The Leader

by ClubLulu333

All Everly knows is that Eric Coulter is out to kill her. She's learned to avoid Dauntless, but everything changes when a chance encounter puts her directly on Eric's radar. Armed with Vincent's help, the determination to survive and a desperation to find out who she is, Everly has no choice but to fight for her life, while trying to uncover her past. [Sequel to The Assistant]

4. Camille

Happy Thanksgiving!

I hope everyone had a great day with family and friends :)

Thank you so much to Bamberlee for editing and to those who reviewed the last chapter.

---

"When they catch you, they'll drug you so you tell them everything. Where you live, what you do during the day, everything you've stolen. Enough to make you incriminate yourself. Then they torture you. Some swear they even do all kinds of experiments on you. When they're done with you, they erase your memory for good and set you free. Trust me, you don't want to get caught."

From the opposite side of the table, Vincent holds his cards close to his face, then winks at me.

"They'll even cut your hair off."

"Why would they cut anyone's hair?" I glance down at my own cards, trying to make sense of them. He taught me how to play a week ago, but I had to practice in order to join the groups who play downstairs. My mother had almost refused, but she agreed only when he pointed out it would be dark. I wouldn't be alone, and he'd be able to stay with me. It wasn't as "outside" as I wanted to be, but it was a start. "Besides, I thought they hadn't caught anyone in a while."

"They haven't. They have the next initiation class starting and they'll be focused on that." Monster's answer is unimpressed. He squints at his cards, then places his bet. A few cookies, a box of strawberries, and a protein bar. "I'd like to raise the bet."

"Are you sure?" Vincent's question makes me fold my cards. I don't have much to bet, and while no one cares, I don't want to lose what I have. "Everly, are you out?"

"Yeah."

"I'm all in," Kenneth announces. He looks smug, until he looks at me. "They'd cut your hair for sure. I heard they make everyone into a soldier. They brainwash you into doing what they want, and that way, if you die, it doesn't matter. You aren't really one of them."

"How do they train their soldiers?" I blink, wondering what that meant.

I've seen their soldiers and they all appeared well trained. None of them looked afraid, and if anything, they were ready for a fight.

"Monster knows." Vincent says, snickering behind his cards. "Or he says he does."

"Fuck you." Monster snaps. "At least I went. You've been here. Your whole life. Doing nothing."

The card game loses its luster with their talk, and not just because I don't have anything to wager. Their argument starts up, edgy like always, and my head throbs when Vincent eventually mutters a halfhearted apology. I press my fingers to my temples, trying to dull the pain. I'd awakened with a headache, and even the water and stale toast didn't help. Eventually, my mother gave me something, but it left me feeling off.

I felt even more off when Vincent invited me to play cards with everyone, and the only things I had were items I didn't want to gamble away. A bracelet Leif had made me out of some string and a charm he found, a good hair tie, a sweater someone had donated to me, and a few crackers. I had some books, but no one else really liked to read. I thought about grabbing some fruit on the way down, but the seasons were changing, and the only fruit I had wasn't fresh, nor did I want to risk losing it.

Even now, my head feels fuzzy as Monster slides a few more things into the middle of the table –mostly some odd colored stones that look like they were once part of a necklace along with a worn looking knife –and Kenneth huffs.

"Shit, you have a good hand, don't you?" Kenneth demands. "How? Show it."

"Everly, are you okay?"

Vincent's words float over me, collapsing upon me like the cooler weather settling in. The air down here is chilly, matching the drab surroundings. On the lowest level of this building, what was once some sort of office, there are numerous tables hosting games. The room is packed with factionless trying their hand at winning absolutely anything. Some are triumphant as they score enough to feed themselves for a few days, others are good natured as they lose a pair of socks. The games are meant to be fun, and usually the winners will share if someone asks or needs it more.

Other tables are more intense.

The winners win things like ammunition, weapons, and stolen point cards. They usually won't trade or share their win, and the men running the tables look harsh.

Despite being at one of the happier tables, I'm not having a great time. The cards in my hands are worn and dirty, but some are still sharp. When I look down at them, I feel disconnected. There's an entire world pressing at the back of my skull, a world where I'm not here, but somewhere else completely. Somewhere cold and dark, but not like this.

"Everly?"

When I blink, the cards swim before my eyes, and I'm hit with the sounds of loud arguing. A fire roaring somewhere, and the grating sound of a woman insisting she be let inside. It's so loud that I glance around for her, but she's not here. I'm not even sure she exists, though I can see her long blonde hair bouncing behind her, I can hear the clack of her heels on the floor, and I can smell the rich and overpowering scent of her perfume. It's so strong I can taste it. I shake my head to clear my thoughts, but my stomach twists, and I worry that I'm losing my mind like the factionless who wander the streets.

"Everly!"

"Sorry. I'm, uh, I'm really tired." My answer is weak. Maddison rolls her eyes, but it's not at me. It's at Monster slamming his cards down, revealing a hand that I don't understand. "I don't think I ate enough today. I gave Leif my lunch. I should probably go lie down."

"I'll get you something. Actually, I'll walk you upstairs. You guys can hold my spot?" Vincent stands, glancing around the room. The noise of the crowd is loud and happy, even in this dirty and dingy, underground spot. There are several people waiting for a chance to play, and he knows they'll take his place. "Monster?"

"Fuck off. If someone else comes along, we aren't waiting for you, asshole." Monster ignores him, sweeping everything on the table into his hands. "Everly, you want this muffin? Mads stole it yesterday."

"Are you sure?"

I stand slowly, but the ground is uneven. The air is stale, and the ghost of a hand on my lower back steadies me. Monster's face is stoic as he blinks, and he looks entirely unlike himself. I half expect there to be water behind him, or some sort of hallway. A row of shops, and a lone store where people are waiting for drinks. His face darkens, turning into someone else, and I step back. Maddison looks at me curiously, concern all over her face.

"Is she alright? She looks really pale. Is that shit…running out?"

"She's fine. She just needs to eat. Let's go get some fresh air." Vincent is quick. His arm is through mine, and the blueberry muffin is shoved at me. I take it with a quick thanks, and Monster nods. Vincent reaches my side, then walks us out of the room with a goodbye, and the cool air hits my skin. We make it to the sidewalk, and his concern is in his grip on my arm. "Did your headache ever go away?"

"How do you know I had a headache?" I look at him curiously, and his expression changes. He walks us farther into the dark, and in the distance, a small group dressed in black goes the opposite direction. Their weapons gleam in the streetlight, and the long haired one is loud as he insists they're going the wrong way. "Vincent –"

"Your mom told me." He answers quickly. "Eat the muffin. I'll find you something else."

His worry is so intense that it's painful. I take a halfhearted bite, and the taste of blueberries is overwhelming strong. I'm hit with a feeling of hopelessness as I force myself to swallow it down, and it's more effort than it's worth.

My head begins to ache like my brain is going to explode, and the thoughts come rapid fire.

A man leading me through a maze of tables, his jacket as dark as the sky. He keeps looking back at me, his eyes like steel with each blink, and he never smiles. But it doesn't matter. I know he's content, and when his fingers fumble to touch my wrist, it's clumsy, like he's not sure he can bring himself to touch me.

There are others with him. Someone with dark brown hair, a man with red hair. Another man with blond hair and a wide, innocent grin. A girl with green hair, woozily spinning around on a bar stool while trying not to spill her drink. Low lights hanging over head, and a stuffed bear head mounted to the wall. In the distance, a woman zips by with a tray of drinks, and her stare lingers on me. There's some jealousy in it, but also a knowing smile when the man's fingers tighten on my wrist, pulling me toward a booth.

The feeling makes my chest tighten. There is warmth and joy there, some unease that I can't place my finger on, and acceptance. The sensation of belonging, a feeling of comfort as I slide into the worn booth, the sounds of mugs clinking together, and the smell of hamburgers being brought out.

It dawns on me that I'm so hungry I'm hallucinating.

"Vincent –"

I try to say his name, but all I can see is a plate of fries and a drink slid in front of me. The man with the jacket slinging his arm around my back, and his friends laughing as the green haired girl laughs when her drink finally spills. I try to look at the man's face, but it's a blur of gray and metal.

"Shit, shit, shit! Everly, keep walking! We're almost there, but we can't stop. They're out here." Vincent's answer is loud. I'm dragged down the alleyway, faintly aware of where we are going. I prefer to stay in the other place, the one I can see in my mind. There, an older man stops by, and his smile is warm and affectionate. He greets me by name, but his focus is on the man's arm around my shoulders. His flannel shirt is red and gold, but his pants are black, and when he smiles, it's familiar. "Hey, Dino! Come help me! Hurry!"

