her and her face smudged with dust. And I am horrified that she is here.
"Tris," I breathe, lifting my mask off of my face.
When she reaches me, I quickly guide her into an alleyway to avoid any stray bullets emerging from the gas. She is panting as if she just ran here from the opposing side. Considering the rope around her raw wrists, I am certain that she did. Her eyes are wild and paranoid from the fear serum.
What are you doing here? I want to demand. But instead I take care of more pressing matters, removing my knife from my boot and sawing off the rope.
"You're okay?" I ask. Over her shoulder, the Dauntless are still retreating to get a better grip on the circumstances.
"I'm fine," she assures me.
We should get moving, but both of us are so overwhelmed by the sights and scenes around us that we crush each other in a clinging hug. I bury my fingers in her messy hair and close my eyes, wondering if I was given this last time to see her for a reason.
"Mute?"
At the sound of the nickname, I whip around, my rifle drawn. It could only be Conner, the factionless who took to calling me that when I wouldn't speak. He must have recognized me from behind, my tattoo maybe; he never did see my face.
I shield Tris completely as his eyes widen with absolute shock when he realizes who his accomplice was. Apparently he didn't put two and two together, that when I disappeared from the factionless, Tobias Eaton turned up alive. Maybe he assumed "Mute" was dead.
He knows the truth now, and I can tell that he doesn't know what to do with it. His hands are unsteady as he aims his gun.
"Conner," I say firmly. "Walk away."
I watch his eyes slide to Tris, who has a fistful of my jacket. I tell myself that he wasn't a horrible person like the rest of his cult, that he will make the right choice so that I don't have to live with his death on my hands. We engage in a tense stare-off as the sounds of battle begin moving elsewhere, away from us.
In the end, I am correct. Conner can't bring himself to take action against us, and he backs out of the alley, returning to his side of the battlefield.
Turning back to Tris, I grasp her arms tightly. "Get out of here," I demand, though it is more of a plea. "Get the hell away from here and don't look back."
This isn't a place for anyone to be, let alone my wife. For once, she doesn't decide to disagree with me. As I hand her my sidearm, she takes it gratefully and nods.
"I love you," she chokes out as we part ways.
I attempt to say it back. I'm not sure if she hears me over the latest explosion.
The sky is beginning to darken considerably as is normal for winter in the early evening. By the time I have retreated and regrouped with my squad, it is even more impossible to see through the smoke in our path.
I distribute orders for where each group should go, with the hope that we can infiltrate the factionless to the point of dispersing them. The soldiers on the frontlines will be much more likely to be overwhelmed and abandon their positions, while the last of Evelyn's guards will put up the best fight. If we can force the outsiders out, then we can force our way in.
And we do. We shoot our way into the ground level of buildings and take down anyone who defends their position all the way to the top. As soon as we control the rooftops, the retreating begins in colorful masses.
Aside from those who manage to escape, few surrender. It begins to worsen as we close in.
"Stay back!" I shout when the gunfire ceases on the factionless side. The gas has been released again as we drew in, and now it serves as a barrier between us and the factionless headquarters.
"What are we doing?" someone questions next to me. "We're close. We should use the smoke as cover and push!"
I shake my head and squint at the smoke. "Something isn't right."
After an impatient minute of the Dauntless shifting around to keep warm in the falling snowflakes, there is movement in the smoke. Everyone jumps at attention and fires blindly in the direction of the shadow, but they are unable to take him down before he penetrates our line.
Another bomb goes off nearby, not a second before the explosion happens near me. I drop to cover with the rest of the army, managing to pick up some shrapnel in my arm.
Someone tries to yell something at me, but my ears are ringing. I stumble, swaying on my feet as I approach the line of soldiers that were impacted by the bomb.
Several are dead, while others moan and scream as they reach for their gnarled wounds. As I command soldiers to reform the line so that we can drag the casualties to safety, I nearly trip on a familiar body.
"Uriah?" I breathe.
He hyperventilates and stretches his arm downward. I follow his action and find that the blast claimed his leg below the knee. Or at least that is what I can tell in the absent lighting and the gore.
My hands shake as I stare back at him helplessly. He's my brother. My little brother. No, he can't die, I won't let him—
"We need help over here!" I cry out as I try to maintain pressure on what is left of his leg.
"Four..." he gasps.
I am shoved out of the way as a medic takes over. He and some other work on fastening a tourniquet above his knee before dragging him off.
Zeke approaches me, his jog jerking to a stop once he sees my blood-coated hands.
"It's Uriah," I tell him. "Go! I'll finish this."
He can't do anything but stammer before he takes off to the train where the injured are being transported back to Dauntless.
My hands stop trembling as I wipe them off on my jacket. My jaw tightens as I turn back to face the fog that is starting to scatter in the wind. Rage consumes me as I load my rifle back up and chamber the next bullet, determined to put a stop to Evelyn once and for all.
"Advance!" I order.
We start stepping forward carefully and in sync. I expect the fear serum and the suicide bombers to be the end of the factionless defenses, but leave it to Evelyn to craft some other kind of awful.
A child runs out of the gas. It is a miracle he doesn't get shot.
