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Thanks to everyone who's been patiently waiting for this chapter. I know this took a second, but I think this chapter is definitely worth it. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far and followed this story. I know this one will leave you with a few questions, but they'll get answered, promise! Bonus points if you can guess where they're going at the end :)

One afternoon, when the air outside wasn't entirely horrific to be in, and the majority of the mental patients were stable, Violet and I had sat on the fire escape watching the sunset.

It felt grossly cliché, but our brief time out there hadn't been half bad. She sat next to me, her leg touching mine as she messed with this thread she'd taken with her from the art room. I watched her plaiting the strands together—black, black, then white—over under over, again and again, section by section, smiling every so often. The pattern she was making was strangely soothing to watch, and it was oddly disappointing when she was knotting the ends together.

"What do you think?" She held it up, her head cocked to the side and her nose wrinkled. "The last one I made looked better."

"It's fine."

I'd answered her offhandedly, short and indifferent, but my mind had struggled to come up with something that wasn't completely impolite. There was no part of me that would ever want to sit here, watching her make a friendship bracelet for people who couldn't even understand the concept of friendship while I could be elsewhere. It had made me feel old, too tired and worn out to protest that I'd even been forced to participate in such an activity.

But even worse, I felt dismayed that I had zero desire to stand up and head inside.

She had done this to me.

She had neatly woven this strange, tethered sensation that made me want to stick close to her. When I thought of it that way, she was just one more person exuding their control over me, keeping me anchored here, right next to her, but I couldn't shake why.

Why I couldn't leave, and why I didn't.

"Did you make one?" Violet had asked me, her voice still low. She had lost some of the quietness that she'd had when I first arrived, though not all of it. When it did disappear, I was rewarded with glimpses of the girl she was before she was dragged here. These glimpses were fleeting, probably the same way my own moments of quietness were, but they were clear to me. "Eric?"

I was struggling that day, the ever-persistent frustration spilling over all of my thoughts. In group therapy, the topic of standing up for yourself had come up, and Dr. Erin had used Violet as an example. She never directly stated her name, but with the way the silence hung in the air, and how every eyeball had turned to face Violet, it supplied enough of a hint to know who she was talking about. Towards the end of the longest hour of my life, the man next to me had kicked Violet's chair to get her attention. He then loudly told her: 'You'll get through this, girl. Or you won't and we'll continue on without you.'

I had frowned. No one should have been calling her a girl, for she wasn't some child, yet it was hard to think of her outside of these walls. I had felt itchy thinking of her in Candor, thinking that she could have had a normal life had she not been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I certainly didn't have a normal life, but at least that was my own choosing.

"Maybe I'll just throw it away."

I look down at her, my eyes falling to her dismayed expression.

I felt the prick of disappointment towards myself.

I didn't like the look on her face. She didn't deserve it. It was easy with her, sitting beside her as the evening stretched on. The only thing she ever wanted was my company, though sometimes, I thought she wanted more. I didn't know what she could possibly think I could offer. A way out? Maybe my help in aiding to right the wrongs that landed her here? Or maybe she saw some future that I didn't? Maybe I made her hopeful; that was laughable. I had nothing to give her, nothing more than anyone else in this shithole could.

But whatever her reasoning was, she had chosen me, and in a way, I had chosen her. I found that I was less when I was with her, but that wasn't a bad thing. I was less guarded, for I'd found myself telling her things I shouldn't. I found myself less annoyed, for she was the sanest person here, and she did keep me from going mad. I found myself less unwilling to acknowledge my own misery, and not just because she was a good distraction.

She made me feel something, even if the act was wretched and painful, and I hated it. I had pushed her away to try and stop it, thinking that she was clinging to me because I kept her grounded, but maybe it was the other way around.

Maybe I'd been clinging to her, the only good I'd ever come across.

"Nah, don't toss it. I didn't make one. I took a nap instead. What's-her-name didn't even notice."

"I bet she didn't. Bobby had her attention almost the entire hour. He and Aidy were fighting over who's bracelet was better." Violet laughed, the sound pleasant and ever-so-normal as the sun dipped lower.

