Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter One: The Auction

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.

Xxxxxxxxxxx

“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.

Xxxxxx

“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.

Xxxxxx

“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.

Xxxxxx

“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.

xxxxx

Chapter Text

Chapter Two: Dauntless

The faction is overwhelming.

To some, the cavernous space and rocky walls would be intriguing. The area is lit up by security lights, fluorescent bulbs, and the glow from the vehicle headlights. The members are lost in their conversations as they hurry past us, each one busier and engrossed in whatever they are doing. The faction gives off a chaotic feeling, like a current of electricity is running through it, and I dislike how no one stops. They swarm the area with practiced efficiency, darting in and out between the trucks as orders are called out.

Several greet Eric with clipped Sirs, but surprisingly, no one pays attention to me. I do garner a few stares, but only when Eric hands me my shoes.

"Here. We're walking to the infirmary. You'll need these." With zero chivalry, he holds them at me. He waits while I fumble with them, then tilts his head. "Are you still bleeding?"

"No." I shake my head. "I don't think so."

"Are you sure?" He's in front of me in a flash, examining my face with a look of impatience. "It looks like it's started up again."

"It's fine." I shake my head, unconsciously stepping away from him.

His jaw tenses.

I try to remember the vague rules I was told that would help keep me alive. Don't argue. Smile. Don't make him mad. Agree with almost everything, and don't cause any issues. According to Shannon, my job is to help Eric, not make him worry about me.

Though I doubt he's worried.

A deep, stabbing pain hits my chest when he stops, and his hands are still on my face. Calloused fingers press firmly as he moves my hair back to look at my neck before he focuses on my nose. He uses one hand to pinch the bridge, and for a moment, I can't breathe.

"It's not broken." He keeps his fingers there, the space between us nonexistent. When I nod, he drops his hands and exhales sharply. "Alright. It's about a ten-minute walk. Once I'm sure they weren't lying about anything, we'll go from there."

"I can go with you," Rylan offers. "She might run."

"She won't." Eric glances at me. "If she's smart, she'll stay close by and be quiet."

"For now, right?" Rylan's tone is hopeful. He looks at me with wide eyes, trying to silently tell me something. "Everly?"

"I won't run."

My answer hardly matters. Wherever Eric is taking me is nowhere near the exit. I likely couldn't find my way out of the faction if I tried. Even if I got outside, the gates are lined with soldiers, and I have no clue which direction Amity is.

"Is there anything I should know before we get there?" Eric looks down at me, ignoring Rylan stepping aside to speak to a girl with blonde hair. She eyes me up and down, nodding every so often while clutching a tablet. When I look right at her, her mouth turns downward like she's about to be sick. "Anything they didn't reveal?"

"I don't think so."

For a half second, I wonder what they told him. I wonder if they spoke about me at all, which would be odd considering they barely knew my name. Maybe Landon told them about me, or maybe he lied and said what they wanted to hear.

Maybe he told them what he really knew about me, which was nothing.

"Watch your step. The railings aren't secure." Eric takes off, looking back only once.

I follow obediently.

The walk is easy, but slippery. Eric takes me deep into the faction, through winding hallways and tunnels with blinking red lights. Members appear at some of the corners, and most appear good natured. They seem pleased with their work, and only a few look put out as they scale the wall to the second story to fix a senser. I watch as one dangles precariously in the air before repelling down the wall. He's met with applause, then a smattering of clapping as he climbs back up to adjust another sensor.

"What is he doing?" I ask. "Are those cameras?"

"He's replacing them," Eric explains thinly. "Are you familiar with the cameras?"

"No, I'm not."

Amity has maybe a dozen, and that's a generous estimate. Johanna refused to let Dauntless watch the faction the way they wanted, and her allotted number of surveillance equipment was much lower than they asked for. She'd declined the ones in the main part of the faction, and that left Dauntless with a few in the trees, and several near the entrance that were aimed toward the lake.

Every so often, a child would attempt to knock one down by throwing rocks at them. If they were successful, Johanna never hurried to replace them.

"This way. You'll see Arlene. She's expecting you." Eric announces, turning a sharp corner. In the distance, large doors appear, with a blinking sign above that reads Emergency. "Not you, particularly."

"Why were you there?" The question comes out of nowhere –rude and impolite, according to Shannon. "Sorry, I mean…"

I hesitate as the doors open automatically. The inside is busy with people in varying states of distress. Blood dots the floor, and a few people are groaning about broken bones or a blow to the head. I'm shocked to see how many chairs there are, and how many are working to get everyone back. Everyone is dressed in black, and only the receptionist has a lighter colored jacket on.

Eric gives me a single second not to follow him.

"Why was anyone there?" He snaps, his tone as thin as his patience.

He takes hold of my arm again, ignoring my wince as I'm pulled inside. This time, everyone turns to look at us, and the doors leading to the back open with startling force. A woman walks through with a clipboard, and her eyes narrow behind thick, oversized black glasses. She stares at me, then Eric, and her posture changes when he nods at her.

"Arlene."

"You're later than expected, Coulter."

"My deepest apologies." Eric responds, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He strides forward, and the people waiting look up at him. Some recoil, while others attempt to smile in greeting. "It took longer than I planned. Either way, I'm here, and she needs an exam. Now."

"I see."

The woman is my mother's age, maybe older. Her hair is a ruffled mess, and her black scrubs have her name stitched on them. She clutches the clipboard tighter, and with a sigh, gestures toward the hallway. The labyrinth stretches so far back that I can't see where it ends, but it appears crowded.

They must deal with a lot of injuries.

"Take her to room four."

Once more, I'm pushed forward, against my will, into a place I don't want to go.

"Swallow for me."

Her fingers are less rough than Eric's but cold as she feels my throat. So far, her exam has been invasive, and her questions are, too. They came rapid fire as she poked and prodded me, knocking my knee to test my reflexes and asking me if I was given anything before I left with Eric. Her other questions –had I ever had an actual doctor's appointment or was I taking anything that wasn't from Amity –earned me a disappointed gaze. Her next questions made my skin itch, even more so when Eric sat down in the visitor's chair and busied himself with paperwork.

"Is there any chance you are pregnant?" She blinks as she waits for my answer. "Did any of them do anything to you while you were waiting?"

"No." I don't look anywhere but at her, and my face burns. "Why?"

"Did they hurt you while you were there? Other than slapping you?" She marks something down, then shuts her eyes. "Eric…"

"What?" He barely looks up. His fingers fly over the paper, and signs something with a harsh stroke of the pen. "She said they didn't do anything other than hit her in the face. It was Marcus, by the way."

"Marcus?" Arlene startles, but quickly recovers. "Interesting."

"Very." Eric mutters boredly, and his expression is the opposite of thinking it was interesting. "Are you almost done?"

"How old is she?" Arlene steps away to grab something off the counter. I dislike the way her stare makes me think she doesn't trust me. "I know you said she's almost –"

"Her paperwork said she'll be eighteen in a month. They're telling the truth. I looked her up. She already had her aptitude test. She's scheduled to be at the upcoming Choosing Ceremony." Eric glances up, unimpressed with me. "They told me it's easier this way, since they aren't recorded choosing a faction."

"And what are you planning on doing with her?" Arlene snaps on a pair of gloves, and my stomach drops. "Is she going to stay with you?"

"I can't exactly have her wandering around the faction, can I?" His eyes narrow, and his expression is the same as when he said he didn't like me. "Give her something to help her sleep."

"That's unnecessary, Eric." Arlene ignores him in favor of selecting three syringes.

I must look ready to run, because she smiles tightly and grabs a small packet with a wipe in it.

"Relax. I am going to give you something to make sure you don't get sick here. I'll also give you something to keep you calm, and something to prevent an infection on whatever they did to your neck." She looks over at Eric, but he's lost in his work. She turns to me, and her voice lowers. "Do you know? Was it a shot?"

"I don't. They did it when I got there." I pull my feet onto the table, hoping she'll decide I don't need anything. "Does it look bad?"

It dawns on me that I haven't seen myself since I left my parent's house this morning.

"It looks like someone stabbed you in the neck. If it doesn't feel better by tomorrow, come back and I'll give you something else." She's equally as quick as the guy who stabbed my neck. A quick pinch in the arm, three times too many, before she wipes it off and grabs a band aid. "Are you hungry?"

"No."

The room becomes warm, softening when I look away. I dully realize she's given me something similar to peace serum, because my head feels heavy. So do my limbs and my brain, and my thoughts. The feeling clears after a second, leaving me less on edge than I was. I have to admit it's pleasant, but unnatural.

"All done. I highly suggest you are careful with what you're doing." Arlene isn't speaking to me, but to Eric. He cocks his head at her, and his stare is combative. "She's a real person, Eric. You have the ability to do irreparable damage to her if you aren't careful."

"And what exactly do you think I'm going to do? You know damn well I have orders to keep her alive until this over." He stands with a huff. "Then, she can do whatever she wants."

"That's not what I meant." Arlene reaches for him, and he looks down in surprise when she takes hold of his arm. "She's not a soldier. She didn't choose to come here. If I find out you've done anything like before…"

He steps away.

The look on his face is terrifying.

It's void of any emotion except cold, viscous hatred.

"We both know I paid for what I did. Out of everyone here, I have the most on the line." His tone is dark as he stalks over and yanks me right off the table. I crash into him with a surprisingly lack of coordination, even for me. "And I told you, I'll make sure Amity here has the time of her life."

"Eric…"

Her protest falls on deaf ears. With a sneer of abhorrence, Eric does his best to get me out of the exam room. He pushes me into the hallway, and when I look up at him, his eyes widen in mockery, and his lips curl up in a devastatingly cruel smirk.

"I guess I should welcome you to Dauntless, Everly."

The way he says my name sends a chill up my spine.

He lingers for a second, then pulls me down the hallway, and back out the lobby.

Eric's apartment is the size of my parent's house.

It's lofty and dark, decorated with furniture that matches his uniform. He gives me the barest tour he can muster, and it's mostly him pointing out the obvious rooms through gritted teeth. I get the feeling he doesn't like people in his space, but there is absolutely nothing personal that I can see. Everything it meticulously clean; even his kitchen is spotless, and so is the dining room. He leaves me standing in the living room to head down the hallway, and his absence gives me a second to catch my breath.

We are far beneath the Earth.

Deep into Dauntless, with no windows, no natural light, and nothing but winding hallways and the occasional flickering security light. It feels oppressive, like a heavy weight upon my shoulders as I realize there truly is no way out. Eric might have saved me from a villain in grey, but he's merely a villain in black. He knows there isn't an exit anywhere near here, and the way he's left me alone tells me he knows I won't run.

So, I look around his living room like I have been invited. I find the courage to examine the few books on the shelves, and I inspect the tv screen like I know how to use it. There are no photos of anyone, no trinkets or knickknacks, and nothing other than a stack of papers on the shelf with a red stamp of approval on them. He has a blanket on the couch that's thick and new looking, and a single cup that must have been from this morning on the coffee table. It's the only thing out of place, other than me.

"This way. You can wash the blood off while I grab dinner."

Eric emerges jacketless.

He's stark against the light walls, but even more intense with half his uniform on. His t-shirt is black and fitted, and it only highlights how strong he is. It also reveals the dark tattoos on his skin; the blocks on his throat trail down to his collarbone, and the ones are his arm are too intricate for me to make out. Their mazelike appearance matches the factions layout, especially when it curls around to his forearm.

"Shouldn't I make you dinner?" I turn away from the bookshelf, my fingers touching a book that's taller than the others. "I can make…whatever you want…"

I'm lying.

In the sweet dullness of whatever Arlene gave me, I offer to make him dinner knowing that I can't cook. Not the way he's been told.

The walls of his apartment close in, then press in even further when his stare lazily trails over me.

"No." Eric tilts his head, considering something, then points down the hallway. "Go shower. Everything you need is in there. It's the last door." He walks away without waiting to see if I'll listen.

I do.

I head down the hallway, passing a few days that are half open. One appears to be an office, and the other is empty except for boxes and a few some boots. There's a bathroom, closets, and at the very end, is his room. It's just as spacious as everywhere else, but sparsely decorated. His dresser is black, this tv screen is large and impressive, and his bed is the biggest I've ever seen. The comforter is black, the sheets are black, but his pillows are a dark shade of blue. The nightstands match, and the only color in the room is the lamps. They are white, decorated with a hint of gold.

I walk through gingerly, like he might return and kill me for being in here. There's nothing to look at past his furniture, and a closet that rivals his kitchen in size.

When I reach the bathroom, a wave of relief washes over me.

It's bright. The tile is cold and clean, and the shower is large enough for a few people to stand in. He has a bathtub that looks like no one has ever used it, a stack of lush, thick towels, and enough space that one could live in here. The vanity runs the length of the bathroom, and so do the mirrors. I reach out to touch one, then wince when my fingers press against the glass.

I don't recognize myself.

My skin has no color to it, and the barest hint of dried blood stains the skin under my nose and cheeks. My hair is limp, my neck has a distinct mark where the man stabbed something into it, and my dress hangs askew. I look miserable, and defeat seeps from every inch of my body.

"Shit."

I nearly jump out of my skin when Eric returns. He storms into the bathroom with a huff of exasperation, but he heads right toward the bath.

"Here. I figured you might not know how to turn it on." He turns the knobs to fill the bathtub. He dumps something in it, then something else. "Arlene sent this up. She said it'll help. If the water is too hot, turn it to the right."

He looks at me intently, and I have the feeling he thinks I've been raised without running water.

"Do you need anything else?" Eric straightens himself up, staring me down like I'm a wild animal. His gaze is predatory now; trapped in his bathroom, he's free to hunt me however he pleases. "Did you hear me?"

"Can I ask …how much you paid?" I ask, pressing myself back against the cabinets. "How much did they want?"

"You want to know how much I paid?" He heads toward me, so fast that I don't have time to move. "Turn around."

"Why?"

The fear strikes through me, but it dies when I realize what he's doing. He moves my hair out of the way and undoes the tie on the back of my dress. He plucks something off it, and I stare in horror as I realize it's a tag with a number on it. I've been tagged the same way Jerry tagged the cows that were up for adoption, and the numbers on the sticker are the same color he uses.

"Seventy thousand points." Eric answers tightly. He blinks at the sticker, then shrugs. "I got ten thousand off since you were bleeding. I offered more than the others, but I was told what they were bidding in advance. Most bid the top of their budget."

Hearing the price makes my chest tighten.

"Why would you do that?" I meet his stare in the mirror, and he puts the sticker on the counter. "Do you know what happens to the other girls?"

"Why?" His stare is as chilly as ever. "Did you know them?"

"No, but…not everyone went home." I ignore the wince in my posture, hating how afraid of him I am. "Some had been there for a while."

"I assume anyone purchased will be taken home and told their expectations. What they want them to do and what they aren't allowed to do." He wets his lips, and where there should be discomfort, there's not. "I'm sure some have settled in well, while others have not."

"Have you been there before?" I don't know if I'm allowed to ask him such questions, but he keeps answering me.

"No, I haven't."

He steps away from me with a shake of his head. Behind him, the bathtub fills with bubbles, and the smell is strange; it's medicinal, but sweet.

"I wouldn't worry about the other girls. Not tonight. Turn the knob all the way to the right to stop the water." Eric finds my stare once more before he leaves. "If you need anything else, just yell."

His gaze stays on me longer than I'd like, then the door shuts.

I wonder what he expects me to do.

I wonder if he's got plans similar to the ones who want a wife, or if he's fine if I do his laundry and iron his shirts.

Neither are appealing.

I ignore the urge to throw up, and very slowly take my dress off and head toward the tub.

"Open your eyes."

The voice is low.

Quiet.

Rough.

Fingers touch my cheek, much kinder than when I was slapped, but just as insistent. They push my hair to the side, then stop on my temples.

"Come on. If you drown, I'm on the line, Amity."

I open my eyes slowly, and the warm water sloshes around me. The bubbles are still full and numerous, covering the top of the water and sides of the tub. My neck hurts from the uncomfortable angle, and my damp hair sticks to my skin. When I realize where I am, the panic kicks in, especially when Eric widens his eyes in mockery.

"I didn't think you'd fall asleep. I called your name for twenty minutes and you never answered." He pulls his hand away, and the horror of him being in here is white hot. "Don't worry. I had to make sure you were alive. Christina brought some clothes for you."

"Who?"

I sit up slightly, then slip back when he doesn't look away. I'd gotten into the bath reluctantly, but the water was soothing. I wasn't tired, but after I washed my hair, scrubbed the dirt off my body and the blood off my face, I leaned back, rested on my head on the ledge, and shut my eyes.

For a second, I was alright.

Alive.

Breathing.

Unharmed.

But I wasn't relaxed.

I knew Eric could return at any moment, and it was likely he would. I tried to convince myself that I'd gotten somewhat lucky with him; he didn't appear overly interested in me, or maybe he was holding off until he knew this would go smoothly. He was cautious, patient given how he has the upper hand, and not as violent as Miranda said he would be.

Though it's been mere hours since I met him.

I fell asleep thinking of the way he'd announced he didn't like me, and my dreams were nothing. A half-conscious sleep aided by whatever he'd put in the water, and a hazy awareness that he could return while I was most vulnerable.

He did.

"Christina is Rylan's girlfriend. She's about your size. They didn't give me anything else for you to wear." He stands, glancing down at me from a dizzying height. "I left everything on the counter. When you're done, we'll eat."

"Then what?"

I sit up further, pulling my knees against my chest. It's an unconscious way of protecting myself, but he makes no move to do anything.

"You'll find out."

Eric leaves without any further explanation. The bathroom door shuts with a thud, but I stay perfectly still, unmoving until I'm sure he's gone.

I wonder how the other girls are.

I think of Miranda, presumably still with Shannon, and the girls who I'd walked out with when we were told we'd been purchased. Two had started crying before we got to a different tent, and one had begun vomiting when the man who purchased walked past rubbing his palms together.

I knew nothing about the others, not their real names or what faction they came from, how long they'd been there, or why. Only that they were in the same boat as me and we'd parted ways as a commodity.

The men who'd bid on them where nothing like Eric. He was the only one from Dauntless, and so far, he was making it seem like he'd been forced into bidding and he regretted his purchase.

I rest my cheek on my knees, and my eyes burn when I think that he might.

Miranda said he had a type, which meant picking me made zero sense.

It makes even less sense until I remember can return me.

This doesn't have to work for him, nor is it permanent. He can decide that he wants to send me back. If he doesn't like me, or I don't do what he says, I can end up right back in the tent, paraded around for a second or third time. Or until I was deemed unsellable, and who knew what happened then.

My stomach hurts at the thought. It churns, over and over, until the bile rises in my throat and I have to close my eyes. I remain still until the burning stops, and I am fine, or at least that's what I tell myself.

I tell myself that once more, until I almost believe it.

I repeat it over and over, until the water cools, I force myself out of the tub.

I dress in clothes that aren't mine, nor are they Christina's.

I think they are Eric's.

The shirt is worn, but soft and too large. The boxers are black, and the only thing that isn't his is the underwear. Everything is clean and smells like it's just been washed. He'd left me a wide selection to choose from, and I picked the least showy items. Christina's clothes were more revealing, and I felt like I'd be safer if he couldn't see me.

I was relieved to find a hairbrush and an extra toothbrush. Eric even had moisturizer, and a slew of products that hinted someone else occasionally stayed here. I used them guiltlessly, jealous that someone else had purchased them with the intent to leave them behind. I combed my hair until it was tangle free, then rifled through his cabinets. I told myself it was okay; if I was going to live here, I should know how he likes his things.

I ended my perusal when I found nothing helpful.

I put my dress in the hamper near the door, head through his bedroom and toward the kitchen. His apartment is colder than earlier, and the wet hair doesn't help. I make it to the kitchen with a shiver and stop when I see him there.

He's not alone.

An older man waits beside him. He's leaning against the counter while Eric plates the dinner he's made, half listening to Eric talk about Arlene. I catch the tail end of their conversation –something about a monitor –and they stop when he clears his throat.

"Well, it sounds like I'm not familiar with any of them. You're sure it was her?"

"No." Eric's answer is thick with disdain. "She was overly helpful, though. She was determined to make sure I left with someone."

"I see." The man answers.

I don't know him, but his expression falls the minute he looks at me. He's not dressed in a uniform, but in pants and a shirt that could be from Amity. His hair is longer than Eric's; almost as long as Rylan's, but less dark.

"Eric…" His tone is flat, thick with surprise. "What did they tell you about her?"

"She's almost eighteen, she can cook and clean, and she'll get taller at some point." Eric throws me an unamused look, then resumes plating salad. "She's from Amity, and according to the guy who dropped her off, no one will look for her."

His words send a sharp stab of pain through my head.

"Harrison, this is Everly. Everly, this is Harrison. He's another Leader here." Eric gestures vaguely as he hands Harrison a plate. "You can sit at the table."

I make myself smile before I walk to the kitchen table. I take the first seat, noticing the table is much too large for just Eric. It's out of place, but nicer than the one back home. They talk amongst themselves before they leave the kitchen to join me, and I find myself on edge.

Harrison sits down first, keeping a decent amount of space between.

"Hi, Everly. It's nice to meet you. Do you mind if I ask what faction you got on your aptitude test?" He asks. "Did you get Amity?"

I stare back at him, finding it hard to speak.

He reminds me of my father.

"Everly?" He says my name gently this time, and his expression is much softer than Eric's. "Did they tell you what faction they got?"

"I did get Amity." I answer quietly, taking a plate from Eric.

He sits down next to me, closer than Harrison, and his own plate is full. The food looks surprisingly good. I assumed Eric would make something easy, but this looks like what my mother would have cooked.

"Can I ask you something else?" Harrison picks up his fork, but he doesn't start eating. "If you're alright with that?"

"She'll answer whatever you ask her." Eric glances at me out of the corner of his eye. "Right?"

"Yes." My answer is even quieter.

"Can you tell me how many girls were with you? At this…auction?" Harrison keeps his expression neutral. "A guess is fine. It doesn't have to be an exact number."

"Maybe fifty or sixty?" I try to remember how many where there, but I'm not positive I saw everyone. "I didn't get there until right before it started. I was taken to speak to someone, so I didn't see much after that. I don't even know how many were brought out."

