Major thanks to shipsandarmies for editing this for me! Please note, I will only be posting this story on AO3 and it will not be updated here.

Before reading, please be aware that this story contains some concepts that may be triggering to some. I have tagged a few in the notes, but the premise of this story revolves around what is essentially human trafficking in a dystopian world, an arrange or forced marriage, and underage Everly (thought there is absolutely nothing that happens to her during this time) and hinted emotional and physical abuse. In this story, Eric is morally gray to the extreme. His actions toward Everly are for her benefit, and there is no physical abuse or harm to her. I want to be fully upfront that if the concept bothers you, I would advise not reading. The subject matter is a little darker than I'd normally write, but I wanted to explore an idea and see how it worked.

Everly and Eric are both fictional characters. This story takes place in a fiction world, with a fictional concept, and fictional actions. I want to be very upfront with this before someone comments something about how Eric would never do such a thing, or someone should save Everly, or how creepy Eric is. Here is my reminder that in Divergent, he is one of the villains, who is not above murder and mind control. In my stories, we get the best version of him, and his redemption is a huge part of his character arc. If the thought of him not being sweet and charming in chapter one is unappealing, or you are looking for a quick romance, I'd read elsewhere :)

This story will be updated on Fridays and is almost completed. There are a total of 15 chapters, but I will leave the chapter count blank until I'm confident in the ending.

If you've made it this far, and are giving this one a shot, I hope you enjoy the story!

(This is the only chapter that will be posted on here. If you'd like to follow, please read on AO3 under the username Lulu3. You do not need to be registered to read the story, only if you wish to follow or comment.)

/works/59255527/chapters/151112947

One

There are dozens of girls.

All varying heights and sizes, all appearing close to my age. I guess that most are around my age. The girls stand in a crowd, watching as I am pushed into the group, but no one speaks. They look at me with great reluctance, and I won't realize why until it's too late.

Landon's grip on my arm is tight as he guides me towards a few near my height. Their hair is shiny and neatly combed, and their outfits are clean yet wrinkled. Like me, they must have been told that their day would be special. An invitation came their way under the gilded promise of a surprise. The surprise was only revealed when we neared this place –somewhere deep in the woods, far away from the factional borders.

In my head, I imagine where we are. I try to lay out the rivers and their banks, and I try to memorize landmarks that tell me which way we came.

There were a few noticeable ones, but they quickly grew sparse, until there were none.

I don't know this area at all, and Landon knows this.

"You're late. We're about to start."

The voice is impatient, harsh against the ruffling of the tree leaves. I am pushed forward again, as everyone part ways to let us through. In the middle of a field, we are surrounded by a circle of trees, a circle of men in worn clothing, and the distant chirp of the birds watching.

"Sorry about that. It took longer to get here than expected." Landon answered before the man looked down at me. His smile is weird, but his eyes gleam with promise. "Stay quiet and it'll be worth it. Promise."

"What is this?" I ask, but he doesn't respond.

Having half expected a lukewarm proposal from Landon, I still have a feeling of dread washing over me. The girls' expressions are telling; half look terrified, some look uneasy, but most are distraught. Upon further inspection, all look nervous, and more than a few have the faint outline of a handprint on their arm. They inch together, closing their arms around themselves, and keep their stares down as men walk the edge of the group with clipboards.

Not a soul moves.

"Landon, what is this? You said we were going to lunch?" I turn to demand he answer, but his stare isn't on me. "Landon!"

"I told you… be quiet."

Men line the crowd from the outside, forming a wall around us. My stomach sinks when I realize there is no picnic. Landon's invitation to have lunch with him, a month away from my birthday, is one I should have turned down. This isn't a proposal, nor is it any sort of celebration.

I don't know what it is.

"Everly Carlen?" One man asks, cutting through the group with ease. "How old? Has she had her aptitude test yet?"

"She did. She got Amity." Landon answers for me. His hand tightens when I start to speak, silencing me with a squeeze. "She'll be eighteen in a few weeks. That'll give you plenty of time."

"Any issues we should be aware of?" The man squints at me, sizing me up the same way Johanna sized up the cattle each season. "She's awfully small. Is her family important?"