"I'm sure they both looked awful. I swear Aidy made hers green and pink." I'd rolled my eyes, glad I had slept through most of the class. I'd had absolutely no desire to make sure an item, and luckily, no one had tried to force me to.

"Hey, do you want it? This one?"

She nudged my elbow, catching me off guard. I felt stupid, again because I didn't know how to answer her question. Did I want the string that she had knotted together? Not really. Yet for some reason rejecting the idea of it was worse than anything, so I wordlessly let her tie it around my wrist, the fabric cheap and rough.

"Thanks. It looks way better than the one Bobby made me." I told her lowly, my unfunny joke dying in the air between us. She was quiet as we sat, watching the sky turn dark, second by second. The last rays of the sun hung on as long as they could, trying hard to hold their place in the sky, but eventually, it became too much, and they gave up.

Everything turned black, and it wasn't long before Kenan arrived to remind us it's time for him to watch us brush our teeth.

"Did you, or did you not, sentence this girl to life in a mental institution with zero chance of release in order to cover up for Nile's son? And is it true that her sentencing came on the heels of an attack, prompted because she rejected his affection?"

I lean back in my chair, keeping my posture casual and my stare straight ahead while I await an answer from Jack Kang.

It doesn't come.

I shift in the seat. I examine my nails. I eye the laces on my boots. The room is silent as I cross my legs, my ankle resting on my knee, and I smile patiently at Jack.

He mimics me. He leans back in his chair, surprised at the papers I'd slid over to him. He feigned confusion at first, but I knew he recognized them. I saw his eyes narrow at her name, neatly typed beneath the Candor logo. His stare lingered at the bottom of the first page, his elegant signature still vibrant after all this time.

"You are talking about Violet, I'm assuming?" Jack speaks clearly, staring at the file on the glass table before him, disdain rushing over his face for a split second. Then it's gone, and in its place is a neutral, tight smile. "Eric, I have to confess that I find this whole meeting rather surprising. This is certainly not what I had in mind when you called. What you are presenting me with is a closed case. It was handled years ago. Probably before you would have had any interest in it. The girl at fault, Violet, was a child when she was brought before us. She was not of choosing age and after being questioned thoroughly, she was appropriately sentenced."

"You didn't answer my question." I reply easily. "I didn't ask if you were surprised to see this case return, but if you did, in fact, push this sentencing to cover up the error of your friend's son. Was the truth serum used on her?"

"No, there was no need for that. And we weren't covering anything up," Jack lies. To anyone else, he sounds sure of himself, confident in what he is saying. You'd have to look hard to see the discomfort creeping in, chipping away at his facade. He's not used to being questioned, especially by members of Dauntless over a case he personally presided over.

"Is there a reason you're bringing this before me now?" He tries to deflect again, pushing the papers away from him. "Like I said before, this case was closed years ago. The sentencing is fitting considering she killed a man. I'm sure the report you read told you the same information. As members of Dauntless, you'd uphold the same sort of protocol if something like this happened in your own faction."

"We would. Except Violet killed a man out of self-defense. We wouldn't lock someone up for defending their own life. Your report states that it was cold-blooded murder. It seems you've made an error in your ruling," I state and beside me, Four exhales sharply.

This meeting isn't going well, but I didn't think it would. I'd given Four and Tori a few hours notice to be ready, only hastily filling them in on what I had planned. I'd personally called Jack to arrange a meeting with him, and he'd easily agreed. There was no suspicion on his part; I simply told him I had some questions about a case he'd overseen, and I needed his input. Pleased as ever to be a part of any investigation, he'd cleared his schedule.

Next, I'd had Four turn the cameras off.

Not all of them, and not enough to be alarming, but the ones I wanted. The ones that would show me walking into Jack's office, and certainly the ones that would show me dragging his body out if it was necessary. Four had agreed, and I could only assume it was to cover his own ass. He was coming along with me, lessening the suspicion had I gone alone. I took a truck without checking it out under my name, swiping Harrison's badge that I'd lifted from the conference room, and smirking when I signed an ugly impression of his signature. I made sure we left at an odd time, during a patrol change where the newest members came on, and I'd called an alert into the control room to fix a few cameras in the furthest part of Dauntless, marking it urgent. It made sure that only one person was left in the control room, giving us a smaller chance of being noticed.