I close my eyes, refusing to return to a world of dull, aching hunger and extreme thirst.

The man in the plaid shirt says a name, but I can't hear it. Laughter flies over my head, and the long haired man catches my eye, smiling so happily that this has to be real. I can see him tilting his head at his friend and mumbling 'I told you so' before someone brings him a heaping plate of chicken nuggets. When our eyes meet again, he kicks his friend, and me. The sensation is so strong I can feel it, like it's never stopped throbbing.

Unfortunately, I have never been there, nor is this place real.

What is real is the burn in my stomach from having given Leif my breakfast and lunch, and the pounding pain in my head from not drinking any water. The grimy feeling of unwashed hair and dirty skin, and the lingering ache in my feet from walking everywhere, barefoot, or in shoes that are too big.

I screw my eyes shut as my shoulder hits Vincent's, and his mumble is panicked.

"Everly, we're almost there. Promise! Hey, someone help me! It's wearing off again! Someone get Evelyn!"

When I finally open my eyes, I am upstairs, in bed, beneath one of Vincent's blankets. The only thing I remember is Monster winning the card game, finishing the muffin while my mother sat beside me, and the image of grey eyes, blinking patiently while I drank something sweet in the world that doesn't exist.

---

There is no way out.

Pressed into the backseat of the truck, I am trapped.

There is no door handle that I can see, nor is there a way to unroll the windows. The inside is sparse and militant, designed to transport soldiers who have been given orders. A quick glance behind me shows nothing: storage for weapons I cannot reach, a large window with a few cracks in the corner, and two soldiers chatting as the truck drives.

Eric is not here, and he left strict orders with the driver to head straight to Dauntless. A man with blond hair radios Dauntless frequently; our whereabouts are updated every few minutes, and he confirms every single check point he drives past. When he announces an ETA of ten minutes, everything becomes real. The heavy weight of what has happened sets in, and I am left reeling, wiping bloody palms on my nightgown and trying not to let them think I'm weak.

I don't think they'll believe me because Eric has won.

He finally caught me.

After all of Vincent's training and my mother's warnings, Eric got what he wanted. He lazily ran through the streets, and I saw the exact moment he knew he had the upper hand. I was cornered on the fire escape, and with no way out but to jump, Eric grabbed me, pulling me away from the balcony and right into him.

Up close, he was far more intimidating than I ever imagined he could be. He was so tall I had to bend my head to look at him, and strong. His uniform was stiff and clean, and he smelled like things I could not afford to steal. When his fingers wrapped around my arm, I knew it was over. His grip was tight and firm, and though he gleefully announced it was nice to see me again, that was it.

I was shoved into the truck, and he was gone. He marched away to speak to someone else, and a second later, the truck drove off. Other trucks followed, but I didn't see Eric. I should be relieved at the thought, but instead, I feel even worse.

Everyone was right.

He didn't actually want me. This was nothing more than a hunt, a game of cat and mouse that left me scrambling up stairs while he waited for just the right moment to pounce. It had come at the worst time, proving that my mother had been telling the truth. I had been caught, and now he'd be on to the next target.

I should be insulted.

After weeks of him chasing after me, I felt like he should be more invested. He wasn't even in this truck, but at least it gives me the chance to find a way out.

Unfortunately, there is none that I can see.

The backseat is bare. I look for a latch or way to unlock it, but there isn't one. Only dark panels on the walls, a bench seat, the soldiers up front driving, and the soldiers in the back, inventorying their weapons. I could attempt to strangle the driver, maybe taking over the truck or crashing it so I can climb out, but his partner is facing the backseat with a gun pointed at me.

"Dude, stop. You think he's going to be happy if you accidentally shoot her?" The driver mutters, but the guy doesn't let up. The one with the gun is unfriendly looking. His dark hair is a mess, and the look on his face is entertained. "Peter, put the fucking gun down. She's not going to do shit."

"She might. She's feral now." Peter looks at me, his expression grossly pleased. "I bet she'd kill us if she could."

I know the driver isn't going to defend me, and he doesn't. He lets out a huff of annoyance, then looks at me in the rear-view mirror.

"I'm sure he'll love that you called her feral."

"Then don't tell him," Peter rolls his eyes. "We've wasted enough time trying to save her ass. She should be celebrating. Anyone else wouldn't be given such nice treatment. It's only because Eric said not to handcuff her that she gets to sit there and stare at us."

He says Eric's name mockingly, and I decide I don't like him.

Not in any defense of Eric, but because he's annoying.

"Yeah, well Eric wants her back in one piece. He said not to scare her. I don't think the gun is helping." The driver turns the truck, and my best bet at escaping is to figure out where we are. Disappointingly for me, I have no clue. My mother's plan to keep me inside has worked to Dauntless' advantage. I don't recognize the road or the direction we're going. The forest alongside the road is thick and dense, and we haven't passed anything memorable for some time. "She's gonna tell him. As soon as he talks to her."

"No, she's not. They said she doesn't remember shit. She probably won't even remember this ride. Look at her. Does she look like she knows what day it is?" He grins at me, mean as ever. "He's not going to want her if she doesn't come to real quick. He was hoping to get the other Everly back."

"Peter, shut up. He gave us orders. If you don't follow them, I'll report it." The driver isn't impressed. He turns sharply, and what I'm assuming is the faction comes into view. "We're almost back. Leave her alone."

"Nah. I don't trust her. Eric shouldn't, either."

Peter doesn't relax.

He spends the rest of the ride glaring at me, but he's not wrong with his assumption. I will find a way out, and if I have the chance, I'll do whatever it takes to get by them. When the truck pulls through a set of large gates, I smile at him, and he aims the gun higher.

"Knock it off, psycho. He caught you. If anything, you should pay for all the days I spent looking for your scrawny ass." He aims it at my forehead, only looking away when the truck comes to a stop. "What'd you eat out there? Bugs? Trash?"

I don't answer him.

I lean back against the seat, hoping he falls out of the truck headfirst.

"Can you not talk? Did you forget how to speak?" Peter goads me, only stopping when the driver unrolls his window.

"Is Eric here?" The driver asks the guard, and their conversation is quick. "Cool. Bay Six? Are the guards ready?"

The answer is something I can't hear, but I don't need to. I know I'm not getting away just yet. I stay silent, trying to memorize where we're going and how I can get back this way.

"What are they gonna do with her?" Peter looks away long enough to give me hope that I could lunge for him. Something tells me not to, and it's a smart move. He immediately whips his stare at me, disgust all over his face. "I hope they give her a bath."

"Fuck off, Peter. He's right there. When she tells him what you said…"

His warning trails off as he drives into the building. It's fascinating to see how many trucks they really have. Dozens are being worked on, while another dozen are parked in neat rows. The area is crawling with soldiers. They all stop to look as we turn down an empty row and pull to the very end, and none look friendly.

Especially not the one waiting for us.

There, with his arms clasped behind his back, is Eric.

How he beat us back here I'll never know, but he stands with a pleased smirk on his face. It lessens when the driver waves him over, and the truck is immediately surrounded by soldiers. Each one is armed with weapons I don't recognize, and startlingly intense looking. They are ready to attack, and they only ease up when Eric walks in front of them, demanding they step back.

Through the window, I see him head to my door. It unlocks with a click, and my heart races. I know I don't have a shot in hell at running, so my best bet is to go along with what he says so I can find Leif. Maybe I can get Eric to trust me long enough to find a way out. Once he does, I'll take Leif and run. We'll go as far away as we can, and never look back. I faintly recall Vincent talking about the Amity faction, and maybe Leif is right. Maybe we can head there. They might take us in, and we can hide long enough for all this to stop.

"Do you need help?"

The driver turns as Eric opens the door. I'm met with the same cold stare from before, one that's emotionless and terrifying. He extends his hand toward me, but I don't take it. I shake my head, and his patience expires.

"Get out of the truck, Everly. We don't have time for this."

His snarl is exactly what I would bet he sounds like before he murders someone. I recoil away from him, but it only pisses him off more. He puts one foot on the runner, hoists himself up, and grabs me. I'm pulled out of the truck gracelessly; my head bumps the doorframe, and he jerks me downward. I hit his chest, but he's quick to steady me. My bare feet land near his boots, and his grip is iron clad.

He's hot.

Literally.

I can feel the heat radiating through his jacket, and he keeps me so close that I'm resting against his jacket. He glances at me once, then looks over me, to his soldiers.

"You're to surround her at all times. If she runs, grab her. There's a high chance of her falling to her death before she finds a way out. She's not going to know where anything is, so don't expect her to." Eric commands. "Are there any questions?"

"If we have to shoot, where do you want us to aim?" The soldier nearest to me asks. "Her arms?"