"She'll get taller," Landon counters, the lie slipping through his lips. His fingers become painful when I glance around, trying to find a way out. "She's the daughter of a seasoned farmer. Her mother is no one, but she taught her the basics. She's skilled enough to be valuable if they're looking for that. Otherwise no, they won't look too hard for her."

"Right." The man murmurs. "Any health issues?"

"None." With a shake of his head, Landon flicks his stare down at me. "She's healthy as can be."

"Got it. Give me a second." The man crosses something off on his paper, and his stare tightens. "Any surgeries?"

"Landon?" I try to jerk my arm away, and the panic fully sets in. "What is going on?"

The girls around me turn as my voice raises, but no one moves. One girl sniffles and another looks away, shaking her head slightly.

"No surgeries. She can bake, too. You might want to write that down." Landon talks over me, his fingers digging into my skin. "I would assume she can cook as well, but she's never made me dinner."

"Not a big deal." The man nods as he checks something off a list in his hand. "Were you followed here? Anyone see you head this way?"

"No."

"Let me go." I manage to break free from Landon, but it lasts mere seconds.

Two larger men join us, and one takes hold of my arm before I can take a single step.

"We'll take it from here. Auction starts in thirty minutes. She'll need an evaluation before we pay you." The largest man's grip is strong as he pulls me along with him. "You'll wait with us. After the auction, you'll get your cut if she's chosen. If she's not, you get a third of your offer, then you'll come back for the next round. If they pass three times, you get a ten percent fee if Shannon thinks it's worth it, five percent if she doesn't. Otherwise, you leave and can try again next month. The girl stays no matter what."

"Where are you talking about?"

"Nothing. Listen to them and… you'll do great." Landon pats my arm, and for a split second, his stare is apprehensive. "Right? She'll be okay?"

Dressed casually, in a green shirt and brown pants, his long hair ruffles in the wind. The Amity politeness he normally performs is watered down by uncertainty.

"Did you hear me?" He asks again. "I asked if she'll be okay."

"Yeah, she'll be fine. Odds are, she'll be gone by sundown." The man answers only Landon, coaxing me away with more force than necessary. "Come on. We don't have long."

The horror I feel is like nothing I have ever felt before. My life on the Amity farms, docile and compliant, puts me at a disadvantage as the men march me toward a makeshift tent. The area is even more secluded, backing a larger, white, closed tent. In the distance, a line forms in front, trailing back further than I can see. Men are lined up with something in their hands, and their clothing reveals where they are from.

Plenty are dressed in blue.

Some are dressed in gray.

Few are dressed in black.

There are none dressed in any of the colors of Amity. One of the men in black glances at me, and in the sunlight, his expression is blank. Before I can really look at him, I am shoved into the tent, and my shoes are taken from me.

I hear someone tell Landon to follow him and told they'll pay him before we get started.

"They'll ask your name and your age. What you like and what you can do for them. Answer politely and quietly. It'll keep you the safest. If you can't do something, don't lie. It won't help."

A woman my mother's age, the only woman here, undoes my hair from its braid. My shoes are handed to someone else, and my dress is patted down. Her exam is quick: she notates I have no bruises, scrapes, broken bones, or scars. She confirms my age, asks if I've dated anyone other than Landon, and if I take any medication. She gives me some water, then stands before me with her hands on my arms.

Her blonde hair is the color of wheat, cut right to her shoulders.

"I'll explain as simply as I can. The men out there are looking for help. You were brought here because you can help others. You'll speak to one at a time, and depending on how much they are willing to spend, they will bid on you. The highest bidder wins. You will go home with them. They will not hurt you unless you disobey them." She pauses, and her grey sweater blurs before my eyes. "Do you understand?"

"What do you mean help them?" My voice wavers. If I were brave, I'd push her away and sprint into the woods. I'm not brave, but I am smart, and I know there are people waiting in case I run. "How will I help them? Where are my mom and dad? Did they agree to this?"