We'd ridden to Candor in silence.

I drove, and beside me sat Four, with the report files in his lap as he poured over them as though he might find something we needed. I could have told him not to waste his time, because it didn't matter. I was getting Violet out of there, one way or another, regardless of how this meeting went.

Tori followed behind us, having brought along a single friend for backup after telling me it wasn't negotiable. I could have put up a fight, but I didn't care. Getting what I wanted from Jack would be easy. Jeanine would be trickier and having some back up might be smart. Or it would be stupid. If she noticed a parade walking in, she might think something was up, and her security detail would be on us in an instant. But I didn't have time to argue with Tori, and if she wanted to risk her own life, so be it.

I'd left her and her friend outside, and only brought Four into Jack's office with me. We haven't been in here long, but Four seems just as irritated as I am.

"It was not self-defense. Her testimony determined so," Jack answers and he scrutinizes me. "Did you actually read through the report?"

"We were unable to find her testimony anywhere. Violet's version, what was written down on your report, is very abbreviated. She barely makes a statement. It's almost like she didn't actually give one before she was sentenced." Four looks at Jack, now fully invested in this situation.

"She gave one," Jack says and flexes his fingers out in front of him. "Like I said before, I'm not sure what this is about or why there is concern over it. Do you two know her?"

"There's also reason to believe her parents didn't know what they were signing when you asked them to give up their parental rights." Four takes the papers off the table and flips through them until he finds the page he's looking for. It's one near the back, with sloppy signature scrawled at the bottom. "Were they aware of the terms and conditions? Did they know they'd never see her again? It specifically states they're not to contact her at all. Why would that be necessary?"

"Yes, they were aware of what they were signing." Jack answers smoothly, but the tick of his shoulder tells me he's starting to sweat. "They were well aware what she had done was in disagreement with our laws and fully accepting of the outcome. She broke one of the factional rules and in turn she was sentenced. They agreed not to contact her because they gave up their rights to her."

"From what we've read, this seems like you didn't want her to have the chance to tell them anything about this incident," Four points out.

Jack clears his throat. "Protocol. Those found guilty of murder do not typically retain the normal, citizen privileges."

"Now what about this? We found that she was attacked by your friend's son and the assault is wiped clean from his records. When we looked up his name, nothing comes up except an award for employee of the month. Does he enjoying working with you? Did he have anything to say about the assault?" I cock an eyebrow at him, pleased when he shifts in his seat. He's slowly cracking because even he can't justify the evidence here.

"There was no assault..."

"We have proof, so you can cut the bullshit and tell us what happened to Derek," I interrupt, and I can see the moment Jack panics.

"He works elsewhere now." Jack's lips press together. "The girl… she uh… look he told us what we needed to hear. She had her turn to explain what was going on, and nothing came of it. We used what information we had to put together the case. We are not a faction that sees this sort of violence on a routine basis and we made a decision that we felt was fair for all involved."

"She was sentenced to life in the asylum at the age of fifteen. Do you really think that's fair?" I question, and Four nods his head.

"That seems like an awfully steep punishment for a minor who was only trying to stay alive," Four tells him, and he waits for Jack to look up. "You're a reasonable man. Can you tell me that was necessary? Life without parole? There was no better option?"

"Is murder reasonable? Do you think I should have let her walk freely?" Jack snaps, his irritation on full display now. "Now please, why is this being brought before me?"

"You sentenced a fifteen-year-old to life in a mental institution for an incident with very little evidence," Four retorts, causing Jack to drag his steely glare over to him. "You essentially sentenced a child, all because she tried to keep herself alive and didn't allow her to give a testimony. This seems to be a breach of what Candor stands for. I'd say they there's definite cause for us to be suspicious."

For a fleeting moment, I can appreciate the fact that I've brought him along with me.

Jack stares him down.