"Got it." He nods, satisfied with my answer. "What about after the auction?" He finally takes a bite of his chicken, and I follow suit. "Did they take you somewhere else?"

I kill time by chewing, though I can feel Eric watching me intently.

"We sat in a trailer. I was with maybe twenty girls then. They gave us something to eat and told us to wait while the bidding was going on. I wasn't in there very long." I stab another piece of chicken half-heartedly, remembering the way some of the girls mentioned not eating. "There was a girl from Dauntless there. She told me that if you don't get picked, they only show you so many rounds."

"The woman said there's a second round tonight, and after that, the next round is in a month. Told me to tell my friends," Eric adds. He watches as I take a bite, then looks at Harrison with a shrug. "What did they feed you?"

"They gave us crackers. Some water. They had fruit. They said they don't give them much." I push the salad around, and my stomach hurts. "Do you know what happens if they don't get picked?"

"They didn't say." Eric shrugs. "The girls you were with, do you know where they were from?"

"I don't. No one said anything except the girl from Dauntless." I try another bite, but it's hard to eat. "She said her name was Miranda."

Harrison and Eric exchange a look that I can't read.

"And the one who hit you? Do you know his name?" Harrison pushes some water at me, nodding encouragingly. "Eric mentioned you were bleeding when he saw you."

"He never told me his name. Just that he was a Leader, and he would teach me respect." I take a sip of water, and the air turns tense. "Eric told the nurse he knew his name."

"It was Marcus. Ironic that he'd be there when he's got an entire faction to do his bidding," Eric says. He turns to me, keeping his stare carefully closed. "Did they say anything to you about staying with them?"

"No. Just that I had people interested and I'd likely leave with one today. You were the last person I met." I look right at him, and he looks right at me. "I was taken right to you and the others stayed in the trailer."

"Were there many trailers?" Harrison asks, but he's looking at Eric. "Jason said he saw two on the camera, but he couldn't see past that."

"Three. But only two were near the front." Eric's answer is quick. "The trucks they used for towing them are from Amity. I think. I didn't get that close."

"They're smart. They aren't keeping them in one spot, and they aren't keeping them very long. But the girls who don't get picked must go somewhere." Harrison thinks aloud. "That or they're killing them and dumping them along the way."

The chicken I've just swallowed sticks in my throat.

"They were near a river. Maybe they get rid of them that way. I didn't see much after the purchase went through." Eric chews his food like he's mad at it. "What did the payment show up as?"

"Miscellaneous Merchandise. It's a code used at the Market. They've got some knowledge of how to do business, enough to keep it from being noticeable. Though a transaction that size might get flagged if someone were really looking. Most don't spend that much at once." Harrison leans back in his chair. "Or ever."

"They have other ways of paying," Eric answers. "Not just by points. The points are the fastest and cleanest way to pay, but there were others. When I was in line, a few mentioned setting up a payment plan. Some were trading, others were willing to give them whatever they wanted. One from Erudite was supplying them with medications and a dozen cases of syringes if he found the girl of his dreams."

"Interesting." Harrison nods, and thankfully, his attention turns to Eric.

Eric asks him about someone named Max, and their conversation turns to whatever Max and someone named Jason are doing. I listen as best I can, but most of it goes over my head. They only stop so Eric can bark an order that I keep eating, and it's followed by Harrison agreeing.

I manage to eat half of the dinner, and it's enough to pacify them both. They finish not much later. I assume I'm expected to sit here while they talk, but Eric pushes his chair back, and Harrison stands.

"Where is she sleeping?" Harrison takes the plate from me. "I trust you're going to keep her in your apartment?"

"She sleeps here."

Eric's answer is pointed.

He stares at his plate, then his gaze rises to meet mine. It's cold and unkind, but far better than being stuck in the trailer. I wait for him to say something else, but the only one who speaks is Harrison.

"Good. Well, keep me posted. Everly, I hope you sleep well."

"Thank you." I half whisper.

"If she needs anything, call me. I'll keep an eye on the faction tonight." Harrison takes the plates to the kitchen, then places them in the sink. "Eric, do you need anything else for her?"

Eric looks at me, and his stare is thick with regret.

"No."

I sit in silence until he very lowly announces that I can go to his room.

Eric tells me to sleep in his bed.

A wave of fear washes over me, furthered by the way he pulls the covers back for me. It's very clear this is his room, with his belongings, where he sleeps. For a split second, I worry that I might throw up all over his bed. But Eric shoves the pillows toward me, and announces that I will sleep here because there's nowhere else to sleep.

"I'll have to order another bed," he tells me, looking annoyed at the idea. "I wasn't expecting to pick anyone tonight."

"Where will you sleep?" I blurt out.

I don't care.

I don't care where he goes or if he sleeps at all, but I don't want him to sleep beside me.

"I have work to do, so I'll be up late regardless." Eric's answer is slick, and he watches me climb onto the bed. His stare remains indecipherable but vaguely interested as I pull the covers back up. "If you need something, I'll be in the living room. And while I doubt you will, don't do anything stupid. You won't get far. We aren't near an exit."

"I won't."

I bend under his stare, averting my own to look at my hands.

I slowly realize the only thing keeping me together is whatever Arlene gave me. Had she not injected me with something to keep me calm, I'd be panicking. I'm alone with Eric, and he's paid more points than I can imagine for me to live with him. He's told me to get into his bed, and he's not at all happy that I'm here.

He's given me no real indication of what he expects from me, but he will.

At some point, his true intentions will be revealed.

"Do you need anything?" Eric asks. "Water?"

"Aren't I supposed to be getting you things?" I blame whatever Arlene gave me, because he smirks at my question. "Should I get you some water?"

"No. You can do that tomorrow."

He stays for a second longer, purely to make sure I'm in bed. When he's satisfied, he shuts the light above the bed off, and the room dims. The light from the lamp next to me isn't bright at all, and before I can figure out how to turn it off, it goes dark.

Bathed in quietness, I lean back into the pillows, fully expecting to stay awake for hours.

I don't.

A few seconds after my head hits the pillows, my eyes shut, and the world slips away.

I wake sometime in the middle of the night.

Surrounded by unfamiliar sheets and pillows, I open my eyes to darkness. A room of nothing that I know, including the smell of detergent and cologne. I sit up slowly, pushing the covers back as much as I dare, like Eric will be alerted that I am awake.

My heart thuds painfully, each beat louder than the last.

When I sit up, the memory of the tent comes rushing back full force: I can feel the heat on my skin, the smell of the dry grass, and the shock when Marcus slapped me.

Fear courses through my veins like he's waiting for me beneath the bed. I force myself to climb out of bed, hating the way it's high. My skin feels three sizes too small, and each step is painful. I walk as quietly as I can to the door, noticing Eric left it ajar. I gingerly push it open, wincing when it squeaks, and my body tenses.

I prepare for Eric to return with a vengeance, but he doesn't.

The hallway before me is long, with doors on each side. His apartment appears much too large for just him. I take a few tentative steps, my stupidity taking over, until I reach the next door. That room is dark, and so is the next one. I keep going, desperate to find…. something.

I don't know what I'm looking for, but I can't stay in his room. I trail my hand along the wall as I walk, and when I reach the end, his living room comes into view.

He's not there.

The room is dark, and so is the kitchen. My eyes adjust slowly, until I see his kitchen table, his uniform jacket on the counter, and the entryway to his apartment. I head into the kitchen, still unsure of what I'm doing. I'm not dumb enough to open the front door and run, nor would I think there's another way out. He's presumably expecting me to try the front door, so instead, I look at his cabinets.

His counter.

His refrigerator.

There is nothing unusual here except for a note on the side of the fridge. Written in messy lettering is a reminder that he has a meeting Friday, with a time below. It's stuck atop a napkin from somewhere called the Tipsy Chicken, and there's a number written on there and a girl's name.

Kendall hopes he'll call her.

I idly wonder if he has, then I take a wild guess he hasn't.

He wouldn't have been at the auction if he had a girlfriend.

My perusal of his kitchen continues as I open a cabinet drawer, feeling unhinged. I blame it on what happened. I wouldn't normally go through someone's things, but my brain is screaming to find something to defend myself with. My fingers graze over forks until I find several large knives, but I don't move anything past picking one up, shocked at how heavy it is.

Fear pricks at the back of my neck.

I feel like someone is watching me. I put the knife back and close the drawer as softly as I can, turning with the plan to pretend I'm sleepwalking. My breathing becomes uneven and panic riddled, but it's pointless.

There is no one here.

The hallway is dark, the living room is dark, and so is the first bedroom I can see.

I take it as a sign to go back to bed. I leave his kitchen with one final glance back, then hurry to his room. Each of the doors remains ajar, and not a single light is on. The apartment is silent except for the hum of the air, and the thudding of my own heartbeat.

It takes three more steps for me to figure out he's left me alone.

For a moment, I feel like laughing.

He's brought me here, told me to sleep in his bed, then gone somewhere else. The wild thought of opening his front door simply to see if he's there enters my mind, but I shake it away. He either trusts that I'll stay put, or he's got someone watching his apartment. While I could attempt to rush past whoever would be there, it's unlikely that I would get very far.

I'd have to make it down the hallway, up the stairs, and somehow find my way to the exit. Once outside, I'd have to find a way through the gates –either convincing the guards I've been set free or climbing over them. The woods pose another challenge; I don't know where we are in relation to Amity, and the route Eric drove isn't familiar to me.

In my head, I picture the winding road clearly. I could walk it, or cut through the woods, but there's a great chance I won't get very far before he found me.

The thought of him sprinting at me is enough to make me go back to his room.

Defeat washes over me, as does the wave of fear when I climb beneath his sheets. I pull the comforter back up as the front door opens. The sound echoes through the apartment, loud against the previous silence. He's speaking to someone, and when I don't hear them answer, I make the guess that he's on the phone.

His voice eventually fades.

I screw my eyes shut, waiting for him to return and demand something from me.

He doesn't.

By the time I am certain he's elsewhere, my head is heavy. I fight sleep for a few more minutes, trying to stay on alert, but it doesn't work for very long.

Clutching the comforter as though it will protect me from him, I fall asleep in bed, with absolutely nothing but fear coursing through my veins.

Chapter Text

In the morning, I wake to Eric going through his dresser.

I'm surprised that I slept, and even more surprised to find myself still exhausted. I open my eyes to light streaming in from the bathroom, and Eric on the phone. He must have just showered; the towel around his waist manages to stay on as he moves, and after an irritated sigh, he barks an answer at someone.

"Yeah, it's going swimmingly. Do you know if Harrison sent anyone yet? I know Jason said he'd go. He was optimistic he'll find his soulmate by hiding in the trees."

His sarcastic tone is clear as day, especially when he turns. His phone is pressed to his ear as he glances at the bed, but I don't think he can't see me.

His room is freezing.

I buried myself beneath a thick comforter and kept it wrapped around me the best I could.

"She's… yeah. I haven't told her. I don't think she'd be any happier to hear that. Arlene said it'll take a few days for her to acclimate, and I should wait until then. I got thirty emails from her this morning." He pauses, and the shirt crumples in his hand. "And that was all before six."

He sighs again, stretching his neck from side to side.

"She slept. I don't know how well, but I didn't hear anything. As far as I know, she didn't get up."

He returns to the bathroom and the door shuts partially behind him. I can make out a few words, and none are particularly mood lifting.

Victim, discipline, and inside job.

He says a few others, but I burrow beneath his covers and into his pillows and close my eyes until he leaves.

"Do you want something to eat?"

What seems like hours later, I jump when Eric walks into the kitchen. It's his own kitchen, but I startle like he's the one who shouldn't be here. My fingers are paused on his refrigerator door, not because I'm about to open it, but because I want to leave my fingerprints here in case something happens to me. The thought came out of nowhere, and it wouldn't stop running through my head. My entire existence is temporary; anything could end my time in Dauntless, and not one person would be any the wiser.

But maybe, just maybe, if someone did come look for me, there'd be some evidence of me in his apartment.

"Um, yes. I can make you something if you want," I offer, having zero clue what he'd eat. "Do you like… toast?"

"No."

He eyes me up and down before he knocks me out of the way to open the refrigerator door. His fridge is stocked with all kinds of fruits and vegetables, milk, lemonade, and plenty of eggs. He has a variety of protein, and absolutely nothing that contains sugar or looks like it might be dessert.

"I have a few questions for you, and then you can go… do something." He's dismissive as he searches for something to eat. He eventually pulls out butter, and something dark. "Do you like coffee?"

"I've never had it." I answer. He glances back at me, barefoot in his kitchen, watching him curiously. He pulls out the milk, then a small bottle of something clear. "What is that?"

"Coffee."

"Is it good?" I ask, stepping back. I end up against his cabinets, doing my best to stay out of his way. "Do you drink a lot of it?"

"I do." He answers easily. "Hop up there. I have to look at something."

"What?" Fear strikes through my heart, and I can't move. "What are you looking at?"

"Your leg." He answers sharply. "Arlene sent a message and I'm supposed to look at some bruise. If I don't, she'll come up here herself and neither of us want that."

"I'm not hurt."

My answer is defensive, and understandably so. When he turns, it's obvious he's used to people listening to his orders. Before I can remind him that I'm fine –Marcus hit my face not my leg –he picks me up. He sits me on the counter, and much like Arlene, without waiting for me to agree, bends down to inspect my leg. I watch him carefully, trying to guess what he's thinking. His eyes narrow when he looks at my knee, and his hands are warm as they pull my leg toward him.

There is a bruise there.

Dark and blue, one I don't remember having before.

"Did you do this in Amity?" He touches the bruise firmly, like he's aware it hurts, but he doesn't care. "They said you had no bruising. I'm supposed to make sure you still don't."

"I probably hit it when I was home. They didn't look under my dress," I answer quietly. "They only cared what was visible."

"I see."

His hands stay on my knee, just below the bruise.

"Did you often get hurt in Amity?" He straightens up until we are almost eye to eye. "They assured me you were coordinated."

"No," I try to think an appealing answer, but his expression tells me he doesn't care. "I probably hit it on the stairs or something."

I hold his stare, and his grey eyes flash with irritation. He drops my leg with a nod, then points at me.

"Stay there. I'll make you something to drink." Eric returns to the other side of the kitchen to grab a few glasses. Minutes later, he hands me a cup filled with ice and coffee, and when I take a sip, it's surprisingly sweet. "The syrup is Rylan's. He left it here. I don't normally use it, but I thought you might like it."

"I do."

If he's using the coffee as a distraction, it works. What the nurse gave me has worn off, but the coffee helps. I manage to relax enough to sip the drink, and it's quiet while he preps the eggs. He works efficiently, and it's not long before he turns the stove on. He tosses butter on the pan, adds in the eggs, some spinach, and pepper. I watch everything he does so I can try to replicate it for him, knowing the day will come sooner than later.

"When you were in Amity, did your father ever talk about you choosing another faction?" Eric asks, opening a cabinet door beneath me. He doesn't tell me to move, he merely works around me. "Or did he say anything about the Choosing Ceremony?"

"No. I know what it is, but he didn't mention it. My mom told me picking Amity would be the easiest and would help them, but she never brought it up again." I answer him carefully, and when he straightens up, his eyes find mine. "They talked a lot about my brother's Choosing Ceremony, but not mine."

"Would you have picked Amity?" He busies himself with the bread, and the only time he breaks eye contact is to put it in the toaster.

My chest aches, for more reasons than just his question.

"Yes."

"Is your brother older?" He pauses to scramble the eggs, then blinks at me. "Did you hear me, Everly?"

I hold onto the coffee tighter. I like hearing him say my name. It's a stupid thing to notice, but it reminds me that I'm real. This whole thing feels like a nightmare, but him calling me by my real name makes me think he won't kill me.

"Forrest is five years older than me."

"And the others?"

For a half second, I wonder how he knows about my family. Then I realize he can look up anyone he wants, and it would only take him a few seconds of typing to find out I had plenty of brothers and sisters.

"The rest are younger."

I don't bother to name them. He won't be impressed with any of them, nor will he care who they are.

"Are you close with your sisters?" He asks. "I saw you had a few."

"I am. Do you…. do you think the same thing will happen to them?" The fear comes right back, violent and hot. "Will they get taken, too?"

"They might." Eric's shrug is indifferent, almost cold. "How much younger are they?"

"They're three years younger. Their names are Paisley and Holly," I tell him. "What if… what if Landon brings them to the same place that he brought me?"

"Then I guess someone will bid on them." Eric's tone sharpens. "Or not."

"Maybe your friends can bring them here." I feel dizzy at the thought. "What about the other soldiers? Or you? Maybe you can get them?"

I look at him optimistically, and he shakes his head.

"I think I'm good."

My stomach sinks.

My sisters will eventually be seventeen. They'll take the same test I did, and it's likely they'll still trust Landon for no reason other than they know him. I'd bet anything he went home yesterday, told them I ran off, and spent the evening consoling them.

"I wouldn't worry about that now," Eric says. He turns to face me, and when I look at him, he doesn't smile. He stares as he hands me a plate. I didn't hear the toaster ding, and I've been too horrified at the thought of Landon tricking my sisters to realize he's done cooking. "Here. We can eat at the table."

"Okay."

I hop down off the counter with less grace than I'd like. The dizziness subsides, but the fear lingers just beneath the surface of my skin. When Eric sits down in the same chair as last night, I'm struck by how tall he is, and how strong he looks. By how harsh the tattoos on his throat are, along with the ones on his forearm.

"What are you going to do with me?" I stop at the first chair to look back at him. "What do I have to do to –"

"Everly," Eric interrupts impatiently. "Eat your breakfast. I have to be at work in an hour. I'm not doing anything to you that you need to worry about."

"Do you promise?" My voice shakes, but he nods.

"Yeah, I do. Now sit and eat before it gets cold."

With all the reluctance in the world, I sit down in the same seat as before. Eric eats quietly, and aside from his phone dinging, the apartment is silent.

"Does anyone else live here?" I break the silence, and he looks up from his phone in surprise. "Is it just you?"

"It's just me. And now you." He smiles mockingly, but I don't take it personal. He's reading something, and his widened eyes stay that way as he types something back. "Did you have friends in Amity? Anyone you were especially close to?"

"Yeah, Sophia and Courtney." I answer easily. "There were others. But they were my best friends."

"Anyone you think might pick Dauntless?" Eric's stare finds mine, intense as ever. "Either of them? Maybe someone else?"

"I don't think they'd pick Dauntless. They really like Amity. Maybe…" I take a bite of eggs, and think of my friends back home. I feel uneasy over Eric asking, and I wonder if the guy he mentioned wants to know. "Maybe Jake. He wants to leave. Um, he has some friends who'd go with him."

"Okay." Eric leans back in his chair, and his exhale is sharp.

He's dressed in half his uniform again. His t-shirt is soft looking, but fitted, and his hair is combed to the side. He watches me eat a bite of eggs, and I wish I could read his mind.

His phone rings again, the sound startling, but he declines it.

"What's your middle name?" His question comes out of nowhere, and his tone is mildly curious. "I couldn't find one."

"I don't have one."

I wait for him to ask me something else, but he doesn't. He nods as I reach for the coffee.

"Me, either."

He pushes his phone to the side then resumes eating his breakfast. There's some mild comfort in sitting here, though I know this isn't what he wants. He's giving me time to get used to being here, and when he thinks it's been long enough, he'll start the list of things he wants me to do. At the end of the day, I'm trapped; hidden in a faction where no one will ever find me, not even if they tried.

The thought is bleak.

It takes me a long time to finish my breakfast, but Eric waits until I'm done. He takes the plates and tells me he'll be back in an hour or so to show me around. His tone hints that he expects me to be ready, and wherever we are going isn't optional.

Before he leaves, he pulls his jacket on, then makes sure I'm looking at him.

"I'll be back by eleven. There are clothes on the dresser. If you need anything, it'll have to wait until I'm back. Do not try to leave. There are soldiers expecting you to run. They'll take you down by any force necessary." He stares me down, and his transformation into the Eric that runs Dauntless is complete as he buttons the jacket. "Do you understand?"

"Yes."

Satisfied by my agreement, Eric leaves. He shuts the door behind him, and a second later, it locks. I hear the mechanical click, followed by his footsteps walking away, and I stare at the door for a solid minute.

Though I could probably open it from the inside, I don't try.

The violence is unparalleled.

In the middle of a vast, open space is a ring. Thick ropes line the sides of the elevated platform, and in the middle, two men fight each other as though they are enemies. One punches the other right in the face, and though his nose gushes blood, the man doesn't stop. A howl emerges from the one who is bleeding, but a second later, he knocks the other man back and into the ropes. The man twists to get away, but the sudden blow to his head makes his mouth turn red.

My eyes widen as blood splatters on the floor.

"This the Pit. Every week, we have fights for members to bet on. These two are fighting for points. The winner gets enough to be off work for a few months. If you've bet on the fight, and you win, you get whatever points you've wagered."

Eric's explanation follows his hand cupping my elbow. His fingers stay there, not as tight as they were yesterday, but enough that I know to stay by him. His hand is warm, and I unconsciously lean back when the men fighting slam into the ropes on our side of the ring.

"What if they get really hurt? Will they die?"

Dauntless swirls around me, as fast as the man can punch his opponent. This area is packed with members watching the fight, and everyone is dressed in a shade of black. I've never seen so many ripped clothes, wild hair, and bold tattoos. Like Eric, there's an edge of sharpness to everyone; almost everyone looks tough and unfriendly, but they're fully engaged in watching the fight. The area is large enough to hold all of Amity, lit up by the rays from the open ceiling above.

I search the ceiling, trying to think if I could climb out.

I'm not optimistic.

Eric returned when he said he would, still dressed for battle. I dressed in what I assumed where Christina's clothes. I took a shower, rewashed my hair, and pulled on the first black dress I'd ever worn in my life. I found boots that must have been hers, and though I had no issue wearing something borrowed, it felt unlike myself to pair them with the dress. I let my hair dry as much as it could, and killed time by wandering around the apartment.

I figured it would be smart to learn about him, but his apartment offered nothing.