"They don't know where you are." Her voice lowers, dangerously quiet as someone ducks in to tell her I'm up soon. "It takes a few hours to meet everyone, but we'll be there with you. Once they pay, and you're theirs. You'll help however they need; some are looking for women to keep their house, and others want someone to come home to and have dinner with. It's an easy job, and you'll be set for life. You're lucky to be here. A lot of girls your age would kill to be with someone who can take care of them."

The blood in my veins becomes ice cold.

"I want to go home. I want –"

"Listen to me. They can offer you more than your faction can," she pats my arm reassuringly, but she's lying. "You'll see."

"I don't want to go with someone I don't know. You can't do this!" My protest dies when she grows exasperated.

"Plenty of girls go missing each year. You're lucky to know you'll be taken care of." She steps away to look me up and down, and her next words are a slice to my skin. "Make sure to smile. Don't argue with them, either. We have safety measures in place to make sure you aren't hurt. If something happens, we'll know immediately and stop them."

"How?"

My whole body turns numb when someone enters the tent. They head right toward me, and before I can look up, something is jammed into my neck. The pinch is over quick, and before I can realize this is temporary –the tents, the people working this, the men waiting in line –I'm forced into the larger tent and shoved into a red ring.

Engulfed by white plastic, the stuffy air chokes my throat, but so does someone's hand. I'm walked into the middle of the tent and told not to move.

"You have thirty-seven interested. Highest bidder takes you home, and it's likely you'll leave today. You'll talk to each one for a bit. Do us all a favor and make this easy. Don't run and don't do anything stupid. The last girl who ran didn't get very far. You hear me?" The guy threatens, meeting my stare with a glare. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes."

"Good. They aren't allowed to touch you, so if they do, yell. I'll be nearby."

I can't answer him.

The conversation from outside can be heard inside, and none of it is reassuring. Some of the men are discussing the last girl they've bid on, while others counter that this group was promised to be better. More compliant. Easier to handle. Obedient. I swallow down a mouthful of bile as the first man walks inside, and my vision blurs.

I have no idea what this is, but it cannot be real.

"She's bleeding."

The voice is not concerned, but annoyed.

Rightfully so.

By the time the previous man left, I was on the verge of collapsing. My feet press into dry grass and my throat is parched. It's hard to speak, and my hands are shaking. I am less presentable than I was two hours ago, and the quick bathroom break I was given was long enough to catch my breath and realize there was no way out.

I saw someone every few minutes, like clockwork.

They were escorted in, told to stay behind the line, and left to stare at me.

The men who have come by are nameless. Some are much older than me, but others were reasonably young. Some seemed fine. Normal guys who I'd encounter at the Market or see passing through Amity to pick up food for a missed delivery. One barely made eye contact, but he mumbled about being lonely and needing a wife to make him dinner. Another appeared close to my age, dressed in royal blue, and he wanted a maid and a wife. He didn't like me, and he wrinkled his nose when he got close enough to really look at me.

The last guy was as old as my father and as unpleasant as a hornet's nest. When I didn't greet him fast enough, he slapped me in the face and hissed that he was a Leader in his faction, and if I couldn't show him respect, then he would teach me some respect. He made sure I looked at him, and I noticed his gray shirt was clean and new but needed mending.

I didn't answer him.

He slapped me again, hard enough that my nose felt like it might splinter apart, and I retreated.

I yelled that I needed help, and the guy from before came charging in to wipe the blood off my face. He escorted the man in grey out, snapping that he'd been warned not to touch anyone and if he got another warning, he'd be gone. The distraction brought me a few minutes of reprieve. I was given a second to compose myself, but they quickly ushered someone else in.

The man before me is uninterested, and he's been in here all of thirty seconds.

"Shit. She's not hurt… someone bumped her." The guy from outside roughly wipes my face again, and it hurts more than it helps. "I'll give you a little off if you want. If you like her."

"I don't."

I stare at his boots, black and tightly laced, and then his pants.

Black upon black, except for a bright strip of blue.

"Look up." He commands, stepping toward me like he's about to slam me backward. My stare moves to his pants, then the thick uniform jacket, then his face. He's young, handsome, but disapproving. "What's your name?"

I don't answer him.