"It was more than that. She wasn't trying to stay alive. She murdered someone and wasn't even in a lucid state. Derek's story was all the evidence we needed. Violet was unable to provide any details that would have changed our decision otherwise." Jack stops and he sits up straighter. "I'll ask this one final time. Is there a reason that you two are here? Is there something going on? This case is of no relevance now. I can only assume that the girl is still there, serving her time. Or perhaps she's passed on. She was rather…out of it when they took her away."

"You let them take her away and you can't even be sure she was coherent? And yet you used whatever she said to you as her statement?" Four raises an eyebrow at him, disgust all over his face. "You locked up a child and you aren't at all concerned if she's alive or not?"

"She's no longer a child. But gentlemen, as much fun as this trip down memory lane has been, I have real work to do. You're both wasting my time. If there is real concern over this case, then please, enlighten me. If not, I will have to adjourn this meeting and wish you two luck in whatever it is you're looking for, but whatever that is, mark my words, you aren't going to find it through me."

"The security footage we pulled shows her being followed into the woods. Clearly trying to get away from someone. It shows Derek going after her and her being held against her will," I lazily inform him, cocking my head to the side.

Jack stiffens.

"What footage?"

"And, if such footage is true, well—that would mean what Derek told you wasn't entirely true, and that means you are covering something up here." I continue, enjoying the way he squirms. "So yes, Jack, there is a reason why we're investigating this. Because it seems pretty clear that you had a heavy hand in this case."

Jack is silent.

"Maybe we could bring Derek in here. See what he has to say?" I suggest, and Four nods.

"We should hear his side of the story before we proceed. You could help us with that, right? You did say you'd help with whatever we needed when we started," Four reminds him, and Jack blanches.

"I, uh, you'll have to give me a moment here. I'd have to pull his information. Find out where he's working…find out if he's..."

Jack stalls for time, flipping through the pages, looking for any shred of his lie to hang on to. I smirk when he glances at the door, for my own words are a total lie. Four hadn't been able to find any sort of security footage in Candor, especially not from so long ago. Our cameras were spotty and definitely not in the woods where Violet was assaulted. We didn't even save the footage for very long. Four had volunteered to search, saying he could find some grainy sections that may have worked in our favor, but I wasn't planning on showing Jack shit.

"That's not necessary," I tell him smoothly, and I stand up. Four follows suit, his stare still on Jack. "I think we're all well aware of what you did and how you can fix this."

"What is it that you want from me?" Jack hisses, and he looks up at the both of us. "What are you asking of me? I sentenced someone for a crime they committed. I looked out for my faction. Either of you would have done the same."

Four and I exchange a weighted glance, and at the slight nod of Four's head, I decide I'll thank him for his help on the way back.

Maybe.

Half an hour of paperwork later, prompted by a gun against his temple, Jack Kang resigns as Leader of Candor.

"You aren't gonna kill him? You're just gonna let him walk free? That shit ain't right."

Tori's companion growls the words around the cigarette in his mouth, watching me with his beady eyes. He is tall and broad, and I would bet he packed a mean punch. He's visibly disappointed as he watches Jack walk by. He looks rough now, disheveled as he stalks past us, throwing me one long, dark stare as he heads towards the trucks. He looks back at us once, nastily, before he makes the idiotic decision to keep going.

I'd given him a few options.

He'd refused to sign the papers to order Violet's release, but with a little prompting, he'd given in. He'd then made a phone call, explaining to the head of admissions that he would be there soon to discuss Violet's status and to have her ready for release.

Judging from his extreme unwillingness to explain anything over the phone, I'm sure we are about to walk into a shitshow.

"How much can you lift?" I ask the man, barely interested. I'm trying to decide if I should know his name or not. "A man about Jack's size?"

"Sure thing. I can lift whatever you need. I work out a lot." He answers me, watching as I draw my gun from its holster.

The weight is familiar, heavy and cold, and I aim it directly at Jack's side. I'd told him if he didn't go along with what I said, it would be the end for him. He still clung to the hope that someone would stop us, but so far, the streets are empty and not a single one of his staff had noticed he isn't happy.

"What are you doing?" Tori snaps, but she doesn't move an inch from her position.

I look at her at out of the corner of my eye, then return my stare to Jack. "What I should have done the moment I saw him. The two of you can throw him in the truck."