In the empty room, I learned his boots were twice the size of mine and the lone jacket tossed beside them was his. It had a black stripe on the arm, and his last name embroidered below it. The last name Coulter was stitched in maroon, and stuck out against the black. In the room he used as an office, I tentatively touched a few pieces of paper, but I was too afraid to really look through everything. His signature was on the bottom of every page, neat and precise. The work was nothing I understood and neither were the reports he was looking at.

He had a lot of maps, with areas circled in red, and some lists of people in Erudite who worked in a manufacturing plant.

His bedroom was the only place that had anything that wasn't his work, but I didn't spend too long in there.

There was no way out but his front door.

I didn't dare touch it. I had the sinking feeling there were guards outside of it. I knew better than to do something as stupid as open his front door and walk out, and he'd told me he'd assigned people to watch his apartment hallway.

I searched a few other doors but came up with nothing: he had multiple storage closets, an extra bathroom, and a hallway closet full of towels.

He came back right at eleven. I emerged from his room dressed and ready to go, and his look of exasperation was paired with an air of apprehension. When we left, I discovered I was right: no less than six guards were positioned by his door. They stared at me, unmoving as we walked past.

Eric's exasperation lessened as he waked us to a set of stairs, down a few floors, and through the faction. It was gone by the time he pointed out a few places that he deemed important: an elevator, a row of stores where he explained members could buy anything they'd like, and a restaurant the size of the Dome. He took me deeper into the faction, until we were in the middle of nowhere, and paused to watch the fight.

He doesn't appear too invested in the sparring, but more so in the members around us.

His stare scraped over the crowed, eyeing each member like he knew them. His expression is calculated, but when he looks down at me, it lessens.

"Most of these people should be at work." He remarks, his fingers still on my elbow. "I wonder if Harrison knows –"

"Hey! Eric! Everly!"

I look over to see Rylan wiggling his way through the crowd. His eyes are bright with excitement, and when he stops near us, he slaps Eric on the arm as hard as he can.

"You ass! You said you'd call me back and you didn't." He looks down at me, and his grin widens. "Hi, Everly. How are you enjoying Dauntless?"

"Um… it's…" I pause, looking at Eric. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to answer, or if he wants me to. Shannon mentioned that I should be quiet or agreeable. But Eric's attention is back on the ring and not me. "It's… good so far." I look at Rylan, and his expression is so earnest I can't help but smile back. "What I've seen, at least."

"Did Eric take you to the jails?!" Rylan asks, ignoring the swift turn of Eric's head. "Or the underground tunnels?"

"Why would I take her to the jails?" Eric stares him down like he's lost his mind. "And no. She's seen very little of the faction, but she's been here a day. I'm sure she'll see more over the next week."

"Oh, so she can't go with me to the basement? Or the –"

"No." Eric cuts him with a shake of his head.

"Why not!?"

"I don't want to go the basement," I also shake my head, horrified at what could be down there. "Are you here to fight?"

"Me?" Rylan blinks in surprise. "No. I'm banned from fighting. I'm too powerful for anyone to fight against. We need soldiers, and if I fight everyone, we'll have no one left."

"Oh." I stare at the look on his face, one that hints he's both telling the truth but also thinks he's hilarious, and I wonder which faction he came from. "It sounds… like you're very strong."

"I am."

"Everly and I have to get going. Are you sticking around?" Eric's fingers tense, but only because the crowd steps backwards as one of the men is thrown over the ropes. "Harrison wants to meet at five if you're free."

"No, I'm meeting Tori. She wants to go to Erudite and I told her I'd drive. I already talked to Harrison. He said…" Rylan pauses, and when he looks at me, he's frustrated. "He said we need to be careful. If they don't think she's being used for what you bought her for, they'll figure something is up. He wants me to put my name in for the next time. Jason might be a better choice, but Jason wasn't sure he could go through with it."

"Right. I'll have her run some laps or something." Eric shrugs, ignoring the way Rylan's expression drops. "What?"

"I think this would be easier if she knew." He clamps his mouth shut, and when I look up at Eric, Eric's lips press together. "It's your call, though."

"I already spoke to Harrison about it. The less she knows, the better."

With that, Eric pulls on my arm, nods at Rylan, and curtly tells him he'll see him later. I'm taken through the crowd and back into a hallway. Eric stops a few feet in, and before I know what's happening, I'm shoved backwards. Not as hard as he could, but enough that I'm out of sight. He stops me before I hit the wall, and my heart races as his hands grasp my arms.

He shoves his face so close to mine I can smell his toothpaste.

"Listen to me, because I'm only going to tell you this once: you are to do as I say, and only what I say. Not just because I bought you," he pauses, and in the dark, his expression is hard to see. "But because it'll keep you alive."

My lungs flatten until there is no air left in them.

"If you don't, and you try to run or you think you're going to get out of here, you won't stay alive for long. If I don't find you, they will. Do you promise that you'll do as I say?"

"I will." The awful feeling from a day ago returns, and I struggle to look at him. "I said I'd listen. Just tell me what you want me to do."

"Good." He loosens his grip, and his head leans toward mine. "You need to trust me. If you can get through the next few months, you'll be fine."

"What happens then?" I crane my head up, and a red light blinks. It moves, scanning the room. "Will you let me go?"

"No."

He drops his hands away, and his shoulders rise.

"No more questions, Everly. And don't go anywhere with Rylan."

He waves for me to follow him, and the rest of my tour is silent.

By the time noon rolls around, I am terrified.

Eric and I stand on the edge of the rooftop. He nudges me forward, toward an opening of black. When I look down, my palms become sweaty. The fall is one I wouldn't survive; I can't see the bottom, and the opening is wide, but pitch black. Eric can sense my fear. He bumps my arm on purpose and goads me to look over again. I try not to look down, and instead focus on how good the fresh air feels after being inside.

The sunlight pours over us, warming my skin after hours beneath the Earth.

"Are you afraid?" Eric casually stands next to me, unbothered, and his eyes squint in the sunlight.

"What's at the bottom?" I look up, and when I sway, he grabs my arm. "Is there water?"

"There's a net. This is where the initiates jump." Eric's answer is paired with him stepping down from the ledge and onto the roof. "If they don't, they're out."

"Why?" I look at him, still nowhere near his height, and he stares back. "What happens then?"

"They become factionless." His shrug is indifferent. "We usually don't see them again. At least, not for a while."

"That's…"

I lose my train of thought when my foot slips. The boots are slightly too big, and when I try to catch my balance, they are too heavy. The sky tilts. My fall backwards makes my stomach drop, but Eric has me by the arm. I gasp when he pulls me off the ledge and towards him.

"You're fine." He reassures me, but the sound is muffled. "I've got you."

My heart races again, almost as fast as when he pushed me away from the Pit, and I wonder if he's doing this on purpose. He's impatient as I attempt to calm down, and when I don't, he pulls me further back on the roof. I hit his jacket, so close I can see the stitching along the buttons, and he quickly puts space between us.

"You wouldn't die, even if you fell. Everyone who chooses Dauntless jumps down there. It's safe."

The heat sears around us. My dress sticks to my skin as I struggle to stay upright, trying to make sense of what just happened. I'm not afraid of heights. I never have been. I've jumped from the highest cliffs into the lakes near Amity. I've climbed trees during hide and seek, and I've hung out in the barn roofs, occasionally sliding down and outside to duck away from Johanna.

But here, atop a building it feels different. I am less brave than I was before Landon brought me to that place. All I can think about is that a day ago, I was in Amity, making plans with Sophia and Courtney. I was happy and content, picking flowers that matched my dress before heading out to what I thought was lunch. Today, I am here, with someone I don't know, telling me to trust him even though I don't think I can.

"Everly." Eric says my name so loudly I jump. "Are you alright? I asked if you need to sit down."

"I didn't hear you." I realize I am holding onto him, and my hands are shaking. "I don't know what's wrong. I'm not scared of heights, but I don't want to be up here."

"You're fine." Eric answers evenly. "I needed you to see this."

He lets me catch my breath until his phone rings. Then he tells me to sit down, and when I do, he answers with a bark of exasperation.

"What?" He snarls at whomever has called him. "Yeah, I'm aware. I brought her to roof where the initiates jump. That's it. She's good now."

He pauses to glance at me out of the corner of his eye, and his next word is even harsher.

"No."

His tone becomes venomous, but I stop paying attention. I pull my knees to my chest and rest my cheek on them. I try to slow the frantic pace of my heart and focus on breathing in and out. Part of me wonders if he'll make me jump. The idea of falling several stories is unpleasant, but it must be easy enough if the new members can do it. I close my eyes as the wind picks up, carrying Eric's voice over to me.

"She wouldn't survive the initiation. Not without my help. It runs two months. I don't have that time –"

He stops speaks when someone must interrupt him. I don't have to open my eyes to tell he's irritated.

"It would be incredibly suspicious for her to rank high enough to stay. Four will have an absolute fit over skewing the rankings. Not to mention we'd be kicking out an actual viable solider so she could take their place."

My heart sinks at his words.

The thought of joining their initiation class is nauseating, and I don't even know what it entails.

"That would be laughable." He retorts. "Look, it's rumored that Amity will be providing the catering for the Choosing Ceremony. Harrison mentioned it's their turn, and they'll be in attendance, presumably those who deal with the food orders. I don't see how it's relevant past that's where she's from."

I screw my eyes shut tighter when I hear his footsteps.

"That would make her a pawn in our game. Not theirs."

A second later, he touches my hair to get my attention.

He quickly pulls hand away to tap my arm.

"Come on. We're done for the day. You can go home and take a nap or something. Whatever you want. We'll grab lunch on the way." He looks down at me with a sneer on his lips, but it's temporary. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

I sit up straight, making sure he sees that I'm okay. I have the sinking feeling he's going to put me through the Dauntless initiation, purely for his own entertainment. His expression remains impassive; he doesn't seem to like me, but he's responsible for me by his own doing.

"Let's go."

He doesn't help me up.

He waits until I stand, then leads me to the stairs, and back inside Dauntless.

By the time we make it to lunch, I have no doubt that Eric will kill me at some point.

The look on his face when I miss a step on the stairs and nearly fall to my death is telling.

I hate how unlike myself I feel, but I try to accept that things are out of my control. The fear of being on the roof eventually subsides, and so does Eric's annoyance at whoever called him. We reached the floor he wanted in minutes, and his posture changed. He perked up as much as Eric could; his eyes lightened when we walked toward the restaurant, and I realized we were meeting the people who must be his friends.

Rylan stands to the side of doors with one foot atop a large statue of a bear. He waves, chewing on a straw while frantically typing on his phone. He's less put together now, but just as enthused at our arrival.

Until he looks at me, and his smile drops.

"What did you do to her? She looks ill."

"I took her to the roof. Harrison requested she know how to get into Dauntless." Eric slickly explains. His palm finds my lower back, and he pushes me toward the restaurant. "Now we're here with you."

"Only the initiates enter Dauntless that way. We have a front door," Rylan rolls his eyes, but his mood immediately resumes being as cheerful as ever. "Hey, they have tacos right now."

"Oh good."

Eric humorlessly follows me into the restaurant, and it's like nothing I've seen before. Amity doesn't have restaurants, so I assumed Dauntless wouldn't either. This one doesn't fit in here, and maybe that's why it's so crowded. Every table and booth is full, and when we walk by, it seems like everyone looks at me. Their stares are exactly what I would expect, given how no one knows who I am or why I'm here. The men stare in a way that hints they'll be next at the tents, and the women all look worried. One with vibrant purple hair leans across the table to reach for me, and when her hand touches my wrist, she stands.

"Is she alright?"

She's tall, almost as tall as Eric, and dressed in dark blue.

"Eric? Is she alright?" She demands. "Harrison told me –"

"She's fine. Everly, this is Rachel. She oversees one of the better patrols." He smirks at her, but his hand stays on me, ushering us apart. "Don't touch her."

"Why?" Rachel cocks her head at him. For a second, they look alike. But she backs away first, letting go of me after a pause. "Fine. If you need anything, let me know. I'll help you however I can."

"That won't be necessary," Eric's fingers dig into my back, and he steps so close my head hits his chest. "She's good."

"Is she?" Rachel questions, dropping her stare to me. "I certainly hope so. Is she staying with you?"

Her voice is full of concern. I get the impression Eric doesn't routinely host guests, nor does he want anyone around him. He nods at her, and her eyes tighten.

"Okay." She relents. "I didn't think…" She pauses, and her next words are spoken directly to me as she changes her mind. "Welcome to Dauntless. You can always come find me if you need any help."

"Thanks. It's nice to meet you," I answer, ignoring the way I can feel the heat radiating from Eric. His fingers press harder, like he's promoting me to tell her no.

He's not, but I do anyway.

The less trouble I cause, the better.

"Thank you for the offer, but I'm alright." I look at Eric out of the corner of my eye, and when he nods, I know I've made the right decision. "I promise."

"Of course." Rachel sits down, keeping her stare on me. "Enjoy your lunch."

"We will." Eric flashes her a condescending grin, then nudges me forward. "Keep going. We're sitting in the booth on the left, where the guy with the red hair is."

"Okay."

I don't move on his command. I look at Rachel, sitting with her friends, and around the restaurant. It's filled with people enjoying their lunches. Gossip fills the air, warm and happy, and the conversation is lively. I hear my name whispered a few times, and if I were to close my eyes, I'd be back in Amity. In the Dome, or perhaps at the lone bar we had. It was run by my brother, who only worked a few days and spent the rest of his time goofing off with friends.

"Any day now, Everly."

Eric leans down to murmur my name. His hand stays on my back, steady and firm, even when I keep walking.

I eventually reach the table, and to my surprise, I learn that Eric has lots of friends.

"Do you need anything else?"

I look up at Eric, and his whole bedroom seems to darken. He's ditched his t-shirt and his pants, and his quick shower has left his hair damp. He squints at me, his stare curious. I'm already in bed. I've pulled the covers up as high as I could, and tried to fall asleep before he was done.

I couldn't.

I'd spent most of the day with him, and during lunch with his friends –Jason, Rylan, and someone named Jeremy, we were joined by a guy named Four. Eric greeted him less than cordially, and their conversation quickly changed to their upcoming initiation. I was an afterthought at the table, but I was fine with it. Eric ordered my lunch, and I ate the same thing he had. I drank water alongside him and sat close enough that no one would assume I was here alone, but far enough away as not to touch him.

They talked about the initiation class with disdain, but it was mostly Eric. He didn't think highly of the incoming class, even though he had no clue who they were. He seemed to dislike the idea of anyone choosing Dauntless, and his reasoning must have been personal. Jason snickered a suggestion that Eric help Four, and both Four and Eric looked visibly irritated at the idea.

I didn't like this Four person, especially when he looked at me like I was the most pathetic person he'd ever seen. His sympathy felt strange; he appeared to know why I was here, and there was some hidden superiority in his stare. When Rylan suggested that I drop by the initiation class a few times, just enough that they'd know my face and name, he shook his head firmly.

"I don't think that's smart."

It was his only real contribution. I could tell Eric agreed with him, but he didn't let him know that.

We left not much later, and I was shown several places that Eric deemed worthy of his attention. I saw a piercing parlor –where he spoke to the guy working and made him agree not to pierce or tattoo me even if I begged him, a store that sold clothes like the ones Rachel had on, and the mess hall. Eric told me I could eat there, but the look on his face hinted I shouldn't.

We went back to his apartment by three thirty, and he left me alone to return to work.

He gave me a few things to do, and the dread in my stomach felt like a boulder. His list was nothing exhaustive, but it was a start: someone was dropping off his laundry, and I was to collect it, turn on his dishwasher, and staple some papers together for him.

The papers were easy enough to find. He'd left them on the counter, and when I flipped through to put them in order, I froze.

My name was all over them.

Everly Carlen existed in Amity, but my life ended there.

These papers had my name listed beside Eric's, and a signature that was not mine beneath it. I read the papers three times before I realized they were dated in the future. One was an agreement to be seen in the infirmary for an initiate checkup, one was a form releasing Arlene from being held accountable for some procedure, and the other was a document listing me as Eric's spouse.

The girls from the tents were right; I had been sold with the intent of becoming Eric's wife. Once this paper went where it needed to go, it would be official. Everly Carlen would be gone. Everly Coulter would live here, with Eric, doing whatever he demanded.

I wondered if anyone back home would know, but when I found the next page, I knew it wouldn't matter.

It was a letter to Johanna, explaining that Amity would soon be under Dauntless' control.

With a heavy feeling in my throat, I stapled the papers together, and left them on the counter. I turned on the dishwasher, accepted Eric's clothing and numbly put it away in his drawers. I took another shower to kill time, and set the table for dinner. I opened his fridge once, but I couldn't think of anything to make. He hadn't told me to make dinner, but I figured it would put me in better standing with him.

My vision blurred as I tried to concoct something with what was in his fridge, but he came home as I was giving up, and in his hands was a bag from somewhere. He'd brought dinner, and he announced he'd ordered for me.

As I sat beside him, I badly wanted to ask him about the papers. He wasn't stupid, he knew I'd read them. But I couldn't find the courage to ask if it really meant I was his wife, or if he'd kill me before then. The date on the paper was months out, and maybe this was a trial run. In the end, my fears were pointless because he didn't say much. He ate his dinner while occasionally looking at me, then announced he was going to bed early.

I tried not to think about where he would be sleeping.

"I'm fine. Do you need anything?" From beneath his comforter, I stare at his hair. His face, and the defined jaw that he set askew to shake his head. The muscle of his back, and the way his arms appeared the size of my head. "I can sleep somewhere else."

"No." Displeased as ever, he pressed his lips together, then cocked his head at an angle. "Did you ever sleep at Landon's?"

His question catches me off guard.

He walks closer to the bed, stopping to touch the end.

"Everly?"

"No, never." I answer defensively, but I don't know why. "I could have, if I wanted to."

"And you didn't?" He raises an eyebrow at me, clearly expecting an answer.

"No." I sit up straighter, and his stare moves to my exposed shoulder. It's his shirt, too oversized and worn, and I chose it because it was warm. "He wasn't… the best. But he was all I had. Or… that's what I thought."

I stumble over my words, hating how they sound.

When Eric doesn't say anything, I keep talking.

"I didn't want to stay with him." I admit before I can stop myself. "I never should have gone anywhere with him."

"You were reported as missing." Eric tells me. His tone is as sharp, especially when he looks up. "We got the official request today."

"You did?" I sit up even straighter, and the comforter falls away. "What happens now?"

"Dauntless will investigate. Harrison will send a few soldiers to take some statements, but I predict no one will have seen or heard anything." He pauses, and when his eyes find mine, his smile is full of fake, saccharine sympathy. "Landon will be questioned. So will your family."

"Did my parents report it?" I hold onto his comforter, and this time, his eyes drop. He looks me up and down, and I know the answer before he says it. "Eric?"

"No. Sophia did."

The next days are brutal.

Eric gives me a few rules to follow, pointing out that they're for my safety:

Don't try to leave.

Don't go through his things looking for a way out.

Don't answer questions from people I don't know; this one was said pointedly, while he thinly explained not everyone in Dauntless would be polite or welcoming.

If I need anything, ask him.

Stay out of his way.

Don't open his apartment door unless he instructs me to.

Don't attempt to hurt myself, flee in the middle of the night, or run back to Amity.

I agreed.

I had little to energy to try and run, nor did I believe I'd get away.

So, I keep to myself, away from Eric as much as I can. Unfortunately for me, he's everywhere. It's his apartment, and I'm stuck inside, hoping he won't change his mind about what he wants me to do. I wait for him to demand that I perform some task other than household duties, but so far, he gives me regular, boring chores to do.

Fold his clothes when they are dropped off.

Give the laundry to whomever picks it up, including my own.

Put away the groceries that are delivered.

Throw out anything expired.

Drink some water and eat lunch even when I'm not hungry.

Put away his clothes, but hang up his jackets. His boots go in the closet, and his button-down shirts, a surprise to me, hang up beside him. My own clothes partner his, smaller and less assuming, and mostly new.

I was surprised to find them arrive in numerous amounts, but it solidified the fact that I was staying here. I had some hope that Sophia would have told them something that would have revealed where I was, but I was slowly realizing all of Dauntless knew where Eric had gone and what he done.

But they didn't care.

Neither did Amity.

Whoever went to talk to my family didn't offer to return me, and Eric's only answer to what was said was nothing. He informed me that Sophia was firm in her statement that I wouldn't run off into the woods, but she didn't know where else I would have gone. Landon stuck by his statement that we'd gone on a picnic, where I'd left suddenly, and my parents agreed that it was likely an act of rebellion over not wanting to stay in Amity. Courtney didn't quite back them up, but she couldn't think of where I would go, or why I'd leave. Her best guess was that I was unhappy in Amity, and I'd left before my parents could try to persuade me to stay.

That one stung.

They closed the case a day later, as Eric pressed a donut into my hand with as much sympathy as he could muster.

None.

"If it makes you feel better, your little brother said you wouldn't run away." He held my stare as I reached for the donut slowly, not entirely positive he hadn't done something to it that would drug me into listening to him. "And Forrest…he was less than impressed with Jeremy's investigation. He tried to organize a search party, but your father was adamant that it was a waste of time. From what I gathered, he had to get back to work because they're behind on fulfilling their orders."

"They only looked for one day?" My fingers grazed his as I took the donut from him. "No one thought they could find me?"

"They were never going to find you," Eric pointed out. "But yes, they held a one-day, faction-wide search which obviously turned up empty-handed."

"What about the… the people who took me? They didn't see them? Or the tents? They were near Amity. They were –"

"The auction moves. Once you express interest, you're given a code, a background check, and they approve or deny you. If they deny you, they threaten your very existence by exposing what you're interested in. Not many factions are tolerant of men purchasing stolen women." Eric answered very carefully. He was guilty of this himself, and ironically, he was acting like he wasn't. "Ones reputation could be destroyed by such knowledge."

"What about yours?" I asked.

Eric laughed.

It was a snicker of hilariousness, aimed at me.

"My reputation was ruined a long time ago. I don't think there's anything that could make it any worse."

He pulled his hand away. He stood before me in a uniform that proudly boasted that he protected the factions and their citizens, and with a brisk nod, told me I could pick dinner.

"I'll be back around six. Think of what you want to eat and I'll make it."

His offer was not generous or kind, it was to make things easy. He knew this knowledge would hurt, and he was right.