I stare at the tattoos on his throat, the collar of his jacket turned upwards, and the severity of his hair. His stare is icy, full of visible violence, like nothing I've ever seen before.

"I said, what is your name?"

"Everly." I answer as confidently as I can. I recognize his uniform from Dauntless, and he's faintly familiar-looking. My mind whirls, trying to place him. I've seen his face somewhere before, but I can't remember where. "Who are you?"

His eyes narrow.

"I'm sorry. I mean, um, what should I call you?" I apologize, fumbling over my words. He's close enough to my age that maybe he can help me, or maybe he'll be nicer than the others. He's not unattractive by any stretch of the imagination, but that doesn't matter. The fact that he's here is telling. "I don't know your name."

"Eric."

He looks down at me with little interest. His stare scrapes over my dress, down to my hands, then my bare feet. It moves back to my hair, once pretty and wavy but now less pristine thanks to the few who touched it, and his jaw tenses with disgust.

"How old are you?" He asks.

"I'll be eighteen next month."

I've been told not to say that I'm seventeen. Seventeen isn't exactly a child, but eighteen is someone they could meet anywhere. I've figured out that in the grand scheme of things, my age is only important because I haven't chosen a faction, so my future is up for grabs.

"What can you do?" Eric asks, shifting his weight. He's armed, a gun on his hip and a knife on his pant leg, and the size of him is intimidating. "What are you offering?"

"I can…" I pause, wiping my nose with the tissue I was given. It comes away bloody, bright red, and plentiful. "I can clean. I know how to cook. I can fix your shirts if you need me to. I am really quiet, and I don't… um… I don't know." My voice turns desperate, breaking as I wonder if he knows what's happening here.

He has to.

That's why he's in line.

"I'll stay out of your way," I promise, so softly that I don't think he can hear me. "I'll make your dinners. I know how to –"

"What's your last name?" Eric moves forward, closer than any of them are supposed to be. I was told to stand in the middle of the circle, and all but the man in grey kept their distance. "They said your father is a farmer."

"Carlen."

I force myself to look right at him.

He is tall, strong, and intense. The piercings on his face are silver, and the black in his earlobes are as dark as his uniform. His lips press together in displeasure, and I know I am not what he is looking for.

I have no idea what he's looking for.

I'm aware he's from Dauntless, and when he turns his head to the side to glance where the man walked out, I realize who he is.

He's one of their Leaders.

"Why did he hit you?" Eric steps closer, unafraid of defying the rules. "Did you say something to him?"

"I didn't greet him fast enough." I answer as evenly as I can, but my voice shakes, betraying my faux bravery. "Do you know him?"

"I do."

Eric crosses the line, and my heart beats wildly. Out of all the men I have met, he could kill me the easiest. I've slowly realized what each one is looking for is different; each one has an idea of how I am to behave, but also how this will look to others. It's likely I'd be expected to pretend I am happy with them, and the charade will either keep me alive or result in my death.

I can't even begin to guess what Eric is looking for.

"I'm not surprised he's here," Eric murmurs, raising his hand. I try not to flinch, and it's almost impossible as I force myself to stand up straight. "I'm not going to hurt you. I want to see what he did."

"He slapped me. I don't… I don't know. He hit my nose."

I stop talking when Eric's hand touches my face. His fingers are rough as they skim my cheeks, and he turns my head from side to side. Satisfied with his inspection, he moves my hair back, then holds my face in his hands.

"Are you hurt?"

His voice is low, but strangely pleasant.

"I said, are you hurt?

"No." I shake my head no, and his eyes lock on mine. "I'm fine."

"Good."

"Hey, buddy, you can't touch her. Rules are rules."

Eric's inspection is interrupted by the man from earlier returning with a vengeance. He storms over but stops a careful distance away. He looks pissed off, but Eric's stare makes his expression drop.

"You can't touch them until you buy them." He reminds Eric. When he looks at me, his stare holds the rarest hint of sympathy. "She's from Amity, you know."

"I'm aware of where she's from." Eric answers, his fingers stilling on my skin. "How many have put in their bids?"

The man looks at me, then at Eric.

"All of them."