The gun goes off easily, my aim still as sharp as ever, and only Four blinks at the sound.

"Do you think she's alright?"

Four looks at me while we walk through the heavy glass doors, pushing them open and waving off the security guards at the entryway. We'd left Candor shortly after Jack had let out a scream of pain. He must have a flair for the drama, because he was fine; I'd shot him clean through his side, and though bloody and raw, he'd live.

Tori's friend had thrown him in the backseat of their truck, and they'd followed us, keeping close behind while we led the way. The route wasn't entirely familiar, but I knew where I was going.

It wasn't long before the asylum loomed before us, resting just atop the winding road. Its crumbling façade gave an eerie first impression. In the wavering afternoon sun, it looked hopeless, like it had been given up on long ago, in a hurry. Had I ever found it on my own, I'd have assumed it was abandoned, left to rot despite its massive presence.

We'd brought Jack along with us. My only concern was that he'd slow us down considerably, but I needed him. His presence allowed us to look like we were here on official business, and since he'd sentenced Violet here, it made sense he'd come along to free her. I'd forced him to button his jacket up, despite a bloody side, and slapped his cheek. I hissed at him he'd better play along or the wound on his side would only grow larger.

He agreed.

We entered the building as a group; Tori and her friend followed behind Four and I, and Jack was stuck in between us. His breathing was labored, more from the adrenaline running through him than anything, and I knew the shock would wear off soon. The pain would kick in, if it hadn't already, and he'd be miserable until we got him to somewhere they could stitch him up and drug him into bliss.

I told him perhaps they'd help him here.

We stop by the reception desk, and I shove Jack forward. He clears his throat before he signs in, his signature no longer elegant and sleek, but a sloppy, crooked mess.

"Mr. Kang?" The receptionist repeats, throwing a look at the rest of us. Her gaze pauses on me, sliding down my neck, then back up to my cold smile. There's no recognition there, but the look in her eyes tells me she's afraid. "You, uh, Dr. Branger is expecting you. You can go…on up. Take the first elevator on your left and when you exit, her office is to the right."

"Thank you," he mutters dully, and his skin has turned clammy and pale. I grab his arm, dragging him with me, refusing to let him lag behind.

"Hurry up," I snap, jabbing at the buttons impatiently. "You better hope she's alive."

He stares up at me, his face shiny in the bright lighting and he exhales sharply. "Can I ask what you want with her? Who is she to you?"

I don't answer him.

The elevator dings as the car arrives, and the doors open. I let him stumble in first, motioning for everyone else to follow. When Four is the last one to step in, Jack weakly pushes a button for the sixth floor. The elevator beings to rise, dismal music playing some shitty melody, and everyone is silent until the elevator dings again.

The music stops, and as if on cue, the doors open slowly to Dr. Branger and a slew of orderlies.

To his credit, Jack plays along.

His voice shakes near the end, hinting that's he's not doing so great, but she doesn't notice. Dr. Branger's stare is fixed on me, confused as to what I am doing here, having never been released back into her care.

"Did you hear what I said? I need her released. There was an error in the sentencing on my part. If you'll bring me her paperwork we can get started…" Jack trails off, taking in a shaky breath. He's hunching over a bit, and if Dr. Branger looked close enough, she'd have noticed the dampness of his jacket: the blood seeping through, dripping down the longer he stood there. The wound isn't life threatening, but it is open, and made worse with every step.

"Violet…" He continues on, licking his lips and swallowing heavily. "You'll have to…"

"Why are you not in Erudite?" Dr. Branger ignores him. She focuses her cold stare on me, cocking her head to the side. "Jeanine requested you were transferred there, and then you'd be brought back here."

Bored without any action, the orderlies left when she nodded at them. She was assured this was going in her favor, and we'd stepped off to the side, to a hallway I'd once been dragged down, half unconscious and entirely unwilling. Alone with just us, she had some crappy odds, but I wasn't dumb. There was no doubt this place was crawling with orderlies awaiting her orders if anything went wrong, and they wouldn't have gone far.