I spent the rest of the afternoon on his couch, staring at the wall.

"You're late."

The woman behind the counter stares Eric down with a vengeance. She looks at me the same way, and when I don't smile, her dislike intensifies.

"Who is this?" She types on a computer, and her black nails clack noisily. "Did you finally land yourself a girlfriend? Does she know who you are?"

"She needs the same vitamins that I take." Eric answers boredly, avoiding her questions. He examines his cuticles, then me. Out of the corner of his eye, his gaze is scrutinous at best. "Maybe something to make her taller, too."

"We don't have anything for that," She sighs. The woman stops typing and her eyes narrow. "And are you going to answer me?"

"No, I'm not." Eric smiles mockingly. "Arlene said you'd have then ready for me."

"I was told you'd be here by eleven." She looks directly at me, and I get the feeling she thought I was behind this. "It's nearly two."

"Congrats on learning to tell time."

Eric's answer, biting and spoken so darkly I know he hates this woman, makes me cough. I try to stop the bark of laughter from escaping, but it's nearly impossible.

I'm not the reason we are late.

Eric is.

He left me alone with a new list of demands: organize his bathroom cabinet, make his bed, find a specific pair of pants he wanted pressed, make myself something for breakfast, take out the trash and leave it by the front door, then set the table for dinner. The chores were juvenile. He was keeping me busy and we both knew it.

I didn't entirely mind the chores.

I found some comfort in washing dishes and picking out plates I could barely reach, but not much.

I was lost in making the bed when Eric returned with his phone to his ear. He nodded at me, sat down on his bed, and sighed so exasperatedly that I thought he might throw his phone at the wall. I half listened while he spoke to someone, and whatever they said had him walking into his office and shutting the door before I could ask if he wanted something to drink.

He didn't emerge until fifteen minutes ago when he snapped that I was to come along with him. He walked so fast that I almost had to sprint to keep up, only to discover he was making me join him to pick up vitamins.

"Do you need anything else?" The woman asks, her words spoken through gritted teeth. "I found orders for you and... Everly. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"What is this?" I wait until the lady turns to the counter behind her. She rifles through several bags, muttering beneath her breath. "Is it a doctor's office?"

"It's a pharmacy. Everything we get from Erudite comes here. I'm supposed to start you on a regimen of vitamins, sunlight, and something other than salad. Per Harrison's orders." Eric looks at me out of the corner of his eye. "Have you ever been to a doctor's office before?"

"No." I dislike the way he's talking about me like I'm a house plant. "Do you take them? Do you trust Erudite?"

"No, I do not." Eric answers with mild patience. "I'm assuming these are safe. If you drop dead, I guess we'll know I was wrong."

I stare at him, his hair slicked away from his face and his uniform as black as the night, and he looks down his nose at me.

"What?"

"Are you serious?" I cross my arms, stepping away from him. "What do you mean… if I drop dead?"

"You won't." He huffs. "I've had to take them since coming back. They're fine. Nasty tasting, but fine."

Before I can try to figure out a way to tell him I don't want to take them, the woman returns. She hands him two white bags, and her gaze flits between us. "Does she need anything else?"

"No, she doesn't."

Eric answers for me.

He swipes a card with little enthusiasm, then wordlessly hands me one of the bags. My heart soars when I see Everly Carlen on the sticker, but it quickly stops when it's crossed out. Everly Coulter is written beside it, so large that it's impossible to miss. My grip tightens on the bag, and I wait until Eric gestures for me to follow him.

"This way," he commands, slowing when footsteps approach from the side. His hand finds my lower back, large and warm, and he leaves it there. "Are you hungry?"

"I am." I answer as a group rounds the corner, and I'm suddenly face to face with members of Dauntless.

A woman my age, but with white-blonde hair. A boy Eric's height, with shaggy brown hair and a scowl on his lips. A few others, dressed in dark clothes with piercings littering their face and several with no tell-tale signs of Dauntless.

They stop to stare at me; one's mouth falls open, and the blonde girl elbows her friends.

"Holy shit. Is that… she's Eric's..."

She doesn't finish her sentence. Eric looks at her, and his fingers press into my back.

He pushes me past them, into the open expanse in front of the pharmacy. He walks us towards the row of stores, then towards the same bar we'd eaten at with his friends. Away from the nosy group, he lowly asks if I'm alright, and my nod is tight.

Behind us, the faint sound of someone exclaiming that they've finally seen Eric's fiancée fills the air.

On Tuesday, he leaves with a poignant look at me.

I stand in his kitchen, barefoot, holding my coffee while watching him. He fidgets with the cuff of his sleeve, then adjusts them once more. His confidence is on full display this morning; his hair is severely parted, and he's had it cut since I've met him. He radiates an aura of terror as he reaches for his phone, and dutifully declines a call when he sees the name.

Camille.

She calls a second time, and he declines that call as well.

"Do you know what you're supposed to do today?" He asks, straightening out his jacket collar. "Everly?"

He says my name like it's a weaspon. It always sounds like a secret he's being forced to admit, and I half wonder if he'd not refer to me by anything.

"Yes. Accept your laundry, sign… the papers that are being dropped off, and um…" I pause, knowing there's something else that I'm forgetting. "Oh, order groceries when they come by."

"You can order whatever you need. They'll give you a list." He reminds me. Eric pauses, and his stare turns critical. "Don't forget the vitamins."

"I won't." I swallow a sip of the coffee –sweet and ice cold –and his gaze stays on me. "Anything else you want me to do?"

"That'll be all."

He stares at me once more, an itchy gaze that makes me think he's setting me up for slaughter, then marches to the front door. He grabs a few things off the counter, then slams the door behind him. I'm left alone, staring between his kitchen and dining room, with nothing but a full day of hoping someone remembers that I am missing.

He doesn't sleep.

Not like a normal person, at least.

I awake a few times, always off the grip of a raging nightmare that ends with me leaving the auction with Marcus. My breathing is shaky and uneven, and my skin feels like it's on fire. I throw the comforter off and climb out of bed. When my feet hit the floor, I tell myself I'm fine. I focus on what I can feel, how cold it is in the bedroom, and how not so silent the hallway is.

Darkness engulfs me while I walk, but I welcome it.

I keep walking until I reach the living room, and there, I find Eric on his couch.

He's facing the tv while something plays. It looks like footage from some sort of battle, but I have no idea if it's real or not. His head is bent forward, and his shoulders rise as he types on his tablet. The clock on the wall reads two thirty in the morning as someone is dragged away from a field on the screen, and it cuts away to an interrogation office.

On the screen, Eric sits with Harrison, scoffing when the person says something.

I recognize the man.

A friend of Landon's, always in trouble with Johanna for slacking off, always leaving Amity on the first truck he could find.

It's weird to see Eric speaking to him, and even weirder when they keep interrogating him until the man admits he was the one in the woods.

Eric watches the screen with some interest; a moment later, he rubs his eyes, reclines back against the couch, and doesn't move. I assume he's fallen asleep because the screen eventually darkens, and he doesn't turn it back on.

The next night is the same but with different footage.

The third night is the worst.

I awake swallowing a scream, the nightmare ripped from me as Eric shoves my arm to wake me up. His hand is hot as he forcefully tells me to open my eyes, and he pushes harder when I don't wake up as fast as he'd like.

When I realize he's standing beside the bed, I notice he's drowsy looking. His hair hangs in his face, and his cheek is red from resting it on the arm of the couch.

"It's a dream," he grits out, his eyes halfway open. "You're fine. No one is trying to kill you."

I don't say anything.

The nightmare is a little too real, and the sensation of someone running after me, hunting me like I was nothing more than easy prey, is right there. Choking me by the throat and refusing to let go. It's intense enough that I can barely swallow, and when it finally retreats, the feeling slowly going away, Eric sighs.

"Can you go back to sleep?"

He waits until I nod, but I don't fall back asleep, and neither does he.

The nightmares worsen when I realize there really is no way out.

On a surprise trip to the Control Room, an expansive space full of monitors, screens, and members dutifully logging everything they watch, I am given the full scope of what Dauntless can see.

Everything.

Every entrance has a camera above it. Every exit door has an alarm or alert. Soldiers patrol the faction as though they are under attack, and the gates are locked unless a truck is coming in or out. Members swipe a card, or they show a badge to those waiting at the exits.

I have neither of those things.

"Click on that camera and move it to the left." Eric's voice breaks my concentration. The screen before us changes, and the girl working slides the camera to reveal the Amity faction. "Zoom in there. What is that?"

He cocks his head, and my stomach twists.

The sight is familiar, but unsettling. Sophia heads down the pathway, clutching her arms around herself as she walks with Jake. They whisper back and forth, occasionally speeding up until they reach the lake. Behind them, his stare intense and displeased, is Landon.

He watches them with a hint of trepidation that eventually shifts into pure hatred.

It's a new camera.

"The other left," Eric snaps. "What's over there?"

The girl quickly fixes her mistake. The camera pans over to my mother, walking with Zander, and her forlorn expression isn't as intense as one would think. She smiles at Johanna, woozily, under the thick dose of peace serum she's likely taken, and I make out her words even through the grainy footage.

It's possible she did run, but she was never like this before. Maybe Landon is telling the truth.

Perhaps.

Johanna nods.

Their posture mirrors each other's. Both are suspicious, yet disheartened, and I know that neither of them will continue looking for me.

Not that it would matter.

The monitor blinks and beeps. Eric shifts his weight from foot to foot, and my head hits his arm. I've stepped closer to him as the camera panned to see the field, and my stare stays on the screen as my father joins Jerry. Above them, the camera is mounted…somewhere. On a post maybe, or maybe not.

I glance up at Eric, and he looks down at me.

"What?"

"Are the cameras new?" I watch as the girl angles the camera to a different view: the lake glistens beneath the sun, and on the banks of the shore sits Sophia, looking miserable. "Amity doesn't have very many."

"They are new," Eric answers slicky. "They went up a few days ago."

"Johanna said yes?" I'm surprised that she'd agree to such invasive surveillance, but Eric's smirk is all the answer I need. "No?"

"We didn't ask."

He returns his attention to Sophia, and this time, she looks up, right into the camera.

By the time the news of the investigation stopped stinging, two weeks have passed. I lie in Eric's bed with my eyes wide open, having already made a small mark on a scrap of paper. I'm counting the days one by one, but I'm not sure to what. A few months ago, I'd have counted down to my birthday. Now, I'm counting down to some invisible deadline that would mean Eric could take full advantage of having me with him. The ebb and flow of what he wanted would change, and he wouldn't be content with a wife who could barely cook his pasta.

I'd tried.

A few days later, he returned to me attempting to make him dinner, only to have every alert blaring on his stove. He turned them off with a snarl, and he instructed me not to attempt to make him dinner again. The look on his face was telling: he'd paid a lot of points for someone who wasn't living up to his expectations, and his exasperation stayed on his face while we ate dinner.

I sigh heavily at the memory, letting my eyes shut as I visualize all the marks. All fourteen, neatly in a row, a visible reminder of where I came from.

"Move over."

I open my eyes to a blur of black and the feeling of Eric climbing into bed beside me. The horror I felt when I first arrived here is nothing like I feel now. I brace for the worst; I expect him to rip my shirt off or demand I take his boxers off, but he doesn't. He lies down far away from me, pulling the covers over him and exhaling so wearily that I expect him to wither away into dust.

"What are you doing?" I ask, trying to sound brave instead of horrified. "Eric?"

"My neck is fucked from sleeping on the couch. The other bed won't arrive for a few weeks. Until then, I'm sleeping here. You'll live." He mutters, throwing his arm over his eyes. "I'm sure you've shared a bed before."

"Not like this."

I should move away from him, but I can't. I stare at his bare chest, the defined muscle in his arm, and the way he slowly turns his head to look at me. Annoyance is all over his face, especially when I hold onto the sheets.

"I'm not going to murder you. Just go to sleep. I won't touch you, and I'll be gone before you wake up." He informs me darkly. "You're more than welcome to sleep on the couch if you want."

"I will."

I won't.

His living room is far away, and way too exposed. There's nothing to hide beneath, and if he decided to end my life, it would be easier near the tile of his kitchen. Terrified, I wait to see if he moves, but he simply shuts his eyes and throws his arm by his side.

"Eric…"

"What?" He doesn't open his eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Why did you buy me? Out of all the girls there?" Sick with panic, I ask the question I've been wondering for a while now.

Out of everyone there, he could have picked Miranda, or someone who wasn't desperate to get home to a place who didn't even want her. Someone who wouldn't be so openly afraid of him. Someone who isn't inching away from him like he's a wild animal, preparing to go right for my throat.

"Why didn't you choose one of the girls who looked like you?"

He doesn't answer me immediately.

He wets his lips, then opens his eyes to look at me. He's somehow more dangerous in the dark, especially when his stare finds mine.

"I didn't want them."

His answer is spoken with a note of finality. His eyes are light as he blinks, and when I don't answer, he shuts them.

Eric falls asleep before I do.

It takes me a long time to drift off, until my brain stops analyzing what he's just said as if it meant anything more than it did.

It doesn't.

It means he found someone weak enough to take control over, and that's all he wants.

In the morning, there is blood.

I walk into the bathroom cautiously, listening to him swear at the water. He stands at one of the basins, scrubbing his hands with soap. His undershirt is black, and his uniform pants are spotted with red, and his boots have splatters on them. From the doorway, I watch him remain stoic as he scrubs someone's blood from beneath his fingernails. He sighs, then finds my stare in the mirror.

"What?"

His sharpness is expected –wherever he's been has left him vibrating with anger. It's behind his stare, now cold and calculated, and woven into the fabric of his very being. He turns the water off without looking at the faucet, then faces me.

"Do you need something?"

"What happened?" I ask, so softly I'm not sure I've actually said the words. "Did you kill someone?"

"I was attacked." His eyes lock on mine, and our worlds collide in a spectacular fashion.

In Amity, I once held a dying rabbit that had been injured in the woods. Jake joined me. The two of us tried to save the rabbit, but we couldn't. We stayed still, cradling the small animal until it slowly stopped breathing. I spent the rest of the day distraught over the loss of life; the rabbit had done nothing but exist, and it felt unfair for its life to end so soon. The death stayed with me for days, until my father pointed out, as gently as he could, that it was the circle of life, and I'd see much worse once I had a farm of my own.

In Dauntless, Eric stands in his bathroom, cleaning his hands from the blood of another man. I don't know the specifics of the attack, but it's clear Eric won. I doubt he'll think about this fight much more, and if he does, it'll be with accomplishment. Triumph. Victory, for overtaking someone out to hurt him.

He won't lose sleep over it.

"I was on a patrol a route near Amity and we ran into a few issues. It's fine." His continued explanation is thin, and surprising. He doesn't have to tell me what he was doing, but he does. "Had I not stopped the man, we'd have lost a good group."

"I see." I swallow when he rubs his knuckles. The red doesn't go away, and it looks like it will bruise. "Do you have to go back there? Was it very close to Amity? Did you… did you see anyone from Amity nearby?"

When he looks at me, I hate the way there's a flicker of mild, hidden empathy behind his stare. It's hard to even call it empathy; he looks like he feels bad for me, or like he's embarrassed on my behalf.

He's right.

I'm worried about a faction where the only person upset that I was gone is my friend.

"I do have to go back. But not today."

Eric looks at me, and our conversation end when he reaches for his watch. It's on the counter beside a bloodied jacket, and a stack of papers. He takes everything with him, then walks past me with a look of understanding.

"Sophia is still looking for you."

He leaves me standing in his bathroom, wondering how on Earth anyone believed I simply walked out of Amity.

Chapter Text

His attitude shifts.

In the morning, so early that I have no idea how he's awake and alert, Eric sizes me up. Dressed in his uniform, with his hair slightly less perfect than normal but his skin smooth and clear, he narrows his eyes at me. I can see his mind whirling with thoughts, but he doesn't like it.

"Did you work anywhere in Amity?"

His question falls to the cup in my hands. He'd made me a coffee along with his, and it's the only thing keeping me alive. I still don't really know him past the scant time we've spent together, but he's been less violent than expected and more reserved. He never seemed overly interested in me until today.

Unfortunately, I've caught his attention.

"I helped my mom sometimes," I answer with little enthusiasm. "Occasionally, Johanna asked me to work with the little kids, but I was in school for most of my time there."

His head tilts.

"What sort of schooling does one attend in Amity?" He says the faction with disgust. "I didn't know they had anything of the sort."

I raise my stare to meet his, wondering if he thought everyone in Amity was an uneducated moron.

Judging by the way he's looking at me, I'd say yes.

"We have schools. They focus on some things other factions don't, but it's still school." I swallow a sip of the drink, and he doesn't blink. I wonder if he's a robot or if he's too wowed by the thought to move. "It's a lot of work to run the faction. So, we learn how to do it once we're old enough."

"I'm sure."

His tone is flat.

"Is there a school here?" I ask. "I didn't see one."

"You didn't see it." He answers sharply. "I have no reason to take you there."

I nod, not at all about to push the issue. I don't really care if there's a school here. Odds are, I'll never go there, nor do I need to. The idea is mildly intriguing as an area that I haven't been to, but I haven't seen much of Dauntless.

"Do you want me to do anything today?" I set the drink down gingerly, and when I look back at him, he's watching me intently. "I can make you lunch."

He doesn't answer me.

His stare falls to the drink again, and for a moment, I'd think he's drugging me. Except I know he's not because I watched him make it.

"I'll be in a meeting. I left you a list. If you can't finish everything, don't worry. Carol will be by to clean the apartment and take the laundry." He moves away from the table, and the relief I feel is palpable. "Do you need anything? Do you have everything you'd like?"

I almost knock my drink over.

I have no clue what he's talking about, and he must not either.

He looks uncomfortable when I nod.

"I do. Thank you."

"Good."

Eric leaves with a huff, but he glances back over his shoulder. I force myself to attempt a smile, knowing full well it looks more like a grimace. He doesn't smile back. His shoulders rise as he marches away, but for the first time this week, he doesn't slam the front door shut.

I consider it a minor win, the same way I consider the thought of going back to bed a win.

I stick the coffee in his fridge and go back to sleep before I look at his list.

I stare at the note with a scowl on par with one of Eric's.

There are only three items listed for me to do today, and it's very clear he's been paying more attention than I thought.

Go through the clothes you've been given and make sure everything fits.

Quit touching the knives.

Quit worrying about the Amity faction.

I crumple the note into a ball and toss it into the trash.

Beneath the lights, he looks irritable.

"Do you know what you're doing today?'

"Yes." My answer, bitter as ever, is spoken as softly as I can. "If I'm done in time, can I go outside with you? You said you have to go to the woods later."

In an apartment so far into Dauntless it would be impossible to find if one was looking for me, Eric cocks his head. His uniform is different today. It's all black, with a black shirt beneath it, and black boots. His lips purse together like he's trying to think of a way to speak nicely, but we both know his answer.

I only know he's going outside because I overheard him on the phone. I wasn't privy to this information, and he knows it.

"I'll help you after dinner." I offer. "Or with dinner."

In our scant time together, I have learned that Eric is meticulous with his life, meticulous with his work, and uncontrolled with his dislike for people arguing with him. Pushing his boundaries. Testing his limits, much like I am today.

A week ago, I stopped taking the vitamins. The first few days I took them were fine, but they soon made me queasy. I think he noticed when the bottle was still full, but his had less. I eventually admitted they made me nauseous, and I'd not touched them since.

He gritted out that he'd order something else.

It was a strike against me, but the real misstep was failing to finish the dozen things he left for me to do.

He suddenly needed all sorts of help: I was to organize some work files, label a few folders, learn his signature and sign paperwork he didn't have time for, organize his shirts, order a new jacket from a form, skim a tablet, and write down the names on a list he wanted. I felt like his assistant. Shannon was right that he would have me do things to make his life easier, but these were not things I knew how to do.

I didn't finish them, for I was woefully unskilled with how to use his tablet or find his lists, and he knew it. He shrugged and told me he'd finish them himself, and my heart sunk.

An even bigger misstep was waking up with my head near his back.

Since no bed had shown up, Eric continued to sleep beside me.

To my horror, he was warm.

A bit of respite from the chill in his apartment and the barest speck of relief that I was safe.

I wasn't.

Not by a long shot.

But while he slept, I was okay. I could watch his back move as he dreamt and curl my hands close to him, seeking some reprieve from the never-ending whine of air-conditioning. I knew no one would break in, and no one would dare think I was lying beside him.

There was safety in my disappearance, even if it left me sleeping beside someone I barely knew.

But a day ago, I'd woken up after him, only to discover he was still in bed. My head was touching him, and he didn't like that.

He doesn't like me now, either.

"No, you cannot go with me." He answers by poking his tongue with his cheek, disliking my question. "Not today."

"Okay."

I don't argue with him.

My shoulders drop, and I remind myself this could be worse. I could be forced to do things other than sign his name, and I'm lucky he tolerates my presence as much as he does. He hasn't hurt me, hasn't been violent toward me, nor has he asked me to do anything outrageous.

All in all, he was being considerate.

Too considerate.

"Maybe… in a few weeks." He mutters, attempting to smooth things over for his benefit. "Things will be quieter then."

"Yeah… sure, whenever. That would be great."

I still don't argue with him.

Listening to him is paramount to my survival here, and we both know that.

He doesn't take me outside.

Not at the end of the week or the next week.

He comes and goes, returning to his apartment smelling like pine trees and smoke, and he never once offers to take me with him.

I stay hidden underground, desperate to breathe fresh air and desperate to see the sun.

The night I make the twenty-first mark, I fall asleep way too close to him.

Summer is far from over, but his apartment is ice cold. Even beneath the heavy comforter, I am freezing, and it takes everything in me to stay warm. I don't dare touch the thermostat or ask for another blanket, and instead, tell myself I'm fine. It could be worse, and I'm lucky that Eric is too tired to pay attention to me.

I stare at his back until my eyes grow heavy. Before I can drift off, he turns. Dulled with sleep, he flings an arm toward me, and his mumble is incoherent. He doesn't wake up, not even when I whisper his name.

"Eric?"

His breathing speeds up, then slows.