"Right." Eric's hands drop. He steps away with a curt nod and pulls his arms behind his back. "Is there anyone after me?"

"No. The last few got cut off since we're short on time."

The nameless man acting as security cuts between us and moves me away from Eric and slightly behind him. There's nothing safe about what he's doing. He doesn't want Eric interfering with this process, and he doesn't trust him.

"You said you'd take something off of her?" Eric hesitates before he leaves. He cocks his head to the side, and his eyes find mine. "Is that offer for everyone?"

"No, just you, Sir. She might not do well in Dauntless. Just… keep that in mind." He takes hold of my shoulder, and Eric's eyes follow his every move. "There's a girl from there, if you're interested. She's older, but that's her chosen faction. They can change her name. It would be an easy transaction. She's half off since she's been here for a bit. Shannon can give you some tips on how to keep her out of sight."

"I'll keep that in mind." Eric nods, breaking his stare from mine.

He glances down at me once more, then leaves through the same door the others did. I'm left watching as someone demands to see me again.

He's told no.

"Come on. You'll get a quick snack before they start bidding. You can sit with the others." He shoves me outside, and toward a trailer. "Are you good? The old one didn't hurt you, did he?"

I look up at him.

He's tall and weary-looking. His clothes hint he's factionless, or maybe that's a ruse so I don't know where he's from, and the scar on his neck tells me he's no stranger to violence.

"I said, did he hurt you?"

I don't answer him, because he doesn't care.

He takes my silence as a no, then leads me to a trailer.

"Are you going to eat that?"

The girl I guess is from Dauntless sits beside me. Her plate is empty, though the food we've been given is meager. Some fruit, crackers, and water. Her hair is a dull blond, with faded pink still hiding beneath. She's tall and fit, dressed in purple, and I would bet anything they've tried to soften her for today.

"No, you can have it." I hand her the plate, and her own stare is equally as critical. "How long have you –"

"Been here? Months." She takes the plate from me, her stare hardening. "Not by my choosing. I'm not as quiet or nice. If someone slapped me, I'd slap them right back. They said I have two more rounds before I'm out."

"What do you mean… out?" I pull my feet beneath me, and the other girls in the trailer listen to us. They eat the snacks slowly, and someone whispers if they aren't chosen, this is all they will eat today. "What happens if you don't get picked?"

"They only keep so many of us, and you only have so many chances. The men," she pauses, making a face as she swallows down a bite of apple. "Have specific tastes. The guy from Dauntless you saw? Eric? He won't pick you. He might, if he decides he wants someone to fuck on the weekends. But his taste isn't you. They make sure they have a girl to suit everyone's needs. You're likely going to end up in Abnegation as someone's maid. Or dead."

"Miranda, that's not nice." The girl across from us chastises her. "Don't scare her."

"Why?" Miranda shoots back. "I'm not going to lie to her. Her odds of getting picked are high, but it's not going to be to clean someone's kitchen. They aren't here because they need someone to fold their laundry. Especially not when she's pretty."

"Why is Eric here?" I ask, taking a slow sip of water. "He's a Leader, right?"

"Yeah, he is." Miranda answers darkly. "He's here because he's an asshole. Because no one in Dauntless meets his criteria. Because he's been prosecuted for conspiring against the factions, found guilty, and was still brought back to power. He's smart. They know they need him, so they pay him well, and now, he's learned he can buy someone to throw around and no one can stop him. That's why he's here."

"Was he nice?" The girl across from me squeaks. Her eyes are wide, and her hands tremble as she picks up a cracker. "He spent a lot of time with you. I didn't meet him."

"I don't know," I answer honestly. "He wasn't…he didn't hurt me."

"He'll hurt you if he picks you. But he won't pick you," Miranda rolls her eyes. "A friend of mine knows him well. He likes a challenge. You aren't a challenge."

"None of us are. We're being sold to whoever is willing to pay." The girl across from me sounds angry now, and she slams the plate on her lap. "You aren't a challenge, either. You're offering the same thing all of us are, and praying that whoever bids the highest isn't a creep. You know what happened to Layla."

"Fuck off." Miranda snarls. "Fuck –"

"What happened to Layla?" I ask.