"I'm here on official business." I smile widely at her, no longer at the mercy of whatever she wanted to do to me. "But you and I have some business as well."

"I , Violet won't be released to any of you." Dr. Branger announces, her gaze skipping over each of us with great disdain. "She's in no condition to be taken anywhere, and with no family, no friends willing to take her in…" She pauses, looking directly at me. "And really, with no one to care for her, she's become a ward of our hospital. I've signed over as her responsible party."

"Bullshit." I snap. "You have no right to—"

"I have all the rights in the world, Eric. Isn't that what you've figured out?" Dr. Branger smiles and it makes my skin crawl. "She is no one. A citizen lost in the system, of no value to anyone but us. She can not choose a faction, can not contribute to society, and certainly cannot leave here. Jack's jurisdiction over this case has long worn off. She's ours now and we have given her a purposeful life. We will continue to do so."

"That's what you think," I bark, but I'm a second behind, my anger had gotten the best of me.

Four has his gun drawn on her, and everyone else follows suit.

"Hand her over."

I blink.

Four, the person I've hated most in this world, is standing there with his gun pointed at her temple, demanding she hand over a girl he's never met.

Dr. Branger also blinks.

"Shoot, and none of you will make it out of here alive. But that's okay. We need a few new patients. There's a new serum coming out soon, and we'll need new test subjects. It's approved to control mood swings and the chemical imbalances in the brain, but I'm sure there are a few side effects we'll need to work through." She looks at Tori and has the audacity to wink. "You're good with that, right? Those papers you signed last time you visited, the ones reassuring you we had Bella's best interests at heart, gave your official approval. I'm sure you'd be happy to join her."

I see red; bright, warm, sticky blood red.

It fills up my vision, making me grow blazingly irate, until Four grabs my arm.

"Come on, we have to hurry."

I turn my head to look at him, and I realize Tori has shot Dr. Branger clear through the head, and I'd heard nothing. Not her scream, not her muffled thud, not even the gun go off.

"Silencer. We tried to get yours before you left, but you wouldn't hand it over." Four looks at me, then over my shoulder. "Go find her. We'll cover the exits. I don't think anyone will stop you, but if they do, just shoot and we'll follow."

He's right.

The orderlies that Dr. Branger had hoped were on her side, the ones dressed in white with identical blank stares, are gone. Scattered, realizing they could be next at the hands of any of us. I see one, his eyes glued to the crumpled form of his boss, panic. He takes off, sprinting right in front of Tori's friend, who grabs him by the arm hard enough to dislocate it.

"Slow down, fucker." Tori's friend growls at him, and he and I lock eyes. His name is Reggie, and I like him. "Go. We'll wait here unless you want us to come along."

I take off immediately, not waiting for anyone to follow me.

The hallway is dark.

The dim bulbs flicker off and on, causing the same weak lighting that I'd spent weeks beneath. The air smells familiar, heavy with fear and panic and medical grade disinfectant, and I storm down past the doors without stopping. My boots thud over the cheap flooring, and one patient pops his head out at the sound. His eyes are unfocused, hazy looking, and after a single moment, he slams his door shut when he finds nothing of interest.

I pause only when I pass the door of the room I'd stayed in, and my whole body tenses up. I flash back to my nights there, lying on a bed six sizes too small, staring the ceiling. I flash back to terrible dreams, of drugged sleep and forced awakenings, of ideas in my head that I couldn't have been sure were my own.

I suddenly feel crazed, the world blurring before me, and I wonder if I've lost it.

Maybe none of this is real. Maybe I'm still here, drugged to the gills, maxed out on a sleeping serum to keep me from getting free. Maybe I'll open my eyes to the sight of Kenan, his uniform wrinkled, and his kind smile as he led me down to breakfast.

I shake my head.

My vision clears immediately; the hallways is still dim, the lighting it still shit, and I focus on Violet's door.

I stalk over, shoving it open fully expecting to find her standing there. Staring up at me, waiting for me. She might not have asked for my help out of here, but I was going to give it to her. I had to. I felt desperate suddenly, my eyes adjusting to the strange darkness, as something tangles itself around the organs in my chest.

It tightens, growing unbearably painful, until I see her.

