Hey guys! Action, as promised. I'm sure some of you saw this coming. He is just getting started. A good portion of the chapter is written in Four's POV here, so enjoy! Let me know what you think or if you have any ideas!

Disclaimer: I do not own Divergent or the characters.

Tris

My eyes widen at the realization of what Four is doing. He is going to teach Peter a lesson in front of everyone because of me. I grab Christina and pull her away from Will and Uriah frantically.

"Four is going to hurt Peter because of me." I whisper quickly.

"What? Why would he do that? He just needs someone to demons-What happened, Tris? Is that why you were late and on that bike?"

I nod unable to meet her eyes as I tell her what happened. By the end she is clenching her jaw and staring daggers at Peter from across the gym.

"Good. He deserves it. I hope Four kills him. Come on. Let's go watch number boy get all worked up." She smirks at me and waggles her eyebrows suggestively.

I blush furiously and we push gently to the front beside the ring to watch the demonstration. My heart leaps into my throat and I tremble slightly when Peter smirks at me knowingly.

"Nice jacket, stiff. It's awful hot in here. Why don't you take it off and get comfortable?" He taunts.

He opens his mouth to speak again and is silenced by the sickening crack of Four's fist. He crumples instantly into a heap clutching his jaw and Four turns to face us. His eyes search the group briefly before landing on mine, a barely controlled rage evident in his voice as he grinds out instructions. "Catching your opponent off guard is always a good thing. When they're off their guard they're off their game. That's one of the best times to strike. Get up Peter."

Peter's eyes widen as the realization of what Four is doing sinks in. This isn't a demonstration. This is a punishment. He opens his mouth to protest and is silenced by a quick, calculated jab to the throat. He stumbles backwards and Four is on him just as quickly, landing a hit to the stomach and wrapping his arm around his throat. "Incapacitating your enemy in order to escape is the goal. Do whatever you have to do. The smaller you are the more critical it is that you go on the offense. Throw your weight into it using your knees and elbows. For those of you that are larger, a chokehold is always effective. Allow me to demonstrate."

Peter's hands claw at Four's forearm in a vain attempt to escape before a choked noise escapes his throat as Four's grip tightens. Despite the lack of airflow I watch, morbidly fascinated as the color drains from his face in response to something Four whispers to him. My gaze lands on Four's arms before I can stop myself, tracing the muscles rippling along his biceps and forearms. No one should look so damn ho- I'm snapped out of my reverie by Peter sliding to the mats, unconscious. My eyes widen marginally and I force myself to walk away, all too aware of Four's gaze burning a hole in my back.

"Everyone pair up and practice. I'll come around and critique."

Christina runs over to me and we begin to practice different methods of escape. My focus is gone. All I can see is a pair of turbulent blue eyes and the deadly precision behind them.

Unknown

I force myself to appear nonchalant and clumsy as I make my way up to the Pire where the Dauntless member dorms are. I had found what I was looking for via a quick glance at an office directory when the aide had been otherwise occupied. My quiet footsteps echoed softly back to me through the empty halls until a couple of voices caught my attention. I darted into a closet and yanked the door shut behind me to avoid detection and held my breath. 10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2… focused on the mission. I creaked the door open and made my way into the shadows, taking care to avoid the lights streaming under some of the doors. 441…442…443… Bingo. Room 444. How unoriginal is this guy? He can't possibly believe he has any chance with my Beatrice. Not with his intellectual handicap. I remove the lock pick from my pocket and glance down the hall in both directions briefly before setting to work.

The lock pops open after a few tries and I'm in. The adrenaline courses through my veins, a euphoric feeling making my head swim and my palms clench and unclench as I step in his apartment. Fear God Alone? How pathetic. I tiptoe my way around the barren room, taking note of the lack of possessions and tidiness. Not a single thing out of place. Interesting. A bed sat against the back wall next to a desk with a lamp and a laptop. A punching bag sat in the opposite corner and other than a bookshelf with school material and the occasional classic novel that was it. A smirk winds its way to my lips before I can help myself. Time to shake up the pretty boy. After I'm through he will never dare look at my Beatrice again. He will be too busy looking over his own shoulder.