I don't move any closer, but I don't move away. I watch until I'm sure he's really asleep, then I let my eyes close. I pretend there is comfort in him being this close, and this is routine.

There isn't.

And it's not.

But I tell myself no one else can kidnap me if he's here, and no one will find me and take me back to the tents. I might not be as free as I was, but I'm away from people like Marcus and Landon, and there is not a soul on Earth who would think I am here.

Soothed by this, I drift off, completely unaware that my fingers are close enough to graze his arm.

"How many do you think will show up?"

In his office, I hand him a coffee. I made it in his apartment, then bravely made myself one. To my complete surprise, he'd left a note that if I wanted to visit his office, I could. I left with the keycard he'd given me and followed the route he told me to take. His instructions were easy to follow –take the elevator to the thirtieth floor, turn left, go past the receptionist, down the hall, and his office would be clearly labeled with this name.

The rest of his note was threatening: do not go anywhere else, do not stop, do not try to find a shortcut or different route. If I get lost, find a soldier and tell them where I'm going.

Do not attempt to get outside, because if I do, the soldiers have been warned to shoot.

I did a double take at the last one, hoping it was his attempt at humor, and quickly took off before he could return and announce he'd changed his mind.

It was the first time I'd walked anywhere alone.

It was intoxicatingly powerful to be by myself, but I knew his trust was limited. One wrong move, and I'd be back to folding his boxers and wondering what he did all day.

I took my time, examining the rocky walls, the cavernous layout, and the expansive labyrinth before finding his office far too quickly.

"How many show up for initiation?" Eric takes the drink from me and reclines back in his chair. His gaze remains the same as ever: indifferent, as though I am a peon assigned to work for him. "Sit. We usually get around a couple hundred. I'd imagine we'll get the same this time around."

"Oh. How many will make it?" I sit in the chair beside his desk. He watches for a moment, then resumes typing something on his computer. "All of them?"

"Half, if that." He types quickly, pausing to read his work. "Why? You wanna try out?"

"No."

When he looks at me, he smiles humorlessly. "I figured. You'll see them. You can tell me if you recognize anyone from Amity. It's not for a few more weeks."

"What happens then? Do you go to the Choosing Ceremony?" I sip my own drink, and he stops typing again. "Or does...Rylan? Jason?"

I don't know Eric's friends very well. Rylan occasionally dropped by, always on some mission. He gave me whatever his girlfriend thought I should have, and though I'd never met her, it was clear she was hoping we'd be friends. I was grateful that she seemed to know the stuff I'd need because the thought of telling Eric I needed more underwear was nauseating. Jason was more of a mystery, and so was Jeremy. I'd met him at lunch, and that was it.

In his office, their presence is minimal, if not nonexistent. So is Eric's. Nothing says he works in here other than the name placard, his ID badge he's tossed on his desk, and his coffee.

"We all go. Harrison is there every time, but we have some interest in this one." He turns to face me, and across from me, his black uniform is new-looking. "Actually, you'll be there, too."

"Why?" I wait for the wave of fear to arrive, but it never comes. "Will I help you?"

"You will." He doesn't explain past that. His stare jerks to the door, where Jason walks through with a grim look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but I'm here to report that Rachel was hurt on the last patrol. They think she broke her leg. I didn't get all the details. Her unit was attacked a few hours ago. They just got her back." He scrunches up his nose and looks at me. "Hey, Everly. How are you?"

"Good. How are you? Other than… Rachel?" I dislike the way Eric is chewing on his cheek, and his exhale is accompanied by a fuck. "What's wrong? She'll be okay, right? You guys can help her?"

"I'm sure." Eric mutters. "Is Arlene there?"

"Yeah, they both asked for you. Arlene is examining her now, but she's scheduled for surgery within the hour. I told Rachel I'd come to find you." Jason looks sheepish. "You might want to head down there. She wants to fill you in on what happened before she forgets."

"Alright." Eric shoves his chair back and nods at me. "Come on. You can't stay here."

"Why not?"

I can't put my finger on it, but something is off. Jason looks nervous as he rocks back on his heels, and Eric is bothered by this announcement.

"Because you don't work here," Eric throws me a dirty look. "You can bring your coffee."

"Okay." I stand, following him and Jason out of the office, feeling like something horrible has happened. "I hope she's alright."

"She will be," Eric answers curtly. "Arlene can fix anything."

"Hopefully," Jason throws out. "She didn't fix Four."

I wait for Eric to laugh.

Occasionally, someone would make a joke at Four's expense, and Eric would crack the barest of grins.

Today, he merely nods.

I glance up, realizing Eric is making sure I'm close to him. His hand stays on my back, less guiding and more pushing me toward an elevator, and my shoulder touches his arm.

"Are you liking Dauntless?" Jason asks. He pushes the button for the elevator and ignores Eric's dark stare. "It gets even better in the winter. There's a party if you're into that."

"Sounds fun." I try not to look at Eric, who is clearly not the partying type. "What is it?"

"Last year, it was called Rylan's Snowball Explosion. It was… kind of dangerous. Actually, it was really dangerous. This year, he promised to scale it back and lose the explosives. Max was really mad about those." Jason explains. "We also have a summer party after the initiates get here."

"I bet that's just as fun." I try to smile because even with what little I know about Rylan, I can guess that the party was out of control. "I'd like to go to both."

"Good." Pleased, Jason looks at Eric. "Did you hear from Max today?"

"Five times too many," he huffs. "No sightings, so tracks, just an open field and a candy wrapper."

"Bummer. I was hoping we'd have a lead."

I listen to them talk about finding some person they're looking for, but I spend the rest of the walk trying to figure out which way we're going. It takes almost twenty minutes to reach what I think is the infirmary, but we walk through a different set of doors. A nurse waves us in, down a hallway, and into an area labeled pre-op. The lights are cold and bright here, and most of the rooms are occupied. I follow Eric until we reach a desk, then he tells me to stay with Jason.

"This will be quick."

"Take your time. I already saw her." Jason waves him away, but his stare follows him into the room. "So, uh, you're doing good, right? You're sleeping okay and not… crying?"

"I think so." I lean against the desk just like he does, trying to stay out of the way of the nurses rushing someone to a room. "I'm alright. I mostly just… do his laundry and wait for him to come home."

"Yeah, I get it. It's not like you picked here. I'm sorry Landon did that to you," Jason says. "I met him in Amity. You know, he was kind of a prick. I was surprised."

"He is, isn't he?" I laugh, and for a fleeting second, I feel fine.

Then I look across the room and see Eric talking to Rachel.

The room she's in is made of curtains, and the bed can be moved. A nurse hovers over her, and Rachel grimaces as a needle is slid into her arm. Rachel's hair is a mess; her leg is propped up and marked with purple marker, and most of it is covered in dried blood. She winces when she sits up, and Eric shakes his head. He leans down, his jacket crinkling as he answers her, and her expression darkens. She looks annoyed, but she eventually smiles tightly and shakes her own head. They talk for a bit, and she struggles to face him, pinned in place by her broken leg.

Eric leans in further, and whatever he's telling her must be important.

Jason nudges my arm as a nurse greets him a little too enthusiastically.

"I doubt he told you, but she oversaw his work for a bit. Said she never wanted that workload again and would rather die than be a Leader here." Jason grins. "She offered to help with you. She said anything you need, even if you want a friend, she'd help. She came by yesterday and said you could stay with her, but Eric declined."

"She did?"

My stomach tightens when Rachel says something else. To my surprise, Eric's hand finds hers, and for a moment, he holds onto her. Then he drops her hand as quickly as he touched it and straightens himself up. She says something, and his stare turns to me.

"Yeah, she's pretty cool for being from Abnegation. She'd give you the shirt off her back if you asked." Jason waves, and Rachel waves back. "She made Rylan lunch for a solid month because he lost his point card and refused to go downstairs and get another one because the line was too long."

"She sounds really nice."

My stomach tightens again when she looks at me. She doesn't smile, and she frowns when Eric leaves to join Jason and me. His posture is tense; his hands tighten into fists, and his lips twist into a sneer.

"She said it wasn't the normal factionless." He stands a careful distance away, and his shoulders are higher than normal. "The cameras are off in that area, and the only description she can give is she saw a woman with blonde hair and everyone else was in dark clothes. That's it. It was a blur, and she was hurt right at the start of it."

"We'll find who did it," Jason offers. "Peter is all over it. He's looking to be the hero this week, and he thinks he can get the cameras back on. He said they might still have recorded in a recovery mode or something similar. Harrison doesn't think such a thing exists, but Peter's gonna try."

"I'm sure." Eric's answer is bland. He reaches for my arm, and his fingers wrap around my wrist. "We should go. They're about to take her back."

"Does she need someone there when she wakes up?" Jason asks. "I can wait if you want."

"She said Nicolai is coming. He'll be here any minute." Eric tugs on my arm, and the three of us take off. "I'm gonna walk Everly home. I can meet you in the armory in a half hour."

"Sounds like a plan." Jason nods as we start to head out of the infirmary, but he's lost in thought.

The lobby is just as full as when we arrived, and the noise carries as we walk out. We part ways with Jason at a fork in the hallway, and he promises to call if he hears anything.

"I'll see you there. If Max calls, tell him I'm heading in," Eric answers. "Give me twenty."

"Will do."

"Will Rachel be okay?" I ask once Jason has sprinted into the darkness. "Are you sure we shouldn't stay?"

"There's no reason to stay. She'll be out of commission for a while, but it won't be anything permanent." He lets go of my wrist and moves his hand to my back. "With any luck, she'll be back sooner than later."

"I hope so."

I walk with him the same way we came, except this time, I remember which way to go.

I mark day twenty-two before I brush my teeth.

The tracker is meaningless, but it feels important to write down the time I've been here. I shove the paper in the nightstand and carefully shut the drawer. I'm not worried Eric will find it, nor will he care. Other than sleeping in his room, he's rarely in here.

Tonight, he came home later than usual.

I found myself thrown off at the change in his routine. Unpredictability here was unfair; I could convince myself I was okay if I knew Eric's schedule. Instead, I ate dinner alone, cleaned up by myself, and was just finished when he stormed through the door. He threw a fistful of papers on the counter, tossed his jacket along with them, and looked up like he'd forgotten I was here. Surprise flashed across his face, then he steeled himself and all but grimaced.

"I had a meeting."

His murmured explanation was no apology, nor was it necessary. He didn't eat anything, went straight to shower, and left me alone for most of the night. Even now, he's in the room he uses as an office, typing something.

I walk into the bathroom, having decided I'll go to bed. I find my toothbrush next to his, but only because there's nowhere else to put it. With little enthusiasm, I brush my teeth, and when I rinse my mouth, he comes strolling in. He looks less annoyed than before but tired.

I hate that I can tell his moods apart now. He rotates between apathetic, irritated, and mildly displeased.

"I hope your dinner was adequate. I meant to be back sooner, but I had to confirm who was covering for Rachel, and it took longer than I thought it would to switch the patrols around." He grabs his own toothbrush, and his reasoning is needless. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." I smile at him in the mirror, but it's bleak. "How are you? How was work besides that?"

"Fine." He answers tightly. He cocks his head, examining me intently. "What's wrong? You want something else to do? Are you bored?"

"No." I watch him back, and his eyes narrow. "I was just…wondering…if…you dated her?"

Eric stops.

In the mirror, his eyes narrow in annoyance.

"What?"

"Do you love her?" I ask, feeling like the floor is undulating beneath my feet. "Were you in love with her?"

"Who?" He asks flatly.

"Rachel." I take a second to stare at myself, noticing I look better but not great. Compared to Eric, I look like someone he might stomp over while marching through the faction, but compared to the day I got here, there's minor improvement. "I know you worked with her when you came back here. I thought maybe you guys dated."

"Are you seriously asking me if I was in love with Rachel?" He blinks. "Are you out of your mind? No, I was not."

"Are you sure?" I try to read his facial expression, but I'm met with none.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure," he answers darkly. "Why would you ask me if I was in love with her?"

"It looked like you were." I look at him out of the corner of my eye, and his eyes have narrowed even further. "What?"

"How many people have you been in love with, Amity?" He retorts. "Other than the man who sold you to the circus?"

"I guess… none." I answer sourly. "And that's not fair. He doesn't count."

"Then I see no reason to continue this conversation." Eric puts the mouthwash away and then swallows down a mouthful of water for no reason other than to kill time. "I worked with Rachel for a year. She was one of the few people who understood what I did."

"Which is what?"

He grimaces. It's fleeting, but I notice. It's accompanied by a heavy exhale and the slamming down of his cup.

I prepare for the worst.

This is where he punches me in the face or locks me in the spare bedroom until I apologize.

He does neither.

"A few years ago, I was involved in the search for a group of individuals believed to be a threat to the factions. It wasn't my idea, but I willingly did it. I fully admit that I didn't push back against my orders and was good at them." He pauses, widening his eyes in mockery. "Really good at them."

"Who were you hunting?"

"It doesn't matter now. The work came to light, and I was one of the few held responsible. I was found guilty and sentenced to death. Minutes before I was to be executed, one person stopped it." He hesitates until my eyes lock on his. "Tris Prior asked that I not be killed because if I were, Jeanine's work would continue without any sort of consequence. In turn for being kept alive, I had to align myself with her and Four and explain to the other Leaders why we needed to cut ties with Erudite. Jeanine's work was brought before Candor, and I gave my testimony. I was found guilty as her accomplice. I served my sentence to its fullest, then came back here. I was offered my old job under a probationary period, and during that time, I reported to Rachel. She was tasked with making sure I could be trusted."

"Can you?" I remember him telling me to trust him, but that was like trusting a starving wolf in the woods.

"I've kept my word to you, haven't I?" He raises his eyebrows at me. "So no, I wasn't in love with Rachel. She was one of the very people who didn't question why I was there and let me do my job. She's like Rylan or Jason, except we don't work together anymore other than the rare occasion."

"Maybe it's one of those…right place at the wrong time kind of situations?" I suggest. I don't know why I'm saying this because he rolls his eyes when I keep talking. "You know, if you had met her now…"

"It's not, and it never was. Sometimes two people just exist in the same world at the same time."

Eric ends our conversation with a dark look at me. He rinses his mouth violently, puts the cup back in the cabinet, and then stalks by with a scowl pressed onto his lips. A second later, he swears, and his muttered rage somehow makes our conversation feel better.

I don't know why, but I don't entirely believe him. I don't think he'd ever love anyone, but it's not my business. My curiosity is merely over Rachel being kind, and Eric reaching for her hand.

I turn the lights off in the bathroom and head into his bedroom. He's not in there, so I climb into bed alone and figure I'll wait until he's back to apologize for asking him about Rachel. It's not my place, and I've likely pissed him off by prying into his personal life.

I don't get the chance.

I fall asleep before Eric returns, and he's gone when I wake up.

The flowers stick out amongst the dark.

The shop has dozens of bouquets, all lush and bright. I take my time looking through them, and when I find some that I like, I pull them out and look at the sticker.

Forty-six points.

Forty points if you have their rewards program.

Forty-one points if you work in the store.

I squint at the sticker, assuming it's a fair price, but I have no clue how to pay for them.

The day continues to be frustrating.

I woke up alone this morning, and so far, things were tense. Eric left a cranky-sounding note instructing me to eat the breakfast he'd left. There were two plates inside the fridge and another note that read this one. I reheated the pancakes and eggs and ate while I read his other notes. They were pretty normal except for the last one; the first two were just a few things he needed done, but the second was a bold announcement that he'd be gone tonight, and I had to make myself dinner.

I didn't like that.

It wasn't that he personally would be gone, not by a long shot.

Eric hadn't done anything that hinted he wanted me here. Despite having paid a large number of points for me, he wasn't kind, nor was he wowed by my presence. He varied between looking annoyed I was in his apartment or confused as to why I was still here. My question about Rachel put a million miles between us, and the unease of knowing he was mad made me nervous. He clearly wanted his private life to stay private, and I needed to respect that.

So, I did the chores he told me to do. I put away our clothes, and when I couldn't find space for the new shirts he bought, I put them with mine. I swapped out his boots for a new pair when the guy came by, and Christian's squeal of delight when I opened the door left me wishing I'd left the boots outside. I replaced his shampoo and conditioner, unwrapped new soap, popped the lid off a new body wash, and threw out his old razor. I made the bed, disliking how only my side was messed up, and got ready for the day.

He'd give me a keycard to his apartment, and though it came with a thousand rules and a ton of restrictions, I figured I'd walk around a bit before organizing his spoon collection.

I was hoping to find some fresh air. Even though I had strict orders not to go outside, I felt like there had to be somewhere that wasn't so far underground.

I didn't find anywhere like that.

I did find this store: a brightly decorated space that advertised fresh flowers from Amity and a slew of naturally made shampoos, conditioners, body washes, and soaps. I figured I'd bring some to Rachel, mostly to thank her for looking out for me and maybe to see if she knew what Eric was planning.

I clutch the flowers tighter, hoping to find someone who can help.

"Excuse me." I find the first employee that I see, and she smiles through a face full of metal. "How do I buy these?"

"You just scan your card. We take the points, and you take the flowers." She points to another more expensive bouquet, and her smile widens. "You might like these, too."

"How do I get the points?" I ask.

"What do you mean? Don't you work somewhere? They should be paying you in points. They go on your card." She pulls her hand back, frowning at me. "Are you new? Everyone gets issued a card once they pass initiation."

"I just have a keycard." I look around her, and the store is busy. "I don't think I have the other card."

"That's weird," she frowns. "Didn't Four or Lauren tell you how to get one?"

"No." I pause, then look to the side of her. "Can I call someone? Maybe they can pay for me?"

"Uh, sure. Who do you want to call?" She looks confused. "Wait, do you… do you live here?"

"I don't have a phone. Can I use yours?" I hold onto the flowers tighter, trying to figure out how to get ahold of Eric. "Or can you could call for me? If you call Eric, he can give me some points."

"Eric? Eric who?" The girl asks. Her name tag reads Tara, and her hair is the color of the yellow flowers. "Eric in the bakery or…"

"Coulter." Saying his last name aloud is odd; it's harsh sounding, but it makes sense given his personality. "Eric Coulter."

"You want me to call Eric Coulter and ask that he come down here to buy some flowers?" Tara blanches. "Are you serious?"

"I am. He won't be mad."

I try to act like I'm not lying through my teeth. I might live with Eric, but I have no clue what he's doing or how well he'll take this phone call. He hasn't outright offered me his points, but if he's going to sign my name on some marriage paperwork, then I should be able to use some of them.

Or not.

This might be strike three.

"I can wait." I offer, taking a chance. "He should answer."

"Sure. Give me just a second." Tara leaves, looking like she'd rather eat the flowers than call Eric.

She joins another employee, who reluctantly picks up the phone. They converse amongst one another, and I go back to browsing. I don't know anything about Rachel, so I pick out the sunniest ones I can find. By the time I put a few more together, the girl returns.

"He wants to talk to you." Tara announces, her expression changing when I jump. "Sorry to scare you. He sounds confused."

"I'm sure."

I follow her to the check-out, and the other employee hands me their phone. I hear Eric muttering something to someone, and it sounds a lot like Rylan when they respond. My heart beats wildly, and there's a great chance this is a mistake.

"Eric?"

"What are you doing? I got a call from some flower cart saying I need to come down and pay for flowers. Because you said I would." Eric's tone is patient but less so when someone laughs. "Are they serious?"

"I thought you should get them for Rachel. As a get-well present," I answer quietly. "I was going to buy them, but I don't have the card with the points."

"No, you don't. Everly…" He says my name threateningly, then stops. "Why the fuck do you want to give her flowers?"

"Because she was nice. And… everyone likes flowers. My dad used to get them for my mom all the time. Sometimes he'd pick them from the front yard, but she always thought they were pretty." I stop talking, and the punch of homesickness is so violent that I think I might throw up. "You don't have to if you don't want to. I just… I can't pay for them myself. Can I borrow some points? I can work them off."

I'm met with a long moment of silence.

Tara tries hard to pretend she's not listening, and I hate how worried she looks.

Her brow furrows, and she keeps looking at me while she types on her phone.

"Please?"

He sighs.

It's weary and impatient but not the worst.

"Fine. I'll be right there. Don't leave." He hangs up before I can thank him.

"Thank you." I hand the phone to the girl and smile as best I can. "He's on his way."

"Okay. We can wait until he gets here. Do you need a get well soon card, too?"

"I'm good, thanks." I shake my head, suddenly nauseous that Eric is really heading down here.

I glance around, a heavy sense of vertigo washing over me, and I realize this might be the dumbest thing I could have done.

"Shit." I swear to myself, forgetting the sales lady is right beside me.

She gives me a weird look, but I pretend I can't see her stare. I take the flowers with me and spend some time browsing the store. I look at every soap and shampoo, and right when I get to the moisturizers, Eric shows up. He stalks inside with a look of disbelief, but it lessens when I see him.

A few steps behind, Rylan follows with an entertained look on his face. He stays near the front of the store, pretending to look at a Venus fly trap. He pokes it, makes a face, then slinks away to examine a bottle of pink shampoo.

Eric glances around in disgust.

"How did you find the one store that smells like Amity in this whole place?" He demands, taking the flowers from me. "You really want to buy these?"

"Do you like them?" I ignore his question in favor of smiling up at him. "Do you think Rachel will?"

"I…" He strangely flounders for words, glancing at the girls beside us. "No. I don't think she gives a shit about flowers."

"Oh, well…I think she will." I reach over and touch one of the petals, and I hate how much they feel like home. "Do you know where she lives?"

"I do." He answers tightly. "She lives close to me."

Of course, she does.

"Okay, will you show me how to pay?" I ask. I follow him back to the register, where Tara is watching in rapt fascination. "So, I know for next time. If you say, I can use your card."

"Sure." Eric shuts his eyes for a moment, then opens them to smile meanly at Tara. "Why not?"

She rings up the flowers, mutters his total, and waits patiently while Eric pulls out a thick black card and hands it to her. I watch as she swipes it like it might explode, then gingerly hands it back to him.

"Uh, you're all set unless you want to sign up for the membership. If she has any issues with the flowers, you can, uh, bring them back." Tara smiles brightly as she hands me the bag. "Enjoy. Have a nice day… Eric."

"Thanks."