"Watch your fire!" I shout as loudly as possible. I hear it get repeated down the line.
More children. Women emerge with them. A few men. Most of the civilians are sobbing fearfully and cowering in front of our guns as we let them pass.
Human shields. Child shields.
Once the mass of innocents is safely behind our line and no longer in factionless hands, we attack.
We drop every factionless in sight, on the balconies above us and inside the bunker they have been cowering in. We are ruthless, cashing in their debts with blood in hopes that in the end, slaughtering the opposing soldiers will be enough to help us move on.
I know by now that that will not be the case.
By the time, I burst into the last section of the bunker, all I can see is Uriah tattooed on my eyelids every time I blink. One guard tries to shoot me when I enter, and I drop to my knee, firing my rifle into him three times. As soon as he falls I am ambushed from the side. I block his arm so that his gunshot misses, and with a few well-places hits, he is unconscious.
And Evelyn is sitting at a table, expressionless.
In a flash of wrath, I am across the room, wrenching her to her feet. Uriah lost his leg. He will probably die because of her. All the weeks I have been dreading her execution, and now I want nothing more than to never see her hateful face again.
"What's going on?" she panics, seemingly dizzy as I force her upright.
"Your short reign is over, Evelyn," I spit.
But the way she stares up at me does not suggest denial. In fact, her eyes are like a blank slate, not displaying any emotion besides terror and confusion.
"Who are you?" she asks.
I glare down at her, shaking my head. "No more games. You're done," I scoff. Then I release her and nod at my soldiers. "Take her."
They restrain her and lead her out of the room as she continues asking questions and resorts to frustrated tears. I glance over at where she was sitting, my eyes immediately landing on the blue statue she once gave me as a child.
It is like whiplash to see something so innocent from my childhood on a night like this. It draws me over to where the glass sits on top of a letter with my name scrawled across it.
I reach out, pocketing the paper and leaving blood-stained fingerprints on the outside. The glass statue goes too.
There is an empty syringe on the table as well. Remembering the way Evelyn acted moments ago, I touch it, mulling over an impossibility just as Mike walks in.
"Four?" he says. His voice is gravelly and doesn't have its usual threat.
I ask him the question that I don't want to know the answer to. "Is it possible to erase your memory with a serum?"
TRIS POV
A train horn blares somewhere nearby. My head snaps up at the sound, and I cross the next street I come across to hopefully catch it. My guess is that it is carrying the wounded.
The temperature has plummeted even further as night has crept in, and snow falls peacefully around the city as if there isn't a full-scale war a couple of miles away from me. I shiver and tuck my gun away so that the cold metal won't accelerate my journey to frostbite.
There is a fire up ahead that makes me skeptical. But I have managed to avoid any factionless aside from fleeing women and children, though who can say there isn't anybody willing to kill me lurking out here.
When I am at a closer distance, I see that the fire is controlled by a barrel. Not uncommon in the outskirts of the factionless sector, so I don't bother worrying. With a sigh of relief, I walk over to warm my hands.
And then, I hear the sound that changes my life.
A squawking cry echoes through the alleyway. I freeze at the unexpected, broken sound before I decide to slowly approach the dumpster it is coming from. No, not in the dumpster. Next to it, in a cardboard box.
A baby. A very small baby, with a body so frozen that the skin is a patchy red and the fingers and toes are purple. Left here to die out in the cold, with nothing more than a diaper and a voice that nobody could hear.
"Oh my God," I say to myself. Then I change my tone to be reassuring as I fall to my knees and reach into the box. "Hi little baby! You must be so cold. I—" My voice breaks, and all I can repeat as I cradle the baby close is, "Oh my God."
My eyes well with tears and my mouth is dropped open by horror, and suddenly I am so disgusted with humanity between the battle happening at this very moment and the person who left this baby behind that I can barely control my emotions. The baby cries repetitively and hoarsely into my shoulder, and by that alone I know that they have been out here for hours.
I can picture it now: a factionless woman who probably didn't want a baby in the first place but was careless enough to end up with one. She must have kept this baby around until she decided that she was more important—or maybe her factionless war was—and discarded the baby as if they were a useless commodity.
I'm so sick with anger that I almost forget that this baby is on the verge of death. If I don't get them back to Dauntless soon, they won't survive. I'm not sure they will even if I do.
"Shhh, you're okay now," I say, trying to keep us both at ease by talking nonsense.
The cloth diaper is soiled through and is likely making things worse, so I remove it to discover that the baby is a girl. I take my jacket off awkwardly while still holding her, and then I swaddle her as tightly as I can to trap the heat in.
"Hold on. Please hold on," I beg tearfully. Her cries begin to quiet, and I don't know if that is an optimistic sign or an awful one.
I tuck her under my shirt and hold her against my skin and run as fast as I can with her in my arms.
I don't stop when I am sure to be hypothermic.
I don't stop when my feet get blisters and my legs are going to give out.
There you have it! Not quite the victory everyone wanted, and it certainly isn't resolved yet. But a victory nonetheless! Right?...
Thank you for your patience and your comments and your likes and your overall support! It really keeps me going. Thanks guys!