Before anyone answers, the trailer doors open. The man from earlier returns, and he looks right at me.

"Everly, Carmen, Louise, and Emily. Come with me."

"No!"

Someone gasps from down the trailer. Another girl tries to comfort her, and her whispered reassurance does little to calm her down.

"Do we have to go now?" Someone asks. "Right now? We aren't done eating."

"You've all been purchased. The rest of you will be up for a second round tonight. Almost everyone is coming back." He gestures for me to stand up, but it feels like the blood has left my legs. "Now. They're waiting."

"Good luck," the girl across from me whispers. "I hope it works out."

"Thanks."

I answer just as quietly, not sure how I'm even moving. I feel numb as I walk through the narrow trailer, trying not to step on anyone. A dozen stares find mine, and they're an odd mixture of relief and jealousy. No one says a word as I pass them, and the air is thick with tension as I near the door.

"Abigail and Kenlseigh, too. We got a few more last-minute bids that we're waiting to confirm. They might go through, might not. But you need to be ready, either way." The man calls out, and when I near him, he yanks me down a step. "Head to Shannon. She's going to get you ready."

"What happens now?" I stop, hoping he'll find enough compassion to tell me the truth.

He doesn't.

"Go. They're waiting for you. We don't have a lot of time to waste." The man hesitates only to duck his head down. "You're gonna be fine. From what I hear, it's a decent faction and they're looking for laborers."

My stomach drops sharply.

The cracker I did eat threatens to come up. I manage to walk toward the woman named Shannon, and all I can see is her slick, pleased grin.

"Do you want her shoes? It's easier for them to run to if they have shoes on, but it's your choice."

Shannon doesn't look at me.

She holds my shoes in her hand, along with a stack of papers. My name is written at the top, along with my birthday, a sheet of instructions, and something else I can't make out.

"Sir?"

"She'll need them to walk through the faction. So, yes. I'll take them."

Eric looks at me with a smirk on his lips. His uniform is just as pristine as it was before, but his hair is less perfect. The heat of the tent became warmer as the sun began to set, and the line where he'd parted it was now uneven.

"I need you to confirm you are aware that she has zero immunizations and a limited health inspection. We aren't responsible for any illness she picks up or any hospitalizations. In the event of such an occurrence, you are responsible for her. You are agreeing to keep her alive and in reasonably good health. Should you need to return her to us, she needs to be in a similar condition as she is today. No broken bones, no missing teeth, no bruising –visible or not." Shannon pauses to look at me out of the corner of her eye. "Behavioral issues are a guaranteed return. If she knows what's good for her, she'll listen to you. If not, you can bring her back for a one-time exchange. Returns are different."

"I'm sure she'll listen." Eric glances at me, then signs the papers with a heavy-looking pen. "What's the return policy? I wasn't told about it."

"Two months. If she doesn't meet your expectations, or you discover she has an illness with no treatment or something that was not disclosed to us, we will refund your points, but on a sliding scale. You'll get thirty percent less if you've slept with her, half your points if she can be treated but is ill when she returns, down to ten percent if we can't auction her again. If she's returned within the week, you get ninety-five percent back plus priority over the next group."

"And if she runs?" He asks, signing another page. "Then what?"

"We can find her." Shannon smiles, but not at me. "I'll also remind you that it is your responsibility as to how she is presented to your faction, if you want her seen at all. As a Leader, it's likely her presence will be noted if you plan on parading her around. Low-ranking members have had minimal issues integrating their new partners into their faction. Some are never seen in public again. It's up to you. There's a guide on our suggestions, but you might have a better idea of how she should show up. I've included a list of disciplinary actions you can utilize if you wish for her to remain out of sight and she disobeys you."

"Got it." Eric answers, but he's distracted. He narrows his eyes at the last page, then looks up. "What's this?"

"If you return her and she's pregnant, we are unable to take her back."

It's hard to breathe.

I listen to them talk like I am not here, and my head spins.

"It won't be an issue." Eric's answer is slick. "And can you confirm that no one will be looking for her? No family members or that guy who brought her here?"