I wait for him to snarl something about what a waste of time and points this is, but he merely looks at Tara out of the corner of his eye before ushering me out of the store. Rylan is nowhere to be found, but when I glance back, I see him smirking as he whispers at his phone from the corner of the store.

"How do you get points?" I ask curiously, wondering if I get paid for whatever he asks me to do. "Do you have to have a job?"

"You do. But you don't need to worry about that." His hand stays on my lower back, forceful as we pass the other stores. "I'll give you a card to use."

"Really?" I follow him to an elevator, and when he stops, his head tilts. "Can we drop these off now?"

"If you want."

He doesn't sound happy, but he doesn't refuse.

He steps inside the elevator and pushes the button without looking at it.

Rachel's apartment is exactly what I would imagine the apartment of someone who was thriving in Dauntless would look like.

It's white and airy, with high ceilings, plenty of rooms, and a couch that looks pristine. She didn't answer the door, but her friend did. The girl let us inside, and we found Rachel sitting at the kitchen table. Her leg was propped up on a chair, and though she looked like she was gritting her teeth, she was happy to see us.

I think.

She looked at Eric like he was from another planet, but she smiled at me.

"You didn't have to bring me flowers." She said, taking them from my hands. She holds them against her, then gestures to the chair on the other side of her. "Can you stay for a minute?"

"Sure."

"No."

Eric and I answer at the same time. He looks down at me and then up at the ceiling.

"You have ten minutes. I have to get back to work." He announces. He rifles through some papers on her table, but he doesn't sit down. "I told Tori I wouldn't be gone long."

"I'm sure she can handle Rylan on her own. Although, depending on what he drank this morning, maybe not." Rachel laughs, and I smile with her. "Did you get any flowers?"

It takes me a second to realize she's asking me.

"Oh, no. I didn't." I shake my head, and her expression tenses.

"Why not?"

"I wanted you to have them. I thought they might cheer you up. In Amity, everyone sends flowers for everything," I explain. "If you don't like them, I can, um, throw them away."

The words sound juvenile as I say them aloud.

"You don't have to keep them. I just… Jason told me you offered to help me. I wanted to thank you." I keep talking, quieter so Eric can't hear me. "It was really nice of you."

"Has he told you what he needs you to do?" Rachel asks. She leans toward me, wincing with each movement. "The flowers are beautiful. I can't think of the last time someone gave me flowers."

"Me, either."

My answer doesn't make her any happier.

She looks over my head at Eric and in a copy of him, her lips press together. "We'll have to fix that. But listen, while I have you here, I want to tell you a few things. I know we don't know each other, but I want to help you. In a few days, there's some stuff Eric is going to ask you to do, and the faster you realize you have to do it, the better."

"Like what?" I ask.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Eric tense. He looks over at us, and his expression is interesting.

He looks like he wants her to stop talking.

"Lots of things. Nothing you can't do." She leans back to put the flowers on the table. "I think you'll be surprised how brave you can be. Even more than you already have been."

"I'm not brave," I point out. "There's nothing brave about what happened to me."

"You don't think so?" Rachel asks. "I know Eric thinks so."

"I don't think he does." I stare at her, knowing it's highly unlikely Eric considers anything I've done brave.

"He should. If he was being sold for points, he wouldn't be that brave." Rachel jokes loud enough that Eric looks up. "Though I'm not sure who would want Eric in their house."

"Funny." His answer is short and piercing. He walks back over to the table, and the stiff fabric of his jacket looks harsher in her apartment. "Are you two done? I have work to do."

"Almost." Rachel makes him wait, and her focus returns to me. "Is there anything you need? Do you have everything? Eric mentioned you only had the dress you arrived in."

"No, I have enough. But, um, can I ask you something?" I sit up straighter, fixing the strap on my dress. "It's not personal."

"Sure."

"When you got attacked, you said the lady was blonde?" I freeze when Eric's hands touch the chair. They graze my hair, and I know he's right behind me. "Was her name Shannon?"

"I don't know. She didn't say. We were in an area we don't normally go to, and there were some specific markers we were looking for. We didn't find them, but we found a factionless camp hiding out. I wasn't sure who attacked, but the lady was quick." Rachel shrugs. "I honestly couldn't pick her out of a lineup."

"Was she tall?"

I idly wonder if the person who attacked her was the lady who helped me. She ran a tight ship when it came to everyone who was in her general vicinity, and I bet she wouldn't like anyone getting too close to their operation.

"Average height. Maybe tall to you," Rachel smiles. Her eyes move to Eric, and her expression turns smug. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"When you were taken to the tents, how many women were around? Not the girls they're selling, but working it?" Rachel asks. "Was it all men?"

"There was only one. She was the one who told me what was happening. I never saw any others. I was thinking if it was her you saw, she might have panicked. I don't know how they move everything, but they had these trailers, and I think she lived in one." I make a wild guess because I have no real clue where they came from. "She wasn't nice, but she wasn't mean. She told me how to stay alive."

"Did she tell you to be quiet?" Rachel asks, and Eric inhales slowly. "And to agree with whatever they told you?"

"She did."

"I see." Rachel nods but she's looking at Eric. "I would guess that if I did cross paths with Shannon, this would have been her. I bet they don't want anyone figuring out who they are. I would also bet Shannon isn't really her name."

"I didn't think of that." A wave of embarrassment washes over me. I sink back against the chair, and Eric clears his throat. "I believed her."

"You had no reason not to," Rachel counters. "Hey, will you grab me some water? I have to take whatever Arlene gave me."

"Sure."

I realize she's talking to Eric. He heads into her kitchen to grab a drink, and while he's gone, she looks to make sure he's far away before smiling.

"Is he being nice to you? Be honest. If he's not, I'll put a stop to that."

"I think he's being as nice as he can be." I glance over at the kitchen, and he's busy in her cabinets. "Did you like working with him?"

"God, no. He was an asshole half the time. He knew he had to keep his mouth shut and report to me to get what he wanted. It was a long year of dealing with him." She pauses, and her next words are thick with amusement. "He's different now. He likes being in power, so he's been on his best behavior. He keeps to himself, but I imagine it gets lonely being the only person you can trust."

"He trusts you," I counter. "And his friends."

"He does. But not for any great reasons." She laughs, then grins when Eric hands her a cup of water. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. I really need to get back." He looks at me, and his stare is intense. "I'm supposed to meet Tori to make sure we don't have a repeat of yesterday."

"We can go. I just wanted to make sure Rachel was okay." I stand, and her smile stays in place. "I'm glad you're alright."

"Thank you. I'm glad you're alright, too."

Her response strikes me as odd, but she doesn't elaborate.

"Feel better." Eric grits out.

He walks ahead of me, pausing only when he reaches her apartment door. Then he looks down as he lets me go ahead of him. He's quite on the walk to his apartment. His goodbye is pointed, and it's a quiet demand to stay home.

I watch him leave with a heavy feeling in my stomach like everything is about to get a whole lot worse.

His demands start that night.

After his phone rings, and he takes a call that leaves him looking uneasy.

Maybe it was bringing Rachel flowers, or more likely, asking him to come pay for them, but something shifts when he gets ready for bed.

I sit on the side I've been sleeping on, watching with wide eyes as he reaches for the collar of his shirt. He stops, cocks his head, then climbs onto the bed like he's about to attack me.

"What?"

"Don't move." He demands. "I need to look at something."

I inch away from him, but he comes closer, and then takes hold of my leg. My yelp goes unnoticed as he looks at my leg, and then yanks me closer.

"What are you doing?"

Maybe I should have just stayed in his apartment. I shouldn't have bothered him, nor should I have asked to visit Rachel. Asking him to buy flowers was a mistake, and now, I will pay for it.

"Fuck."

He moves over me, hissing when he looks at my neck. I'm halfway against the pillows, and he's much too strong to get away from. Pinned beneath him, I get a fantastic idea of what the people he hunted saw the second before he found them.

"What's wrong?" I ask, reflexively putting my hands up. They hit his chest, but he still doesn't flinch. "Eric?"

"Fuck." He says it again, breathlessly, as his fingers skim over my neck. He presses on the spot where the guy injected something and swallows thickly. "We have to go see Arlene."

"Why? Why aren't you telling me what's wrong?" I panic, but he shakes his head. "Is it infected?"

"No," he answers rightly. His stare is unreadable as ever, but his mouth turns downward. "It's tracking all of your vitals, and they just called to ask why you aren't afraid."

"What did they say?"

Arlene speaks mostly to Eric as she works around me. After a quick exam, she numbed the spot on my neck and told me to wait a few minutes. In the meantime, she prepped gauze, some bandages, a scalpel, and tweezers. I sat terrified while she got ready, and next to me, Eric leaned against the wall, effectively trapping me here.

"They called because they noticed there were no unusual spikes in heart rate other than a few blips, her pulse is steady, and her heart rate is fine. Her temperature is great, too." Eric answers flatly. "They called to ask how she was, which means they're watching her. Apparently, the other girl's vitals are wildly different."

"You know the second I take this out, it's over. They'll notice it's no longer sending information." Arlene touches my neck, and then asks if I can feel it. "Did that hurt? I have no idea how deep this thing is. How did they put it in?"

"It was a shot," I answer, fully aware of how close Eric is. He leans in so his arm rests against mine, and I realize he's getting ready to restrain me. "I can't feel anything."

"Good. Then you shouldn't feel anything."

Arlene's answer isn't reassuring.

Neither are her next words.

"Tilt your head toward Eric. Rest it on him if you need to. I'm going to hope it's right below your skin." She instructs. "If it becomes painful, let me know, and we'll sedate you."

"Okay."

I listen to her orders, and when I put my head on Eric, he shifts so his arm is around me. He pulls me towards his chest, moving his other arm to hold me in place. My mind whirls with this information, and I wonder if they're watching whatever it's sending them.

Twenty minutes ago, the look on Eric's face made my stomach flip over.

He moved away from me and demanded I come with him. I was dressed in his pajamas, but he didn't care. He hurried us to the infirmary, and each step was painful when he explained that they told him about the tracker, but he didn't think they'd call about it.

But they did.

And they weren't calling about my safety.

They were calling to make sure Eric was enjoying his time with me. They were calling to confirm that I was alive, listening to him, and that I wasn't pushing back on what he wanted or refusing him in any way. Their concern lie only with their customer; I was doing a little too well according to them, and they wanted confirmation that Eric was happy with his purchase.

"Close your eyes. It'll be over quick." Arlene speaks quietly now, and I feel some pressure where she pushes on my neck. "Eric, do you want this sent to Erudite?"

"No. There's someone here who can look at it. Erudite might not tell us everything if it came from there." Eric's answer makes his chest move. I swallow when Arlene presses harder, but it still doesn't hurt. "They said it tracks her breathing, too. They'll know if she's running or sleeping. It's a security measure in case she runs."

"They really want to make sure you don't get away, don't they?" Arlene asks. "I imagine it's tracking her location?"

"Yeah. They did mention that she's in Dauntless, but they can't see where. Just the general area. They asked me if she was in my sight or if I needed assistance making her listen. I think it's too far underground to work properly."

"How nice of them," Arlene tugs on something and, a second later, exhales in relief. "It's out. It's…larger than I thought but not large enough to be noticeable. They must have a system to make sure it's not an obvious tracker."

Eric's arm tightens reflexively. I open my eyes to Arlene close to me, and she quickly tells me to shut them.

"I'm going to stitch you up. We'll give you some antibiotics and keep an eye on it. If you start to feel sick or have a fever, you'll need to come back, but I predict an easy recovery."

The tug of the thread is a funny sensation; Arlene works efficiently, but when I open my eyes a final time, her mouth twists in dislike. Her concern is palpable when Eric tenses and his hands tighten on my arm when she stops. She knots the stitches, pausing to look at her work.

"Eric, do you have a plan for when they call? If they're still watching her vitals, this might have been a rash move." She sets something down, and when I open my eyes, she's looking at a tray. "They'll know you took it out."

"If she's mine, then I can do whatever I want. And maybe I don't want them tracking her," Eric answers darkly. His words send a chill up my spine, and his next aren't any better. "I can't imagine anyone wanting them to know what's going on. For a few days, maybe. But long term? Fuck no."

"I'm sure you aren't the first to have…something removed from them." Arlene looks at me, and her eyes search my face. "Did you ensure there's nothing else?"

"No."

His fingers press into my skin, unmoving until Arlene steps away from us.

"Alright, well, if there are any issues, please come back. Otherwise, we're all done. Her neck should be fine in a few days. I'll bag the tracker for you, and once you know where it came from, let me know. I have a few questions of my own about it."

"Will do." Eric removes his hands from me and is off the exam table before I realize he's not holding onto me. He examines my neck for a second, then extends his hand toward me. "Come on."

"Where did they get a tracker from?" I ask, unable to make myself move. "Why do they have them?"

"Other than tracking your location, it's a way to ensure you're behaving. We use them here sometimes. They're manufactured in Erudite. Some come with the option of interfering with the nervous system, while others are purely location only. Almost all can be turned off and on remotely and, in some cases, continue to transmit even after they're off. This one is used to make sure I know where you are."

Eric's answer is rough. His stare is above my head like he's examining the wall.

"I had to sign stating that I knew you had one, and in case of an emergency, it could be used to find you."

"So, if I ran, they could use it to find me?" I lean away from him, and it doesn't go unnoticed.

His jaw tenses with dislike.

"If you ran from me, you wouldn't get far. If you ran from someone else, they'd use the tracker to find out where you went. I assume they'd bring you back. Whoever had you could, according to the paperwork, could then return you or discipline you as they see fit." He looks right at me, pushing his hand closer. "Come on. I know you aren't going to run. If I thought you'd try to escape, I'd have left it in."

A flash of insult washes over me, but he's not wrong.

Running from him would be stupid, as would letting him think I'd still consider it. Knowing the tracker has been removed is a relief, but the last thing I need is him hunting me down.

Especially now that I know he's good at it.

"I won't."

I put my hand in his, and Arlene watches as he pulls me off the table.

"Smart." He doesn't let go of my hand until he's sure I'm steady. "Thanks, Arlene."

"You're welcome."

Her response is uneven. She keeps looking at me, her arms now crossed over her chest and her eyes glued to me, and I swear she's about to tell me something.

She doesn't get the chance.

Eric leads me out of the room and into the hallway, and this time, his hand rests on my back the entire walk home.

"You need to take this."

Back at his apartment, Eric holds out a tiny white pill. I look up hesitantly, and despite the emotionless nod he gives me, I have no desire to swallow anything he's offering. Not because I think he's trying to kill me, but because I feel out of control.

The violation of having something injected into my body has left me feeling raw.

My neck burns, along with my stomach. The feeling of being sold to the highest bidder comes right back; I am nothing more than a product at the market, auctioned to whoever could pay the most, but with software to ensure I couldn't be lost. My life was handed over to someone who would then own me simply because they had more than me.

My future, fragile even before the auction, wasn't even mine.

Had I stayed behind in Amity, my life with Landon would have been simple. A small or not-so-small house, nestled in between tall, hearty trees, with a spacious porch. The furniture would be provided, as would my clothing. I'd spend my days tending to the house, my free time helping in the community kitchen, and my evenings hoping to get pregnant. I'd be expected to have numerous children to fill my home, and by the time the last one would be walking, I'd realize that my life had slipped right through my fingers.

I'd buckle under the weight of regret and the agony of remorse as Landon thrived. I'd be a compliant, stunning zombie, left to hang my sheets to dry while my husband went off to fish at the lake. A wan and docile wife, void of any real opinions or thoughts, with no purpose but to serve my husband.

And though it would have been a chance at what seemed like normalcy, here is no better.

In front of me, slinking toward the bed like a hunter having spotted his prey, is Eric.

Tall, blond, and closed off. Our time together has culminated in the theory that he no longer feels anything but rage: a fury over his past work and a misplaced anger over being forced to repent. He's too young to be so dismissive of the world around him, yet it's easy to see why he is the way he is. He'll never let anyone destroy him again because he'll destroy them first as a precautionary measure.

Including me.

"Take it."

"No." I shake my head, the politeness slipping when he doesn't stop. "Thank you. I'm fine."

"It'll help with your neck," he counters. "If it hurts, you won't sleep well."

"It doesn't hurt," I lie, and he sees right through me. "Thank you for taking…the tracker out, but I'm fine. I promise."

Eric's mouth turns up, and his generous offer of…whatever is gone.

"Suit yourself."

He leaves in a huff of exasperation and scorn. The bathroom door shuts, and this time, I somehow fall asleep before he's back.

The grief eventually turns to anger.

Angry over someone injecting me with something I couldn't take out of my body and furious over being sold a man I didn't know, I find myself vibrating with rage. I stand in the middle of Eric's apartment, half listening to him, mildly aware that he's giving me another to-do list.

His mouth moves as he lists off whatever it is he wants me to do today; none of his demands make sense. All I can see is red. Red as he adjusts the collar of his jacket, red as he tightens the cuff on his jacket. When I tilt my head at him, his expression sharpens, and his jaw tenses with anger.

"Are you listening to me?" He demands, cocking his own head. "I said, you need to meet me –"

"I don't want to."

My answer is a snap is on par with his own.

I say it before I can stop myself. My hand flies to my mouth, and the anger is only dulled by the wave of terror that washes over me. Try as I might, I am wildly afraid of the man I live with. He might be placating me with trivial errands, but my life hangs solely in his hands. Any demand he makes is one I will be forced to comply with, and he knows this. I am no one here. Even if I end up as his wife, it'll be my word against his.

As a Leader, his statement will hold far more weight than mine ever could.

"What did you say?" Eric steps forward, and his eyebrow disappears into his hair. "Everly, I asked you –"

"I'm sorry," I apologize as I step backward, hitting his couch. The anger boils in my veins, now tinged with the fear that he will hurt me. The knowledge that he can hurt me, and the unease that he will, because he's asked very little of me and I've just told him no. "I just…I don't… I can't…"

Nothing makes sense.

The anger, oh so tangible and oh so violent, is like nothing I have ever felt before. I wish fervently for peace serum, or whatever Arlene gave me, or something, anything to dull the emotions coursing through my veins. I want nothing more than to feel the absence of everything; I wish not to be afraid and miserable but at peace with what is happening.

I can't control it, but I sure as hell don't want to feel it.

He steps forward again, and I step back, hitting the couch a second time.

His eyes narrow.

"Are you mad?" Eric asks carefully, his words nicking my wrist like he's searching for a vein. "Is that why you're not listening?"

When I don't answer him, he steps even closer, but I have nowhere else to go.

"You should be mad. You should be furious over what they did. Over what he did," Eric murmurs. "I'm not the one who brought you to the auction. I hope you remember that."

Inches away from me, dressed like he's being sent to kill, Eric leans in. He smells good, spicy and warm, the scent recognizable after sleeping beside him. He's just as dangerous as the day I met him, and no amount of forced civility has softened him. His hand brushes against mine on accident, and an enraged chill runs up my spine.

"I was angry for a long time until I realized that anger served me no real purpose. Not until I figured out what to do about it." He pauses, and his eyes search mine. "I want to remind you that I did not take you from your home. Years ago, I could have. Had we crossed paths, I could have dragged you by your hair and thrown you into a truck, and not a single person could have stopped me. It's a powerful feeling, which is why Landon took you. Because when you're powerless, any speck of importance is intoxicating."

I tilt my head up, and my eyes burn like he's poured acid in them.

"You're right to be angry. But what comes next won't feel any better unless you understand why you feel like that." He pauses when I try to nod, and his next words are even quieter. "He didn't take you because you're weak. He took you because you were a threat to him. He saw something in you that he didn't like. Take solace in knowing you'll never have to deal with him again."

"I'm…"

The words do not come out.

They stick in my throat, mortified over how I feel. I know little of Eric's life before I arrived here, but he seems to know everything about mine. I hate the unfair balance of everything, I hate the way Landon will face no consequence, and I hate how utterly afraid I am.

"Take today off. If you're still angry, we'll go punch something downstairs later. That might help." Eric steps back with a nod. "If you need me, I'll be in my office."

He leaves me standing in his living room, staring at the ghost of him. My mind argues back and forth over his intentions, but ultimately, I don't know enough about him.

I do know that the anger subsides, the wave pulling back slowly until I don't feel it anymore.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five- Make a Wish

"I need your help with something."

Eric's murmur interrupts my second attempt at measuring pasta. I'd found a book shoved into the corner of his bookshelf, and after flipping through the pages, decided it might help me.

Though he'd made it clear he didn't need me to make dinner, I knew I had to try.

The book of recipes is old but impressive. It appears to be from Erudite, labeled as a guide to basic cooking. Some pages have handwritten notes on them, and others have a slew of handwritten edits to elevate the dishes. The instructions are easy to follow; each one is written in clean, precise lettering, with simple ingredients. My head swam as I read the one that promised to be spaghetti, but it looked easy enough. I was hoping it would ease some of the tension from a few days ago, especially since I still hadn't made Eric anything edible.

Despite what Landon told men at the auction, I am far from skilled at cooking. I can bake, somewhat, but my time in Amity wasn't spent learning how to make dinner. The initiation class spends three days a week in the kitchens, and my assumption was I'd learn there.

Not in Eric's kitchen.

"What do you need?" I ask, carefully pouring six cups of spaghetti sauce into a pan while Eric's eyes drop to the jar. He inhales slowly, and when his head tilts at an angle, I expect his eye to twitch. "I'm almost done. I think this is right."

"Everly…"

Eric says my name slowly so that I stop to look at him.

He shakes his head and forces a tight-lipped grimace in my direction.

"I'll make you dinner." He steps closer to the counter, towering over me as he plucks the measuring cup from my hand. "I'll show you how to cook later, too. For now, I need you to look at something."

"What is it?"

Mildly intrigued that there's something I might know that he doesn't, I abandon my attempt at dinner in favor of following him to the counter. He has paperwork in front of him and shuffles the pages to find what he's looking for.

"Read this." He hands me a few of the pages, patiently waiting as I skim them.

My stomach drops.

"What do you think?" He shifts his weight from foot to foot, but his gaze is bored. "I'm hoping you know some of the names on here."

"I…"

My fingers touch over the signatures at the bottom. The ink has long dried, and the lettering is slanted and rushed. I read the paper twice; the names jump out at me, but so does the request for fruit, a small number of vegetables, some milk, cereal, and crackers.