I carry her out.

Her head lolls against my shoulder, her dark hair spilling onto my arm, and her dress making it hard to hold onto her. They've dressed her like this—for I've never seen her wear such a thing—as if she were being sacrificed in some sort of bizarre ritual. To my dismay, whatever she has on is pale and slippery, and her feet are bare.

Her skin is stark and ashen, the color gone from her cheeks, and her eyes never open, not even when I say her name.

I walk with her quickly, back down the hallway, under the flickering lights. Patients appear, perhaps the noise of someone shrieking drawing them out, and they watch carefully.

I don't recognize any of them.

Gone are Pete, Aidy, and Bobby, and the few others I'd have recognized.

These patients are new; blurred stares, hacked off hair, and ill-fitting clothes. I hurry past them, keeping Violet against my chest, as I round the corner.

"Over here."

Tori calls me over, still standing with the group, and her face gives way to the tension bubbling beneath my skin.

"We need to hurry. We don't think they've called Jeanine. But someone came out here, and we think he was another doctor. He told us whatever we needed to do was fine, but to leave as soon as possible and he wouldn't stop us. He knows you came for her. Is she okay?" Her eyes drop to Violet, taking in surprise at her limp form, and I shake my head.

"Let's go."

I don't stop to think. The only male doctors I'd met were during my intake, and once, during an errand where I mistaken for an orderly. I wonder where Dr. Erin is, if she's cowering in her office and if she's tried to call someone, but I don't have the luxury of dwelling on it.

"Maybe we should have taken Jeanine out first if you wanted to hang out here." Tori hisses at me, daring to touch me as she tries to make everyone hurry. I glare at her, following them toward the elevator we'd come in through, and I hesitate.

"We should take the stairs." Four calls out, and I notice he looks frantic. Every so often he looks at Violet, and his face tightens.

"They don't go all the way to the lobby." I inform him, adjusting Violet so I don't drop her. She hasn't moved, but she's still breathing.

"Fine. We head out prepared to shoot. Jack, you go first. Are we taking her straight to the infirmary?" Four asks, shoving a groaning Jack a step away from him. He'd been looking at him differently since we left, his vision of the proud Candor leader now tarnished. I could tell Four was bothered by the treatment of Violet, especially with the state she's in.

"I don't know, Four. I'm a little busy right now. I haven't thought that far ahead." I bark at him, side-eying him until he glares back at me.

He does hold the elevator doors for us, impatiently waiting until we are all on before jamming the close button. Four wasn't my ideal partner in this operation, but I couldn't entirely dismiss his help. However, I was confused by it. I didn't know if his own life back in Dauntless was so boring that he needed this for some excitement, but I had to admit, he'd been useful. Every so often, he looks at down at Violet, letting his expression slip.

"Well, you should. Unless you earned your medical degree while you were here." He answers, and I find myself finding a speck of humor in this bleak situation.

"I did. But I'll let you lead the way," I retort.

"Good," he agrees, stepping closer to Tori. "But I don't think Dauntless is safe."

"Great," I mutter, not at all sure what to do now. I try to think, but I'm jostled by Reggie, his eyes glued to Violet's unconscious form.

It's clear no one else does, either.

The ride down is silent, except for Jack's increased groaning.

We leave him in the lobby.

I sign his name in for him with one hand, then I hand him the voluntary admission sign in sheet.

"Sign here. They'll take you back up and get you stitched up. Good luck." I snarl, forcing a pen in his hand.

He signs heavily, his eyes closing halfway, and I smirk when he sort of collapses to the floor.

"I've lost a lot of blood. Your friend…he hit me when you were gone." He tries to stare up at me, and I shake my head.

"He should have done more than that. Hey, you!" I wave the girl over, the same girl from before, except now she has a terrified expression on her face as she slinks over. "You have a new patient. Dr. Erin said you had room for him. We think he needs stitches."

At Dr. Erin's name, the girl relaxes, and she smiles brightly. She takes his form from me, and peeks over the counter.

"We'd be happy to help. I'll get him to a room right away."

We leave, Violet still not awake, and this time, Four drives us away in the opposite direction.