"None. Her disappearance is an easy one to explain. No one will look very hard for her. We make sure the girls who are here are not anyone important."

"You said she's the daughter of a farmer. Amity is very consistent with who oversees their crops. Johanna must know her." Eric points out. He strikes something out on the page, then looks right at me. "You're telling me her father won't notice when his daughter doesn't come home?"

"The family trusts the guy who brought her. He has an answer for them. Amity is very unlikely to push too hard to find runaways when they have so many people coming through." Shannon answers a little too easily for my liking. "Sign the last page. If you need to contact us, you'll reach out to the number there. Someone will return your call within an hour. If it's an emergency, send a text."

"Here."

Eric shoves the papers at her with an interesting look on his face. He's haughty when she flips through them, but when his gaze finds mine, it's less pleased. So far, I've said nothing. I was told to keep quiet until he spoke to me, and Shannon promised it would make everything easier.

"Great. She's all yours. Good luck to the both of you." Shannon stamps his papers, then shakes his hand like she's just sold him some prize-winning cattle. "If you have friends who are interested, the next one is a month out. You send them my way. I'll give them first pick."

"Will do." Eric's jaw tightens, then he nods at me. "Come on. We're walking to the truck."

I don't answer him.

I wait while Shannon hands Eric my shoes, and it's obvious I won't get them back until he wants me to have them. It takes everything in me to follow him to the side of the tent, where he reaches for my arm. Like the others, his fingers wrap around tightly, tensing when I can't keep up.

I glance back at the tents, trying to see the other girls, but I don't see anyone.

I lag behind, hoping he'll slow down, but he doesn't.

"You'll have to move faster than that," he announces. "Have you ever left Amity?"

"No."

He lets out a huff of exasperation, pulling me along with him. The walk is hazy. The trees blur together, and the clearing he's parked in isn't too far. I stop when we reach the Dauntless truck, unsure of how to get into it. The vehicle is tall and wide, and the wheels are so large that I have no clue how one climbs up. A wave of nausea washes over me, making my stomach churn when I look around.

I could run, but I have the feeling he'd catch me in a second.

"Here." Eric opens a door with one hand, then pulls me toward it. "Put your foot on the running board and step up. It's easier than it looks."

"Can I have my shoes?" I tilt my head to look at him, and his no is immediate.

"You don't need them."

When I don't move, he reaches for my waist. He pushes me up into the truck, then slams the door before I can turn around. It gives me a second to look around, confused by the inside. The front seat is spacious but worn. The console is lit up with dozens of commands, and a radio beeps every few seconds. Someone tries to contact him, asking for an answer of when he'll be back. The seats stretch across the entire front, and like the work trucks in Amity, it smells like oil. I sit as close as I can toward the door, and for a half second, I contemplate jumping out.

I stop the second Eric slides into the driver's seat.

"The seatbelts don't work but you'll be fine. It's a quick drive." He informs me. I watch as he pushes a few buttons near the steering wheel, and a map appears. "Who is Landon?"

"He's my…" I pause, and Eric looks at me. "He was my boyfriend."

"I see."

Eric glances down at me while putting the truck in drive. He takes off with a final look out the window toward the tent, and the line is just as long as it was earlier. A few of the girls who walked out with me are now being escorted away by men in blue. One stops to look at the truck, and another points as we drive past. The girls next to them are cowering as they are pulled toward shiny cars, and past them, others walk with men into the woods.

I bite down on my cheek hard enough to taste blood.

"Did you ever think he'd take you somewhere like that?" Eric asks. "Has he bought someone there before?"

I turn to face him, and he's far more terrifying in the confines of the truck. The space closes in on me when he glances over. His fingers press over the steering wheel, occasionally declining a request. The radio continues to beep, and he turns it off. He waits for me to answer, but he's distracted when his phone rings. The name Rylan flashes across the screen, and the person calls back when Eric doesn't answer.

"Did you hear me? Did you ever think he'd do that?" Eric demands.

"Do you know who Landon is?" I pull my feet to the side of me, trying to figure out if Eric knows a lot about the faction. "Have you met him?"

"I asked who brought you. That's the name I was given." His explanation is short and sharp. "Has he gone there before?"