A wave of horror hits me. I try to wiggle free from his grasp, figuring I'll take my chances and just get shot now, but he shakes his head.

"You won't need to shoot her," Eric retorts. "Come on. The sooner she sees Daniel, the better."

His hold tightens painfully, and I have no choice but to walk with him. The soldiers follow along, creating a border around me. The ground is freezing beneath my feet, but Eric doesn't seem to notice I don't have shoes on. I struggle to keep up with his fast pace, and every so often, a soldier bumps into me. Once with their arm, twice with the gun. I jerk away from him and right into Eric's side, and he squints at me.

"Knock it off."

"I'm not going to run," I lie, hoping I sound truthful. From what I can see, there really isn't anywhere I could run to, but I know he's assuming I will. "I don't even know where we are."

"You should." His answer is unbothered, but not. He pulls me to a set of stairs, and he takes them two at a time. I don't. They are slick and cold, and I stumble when he's faster than I am.

"Eric, slow down. She's barefoot!"

Someone calls out to him, and he stops with a sneer. His only response is to pick me up before I can protest. I'm thrown over his shoulder, now face to face with the soldier. He stares up at me with a sliver of sympathy and some strange interest, but nothing more. Eric storms ahead, and I'm jostled as the hallway narrows, becoming rocky and uneven as we descend down a few steps.

"Hold still." Eric's command is loud, and his fingers press against my spine. "We're almost there. It'll be over before you know it."

His words send a shiver of panic through me. I know I should fight back, especially when Eric walks faster, and I don't have much time.

My hands tear at his jacket, and I try straighten myself upright. But I have no center of gravity, and he's much stronger than I am. His hands tighten, and he shifts me back into place, hissing for me to stop when I manage to elbow him in the neck.

"For fuck's sake, I'm trying to help you. Stop acting like this." His tone is dark, and when I attempt to push myself away, he stops walking. He glances at me, and his expression is terrifying. "I said, knock it off. If you don't stop, they'll sedate you."

Fuck. I know he's not lying. My entire body shuts down at the thought because this isn't Vincent giving me whatever he had. This is an entire faction, bowing to Eric's command. I nod, faintly aware of his hand resting on my back, and the way his shoulder feels against my stomach. The ground is far beneath my feet. It reminds me of the city, except I can't jump over it. I can't move at all. My hands turn numb, and it takes ages for the flooring to change.

Eventually, it becomes smooth.

I watch as it turns to tile, ignoring the fact that I can feel Eric breathing, and his fingers skimming along my back. He barks out command after command, and people listen. They move out of his way in a hurry, and when I finally lift up my head, the soldier behind me nods.

"We're here."

I don't know his name, but he's kind enough to keep me updated. The guy next to him nods, and the others offer the same hopeful stares. I notice the gun in his hand is not one like I've seen before, and when he sees me staring, he holds it up.

"It's not a real gun. It contains a stim dart to knock you out. It's so you don't get hurt. Some of the floors…they just…drop off. A lot of our railings are broken." He speaks quietly, probably so Eric can't hear him. "We're taking you to get help."

I say nothing.

I can't.

The fear is in my throat, choking so tightly I can't breathe. I'm carried through large glass doors, and the flooring turns to a darker, blood-stained tile. The room is full of chairs, most of them full of young men and women, but there are several who don't look like they're from here. I recognize one girl, having seen her when Vincent took me to play cards. When our eyes meet, she looks away, guilt all over her face. Beside her, another sits. They all have dark hair, ragged clothes, and look miserable.

"Put me down. Please." I've had enough. I attempt to break free from Eric's grip, and he shakes his head. "I said please. I won't run. I'll–"

I don't finish the sentence.

A team of doctors and nurses walk through the doors. They are dressed in all black, and they emerge out of everywhere forming an army of darkness around me. One gestures for Eric to go with him, and the room whirls as he stalks in the direction of another set of doors. He heads down a hallway, while the soldiers trail behind us. Things are murmured around me, and this world is nothing I've ever seen before. Room after room for patients, nurses flitting in and out, a woman at the end, watching with a look of extreme displeasure. She fixes her glasses while we near her but stays silent.

Orders are given as Eric heads into an exam room, and I'm set down on the table. My head hits the wall, and I pull my feet up beside me, completely backed into a corner. Eric doesn't do anything except stare, and where there should be triumph, there is nothing.

His expression is unreadable.

His jaw is tense, his gaze is sharp, and his lips are pressed so tightly together they almost disappear.

Around him, the room is alive with nurses grabbing things. Someone sets down a tray with some cotton, a sharp looking syringe, and several band-aids. Empty vials sit beside it, along with paperwork, gloves, and my name written on a chart. No one looks directly at me or speaks to me. They work like I am not here, scurrying away when Eric knocks one aside. He is inches from me, and his leg hits the table.

"Are you alright?"

When he speaks, it's not what I expect from him.

Eric's voice is rough and low, but thick with concern. He struggles to hide it, and for the life of me, I can't figure out why he'd care. If he's going to kill me, he doesn't need to be worried if I'm okay or not.

I don't answer him, so he steps even closer, invading the little space I have.

"Everly –"

"Don't touch me." I try to inch away from him, but he doesn't listen. He reaches for my hands, and despite my best efforts, he pulls them toward him. He examines the cuts with a frown, displeased that his hunt has left him with an injured trophy.

"Do they hurt?" His eyes find mine, cold and light. I notice a scar above his eyebrow, the thick scent of whatever he's put in his hair, and the vague feeling like I've been this close before. "How did you cut them?"

"On the window." My voice comes out like a croaky frog. "I was trying to escape and the glass was broken."

"Were you trying to escape from Evelyn?" He questions, searching my face for something. He drops my hand, and for the second time, he touches my face. I try not to wince, but it's hard. His fingers are rough as he traces them over my cheeks and into my hair. "You don't look like you're doing very well."

"I don't want you to kill me," I retort, hating the way my voice wavers. He is strong and unafraid, and though I'm trying to mirror him, it's impossible. My hands are shaking. He's so close his nose could touch mine, and worst of all, I'm hit with the sickest feeling of wanting to tell him everything. I want him to help me. I want him to fix my hands, let me sleep for days, maybe give me something else to wear, and then he can kill me. I want just a few days of not running, especially now that I am trapped. "When are you going to do it?"

His lips part.

He leans back, sighing heavily as someone enters the room.

"I was never trying to kill you. I was trying to find you."

Eric steps aside a fraction of an inch so a man can join us. He's just as tall as Eric, but older. They look alike, their hair parted to the same side, but the man is kinder looking. He stares with a stunned look on his face, clearing his throat as he washes his hands. He dries them quickly, then returns to Eric's side. Our eyes meet, and I'm just as wary of him as I am of Eric.

"Hi, Everly." His voice is calm and soothing, and his hands are freezing when they touch my arm. "I'm Daniel. I'm going to take a quick look at you and see how we can help. I'm not going to hurt you. I hope you'll remember me sooner rather than later."

"I don't know who you are." I want to jerk my arm back, but he pushes up the sleeve of my sweater, inspecting my skin by pressing on a few bruises. "That hurts."

"I'm sorry. Do you remember how you got these?" He waits until I shake my head no, then smiles. "Well, the good news is, we can fix all this. I'm going to draw some blood and see what you've got in your system. We'll clean up your hands and give you something for the bruising. Does it hurt anywhere that I can't see?"

"He hit my head on the door of the truck" I dare throw a dark look at Eric, and Daniel side-eyes him. "So, that hurts."

"She wouldn't get out of the truck," Eric's tone is petulant. "How long do you need for the bloodwork?"

"I'll be quick. Once I'm done, Camille can take her upstairs. Are you planning on questioning her tonight?" Daniel asks. He glances back as a nurse comes in, followed by a girl close to my age. She stops beside Eric, and when she looks at me, it's unfriendly. "I'm sorry, who let you in here? Only staff is allowed in right now."

"Max wants Eric to sign something." The girl keeps looking at me in disbelief. "She's…this is Everly? This is who we've been looking for?"

Her tone reminds me of Peter's. She keeps looking at my hands, then at Eric. She attempts to move closer to him, but he looks only at me. His stare is sharp and calculated, and for a stupid second, I want to laugh.

Monster might be right.

Eric seems oddly invested in me, despite his actions.

"Later. Tell him I'll be in tomorrow." He dismisses her with a curt nod, barely looking toward her. "You can go."

"He said I need your signature. And you have a meeting tomorrow morning." She throws me a tight smile, "This is really your –"

"Who are you?" I interrupt, having zero patience for her coming in here. "Are you a nurse?"

"No, I'm Eric's assistant. It's nice to meet you," she answers, looking at Eric like he'll defend her.

He doesn't.

"I'm Poppy."