My father's signature is familiar yet startling to see.

"My dad is Hank. And Jerry is Landon's father. Judd runs the convivence store, and his dad is named Tomas. But I don't know what this is." I look up to find him staring at me intently. "It looks like a request for groceries."

"It's a purchase order. Someone from the auction is ordering food. It's not a large amount, but enough that Harrison found it." Eric explains. "The address is an abandoned house near the edge of Amity." He holds my stare, oddly patient as his jaw tenses as he pauses to make a point. "I assumed all the homes in Amity were occupied."

When I don't answer, he shrugs, playing this off like he's uninterested.

But he is.

"Doesn't Amity have a rather large population?"

"They do. I guess… there might be a few homes that aren't used. Some of the older ones don't have water or power." I feel like shrinking beneath his stare. I wrap my arms around myself, and Eric's eyes narrow. "But I don't know why they'd deliver it there unless the person is factionless. Johanna allows unused food to be donated. Maybe it's a drop-off point."

"Maybe." He nods, and he's suddenly closer than ever. "Does Johanna often allow the factionless into Amity?"

"Yes."

There's no point in lying to him.

"Why?" He stares at me like I'm the one who has been running Amity. "Why would she overextend what resources Amity has? They've been struggling the past few months to keep up with the demand, as is."

"I don't know." My own shrug is quick. "My guess would be that she feels bad and…it's never seemed like an issue. Johanna allows them to eat in the Dome if they want, or she'll have the kitchen box up food to go."

"I see." Eric's patience, thin and incredibly rare, lessens. "How long has this been going on for?"

"A while." I tilt my head to meet his stare.

His expression changes when our eyes meet. The harshness softens just enough that one would trust him, and even further when I say his name.

"Eric…"

"What?"

My hand hits his –nervously.

My pulse quickens when he leans in, effectively trapping me against the counter. His mission was an easy one, but not finished; he got the answer he wanted, but he was still searching for something else. I swallow when he bends his head down, and his hand stays near mine.

"How many would show up for these…" he pauses, and his eyes flash with delight. "To go meals?"

I know exactly the answer he wants to hear.

"A lot. More than you'd expect." The edge of the counter digs into my back. "Sometimes none. It depends on the day, the weather, if they've recently eaten or were working… sometimes… there were more there than those from Amity. Everyone in Amity tried to help. We'd give them...whatever they needed. It's a lot like Abnegation, but it keeps things peaceful between everyone. They'd get upset if we didn't have enough for them."

"What did your father think of them?" Eric's next question is sharper than the knives in his drawers. "Did he approve of them showing up?"

I chew on my lip, knowing what he expects to hear.

I searched his eyes, wondering if he knew just how close he was to uncovering one of Amity's bigger secrets. The faction, expansive and often in need of laborers, routinely employed the factionless. At best, they'd work a shift in exchange for three meals, a hot shower, and a place to sleep. If they caused issues, they were asked to leave. Three strikes meant they couldn't return to work, ever.

At their worst, they burned through our communal supplies, then turned around and demanded more. My father, always kind and generous, had given the shirt off his back to one who asked. Zander's boots to a small child who needed them. A week's worth of meals, shampoos, soaps, oils, the scant real medicine we had, whatever he could find. He'd even let one sleep in the initiate housing while it was closed. He'd taken clothes of mine for girls who stared at me like they'd attack the second my father turned his back but smiled when he passed on whatever he could. Forrest's favorite pants, my mother's best pans because they use them to cook in the woods, and Paisley's brand new coat that the neighbor made her.

It was usually fine until it wasn't.

My father had been burned more than once, yet he still willingly let them work for him because he and Johanna knew the faction couldn't keep up without them.

"Everly…"

Eric knows the answer.

His hand knocks mine on purpose, and when I blink, he exhales heavily.

"Does your father regularly work with the factionless?"

"He does. He employs them when the farmers are overwhelmed. The work is hard, and…not many want to do it." I confess, feeling a stab of both betrayal and anger, but not at Eric for seeing what was really going on.

At how unfair things were in Amity.

At the memory of a girl twice my size, twisting the fabric of the green dress my mother had made for me, with a smirk on her lips. She knew the stitches would rip. I heard her mother snicker it was fine; she'd use the fabric for scraps and perhaps toss the rest if they couldn't find a use for it.

It was one of my favorites.

Soft, pretty, and one of the few things my sisters never took.

"They take a lot from Amity," I tell Eric, half whispering, fully desperate not to cry in front of him. He won't care. He'll laugh at the idea of a dress being something to be upset over, perhaps going as far as to throw the ones I have into the trash. "He's probably agreed to bring them the food, but I…I…"

"You what?" Eric coaxes a further answer. "Do you think he knows where these orders are going?"

"No, I don't."

I hope not.

My skin feels paper thin as Eric nods. His stare scrapes over me, settling on my face when I look away.

"Did they take something from you? Something important?" His hand leaves mine, and when he pulls away, he stands up straight. "Harrison mentioned Johanna was very forthcoming about being polite to the factionless, almost to the point of robbery."

"It doesn't matter now."

I step to the side, and my lungs constrict. I should feel guilty over outing Johanna. Jeanine had long driven home the idea that the factionless were dangerous and a threat to society, but Johanna didn't believe it. For a long time, I didn't, either. The ones I'd encountered never seemed capable of much. They were hungry and thirsty, malnourished and weak from days outside. The ones that did come to Amity would sometimes choose to stay, blending into the faction with ease and working to earn their place.

But not all of them are decent people.

It appears that some of them run an auction, and Amity is willingly supplying them with food.

The thought slams into my head so violently that I think I might be sick.

I leave Eric standing in his kitchen, with the urge to lie down and shut my eyes until I feel better.

On Tuesday, he asked what they took from me.

"What?" I startle, sitting up straighter at the kitchen table. My fork is paused over a plate of grilled chicken, and Eric's cooking skills far surpass anything I might be capable of doing. "What do you mean?"

"When we spoke about the factionless. You implied they took something from you." Eric sets his fork down and leans back in his chair with a huff. "It's ironic that they'd steal when you were helping them."

"They didn't steal it. My father made me give it to them," I set my own fork down, knowing he'll keep asking me, so I might as well tell him. "When they came by, we always gave them whatever they needed. It was considered rude to refuse. This one time, a girl saw a dress she wanted, and it was mine. It was this green I'd never seen before, and my mom had made it for me. It wasn't her size, and I knew it wouldn't fit her, but she knew I couldn't say no. She kept…grinning when my dad made me hand it over. Her mother said she'd use it for scraps if it ripped."

"And you gave it to her?" Eric cocks his head, pursing his lips in displeasure. "I'd have told them to fuck off."

"I don't think that would have gone over well." I pick the fork back up, stabbing a piece of broccoli like it's wronged me. "My father would have been mortified, and I'd have gotten in trouble. So, I gave her the dress."

"Right." Eric rolls his eyes, clearly not impressed. "He should have told them no. They aren't supposed to be in Amity."

"Yeah, I know, but… he needed their help, I guess." I look over as he stares at me, squinting when I don't take another bite. "What?"

"Do you not like your dinner?" He asks.

"No, it's good. Really. I'm not that hungry." I attempt to smile, remembering I'm not supposed to worry him or make him think I'm not having the time of my life. "Thank you for making it."

"You're welcome."

He doesn't smile back.

He cuts his chicken, but his phone rings and it's a welcome distraction. He answers it with a curt hello, and while someone relays a long list of things that need his attention, I eat the rest of the broccoli and carrots.

They remind me of Amity; they taste nothing like what's cooked in the kitchens, but they're hard to swallow as I remember serving platefuls of vegetables to people who'd kill me if they had the chance.

The last one I eat is bitter, so much that it almost comes right back up.

"No."

"Yes."

"I said no."

"Why not?" My question is quiet as I help Eric try on his next jacket.

In his bedroom, the silence is a cocoon around us, especially when I stand on my toes to fix the last button. The jacket was dropped off an hour ago, along with something for me. "What will that do? How will I explain it to the people I know? And you really trust me not to run?"

"I told you, if I thought you were going to run, I'd have left the tracker in you." He stretches his neck to the side, and his hands touch mine. Carefully, never for long, always with a purpose. "You'll attend the Choosing Ceremony and pick Dauntless. That way, when everything is said and done, it's on record that you're here. You don't want proof you exist? Why would you be upset about this?"

He blinks an icy stare down at me, but I pretend not to see it. I bite my lip, trying to force the button through the hole, and give up when he exhales my name.

"Everly, I'm trying to help you."

"Why?"

"Stop asking why," he snaps. "Because. This way, you'll be here. You don't have to do the actual initiation. Just the ceremony. We'll go from there."

"I fixed the button."

I relax, and our height difference is unfair. I'm left staring at his chest, and he's looking down at the top of my head. He adjusts the collar, yanking it to the side in annoyance, and when I look up, he's still irritated.

"You don't like it?" I step away, looking at him like I have any say in his uniform. "The guy said it should fit."

"It's fine. It's hotter than the last one."

Eric glares at me, but it's with little effort.

Since the tracker was taken out of my neck, he's been close by. His assumption that I wouldn't try to run was correct; even if I could get outside, I wasn't positive I'd return to Amity. Landon would find me and take me back to the tents before I could tell my parents what happened. They might not believe me. The story sounded ridiculous, and the only proof that something had been done to me was the mark on my neck.

I could try another faction, but there were men from everywhere at the sale. Erudite was likely to hold the same guys looking for someone to wash their dishes or sweep the labs, and even Candor would want to cover up the secrets of their own members visiting the tents. Since I was in a vulnerable position, I could end up anywhere, but I'd be at risk: I could wind up locked in someone's house or forced to marry and have child after child.

Ironically, out of all my choices, staying with Eric seemed the safest.

But now, he's just told me that the day after my eighteenth birthday, I have to attend the Choosing Ceremony.

"What if I don't pick Dauntless?" I grab another jacket for him, and his jaw tenses. "Here, this is the other one he brought. Do you want to try this on?"

"Where are you gonna pick? Candor? Erudite? You'd be stupid to choose somewhere else." Eric ignores my question. "I'd find you wherever you went."

His tone becomes malicious, and I try to remind myself that he's not being mean.

He's being honest.

"What if I pay you the points you spent? I could get a job somewhere there." I have no real intention of choosing somewhere else, but his plan seems unnecessary to me. "Maybe at the infirmary with that lady."

"I said no." He steps toward me, stopping when I step back. "I'm not going to do anything to you. But if you get up there and pick Abnegation, I'll drive to Abnegation and take you back. Not to mention, do you really want Marcus to find you? I'm sure he'd swoop right in and take you under his wing as his next house cleaner. Think of all the things he could do to you there. He won't stop at slapping you."

His words are meant to sound threatening, and they are.

"If you pick Amity, it won't be long before the people return for you. I had to confirm I wouldn't take you back there. If you did go back, and you decided to tell everyone what they did, there would be problems." He steps closer slowly, and I know he's cornered someone like this. "Erudite would take you. Until you realize what they do there. You wanna end up someone's lab rat? You've forgotten that without the official ceremony, you don't live anywhere. You're a missing person."

"I'm still a missing person? I thought… there was a report? I thought they closed the investigation?" I hold out the jacket at him, keeping space between us. "I'll do whatever, but…what do I tell my friends? They'll be there."

"You can tell them that you ran away." He stares me down, his gaze zeroed on mine so intense that I know I can't disagree. Rachel's words ring in my head, and I wonder if this is what she meant. "Once you pick Dauntless, the hard part is over. Do you understand that?"

Eric's voice lowers, and the space between us lessens.

"I need you to go there and smile. I'll get you there late enough that you won't have time to talk to anyone. You'll walk across the stage, slice your palm, pick Dauntless, and get on with your life." He takes the jacket from me and tosses it aside without looking. "When it's over, we'll come back here. I'll make sure you aren't bleeding, we'll see the class, and then, you don't have to worry."

"Yes, I do."

I swallow when his eyes darken.

"I told you before, I won't hurt you, but someone else will. I'm sure the other girls that were there are having a very different time than you are." Eric pauses. "I've made this easy for you, haven't I?"

He's right.

The other girls are presumably having a much worse time than I am.

My stomach turns over at the thought of the tracker and the phone call Eric took, hinting that I wasn't being utilized the way they expected.

"Can you find the girls I was with?" I ask, letting him move closer. I can't stop him, but I trust that he's not going to do anything that will hurt. "What if you found them and brought them here?"

"I could," Eric shrugs. "But it's a business transaction according to the people who run it. I'd be interfering with their sales, and it's likely they wouldn't appreciate me showing up to save the day."

"Yeah, I know." My voice shakes, and I hate the way he's right. "I just thought –"

"I know what you're thinking." His own answer is quiet now, and when he's close enough that I can see every thread on his new jacket, my eyes burn. "It would involve you, too. They'd likely come for you as revenge."

"But you said they can't find me now, right?" I tilt my head up, and Eric looks thrown off. His lips part like he's about to tell me something, but he clamps them shut and shakes his head. "What?"

"No, they can't find you." He steps back, and his spine straightens. "I need you to try the dress on. If it doesn't fit, Christian will make you something else. I'll be back. Let me know before dinner."

"I will."

"Good." Eric's head tilts, and his eyes widen like he's just realized something.

He leaves in a hurry. He doesn't bother to take the jacket off, nor does he try the other one on. The front door closes, and the apartment is once again silent.

I glance around half-heartedly, feeling no desire to rifle through his things for the dress.

I have no clue where it is and no energy to find it.

A day later, he took me to see the man who had a store full of clothes.

He informs me that Christian is responsible for designing the clothes in Dauntless. He's given instructions based off what the soldiers need, but everything he creates is made by a team he employees. He outfits all the Leaders, and everything else in the store is his personal designs. From beside Eric, I wonder how on Earth they kept up with his demands. The clothes are far nicer than what I grew up wearing; they are beautifully sewn and made of high-end fabrics, but startlingly numerous.

We pass by mannequins dressed in tactical gear, some dressed in formal clothing, and several wearing what appears to be Dauntless themed pajamas. I slow to look at the silky fabrics, wondering who bought them, but Eric is less than enthused by my perusal.

His hand hits mine as he points down the aisle. "I have to speak to Christian. You can look over there. Grab whatever you need."

I follow his stare to a wildly juvenile section of clothing. I don't move, even when he nudges me forward.

"Christian said you'd like that section." He sounds impatient and even more impatient when I still don't move. "Go!"

"How old do you think I am?" I crane my head up at him, trying to hide the insult on my face. I should be grateful that he's even brought me here. My trips out of his apartment were so few that I could count them on one hand, and there was always a calculated reason behind them. But what he's pointing to looks like something children would wear. "Those clothes are…"

"They're for people who are short. So, unless you plan on getting any taller, go pick something out. Carol mentioned you needed clothes for winter." He interrupts, pushing me again, this time harder than necessary. "Grab a few things so she'll quit bugging me."

"Okay."

I head down the row.

The first few racks are more youthful, full of clothes I haven't seen anyone wear in Dauntless. I try to think if I've seen any children, but they must live elsewhere. I try to imagine dressing entirely in black, and the small dark pants make me grin as I pass by pairs that are identical to what the soldiers wear.

The next section is better: the dresses are less childlike, and the clothes are structured. Most are dark colors, a few are lighter, and a handful are not black. I browse the racks while keeping one eye on Eric, trying not to look like I'm listening.

"Is she adjusting well?" A high-pitched voice asks Eric, and when I look out of the corner of my eye, there is a guy standing in front of Eric with his arms crossed over his chest. "She looks pale. Did she like the dress I made?"

"She is pale, and she's fine." Eric's answer is thin. "She needs other things to wear. I don't think she tried on what you sent."

I didn't.

I found the dress, the color of sunshine and wildflowers, and couldn't bring myself to put it on.

"I'm running out of time to make alterations if she needs them." The man, I assume, is Christian, counters. He's far shorter than Eric but dressed fancily, with several pins shoved through the collar of his jacket. "Does she need a uniform?"

"No, because she's not a soldier," Eric says, his tone dripping with impatience. "She wasn't brought here to be a soldier, either."

"I see. What would you like her to wear?" Christian asks. "She's very…"

He trails off, and I can feel them both look at me.

I pull a shirt off the rack, pretending I'm lost in the thrill of buying something covered in an array of cut marks and frayed edges.

"She can wear whatever she wants. But I need her to look like she lives here. Not Amity." Eric looks directly at me when I look at him, and his expression tells me nothing. "Christina has been giving her a few things, but I thought she might want something new."

"Was this your idea?"

Christian's question is a good one. I move further down the row, picking several things I know Eric will hate. He doesn't want me to look like I'm not from here, but the clothes I choose are not what he'll like. An oversized sweater, some leggings, a couple of dresses that I think are pretty but have nowhere to wear, a pink nightgown that reminds me of something my mom would make, and some socks. Another dress, this one a shade of lavender, and a pair of pajama shorts that aren't his boxers.

I ignore the wince the lighter colors bring, especially the green dress. It's nothing like Dauntless, and everything like that was at home.

Or what was my home.

My fingers are still on the fabric as a wave of dizzying vertigo washes over me.

"Is that all you want?"

I look up to find Eric a foot away, staring at the clothes in my arms. His stare rakes over them curiously, and his eyes narrow at the lack of black.

"Everly?"

"Yes." Held captive by his stare, I carefully extend the clothes toward him. "I didn't find anything for winter, but I like these."

To my surprise, he takes them.

They are funny looking against his uniform; the pink clashes with the black of his jacket, fragile-looking in comparison. He moves the clothes gingerly, his stare never leaving mine.

"I'm aware of how old you are," he looks down his nose at me, and his tone is mildly defensive. "They were very clear about that."

"Right." I hesitate to say anything else because I'm not sure what to say. I've never asked how old he is, but it's probably better if I don't. "Thank you for this. The clothes are nice."

"If he asks if you plan on trying the dress on, just tell him yes. It doesn't matter if it doesn't fit. You just need to wear it for a few hours." Eric instructs. "Otherwise, he'll follow us back home."

"I will."

I watch him blink at me, surrounded by colors far too soft for Eric.

"Good. Now let's go before he demands you try these on." He jerks his head toward the register, and I follow him silently to another aisle.

We pass a row of boots, a rack of dress shoes, and an entire section marked "training." The clothes there are all back: leggings, pants, tank tops, and tees. Everything is unmarked and basic, meant to withstand the Dauntless initiation. Another sign beside the rack announces the clothing can be brought back if it's unworn, but nothing with bloodstains can be returned. The clothes are marked for a low number of points, and an entire rack is free.

I touch a pair of pants as I walk past, shuddering at the thought of putting them on.

Luckily, Eric doesn't make me pick out a pair.

Day thirty comes before I am ready.

My head swims with a million thoughts, and all of them are a culmination of confusion and disbelief. I turn eighteen on the coolest summer day so far, sitting at a bar where animal heads are mounted on the wall above the booths. Across from me, Jason and Rylan are cheerfully eating onion rings drenched in ketchup, and next to me, Eric is reclined back with one arm slung behind me. There are a few others in the bar, but the restaurant feels calmer than it did the first time I was here.

Still, the air is lively with conversation and arguments, and in front of me is a steak so large it would take me a week to eat. Macaroni and cheese are plated alongside it, and mashed potatoes are beside that. A fizzy drink sits by Eric's beer, and on the other side of him, Four eats his meal silently. His girlfriend sits next to him, looking at me like she's seen a ghost, and next to her is Jeremy. He eats quickly, but I was told he's on his break, and he only swung by to say hello. He and Four keep arguing about something, but it's halfhearted at best.

At the end of the table are a stack of gifts wrapped in black paper. The tower of presents is higher than what I would have received back home, such a large amount that they keep tipping onto Rylan.

In Amity, the celebrations were always big events but had little to do with the actual person. My eighteenth birthday might have been worth making a fuss over purely because I would be considered an adult, but it was also a time when everyone else got to unwind. The food would be whatever my mother made, and the gifts would be things that were useful, not anything that I wanted. The drinks would be lemonade or tea, and the guests would be my parents' friends, neighbors, and my brothers and sisters fighting over who got the bigger cupcake.

I wasn't expecting much today.

I woke up feeling as excited as one could given my situation. Eric was already gone for the day, so I spent most of it alone. I took a long shower, washed and conditioned my hair, spent some time rifling through the clothes that were dropped off for me, and picked something that wasn't black. As far as I knew, it wasn't illegal to wear color here, but people rarely picked it.

I ate lunch alone but read through the paperwork that was on the table. It wasn't mine to read, but if Eric didn't want me to see it, he would have put it away.

It was boring.

A laundry list of people he was supposed to speak with, a few notes from his last meeting, a packet of information about the upcoming initiation, and another packet from the tents. This one held my interest, but the last page made me push my lunch away.

It was a detailed list of ways I could help Eric out.

The first half was what he'd been having me do: laundry, some light cleaning or putting away items that were left out, cooking, sewing, and sorting his mail. There were suggestions like having me run his errands, turn down the bedding at night, and even bring him lunch on the days when he didn't want to make it.

The second half of the list was graphic.

It suggested he start slow, with things like having me help him shower, waiting with his clothes in the morning, or letting him pick out what I wore to bed. If he was in the mood, I could take care of whatever needs he had with my hands, perhaps my mouth, and if he followed this list, we'd likely sleep together by the end of the second week. If he had made his purchase in hopes of having a child, they suggested we have sex at least once a day or until I was showing signs of pregnancy.

My lunch almost came right back up.

The timeline was cut and dry, but it was one he wasn't following.

Feeling like I might vomit, I washed the dishes wondering any of that was something he wanted. I busied myself by putting the glasses away and sweeping the kitchen. By the time I was done, and had decided Eric was interested only in having me help him around his apartment, he returned.

My heart clenched painfully as he walked into the kitchen. In his hands was a bag, and he slowly handed it to me.

"This is for you."

I stared at the bag like it was a trap. I hadn't been given anything for just me in years. Zander loved to open gifts, and my sisters would sneakily steal whatever clothes I had under the guise of borrowing them. Even personal items, like shoes or hairbrushes or nail polish, were quickly lost in the hurricane of their rooms, and their giggly apology was always presumed to be accepted.