"As far as I know, he's never been there." I answer quietly.

"Right."

Our conversation ends there. The nausea worsens the further we drive. Eric takes a route that's impossible to follow, and even if I could remember it, it's too far to walk. I stare as the trees grow sparse, then become closer together. The forest thickens before it gives way to a large compound. Eric slows the truck to stop at the gates, but he's immediately waved through. Outside the faction are large, towering buildings, dozens of generators, and fences. Soldiers weave in and out of the buildings, and a row of trucks leave as we arrive.

Eric drives into the last building, parking the truck amongst a row of others. The area is crowded. A line of soldiers appears to be waiting for him, while others are working to repair the vehicles. Near the end of the building, a platform stretches across the docking bay, and below it, wait a group in uniforms that match Eric's.

"We're here. Don't move." He turns the truck off and is out the door in a heartbeat.

I sit frozen as the soldiers descend upon the truck. They immediately begin inspecting it, while others wash off the windshield and side mirrors. One peers through the windshield, and his eyes widen when he sees me. Before I can acknowledge him, the passenger door opens, Eric steps onto the running board and reaches for me.

"Come on. The sooner we get this over with, the better."

His movements are graceless. I'm pulled downwards, and the sensation of falling is dizzying. I hit his boots as he shuts the door around me, and when I steady myself, my bare feet touch the stiff leather.

"Wait…"

"Holy fucking shit."

A loud voice paired with a mischievous face joins us. A soldier in a matching uniform sprints toward me, stopping beside Eric.

"Are you serious? You really got one."

"Yeah, dead serious." Eric answers flatly. "There were at least fifty of them for sale."

"No way." The guy peers at me, then his whole face lights up. "She's from Amity. You went with my suggestion."

"She is from Amity, isn't she?" Eric flashes me a mocking smile. "Everly, this is Rylan. Rylan, this is Everly. And before you suggest anything, she's not eighteen yet. Most of them weren't."

"I wasn't suggesting anything. I can't believe it's real. Harrison was right." He blinks, his own green eyes flashing with interest, but not at me. "Did you figure out who's running the show?"

"No. The woman who took my points is factionless. But there were tons of people working. I couldn't figure out who was in charge." Eric answers tightly. He signs something on a tablet, then hands it back to another soldier. "They didn't use their names. Even if they did, I doubt they're the actual names. It moves every time. She said the next one is in a month."

"It's nice to meet you," Rylan answers me instead of Eric. His expression changes to something less jovial when I don't smile. "I'm one of the Leaders here. I think you'll like it."

I wrap my arms around myself, noticing he's as intense as Eric, but in other ways.

Just as tall, thinner but still very fit, with long hair. It matches mine, but his tangles near the ends, and his uniform jacket isn't buttoned to his throat.

"You might really like it. We have parties." He offers, glancing at Eric when I don't say anything. "And there's a salon upstairs. Oh, and a bakery."

I look everywhere but at him.

Dauntless is dark. Darker than anywhere I've ever been, and larger than it looks from outside. The soldiers work endlessly around us, and the others who were waiting stare with wide, horrified looks on their faces. The sounds of metal clanking and drills whirling fills the air, and a siren goes off twice. A bell rings out as a second wave of soldiers return, and the bay is filled with men and women checking in and out at the top of the stairs.

"We also have… um, we have balconies." Rylan tries again, and when I meet his stare, he looks put out. "Benches? There's lots of benches to sit on. You can watch the fights, too."

Behind him, a woman watches from the platform. Her hair is as dark as mine, but the look on her face is neutral. Her uniform matches Eric and Rylan's, and when she tilts her head, she's joined by a guy with red hair. She points at me, then crosses her arms over her chest. His eyes widen, but he doesn't move.

The tension is palpable.

"Eric, does she not speak? Why isn't she answering me?" Rylan crosses his arms over his chest, and he looks oddly insulted. "Hello?"

"Because she's afraid."

Eric looks at me, and he's right.

I am afraid.

Though they aren't the man who slapped me, I don't know them.

I don't want to know them.

I want to wake up in my bed and realize this was all a nightmare.