"Get the fuck out. I gave you your orders and they were to stay away from me." Eric replies without looking away. He reaches for my hand, and this time, I let him. I don't like this Poppy person, and I find a speck of relief that he doesn't seem to, either. "As soon as they're done, we'll go upstairs. You can clean up and I'll have dinner brought to you. Tomorrow, we'll speak to the others."

"Who are the others?" I don't relax, not even when Poppy finally huffs her way out of the room. Eric doesn't react, and even Daniel looks annoyed by her. "What are they going to ask me?"

"Don't worry about it." He lets go when Daniel reaches for gloves. He looks at him, and I'm rewarded with the sight of the rows of black blocks trailing down his throat. "I'm going to call Jason. If you need anything, I'll be right outside. Make sure she doesn't run. She's quick."

"Sure. Can you let Camille know we need about twenty minutes?" Daniel nudges his glasses up his nose, and there's a quick grin in my direction. "This shouldn't hurt. I'll be fast."

I don't answer him.

Once Eric steps to the side, the room closes in on me. Daniel wipes my arm with something, pushing the sweater up higher, and then he tells me to count to three. A familiar feeling hits me as there is a sharp stabbing feeling, and my reaction happens before I can stop it.

I jerk my arm away, sending the needle flying.

"No!" My shriek is loud enough that Eric whirls around, having taken a whole three steps away. "Don't inject me with anything! I don't want that!"

"I'm not injecting you with anything!" Daniel attempts to take hold of my arm, and the nurse grabs my other arm. The panic is white hot, burning as I try to get off the table. I'm slammed backward, and my protest falls on deaf ears. "Everly, it's okay! I just need to take some blood! We can test it to see what's in it. I have to know what they gave you!"

"No!"

My fear is understandable to me. I've been injected with something over and over, against my will several times now. I don't know what he's doing, and despite his nice smile and friendly disposition, I don't trust him. I manage to get off the table, but I don't make it very far.

I crash right into Eric, and behind him, just outside the door, are a slew of soldiers.

They are waiting for me to run, and so is he.

"Everly, stop! He's not going to hurt you. He's –" He starts to bark something at me, but he stops when I back away from him. I stumble into a nurse, and she tries to grab my arm. She manages to grasp onto my sweater, ripping it off as I duck away from her. "EVERLY!"

The room becomes loud. Loud and crowded as they descend upon me. I have no chance at going anywhere, especially when Eric reaches for me. His arm crushes me to his side, and it's over. I'm so dizzy I can't see anything, only Eric's face leaning into mine, and Daniel's concerned grimace.

Someone shuts the door with a loud slam, the lights dim, and the noise grows loud enough to drown out my pleas to be left alone.

I have one more chance to get away, but it dwindles the second Eric sits down on the table.

---

"Don't move."

His grip is stronger than Vincent's. Behind me, his chest is solid, and his jacket is rough. I can feel each breath he takes, slow and patient, and his leg is propped up against mine. His lap is not where I want to be, but I'm not given the option. Since I refused to let Daniel draw blood on my own, Eric is helping.

I would think he'd be enjoying my fear, but he's not. He holds me against him, and my feet hit his shin. There is only Daniel in the room, and someone named Camille. She holds onto my hand like I am a child, explaining what Daniel is doing, step by step.

"Just one more vial. He's going to fill it and then we'll be done. Then I'll help you wash up. Are you hungry?" Her stare rakes over me, filled with nothing but compassion. I stare back as Daniel works as fast as he can to steal my blood, and I don't watch. I did sneak a glimpse at the first one, but it made me nauseous. "Everly, are you feeling a little better?"

"No."

They keep speaking to me like I know them, and maybe I do.

Maybe there's a speck of truth to what Jeanine said. I close my eyes when he pulls the vial away, and I try to figure out how I'd know them. There's a quick tug as the needle is slid out of my arm, then Camille holds the cotton against it to stop the bleeding. Behind me, Eric stiffens. He sits up straighter, though his grip remains on my arm.

"Are you done?" He speaks for me, tensing his leg as I shift away from him. "What do you think they gave her?"

"Enough memory loss serum to drug a horse. A cocktail of things. I can't be sure. She's not displaying the typical signs of someone who's had their memory wiped completely. She's coherent and alert, her vitals are decent, and she's responding. Not well, but…" he pauses to smile, and there's some odd hurt in his eyes. "It's to be expected if she doesn't know what we're doing."

"Did she really drug me?" I find the courage to speak up, even though he's not at all mean. "How can you tell?"

He looks at Eric, and his lips part to say something. I wait for this brilliant answer, like maybe there's a sign I've missed or something visible I haven't noticed. But he doesn't answer, at least not in the way I think he will.

"It's very obvious that she was drugged with something. We have several who confirmed Evelyn has the serums but isn't aware what mixing them will do. My job is to figure out what she's been given and how we counteract that. If there's a way to fix it, we will." He sounds knowledgeable, but his expression tells me he's not confident in what he's saying. "Or we'll try."

"You don't think she'll remember?"

Eric's fingers dig into my skin, pressing close to where I once hit my arm. Camille returns with more cotton to wipe off my palms, and she answers when Daniel doesn't.

"I think we'll all cross that bridge when we get to it. For now, let's get her some shoes and something to cover up with before we walk her upstairs." She gestures for me to jump down, but I can't.

Eric hasn't let go of me, and I don't think he will. Eventually, he lessens his grip, then slides forward to hop off the table, and only then does he really look at what I have on. His gaze is heavy as it scrapes over my skin, lingering over my neck, then down to my bare feet. He swallows thickly, then pulls his shoulders back and shrugs.

"Fine."

His answer is even, and something sparks behind his eyes.

It's not quite triumph, but it's close enough.

The concern from earlier seems to slip away, and he turns on his heel and answers his phone. He exhales sharply when he says hello, then tells someone named Forrest that I am fine. I'm safe and alive and being treated by Daniel. I listen as well as I can, but his words are muffled as he promises to come by before he asks how Woody is doing. When he turns to glance back at me, he has the barest hint of relief to him. Not complete relief but his expression is less violent than before, like he actually enjoys speaking to this person.

"She'll be alright. Once she eats and gets cleaned up, things should be different. If we get the results back tonight, Daniel can treat her." He and I lock eyes, and I realize he has plans for me. My heart sinks, but no one else seems concerned. "Tell Eden I'll see her in the next few days. As soon as she calms down, we can get you guys here. She's not quite herself, so I don't want to risk overwhelming her with everyone."

Forrest's answer makes him smirk. I imagine he's another soldier, and whatever they are planning revolves around making sure I don't leave. My heart sinks when the door shuts and I am left with Camille and Daniel, both looking worried. It's a less than stellar moment when Camille tells me she'll give me her jacket, and Daniel throws me a sad smile. He leaves to find a pair of boots, promising to return quickly. The door shuts behind him, and hope soars through me.

Camille is not short or frail, but she doesn't look like she's from here. Odds are, I can run fast enough to get away from her and make it to the hallway before someone realizes what's going on.

That hope dies when the door opens just enough to reveal Leif walking with Jason. He and I lock eyes, but before I can say his name, he is whisked away, and I am left with Camille, gently coaxing me to take her jacket.

---

"There. That should feel better. I think I got everything out."

Unlike my mother, Camille is very gentle. Beside a bathtub big enough for two people, she kneels to comb out my hair. I've spent the past twenty minutes beneath hot water, bubbles, and the soothing sounds of Camille reassuring me my brother is fine. She was doing her best to calm me down, because the walk up here was not as soothing; Eric had stormed ahead like a bat out of hell, busy on his phone, while Camille made sure we kept up. I was given a pair of boots that were too big, along with Camille's jacket. My sweater was long gone, and so was my sanity.

Despite having never been here, it was familiar.

Dauntless is stunning and dark, slippery and cold, and much larger than I ever dreamed it would be. Hallways twist and turn, the levels separated by rocky stairs, or sometimes a spiral staircase that looked a lot like the fire escape that collapsed on me. The walls are slick in spots, jagged in others. Members walk around at varying levels of speed; some rush past to carry out orders, while others sip on drinks while strolling through. There are loud fights echoing in the darkness, the sounds of people celebrating in what appears to be a bar, and an electric buzz coming from one of the shops.

As we passed a tower of elevators, my heart nearly stopped.

I could see myself standing in one, while Eric stood next to me. He was busy on his phone, until he wasn't. With a slow, bold look in my direction, he closed the distance between us. His arm touched mine, his boots hit my own, nudging me until I looked at him. His lips quirked upward, pleased that he had my attention, and his body primed toward mine. My own jacket was a mirror replica of his, smaller and less intense because it was unbuttoned slightly. When I said his name, he smiled, and it wasn't quite so dark, but delighted. Sort of impatient and hungry, while a secret passed between us. He ignored his ringing phone in favor of asking me if I wanted to get lunch, and when I nodded, his hand touched mine.