I stride confidently over to the desk and check the time: 6:36 PM. Good. Dinner just started. He will be gone for some time. I pull open the desk drawer and pause, my hand hovering over the contents. A .357 SIG sat on top of a stack of papers. I gingerly wrap my hand around the grip and pull it out, relishing the heady, powerful rush that accompanies it. I slide the magazine out and shake my head, choking back a chuckle. Pretty boy keeps a loaded gun? My, my. I'm sure he won't miss it. It'll come in handy when the time is right. I slip the pistol into my waistband against my back and cover it with my jacket. Satisfied that it's successfully hidden I continue on, shutting the drawer. I sit in the chair and pull out the note I had typed earlier. Stay away from my Beatrice or else. She will be mine. I reread it a few times and commit it to memory before sealing it and placing it on top of the computer.

Taking a deep breath and one last look at his apartment, I turn the lock and pull the door shut behind me. I bow my head and disappear into the shadows, heading back towards the cafeteria. One last stop before I rejoin my Beatrice. I'm sure she is missing me.

Four

I give myself a mental shake, unable to comprehend what I've just done. How stupid are you, Four? What was the point of that? I sat in silence at dinner while Zeke, Lauren, and Shauna all laugh and relive their days, attempting to wrap my mind around my actions and the motives behind them. I find myself searching the cafeteria more than once to make sure Tris is safely where I left her. Each time I find her laughing and talking with Christina, Will, Marlene, and Zeke's little brother, Uriah, seemingly unaffected by the day's events. I know better though. I know the haunted look in those grey eyes all too well. I should. The same look had only been mirrored back to me for the past 12 years. I check my watch: 6:47 PM. I began to bounce my leg, restless. I needed a release. I pick up my tray and wave over my shoulder at the group and head out of the cafeteria, depositing my trash in the receptacle on the way out the door.

Absently I pick my way through the deserted halls to my apartment and unlock the door, pushing it open and then leaning against it. I run my hand through my short brown hair and sigh, exasperated. I peel my shirt off and toss it in the bathroom hamper and start to move to my punching bag, but something catches my eye. I stride over to my desk and freeze. There on my laptop is a note. One that was not there when I left earlier. What the hell is this? I tear it open and a feeling of dread creeps over me making it hard to breathe. Who the hell is Bea- Oh no. I fling the note on the bed and yank the drawer open and a surge of anger and nausea rushes over me. Whoever it was stole my pistol. My loaded pistol.

I slam my unwrapped fists into the bag over and over again until they're so bruised I can't feel them. I lean against the wall and force myself to let my training take over. First thing's first. I pick up my phone and dial Zeke. He answers on the fourth ring and I hear Shauna laughing in the background.

"Hello?"

"We've got a problem. Someone was in my room. My gun is gone." I manage to remain calm enough to grind out the words.

"What do you mean?" I have his attention now. I hear him shushing Shauna who huffs indignantly.

"I mean just that. Someone left me a note. They stole my gun. Something is going on and I'm not sure what. I think one of my students is the target."

"Who, man?" I listen as his door shuts and his breathing accelerates. He's running.

"Tris Prior," I choke out. An unsettling feeling threatens to cut off my ability to talk.

The line goes dead and my door is thrown open. Zeke stands in the doorway, huffing. "Well then go get her. I'll get Max. Take mine."

He tosses me his pistol, one identical to mine, and I click the safety off and knock a bullet into the chamber in one fluid motion. I nod and without another word take off down the stairs towards the initiate dorm. My legs ache in protest after the day I've had but I push harder, determined. Just a little farther. There's the door. A bone chilling scream echoes down the halls followed by silence. My heart leaps into my throat and I'm dizzy with something I can only guess is dread. I kick open the door and see my students gathered in a circle. Between all the legs I see a flash of blonde on the floor and almost lean against the door to gather my thoughts. I keep my pistol drawn and force myself to remain calm outwardly, pushing the students aside. The color drains from my face. Nothing could have prepared me for what I see.

There on the floor is Tris, in my jacket, covered in blood. Next to her is a very dead Peter. Her hands are pressed over a hole in his chest and her eyes are glassy and panicked as they find mine, her breathing erratic. She attempts to speak, choking on her tears. "He… We came in and… Someone… Oh my god… The note… Four… The note!"

Whatever else she is trying to say dissolves into hysterics and Uriah pulls her to her feet and through the crowd over to Christina and Will. I kneel down and check for a pulse habitually, finding none. I knew that, but training is training. A glimpse of white flashes in the corner of my eye and I reach over and pick up a piece of paper floating in the pool of blood that's gathered around the body, ignoring the slick feeling of it dripping down my hand and arm. I rock back onto my heels and stand rigidly. A present for you, my love. He will never hurt you again. We will be together soon, Beatrice.