He wasn't supposed to be touching my hand like that.

We both knew it.

Even in this fuzzy, dreamlike moment, I knew he wasn't one for such rich affection. His fingers skimmed my own, toying with them like he'd wondered what it would be like to hold my hand, then the doors opened and someone joined us, groaning that Max was ruining their day with his requests.

I had stared at the elevators for a few seconds, half expecting him to head toward them.

He didn't.

He took us toward the stairs, only looking back to make sure we were following him. He didn't look at me. In fact, he seemed bothered by Daniel's inability to immediately get answers, and even more bothered when I was escorted out of the exam room and handed over to him. We stood there staring at one another, and I knew he was lying about killing me. I decided he was building a case against my mother, and he simply needed to know what she drugged me with so he could kill her, too.

Oddly enough, I found myself unable to worry about her.

Especially when I was led into his apartment.

I knew it belonged to Eric the minute I stepped inside, and my blood turned to ice. The apartment was cold and dark, much more spacious than it appeared from the hallway, and filled with things I'd never seen before. A gleaming kitchen, a comfortable looking couch, a TV the size of the wall, a neatly organized bookshelf, and a coffee table with his laptop, files, papers that looked important, and several photos. The apartment had other things that I could have only wished for a few weeks ago; there appeared to be two bedrooms, multiple bathrooms, a dining room with real chairs and a thermostat that presumably worked.

Without saying much, Camille led me down the hallway, through a large bedroom, and into a clean but chilly bathroom. When we were alone, she warned me not to run. She softly explained that this was Eric's apartment, and it was unlikely I'd get very far before he found me again.

She then asked if I wanted to take a bath or shower, and I realized that Eric had hot water. While a shower would be fine, my body hurt after the last few hours and a bath would fill the time before he returned to kill me. Satisfied that I didn't protest, Camille ran the water for me, waited outside while I scrubbed away the dirt and sweat, then returned to help me with my hair. The shampoo smelled like strong antiseptic, and I had a feeling I was being prepped for slaughter.

I let her.

I didn't protest, nor did I care that she paused each time her fingers hit a sore spot, because it didn't matter. Though I knew he was alive, I still hadn't talked to Leif, and there was some mild horror at being inside Eric's apartment. If I was wondering what his home looked like, my guess was exactly this. Nothing personal seems to exist in here, and it's as uninviting as he is.

"Do you think you'll be alright while I grab you something to wear?"

Her next question is easy, while she rinses out my hair. I'm not a child, just like I wasn't a child any of the times anyone else washed my hair. I know she's only in here to make sure I follow someone else's orders, but it's a rotten feeling because I like the fact that she's nice. I want the comfort she's offering because there is valid worry on her face. When I look at her, she smiles, but it's strained.

"Tomorrow you can take a shower on your own. I wanted to help tonight. I know being here must be…very worrying. You've been told he's going to hurt you, and I don't doubt you believe it." She touches my shoulder again, then rises to her feet. "I'm going to find something warm. Eric said you have some things here, but if you need anything else, I'll look for it. I'm sure you want to run, but it will make things much easier if you stay put. Dinner is on its way up, and then you should sleep."

"What about my brother?" I sit up straighter, ignoring the way her eyes tighten at whatever scrape or bruise she's looking at. I've learned to ignore them, never realizing where they came from. "Can I talk to Leif?"

"Tomorrow. I'll see if they can bring him up sooner but they have a few things scheduled for him. I know he's with Jason right now." Camille nears the large vanity, and she opens the drawer to pull out a few items. "Whenever you're ready, I'll help you get dressed."

"I don't need your help."

My words are not harsh. They are more defeated than anything, especially knowing Leif is here, and he's fine. They haven't killed him yet, and he seems to be in no danger.

But I am.

"I know you don't. I'll wait outside." She leaves with another smile, this one silently begging me to be okay, and I go along with it. I stay in the water for a few more minutes, closing my eyes and resting my head on my knees, and I struggle not to give in to the burning feeling behind my eyes. I focus on how hot the water is and the slow ache in my chest as I struggle to breathe normally.

The water helps. It's almost scalding, and the heat does more than soothe the pain in my entire body. The warmth makes me tired, or maybe the adrenaline from being caught is finally wearing off. I give in to it, resting against the side of the tub, and enjoy how nice it feels.

I haven't taken a bath like this ever, and unlike where I live, Eric's apartment is quiet. The only sound is the water lapping at the edges of the tub, and a faint muffled conversation in the bedroom. I recognize Eric's voice immediately. It's gruff as he argues something, and Leif's name is mentioned. When it dies down, the bathroom door opens. I keep my eyes shut, swallowing as footsteps head toward me.

I wait for him to kill me now, slicing my head off or maybe worse, but it doesn't happen.

Camille gently tells me she has clothes for me, and the door to the bathroom shuts as she leaves them on the counter. When I pull my head away from my knees, the bathroom comes into focus, except sharper.

I have been in here before.

More than once.

I'm hit with the image of Eric standing behind me, his hands on my hips as our eyes lock in the mirror, his breathing slowing down as his head bends toward mine. The image is so stark that I shut my eyes. I will it to go away, wondering if I'm truly losing it, but it doesn't fade.

It stays there, taunting me with the feeling of his mouth finding my neck.

Scared that he will return, it takes me a long time to get out of the bathtub. But once I do, the air is warm and safe. I stop at his counter to stare at my reflection in the mirror, and it's like looking at someone else entirely. My cheeks are red from the bath, and it's a nice change from looking like a zombie. My eyes are tired, but my hair is clean, and my skin feels fresh. I smell good, like something sweet, and I can't put my finger on what.

I don't try to figure it out.

When I open one of the drawers, I find a woman's hairbrush, hair ties, and an ID badge with the name Everly Coulter on it.

The picture smiles up at me, bolding declaring that I have been here, or Eric is playing one hell of a mind game with me.

---

Camille stays while I eat dinner, seated next to me like my own personal bodyguard.

She keeps looking at Eric like she's trying to keep him in line. He doesn't like this, but he doesn't say anything. He hands me a plate of spaghetti and meatballs, garlic bread, a salad, and a glass of water. I stare at the food suspiciously, and it doesn't go unnoticed.

"You can eat it. I'm not the one drugging you."

He sits down next to me, close enough that his leg touches mine. Camille had given me a soft, oversized long sleeve shirt and a pair of pajama pants. I put them on slowly because I had the worst feeling they were his. I was dwarfed by both, but they were far more comfortable than freezing in a dirty nightgown.

"You should eat because you look like you haven't been eating. Leif said Evelyn didn't feed you once you stopped listening to her."

"Why should I believe you? You could have put anything in this." I ask, ignoring the thick black circles in his ears, and the dark tattoos peeking out from beneath his jacket. When he turns to face me, his jawline is as sharp as his stare, and his lips turn up like he's amused. "Is that funny to you?"

"Once you remember, it will be." He shrugs, taking an exaggerated bite of my meal to prove it's safe. "There. You'll live. Promise."

"How long are you going to let me live before you kill me?" I take the fork back, wishing I had another one. I'm too hungry not to eat, and I have a feeling he'll lose his shit if I ask for one. "Can you at least tell me that? Or what I'm supposed to remember? All everyone keeps saying is I've been drugged and I should know where I am."

"You really don't remember?" Eric's eyes find mine, and his stare is intense. He fits in well in his apartment. Everything is black, and in his uniform, he looks just as untouchable as his couch. "You never noticed her giving you anything? Or someone stabbing you in the neck?"

I flinch.

I do remember Vincent stabbing me, and his betrayal stung as badly as my neck does now.

"Eric –" Camille starts to interrupt, but then she stops. "Actually, Everly, do you remember anything? It might help if we know when the last time she gave you something was."

I debate not answering her.

On one hand, this could be a trap. I don't know what they're planning, and I want to be smart with my answers. On the other, she has been nothing but kind and they've done the bloodwork. They'll know soon enough, and if I tell the truth, it might work in my favor.

"This afternoon," I answer dully, swirling pasta around the fork. I take a very slow bite, still not entirely sure I won't die. "I went to see Rylan in the hospital, and when I got back, she was mad at me. She had Vincent stab me in the neck. When I woke up, I was somewhere else. I heard him talking about how he didn't want to do it and something about it not being right or the right kind. He didn't want to give it to me."

I'm met with silence.

It hangs in the air, violent and thick.

"How kind of him," Eric finally snaps. "He's been helping Evelyn for a year. If he truly didn't want to inject you with a serum, he wouldn't."

"I don't think it was his idea," I swallow down the dinner, relieved when it's normal tasting. There is nothing shiny in my water, or anything strange about the food. "He didn't want to. He said he asked her for something else."

"And you trust him?" His stare darkens, and the look on his face turns incredulous. "Do you actually believe he's telling the truth?"

"Yes." My answer is defiant, but my bravery wanes beneath the icy glare. "I'm not happy he did it. That's why I left. I decided to find Leif and leave. Then I ran into you."

"Right." Eric leans back in his chair. He throws Camille a furious glare, then he stands and announces he'll be right back. "Don't move. Don't you dare fucking run."

With a nasty grimace, he stomps off toward the front door, muttering under his breath. I must have a horrified look on my face because Camille touches my elbow.

"Ignore him. He's just…not happy with how this is turning out. We knew they were drugging you, but it doesn't make it any easier. You spent a lot of time with Vincent, didn't you?" Camille asks, nodding when I take another bite. "You must trust him since you felt like you knew him."

"I did trust him. But…what am I missing?" I stare at her, wondering why no one will just come out and say it. "If there's something I should know, why is no one explaining what's going on? Is it because Eric is going to kill my mother?"

"She's not…" Camille stops when her phone rings, and Daniel's name flashes on the screen. "Let me grab this. I told him I planned on staying late and then we'd have dinner. If you'd like, he could come by."

"Is he your husband?" I try to make connections wherever I can.

"He is. He's very fond of you, so he's determined to find a solution." She pauses, like she's waiting for me to say something, but I don't know what to say. "He's Eric's father."

"Oh."

My answer sits between us, as lost as I am.

"That's really nice. I hope he…. finds what he's looking for. But I'd like to go to bed after this."

Fed up with being treated like their test subject, I decide I don't want to talk to any of them anymore. There's some guilt at being rude to her, but I don't know Daniel any better than I know Camille or Eric. Once again, I'm left on the outside. Everyone else is in on something, and I am not.

"But thank you both for helping me." I try to smile at her, hoping she knows I mean it. "I know I probably sound –"

"Give me your arm."

Eric returns, and he takes hold of my wrist. He's not at all gentle as he snaps something around it, and I'm too stunned to move. When I look away from the shiny black bracelet, he lets out a huff of exasperation.

"It's a tracker. If you're thinking of running, I'll know exactly where you go. It can't be taken off, either." He looks smug, though it lessens when I don't move. I swallow down the dread rising in my throat, and he cocks an eyebrow at me. "It's for your own safety."

"Why are you doing this?" I stare in horror, knowing my chances of getting away are dwindling by the second. Dressed in his clothes, in his apartment, with a tracker on my wrist, I have almost no shot at getting out of here. Even if I make it to the stairs, he'll find me. "I haven't done anything to you. Why did you bring me here?"

"You'll find out. Once I have my own answers, I can give you yours."

His answer is final.

He looks only at Camille, barking at her to make sure I know where to sleep.

"I'll be back tonight. She can go to bed and in the morning, you can meet us upstairs."

"You want me to be there?" Camille is surprised, but I am too.

In my head, I had given Eric a personality more than a rough, cruel Leader. I had softened him to something not quite likeable, but someone who isn't tracking my every move and keeping me in the dark. I've clearly underestimated how powerful he is. He has endless advantages here, and each one leaves me feeling hopeless.

My frustration reaches an all-time high, especially when he leaves with a final warning to go to bed and not try anything stupid. Camille tries to smooth things over by telling me something else about Daniel, but all I can focus on is the anxious feeling in my chest, and the image of Eric storming away. The heavy, cold bracelet on my wrist, and the way he'd warned me not to try and leave.

With a resigned sigh, I eat a few more bites of my dinner, but I can't stomach much more.

Eric has won the battle, and though I'm trying to win the war, I am very much in over my head.

---

Sleep does not come easily.

In a bed the size of an entire world, it evades me, despite being outright exhausted. The knowledge that this is Eric's bed makes it worse. I climbed in slowly and was immediately lost in the middle. Even now, neither side feels comfortable, and there are too many pillows. It smells like him, dangerous yet horrifyingly seductive and I loathe to think who has slept here before me. The thought sends a wave of nausea through my veins, imagining him lying next to me, blinking his soulless eyes at me.

"Fuck."

I press my palms over my eyes, then roll over onto my side, trying to summon sleep. I should be passed out by now. After dinner, Camille said goodbye to me, hugging me before I could protest. I'm sure she meant to give me space, but she looked miserably worried, and I felt miserably alone. I knew it was wrong to long for a home that wasn't even mine, but not even knowing Leif was here made things better. I would give anything to see Vincent bouncing down the stairs, or Monster skipping with the kids outside. I didn't fit into this world, even if I wanted to.

And I did.

I had dreamt of it.

While it was similar to my dreams, physically being here made me feel lost. I was completely on my own, with only a few people making sure Eric hadn't snapped my neck yet.

I must have looked despondent enough that Camille reached for me, pulling me against her side and pressing her hands to my hair. She murmured a lot of soft things meant to comfort me: I'd be fine, things would be okay, and when it was over, I'd realize that I was safe all along. She threw in some laughable commentary about how Eric had exhausted himself to make sure I was alive, and he would continue to make sure I had everything I need.

I almost believed her.

I wanted to.

My brain betrayed me, pointing out she had no reason to be this nice. Even if Eric had forced her to say such things, she didn't have to hug me. While her hands pressed tighter, I let myself feel safe. Her hug was strange and unnatural, almost motherly. I'd never been hugged like this, not even when my mother was proud of me. Her affection was distant and sparse, nothing like Camille's.

I let my head stay against her shoulder, and for a few seconds, I closed my eyes.

The gut-wrenching feeling of grief worked its way through my body. I had no clue why I felt the way I did, or what loss I was suddenly choking over, but it worsened when she let go. She assured me she'd be back, but she made sure I got into bed. I assumed I'd crash the minute I had a second alone, but it's not the case.

I can't get comfortable.

The sheets are cold, the blanket is heavy, and the room is too dark. The apartment is too quiet, and the only noise is Eric, muttering to someone. I lift my head when I hear his boots thud down the hallway, preparing for him to storm into the bedroom. He doesn't. He stops in the hallway, and there's a creaking sound as he opens one of the closets.

His voice filters in, roughly displeased.

"Yeah, it's going great. She's scared shitless of everyone. She's been brainwashed to think I'm going to kill her and she keeps asking when it's going to happen. I haven't even started to tell her the truth. Daniel thinks they gave her an altered version of the memory loss serum. It's not strong enough to be permanent, but it's not as short acting as the others." He pauses, and he must assume I've fallen asleep since he's not at all quiet. "She only cares that her brother is here. Camille asked her a few questions, but she didn't want to see Daniel again and barely ate."

He pauses, and his next words are frustrated.

"I don't know how she'll take seeing him. I doubt it'll go well. She trusts him."

I lift my head up higher, trying to listen to what he's saying. There's the occasional muffled sound while he talks, and to my dismay, the heat turns on the second he starts speaking again. I climb out of bed as silently as I can, and creep toward the door in hopes of hearing the rest of his conversation.

"I saw them when we were there. I don't know any of those girls, and I don't think Everly recognized them. Jason thinks Evelyn turned them to try and find Everly. The whole infirmary is full of girls trying to pass as Everly." Eric shuts the doors, and my heart soars when he doesn't immediately walk away. "Daniel is devastated she doesn't remember him. He thinks he can create something to fix it, but he never worked on the serums. Max reached out to Erudite, but after the Jeanine fiasco, they're not eager to work on anything she touched."

His voice grows faint as he walks back toward the living room, and I have two choices. I can go back to bed and try to sleep, or I can listen to him talk to this person. He's not saying anything Earth shattering, but I should try and stay as informed as I can.

I turn the doorknob slowly, then hold my breath when the door opens. There's no squeak or groan, and it gives me the courage to step into the hallway. I make my way a few steps down it, getting as close as I dare.

"No, not yet. She's terrified of me." His tone is tensely offended. "They really drilled home that I'm out to kill her while leaving out the part where they'd threatened to do the same."

I reach the end of his hallway, and I find him sitting on his couch with his back to me. He props his feet up on the coffee table, and he's taken his jacket off. I stare at his black shirt, the jarring juxtaposition where the longer part of his hair meets the short sides, and the way his shoulders rise and fall when he huffs.

"She's not going to believe me either way. I put in a call to Cara, too. She owes me a few favors." He stretches his neck from side to side, and his next words are accompanied by a bark of laughter. "Yeah, just like that Rylan. That's exactly what she owes me."

I stay as still as I can, but he must have some sixth sense. He glances over his shoulder, and I hope I'm fast enough as I duck out of sight.

"I doubt it. I wouldn't be shocked if she can't sleep. She barely ate dinner and when I put the tracker on her, you'd have thought I was about to stab her. Camille read me the riot act, saying I could have been nicer, but I'm not sure how I'm supposed to be nice when she's trying to run for the millionth time."

Something pricks at my neck.

Something horrible and terrible and way too intense.

"Do you have the truth serum ready? If the little shit won't talk, we'll give it to him. My assumption is he'll tell her everything in order for her to forgive him. Which she will." He says the last part angrily, and were I braver, I'd run at him. There's a chance I could catch him off guard, but when he leans forward, I know that would be an incredibly stupid decision. "She looks nothing like my wife. Wait until you see her. I mean, I know you did, but…this isn't her."

I glare at him.

Well, the back of his head.

It's interesting to learn he has a wife, but confusing as to why he's comparing me to her. In a moment of sheer horror, I wonder if I'm being made to be some sort of substitute wife. The thought is revolting, especially when he stands up. He heads toward the kitchen, and since I know what he's capable of, I return to the bedroom. I shut the door as quietly as I can, and practically throw myself back into bed.

My mind races with the information I've just heard, but this time, sleep comes easily.

As if my mind can't handle another second of today, I fall asleep holding onto one of the pillows, buried beneath the comforter.

---

This time, the dream leaves me dizzy.

I sit up and rub my eyes, begging the images to disappear. They're somehow stronger here, like being in Dauntless has amplified them. I should have enjoyed the dream. I should have wished for it to go on, hoping to experience it myself.

But it hurts because it's not true.

"I guess…I've always loved you."

In a bathroom I don't recognize, he looks at me with an unparalleled sense of adoration. It doesn't make sense, nor should it. He leans in, taking my face in his hands, and his shirt is not black. His hair is not like it normally is, and lust burns behind his stare. I have to struggle to hold onto him, mostly because I want him to move closer.

"Do you love me?"

Betrayal flashes through me as I nod yes. In my dream, I know I should tell him no. He'll never change, and the current me knows better. But dream me gives in, letting his nose touch mine until his mouth follows. His lips press firmly, insistent until my lips part, and I wake up wondering how on Earth my brain decided I'd ever kiss him.

His question echoes in my head, over and over. I know it's not meant for me, but presumably his wife. The dream doesn't stop replaying in my mind until I stumble into the bathroom and get into the shower. I drown the image of kissing him out by washing my hair again and vowing that no one else will get close to me.

Not my mother.

Not Vincent.

Not even Leif.

I will find him and save him, but I will make sure no one ever has any sort of power over me. I won't let anyone invade my personal space, or my dreams.

Especially Eric.

---

In a holding room the size of my mother's office, I sit beside Eric.

While he talks to someone on the phone, I compare our height difference, sizing him up like I can take him down. His boots are twice the size of mine, and his jacket is the same. The muscle of his thigh is impressive, and when he shifts in his seat, even his head appears too large. His haircut only exaggerates the angle of his jaw and brow bone, and when he looks down at me, I am unimpressed.

He must have some winning personality when he's off duty because I cannot imagine anyone marrying him.

"They're here."

He hits my foot on purpose, reminding me he is in charge. My own jacket is similar to his, thrown over a sweater and a pair of leggings. After my shower, I was left standing in nothing but a towel. I nearly climbed the walls when he stomped into the bedroom, and his gaze flew right to me. He averted it immediately, then barked that my clothes were in the closet and top drawer of the dresser, and we were leaving after breakfast. Assuming I was being executed, I picked out whatever was blackest. I was surprised to find the clothes mostly fit, and he didn't say much as he marched me through the hallways, insisting I eat the muffin he'd given me.

I couldn't.

It reminded me of Monster, though this one was fresh instead of stale.

"Who is here?" I look at him, and he's the perfect image of a Dauntless soldier. He smirks when the doors open, and he doesn't answer me. I silently curse my brain for dreaming of kissing him, and I wonder if I'm suffering from some sort of Stockholm Syndrome. "Are you meeting –"

"Well, look who decided to show up." Eric stands, knocking me out of the way. "It's about time."

I turn to follow his gleeful stare, and I'm stunned to see Vincent being marched inside. He's surrounded by guards, and his hands are cuffed together. When our eyes meet, his expression is wrought with remorse. The soldiers guide him toward the chair on the opposite side of the table, and he mumbles at the table.

"Everly, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I never meant –"

"Save it." Eric interrupts, clasping his arms behind his back. "Max, Harrison, thank you for joining us. We can start as soon as you're ready."

"I wouldn't miss this for the world." I can't tell who is who, but the older man winks at us. His red plaid shirt doesn't fit in here, and his boots are brown instead of black. He takes a seat just to the side of mine, and when I don't smile at him, he nods. "How are you, Everly? Are you doing alright?"

"I'm great," I answer dryly, then I remember I'm supposed to be playing along. I try to smile, though it's a struggle considering where I am. "I'm confused as to what's going on. And why Vincent is handcuffed. He didn't do anything."

Eric clears his throat, and the man in red laughs.

"It seems like that, doesn't it?"

"I think you'll change your tune in a minute. Vincent is here because he wants to tell you a few things." Eric sits beside me, and the guards remain standing. We're joined by the man they call Jason, staring intently when he walks in, and the blond-haired guy who drove the truck. A woman with dark black hair, and another with short blonde hair, and Camille. They all nod at Eric, and Camille walks over to stand by me. "Good. We can get started. Unless we're waiting for anyone else."

"Jack said to get started without him. He trusts you." The man in red waves his hand dismissively. "I saw Daniel this morning. He's waiting on a few things from the labs. He's confident he can undo whatever Evelyn did. I think we're all curious to see how she'll react. Have you told Everly anything?"

"I haven't. I figured we'd let Vincent explain what he did to her before I fill her in on the rest." Eric says slowly. He looks at me out of the corner of his eye, smug as ever. "I'm sure she has a lot of questions."

"I do. Vincent, are you alright?" I stare at my friend, and it's clear he's not. He looks awful. His skin is a sickly color, and his hair looks like he's been pulling on it. He shakes his head no, and the room is silent. "I guess…maybe you can tell me what he's talking about. Maybe they'll cut you a deal if you tell them the truth."

"Once I do, you're never going to forgive me." Vincent looks everywhere but at me. "I can't blame you, either. But he's fucking with me. Eric knows what happened and he's only doing this to punish me."

"Punish you for what?" I look over at Eric, now sitting casually beside me like we're here for lunch. "What did you do?"

"Why didn't you tell her? I assumed you'd be dying to," Vincent glares at Eric. He's shoved by one of the guards, and in return, he looks down. "Fine. Everly, a year ago, I found you and took care of you. You aren't part of the factionless and never have been. Leif wasn't lying to you when he said you didn't belong there."

"What?" I blink, not sure what he means. He shifts in his seat, squirming when the man in red glares at him. "Vincent, what are you talking about? What do you mean Leif wasn't lying?"

"Tell her how you met her," Eric insists, his voice dangerously calm. "Why don't you explain what you did? And if you can't, Camille is here to give you some Truth Serum. And we all know you're very familiar with the serums, aren't you? Or should I ask Everly about that?"

The feeling from earlier returns.

I sit up straight, and a very strange thought rams the back of my brain.

"Don't do this." Vincent's glare weakens when Eric's full attention is on him. He slumps in the chair, and prompted by the guard nudging him, he eventually drags his stare to meet mine.

"What did you do?"

"I…I met you a year ago. You were brought to Evelyn to speak with her about an agreement between the factionless and the Dauntless army. I was there to make sure nothing went wrong," Vincent says slowly. "It got out of hand. In order to keep you safe, you were…given something to make you forget about Dauntless and you came with us."

My lips part.

His words are clear and concise, but they don't make sense.

"What do you mean, I was brought to speak to Evelyn?" I demand. "What…why would I talk to her? I thought she was –"

"She's not your mother. She used you to get to Eric. She wanted his army, and when he refused, she took you. We kept you away from him until…until we started to run out of the serums. I could tell when it was wearing off, because you'd start to remember stuff, and it made you agitated. You saw Eric more than just recently. A few months ago, he grabbed you near the river and told you everything. He had you half convinced to leave with him, and we managed to get you back. Evelyn had to give you a huge dose of the memory loss serum and start over. It was all we had left, but she needed you." Vincent pauses, and the eloquence from before splinters as his tone turns bleak. "I didn't tell you because…you were alright with us. I liked having you there. You were happy Leif was with you and you never really figured it out for more than a few hours. When you started to, we just…gave you more."

"Are you lying?"

I feel absolutely numb. I lean away from him, and my hair catches on a bolt on the chair. Eric reaches behind me to pull it free, and his fingers stay on my back. Camille watches him, relaxing when he doesn't move.

"Vincent, are you lying to me? What do you mean I saw Eric more than once? Or that when the serum wore off, you gave me more?"

"It was never my idea. I did it to keep you safe…" Vincent mutters. "I made sure you were okay. It was always Evelyn's plan." He leans further across the table, and his stare is pleading. "Please. You have to believe me. I never hurt you. I gave you everything I could."

I recoil away from him.

What he's saying is horrific. I can't even process this revelation, let alone make sense of how he willingly kept injecting me with something to make me forget who I was, only to claim that I appeared happy. I freeze when Eric's fingers press along my spine, and though I want to get up and storm out, I can't.

"Tell her who injected her the first time," Eric throws out. "You conveniently left out that part."

"Was it you?" I look at Vincent, and my blood begins to boil. If what he's saying is true, then the dreams and flashes of memories aren't because I'm losing my mind. "You injected me with something to make me forget who I was? For an entire year?!"

"I didn't want to do it. The first time…I didn't know you. I knew of you. There were others who were trying to get between you and Eric, and I'd been told about you. But over time… I got to know you. I looked out for you. I made sure you had food and water and were warm enough. I looked after Leif, too."

"How benevolent of you," Eric snickers. "But keep going. Why don't you tell her what else you kept from her?"

"What else is there?" Forget whirling. My brain is an absolute storm of ideas and memories, each one fighting for me to figure this out. I almost can't believe they both aren't lying; Vincent sneers at Eric, and Eric doesn't bother to glare back. "Vincent, what else did you leave out? How did you have Leif? What do you mean I'm not factionless? I thought…I thought –"

"Your real mother lives in Amity. She'll be here in a few days." Eric's fingers move away from me, and when I look at him, he's less violent. "You have a whole family there. Leif, Wesley, Forrest, you have sisters, a nephew…"

I turn to face Eric, and his grey eyes flash with something.

"Do you remember them?"

"No." I shake my head, turning to face Vincent. "Did you do the same thing to Leif?"

"Sometimes. A few days before we met you, Evelyn tricked your youngest brother into coming with her. Forrest ran after to save him, along with Wesley. We surrounded them, and they agreed to come along thinking it would help you. When you met Evelyn, she let the others go and took you and Leif. Leif, he never believed what she was telling him, and the serum didn't work on him the same way. It did for a few months, then it stopped. He'd wake up screaming for your father, and he was only quiet because I…. I threatened him. I told him I'd kill you if he brought up Amity again. He kept asking for you both to go back there."

"I'm from Amity?"

Once again, I find myself looking at Eric.

I don't know if it's for reassurance or what, but when he nods, something else clicks into place.

"Is there anything else?" I ask softly. I feel lightheaded at all of this, even more so when Vincent nods. "What?"

"You were…Evelyn wanted you because of who you were. Or are. She thought if she got Eric's assistant…this girl Ashley told us…he…" Vincent stumbles over his words, and when our eyes meet, he shakes his head. "Eric was furious that we had you. She knew he would be. It was our best shot at getting his army. So, we went after you, knowing you worked for Eric."

"I'm your assistant?" I look to the side of Eric, trying to breathe normally. "I worked here?"

Eric nods, and my stomach twists.

On one hand, there is some major relief rushing through me. I'm not factionless, and I never have been. Leif wasn't lying, and we're both away from the woman who took us and tried to convince me she was our mother. On the other hand, I've been given something to forget who I am, and I clearly had some sort of relationship with Eric for the factionless to want me.

"Oh, you're not just my assistant," Eric smirks, but it lessens when Vincent clears his throat. "They didn't give a shit that you worked for me. Don't let Vincent leave out one very important detail in why Evelyn wanted you."

I turn to Vincent, and he looks ready to vomit.

"Vincent?"

"Why don't you just tell her?" Vincent snaps. "You're doing this on purpose. She already hates me."

"She should. It's clear you're awfully invested in Everly, and now, you can tell her who she really is. Why you kept her away from me." Eric's jaw tenses, and his shoulders pull down. "Unless telling her proves what a piece of shit you are."

The room is silent.

Vincent weighs his options, and eventually, he has no choice but to answer.

"Fine. Evelyn didn't want you just because you worked for Eric. You knew all about his work, how he operated, all that shit. But…he had an ex-fiancée who helped Evelyn test the serums on children. She told us all about you. She hated you, and she revealed that you were the only person Eric liked. A few weeks before you met with Evelyn, you and Eric –" He stops, and my heart drops to my stomach.

"We what?"

I can't possibly imagine what he's going to say.

"Vincent –"

"You're his wife." Vincent cuts me off, looking right at me. "He married you two weeks before I met you. You were with him in Amity, celebrating your marriage. You only agreed to speak with Evelyn to help Eric, and Evelyn knew he'd do anything to get you back. There. Is that what you want me to tell her? That you fucking won? You get your wife back, I get executed, and Evelyn will eventually get caught. Congratulations."

Vincent grits out the last part, his face red with anger.

"Hold on a second," the man in red interrupts. "Even if you did look out for Everly, are you forgetting that you willingly aided in the kidnapping of a Leader's wife? Regardless of how long their marriage had been, you had no right to take Everly with you. The terms of Evelyn's deal were not Everly in exchange for an army. You keeping Everly safe or making sure she ate doesn't negate the fact that you, yourself, kidnapped her and lied to her."

"Not just that, but you drugged her. Did you think she'd just forget about Eric permanently?" Jason adds, leaning back in his seat. His uniform jacket is unbuttoned, and he shakes his head in disbelief when Vincent shrugs. "How did you get the serums? How did you know how much to give her?"

"I gave her whatever Evelyn said. She gets them from the labs. She's got an inside source there. Or we find them when they're being disposed. It's not that hard. Anyone can fake a badge and get inside," Vincent answers, looking only at the table. "And no, I didn't think she'd permanently forget. It wasn't my idea to take her. I did what I was told to do."

"You never thought about telling her? What about when Eric caught her the last time?" Jason glances at me, and I struggle to remember what he's talking about. "You said she almost believed him."

"We gave her twice the dose and hoped it stuck. According to Evelyn, Eric told her enough that it sounded appealing. I don't know. I wasn't there. I was told to go grab her and that someone had gotten close to her. I didn't know it was Eric until I saw him." Vincent's answer is full of thinly veiled contempt. "If Eric is such a great Leader, why the fuck didn't he find her? Why didn't he just take her back? He had a chance."

"She was afraid," Eric answers, but his tone is detached. "I found her in the woods, and she was with a large group of factionless. I managed to talk to her, but she didn't know who I was. I did get close, but when she heard my name, she panicked and got the others involved. Your friend Monster got her back into the group and came after me. He fought an impressive fight, except he was making sure my wife didn't know the truth. By the time he stopped, Everly was long gone."

I look over to my right as Camille touches my elbow. The room is heavy with emotions, and mine are a mess. In the span of a few minutes, I've learned that not only did this Evelyn kidnap me and let me think I was related to her, the only person I trusted didn't bother to tell me I was married. He lied to me, letting me believe I was factionless, then tried to cover it up by saying he looked out for me. He and Evelyn worked to install the thought that Eric was hunting me to kill me, and they'd succeeded.

Even now, as Eric's hand brushes mine, the wave of fear comes right back.

"How could you do this? I trusted you," I say, looking only at Vincent. I stand, ignoring the scrape of the chair and Camille muttering my name. "I believed you. I thought you were helping me. You made it seem like he'd kill me the second he found me."

"Everly…I –"

Vincent starts to protest, but I've heard enough.

Before I can really think it through, I punch him as hard as I can. I have no clue where the violence comes from, or how I know how to hit him like this. But my fist connects with his nose, and there's a loud cracking sound. His howl of pain is instantaneous, but I feel no remorse.

He's stolen a year of my life from me. If what he's saying is the truth, and I have a feeling it is, he's done more damage than Eric ever could.

I punch him again, and his only plea is for someone to help him. He yelps for the guards to stop me, then Eric.

"I think she's fine," Eric answers, and when I look at him, he shrugs. My hands ache from punching Vincent's face, and I shake them as I step away. "Everly, are you alright?"

"I've heard enough."

I head out of the room before anyone can stop me, not caring that I have no clue where I'm going. The door slams behind me, and I know I won't get far before someone comes out here.

But I don't care.

I can't face any of them right now, especially Eric.

I make it down the hallway and to the elevators before Eric catches up. He doesn't stop me from pushing the buttons, nor does he say anything.

He merely joins me in the elevator, and he's the one to push the button for a floor I know nothing about.