I never had a choice.

"Are you sure?" My fingers touched his. He poked his cheek with his tongue, clearly uncomfortable over this exchange. "Just me?"

Eric glanced around, cocking his head with a smirk.

"Did you invite someone else to live here while I was gone?"

I didn't answer him, because the bag was full of the nicest clothes I'd ever seen. It wasn't a small gesture, nor was it all him. The card in the bag was from Rachel, promising me that eighteen would be the best year of my life. The cards to the stores were from Jason and Rylan, and the brand-new bottles of sweet-smelling soaps and perfumes were from Four's girlfriend. Even though her note hinted she thought I was being held hostage, she wished me all the best.

I spent the next hour hanging the clothes up, and by the time I was done, Eric announced we had a few more things to do.

One of our stops was in the administration office, where he spoke with someone at length. I waited off to the side and listened while they grumbled about the initiate housing. There were only so many apartments available once it was over, and the consensus was the apartments would be overly crowded if they had a large number this year and still crowded if they had normal numbers. Eric rolled his eyes, reminding the woman he had little to do with housing, but he eventually agreed to bring it up at the next meeting.

I listened while someone asked to move apartments, someone needed their keycards redone, and someone else was annoyed that their neighbors were setting off fireworks in their apartment.

The rest of the day was much better.

We got coffee, toured a few of the shops downstairs, watched a fight for a bit, and when it grew late, headed to Clyde's for dinner. I sat next to Eric obediently, and this time, he handed me a menu and told me to pick whatever. The words swam before my eyes, and eventually, Eric picked something as his friends showed up. I was shocked they brought more gifts, and I wondered if they were trying to make up for something.

"Are you done eating?" Eric asks.

His stare slides over my plate, unhappy with how much is left.

"Everly…"

"I can take it home and eat it tomorrow." I look up at him, and his stare defrosts a degree. "It was really good."

"Are you sure?" He leans in, and I notice he smells good. Better than usual, almost woodsy. "Desert should be here any second."

"Is it flammable?" Rylan pipes up, craning his head around the gifts. "I heard there's a birthday dessert they light on fire. It's been a big hit with the kids."

"No, it's not on fire." Eric rolls his eyes. "And she's eighteen, not four."

"I bet Four would like. He seems like a pyromaniac," Rylan side-eyes Four, who pretends he can't hear him. "Everly, did you make a wish yet?"

"I bet I know what she's going to wish for," Jason adds. "I know what I'd wish for. It's probably similar."

"I doubt Everly wants a tour of Dauntless's most haunted toilets," Rylan counters. "I'll go, though. I'm interested."

"Is that a thing?" I ask, not realizing how close I am to Eric. My shoulder hits his chest, and when I turn, he's watching his friends with a funny look on his face. "Eric?"

"No, it's not." He looks to the side of them, then moves his arm to reach for something. He pulls it out of his pocket, and his lips twitch. "This is for you. You can use it anywhere, but try to refrain from spending all my points in the flower shop."

Eric hands me a card, one that's identical to his. It's heavy and shiny, with my name embedded below his.

Well, Everly Coulter is below his.

I ignore the fact that my existence has been erased and replaced with someone who doesn't exist, but I find the barest bit of comfort in knowing that it's more proof that I'm here.

"I just…swipe it?" I lean into him when Jeremy looks at me. "Are you sure?"

"You're giving her your card? Is she an authorized user, or is this permanent?" Jeremy downs the rest of his water, eying me intently. "Max said you have to marry her soon."

"What?"

I freeze at the same time Eric swallows the last of his drink. I look at him out of the corner of my eye, but his expression stays neutral.

"It's permanent. She'll be here for a while, so she might as well be able to buy what she needs." Eric shrugs, and his mood shifts. It becomes defensive, as prickly as his personality. "If she wants to use it, she can. You're not paying for her."

"How much was she again?" Jeremy asks. "Kacie said –"

"You should go next time. Maybe you'll shut up about your ex if you go buy a wife." Rylan glares at him.

"Actually, he should go. He fits the profile." Jason counters. "Right?"

"He does," Eric throws out. "Maybe he can take your place."

"I'm still interested in going. If only to further the cause," Jason throws out. "But back to what's really important, Everly needs to think of a wish."

"Yeah, and not the tour. At least not unless I can go." Rylan mutters under his breath.

"Did you think of something?" Eric asks, his tone rife with curiosity. When I look up at him, he's peering down at me intently. "You should."

"Do you believe in wishes?" I ask.

His eyes narrow.

I wonder if he's ever made a wish, let alone celebrated his birthday. I doubt it. To Eric, birthdays would be practical, only good for tracking one's age and nothing more.

"No, I do not believe in wishes." His answer is just as expected. "But I have a feeling you do."

I shake my head, feeling a sudden burst of sadness rise in my chest.

I don't believe in wishes.

I'd like to, but there's some unfairness in wishing for anything right now. If I wish that none of this ever happened, that would mean I'd be in Amity, awaiting the Choosing Ceremony. I'd likely pick my home faction and return to complete the initiation before marrying someone I didn't really know. If I wish that my life here turns out okay, I'm accepting the idea that I was sold against my will and purchased by a man who I'll never truly know.

A wish is pointless.

"I –"

I'm cut off by the waitress bringing out a large cake. It's decorated with thick black frosting, tall and wide, and covered in candles. She sets it down with a grin and hands Eric a lighter.

"Happy Birthday! I'll let you light the candles, and I'll be back with knives and forks. Do you guys need anything else?"

Her cheerful demeanor slips when she looks at me. She knows my presence here is not ordinary, and she fails at hiding her unease when I smile.

"I hope it's a good one," she offers, smiling even harder as Eric lights the candles. "All things considered."

"Me, too."

I watch as Eric quickly lights the last candle. He pushes the cake towards me, then lowers his voice so only I can hear him speak.

"I know the circumstances are…unusual, but Happy Birthday, Everly."

He nudges my arm, and everyone joins in, staring at me.

My skin feels like it's on fire as they watch. I keep the smile fixed in place, fully aware it's not as happy-looking as they're hoping for. Someone sings Happy Birthday in a high-pitched voice, and I can feel everyone looking at me. The anger from days ago is long gone, and it fizzles even further when Rylan sings a second verse, even worse sounding than the first.

When Jason laughs, I end up smiling right along with him.

Eric was right –the anger I felt the other day quickly turned into an attempt at proving to myself that I was fine before the heavy weight of inescapable despair took hold of me.

"You should wish for a pet! I bet Eric would love a lizard!"

Rylan's suggestion breaks the tension, but so does Eric moving his hand. He pulls his arm back, brushing along my hair. He leaves it there as someone walks by, mumbling a congratulations to me. I don't recognize the guy, nor do I recognize the one stopping to whisper something to Jeremy.

"You should make a wish. You've earned it," Eric murmurs. "Or at least pretend to so Rylan will stop singing."

The laughter sticks in my throat as I make a silent wish that I know will never come true before blowing out the candles as Eric's friends clap. I catch Four's stare when I lean back, and the frustration is one I recognize; he's hiding something like he's forced to be here just like me.

"I'll cut the cake," Rylan offers. "I did win most skilled with a knife."

"No, you didn't." Jason shakes his head with a gleam in his eye. "You won most likely to stab someone. Twice."

I listen to them good-naturedly jab at one another until I'm handed a slice. Eric hits my arm with his, and Four's girlfriend keeps looking at me like she's too uncomfortable to sit still. I make another bargain to keep the unease at bay, promising myself that if I eat the cake, things will feel fine.

I will feel fine.

Everything will be fine.

"It should be good. I ordered it from Quinten." Eric ducks his head down, widening his eyes mockingly when Tris startles. "I think you'll like it."

I tilt my head to look at him, and I'm met with a flash of entertainment when I finally reach for the cake. He waits until I've taken the plate, and only then does he relax his gaze away from me.

"He said if you don't like it, he'll make you another one."

"I'm sure I'll like it."

Turning eighteen is the most bittersweet moment of my life; the freedom it would normally bring never comes, only the sugary realization that Eric is the only person who has ever celebrated just me.

He watches patiently as I take a bite of cake.

He wasn't lying.

The cake is good, but so is the way that for the next few minutes, the only worry I have is how is how nice this feels, and the freedom in not having to share with anyone else.

I try to imagine sleeping with him.

Not just next to him, like the past few nights have entailed, but with him. My bare skin against his, his hands touching me in ways I can't quite visualize, and his mouth on mine. I imagine it would be very rough and violent because he'd be frustrated with how long it took to get to that point, or maybe intense because he is his own focus.

I imagine it would be all about him, his desire above all else, his wants trumping anything I could even dream of asking for.

With a shiver of unpleasantness, I imagine him bashing my head against the wall, then laughing when it hurt. I let my mind wander so far into extreme terror that I jump when he walks into the room.

When he sits down on the beside me, his stare goes to my pajamas, and his expression remains unreadable.

In the clothes I'd been given, there were dozens of dresses that were a subtle nod to Amity. Some were more suited to Dauntless, but most were lighter than what the members here wore. There were nightgowns, too. A handful, like the ones I had back home, while others were more revealing and less juvenile. I picked one that fell in the middle, but only because it felt important to no longer appear like someone who had no power. Tomorrow, I would attend the Choosing Ceremony with Eric, and even though I had orders given to me, it would look like my choice.

For a half second, I contemplated not listening to him. But I knew Eric would find me, and whatever he was up to would be ruined. I sometimes thought he maybe hadn't gone through with this on his own accord, but there were times like now where I thought I was wrong.

"Are you nervous?" Shirtless and dressed only in boxers, he cocks his head at me and asks the question of the day. "Are you worried about the ceremony?"

"No. I think I know what to say, and you said I won't really have time to talk to anyone." I pull my knees up, and he watches my every move. "But I am afraid I'll see someone who won't believe me."

"You'll have to make them believe you," Eric answers tightly. "I'm sure you can make that happen. Just tell them something that could be the truth. You left because you didn't want to marry Landon. Or you were afraid. I doubt they'll have enough time to interrogate you."

"What happens after I pick Dauntless?" I watch him back; he climbs into bed easily but keeps his distance. "Do I find you?"

"You do. You'll join everyone else who picked Dauntless, then wait for me. You won't go with them on the train or participate in the actual initiation." Eric lies down and rubs his eyes before squinting at me. "Unless you want to."

"I don't."

It's weird to be the one looking down at him. Against the fluffy pillows, he's less threatening.

At least until he speaks.

"Good. You shouldn't."

"I saw the...um…the paperwork from the people," I announce. "On the table."

My voice is less even than I want it to be, but Eric barely bats an eye.

"Are you going to… to…" I continue, but I can't finish my sentence.

"Follow through with it?" He opens one eye, and the air in the room stills. "Not all of it. But Jeremy is right. I have to make it look legit. It needs to be believable. Just like tomorrow."

"Will we really get married?" I push my knees down, wondering if he plans on having an actual marriage. "This is really forever? You want to marry me?"

My question makes him shut his eyes. He swallows but doesn't answer until I inch closer. I reach out and gingerly touch his arm, even though I know I should keep my distance.

"Eric?"

He stiffens.

"No. I'm sure at some point, you'll realize what's happening." He mutters his answer, displeased at my question. "The sale of a human isn't legal, and not everyone in your situation stays alive. It's why, in theory, you'll listen to every word I say. It's why these men go and buy women that they can order around or do whatever they want to them. But I've made your presence known, and I'll announce that you're my wife, and people are to leave you alone after we're married."

"Why would you do that?"

My brain swirls with a hundred questions, but he merely shrugs and turns to look at me as I pull my hand away.

"Because if I don't, they'll spend the rest of your days here bothering you. Just wait until you walk downstairs to get lunch, and they start asking you what it's like to get fucked by me." He lets out a huff of exasperation, and I get the feeling he has a reputation here that's darker than I can imagine. "Just wait until they want to know where you live or if I've asked you to keep your dress on. You'll wish I had announced a marriage like you've never wished for anything before."

"Who would ask that?" My cheeks burn at what he's saying. "Would someone really –"

"Yes."

He turns to really look at me, then sits up. I startle before I can stop myself, and I see he doesn't like that. Insult flashes across his face, but it's quickly replaced with boredom.

"Go to sleep. Pick Dauntless. I promise it'll be the best for both of us." Eric leans in and slowly reaches out to touch my neck. His fingers skim over Arlene's work, lingering there a moment too long. "Can you do that?"

I can't answer him.

My whole body grows warm. I'm dizzy as he leaves his fingers on my neck, and the rough pad moves to touch below the stitches. I saw them in the mirror this morning; the dark threads were a bold reminder someone thought they owned me, and that person wasn't originally Eric.

"Everly?"

Eric murmurs my name, and before I can stop myself, I nod. I want nothing more than to feel like this, over and over, because I've never experienced it before.

Safe.

He's keeping me safe.

No one else in my life has, and somehow, Eric is the only person looking out for me.

"I can."

I'm embarrassed by how despondent I am when he pulls his hand away. I blame it on my birthday, the shameless desire to be important to someone, even if they have an ulterior motive I don't understand. In this moment, I would do whatever he asked, just so he'd make sure I'm alright.

"Good. Now go to sleep. We have to be up early," Eric reminds me. "It'll take a few hours, then we'll be back by lunch."

"And you'll be there?" I ask, even though I know the answer. "The whole time?"

"The whole time."

He lies down, reaching for the covers but waiting until I'm beneath the sheets. I lie facing him, and when I shut my eyes, it's only because his hand touches mine. He's blunt in his move to make sure I'm there, but it's comforting in a way he'll never understand.

His fingers rest against mine, warm and heavy, and the next thing I know, my birthday is gone, and it's morning.

The drive to the Choosing Ceremony takes a half hour.

Dressed in something similar to what I wore the day Landon brought me to the tents, and I sit beside Eric in the truck. My hair has been washed, combed, dried, then curled. Eric watched curiously while I did it with Rachel's friend's help. My hands shook when I tried to wrap the barrel around my hair, and the idea was to make it look like I'd come from Amity. She'd helped me pick out the dress, shaking her head at one that was too dark and nodding when I picked out a light yellow one. She told me her name was Amy, and though Eric looked less than happy to have her around, he did wait while she helped me braid the front of my hair in a pattern that made me wince.

She swiped some blush on my cheeks, applied a heavy coat of mascara, and waved Eric away when he tried to stop her.

"She needs to look like she came from Amity. Not the nightclub." He barked the words at her, buttoning up his jacket with a huff. "She looks like you."

"No, she doesn't." Amy rolled her eyes, unafraid of him glowering while he slicked his hair back. "And thanks for the compliment, jackass. There's nothing wrong with makeup. You don't have to insult me because you're mad at something else."

"I can hear you. Need I remind you that this is my apartment, and I can throw you out if I want?"

I stood between them as they sniped at one another. Amy was clearly here on Rachel's behalf, and Eric was only tolerating her because he suddenly didn't trust me to get dressed on my own.

"You look great." She stepped back to spray my hair, then crossed her arms over her chest. "No one would think you've been living here. What do you think?"

When I turned to look in the mirror, I was met with another version of myself. I looked more like Everly than I had lately, but not. My hair was lush and clean. My skin was flushed. My dress was exactly like everyone else in Amity would wear, slightly nicer but not noticeably so. The stitches on my neck weren't as obvious, and the only sign that I wasn't staying in Amity was the look in my eyes.

It was defeated, bordering on miserable.

"It looks good. Thank you for your help." I stared at the Everly, who should have been picking Amity today. I forced a smile, and when Eric cleared his throat, I knew I'd made a mistake. "What?"

I wasn't as afraid of him as I should be, but even a month of knowing Eric wasn't that long. I might sleep beside him since another bed had yet to show up, but he was often gone before and asleep before I was. Our time together was minimal, and he preferred it that way. He could still trade me in. He could kill me. He could do anything he wanted and there was nothing I could do to stop him.

So, while I might know a little more about him, it wasn't enough to predict his thoughts.

"Amy, you can go now." He waved her off while he slicked his hair back further. "Thank you."

"You're…welcome."

Much like everyone else here, she was reluctant to leave me alone with him. She dawdled for a moment, gathering up the hair spray and bobby pins, then left me with some lip gloss.

"If you need anything, I'll be at Rachel's. You can come by any time."

I couldn't.

She knew this.

"Thanks again." I took the lip gloss, keeping one eye on Eric. "I'll see you when I'm back."

Amy smiled tightly and left before Eric said anything else. I guessed that she was worried Eric was going to do something, but she was powerless to stick around his apartment.

"You know today will go just fine, don't you?" Eric, finished with his hair, walked over to me and stood so I was trapped against the sink. "There isn't anything to worry about."

"I know."

"Then why do you look like you're going to cry?" He raised his eyebrow at me, irritation scribbled over his face. "They can't get you. You aren't going anywhere. You're coming back here. Even if you try to pick somewhere else."

"I…" My hesitation wasn't returning with him, and it was knowing that I'd see people who recognized me and hadn't bothered to question where I was. "I'm not going to cry. I just…don't feel like the person who would wear this anymore."

"Why?" He reached out and removed the bobby pin near my temple. He tugged on my hair, pulling the pieces Amy had just braided until it was undone. "You don't like the dress?"

"I do," I answered, quiet as he undid my hair. He shoved his hands into it, and when the braid was gone, I looked different. Not like the Everly from Amity, but not like the Everly who lived here. "You don't like what she did?"

"No," Eric answered flatly. "I'm going to guess you don't want to look like you did the day Landon tricked you. So, now you won't."

He kept his hands in my hair, using them to crane my head up to look at him.

"He's going to be there. The biggest fuck you is him seeing you alive and well. Not scared. Not running. Not living in fear," Eric paused. "If I've learned anything from my time here, it's that the bravest thing you can do is ignore the people waiting for your downfall."

"How?"

I reached up without thinking.

My hand found his wrist, covered in his uniform jacket. I dug my nails in, hanging onto him like a lifeline.

He let me.

"I'll show you."

Eric untangled my hand from his, a reminder not to touch him like that, and half an hour later, I was in the truck beside him. My feet are pulled up and to the side of me, my body is primed toward Eric, and my view is a blur as he drives toward Erudite. He explained the Choosing Ceremony was held there, but Amity had been selected to provide the food for those attending. It was more symbolic than an actual meal; they were serving teas for those waiting and fresh fruit and snacks before the event started.

I'd likely see numerous people I knew.

"Are you ready?" Eric looks over at me while following a row of grey trucks. The Dauntless Leaders are all in attendance today. Harrison had walked out with us, avoiding looking at me for too long, and Max, the only Leader I hadn't met, had uttered a very brief hello. He and Harrison drove ahead of us, and behind us, Jason and Rylan drove separate trucks with some of the Dauntless born inside. "It won't be long once we park. If anything, maybe fifteen minutes before you line up."

"I am ready." I smooth an invisible wrinkle off my skirt, then smile at him. "Are you ready to see who chooses Dauntless?"

"Oh, I can't wait."

He laughs, flashing me a scathing grin. I imagine when everyone meets him, they'll find him terrifying.

In the distance, people show up in droves. Sleek, shiny cars arrive as families from Erudite trickle in, and the work trucks from Amity park carefully beside them. Abnegation seems to have hitched a ride, though some appear to have walked. Those from Candor arrive in black cars, some fancy, some not, and only Dauntless arrives armed for war.

The families that hop out of the trucks are wild.

Their black clothes give off an air of superiority, and their wild hair stands out amongst the pressed buttons down shirts of Erudite fathers and mothers. They appear garish as they weave in and out of those dressed in gray, and smug as they watch those from Amity peer at them.

My stomach twists like a knife has pierced my abdomen when I see Sophia and Courtney. Jake. A boy named Anthony, who lived not far from my parents, and a girl named Clara, who had been in love with Forrest for years.

There are others.

Everyone who has recently turned eighteen is corralled inside by Erudite's staff.

"Wait here." Eric kills the engine and is out of the truck before I can blink. He heads around, greets someone who knows him, opens the passenger side door with ease, then stands upon the running board and extends his hand. "Come on."

"Are you sure?" I ask, giving him my hand regardless of his answer. He pulls me over with little effort then reaches for my waist. "I can get out. Eric!"

The fall is one I will never get used to.

I reach the ground before I'm ready, and when I steady myself, the waves of people walking inside press together. Eric keeps me out of sight, his body covering mine as someone yells for Jerry to hurry, and my heart thuds painfully.

"I know that guy. Jerry is my dad's friend."

"I know you do," Eric answers tightly. "Keep your head up high. Remember, they didn't look for you, so they don't deserve to know how you are. They've written you off as dead."

His hands dig into my waist, tightening when Rylan parks by nearly crashing into someone from Abnegation. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Johanna arriving, and just behind her, more families from Amity.

"If you panic, look for me." Eric murmurs. "I'll be standing in the back with Harrison."

"What if Landon says something to me?" I blurt out. Eric's hand stays on me, and his nod is understanding. "If he sees me –"

"You can either make a scene and announce what Landon did or smile, pretend you don't know him, and wait your turn. I'll leave it up to you. Either choice ends with you in Dauntless." Eric lets go unceremoniously, and I'm left exposed as a large group of Erudite walks past.

Some pause to look at me, confused as to what's going on. I know it looks odd to see me standing with Eric, and their confusion grows when he takes hold of my arm.

"We should go. The sooner you check-in, the better."

The sunlight is luxurious as it hits my skin. The air is fresh and clean, much better than what's underground, and just brisk enough that I know summer is slowing. In Amity, people will gradually stop swimming in the lakes, the crops will switch to another season, and the nights will come even faster.

I take a deep breath, soaking in the warmth of the sun's rays before Eric instructs me to follow him. His grip is just tight enough to coax me along. I smile brightly at the girls gaping at him, their expressions hinting they recognize him, and several whisper amongst each other. By the time we reach the front of the building, they're out of sight. Rylan has cornered all the Dauntless born in a line, and the tsunami of them takes my breath away.

Almost all are big.

Strong.

Bold in what they're wearing and fearless as they push and shove one another. A few are more reserved, walking with a cool, arrogant attitude, and very few are quiet. One boy walks along so timidly that I know he's not choosing Dauntless, and in the distance, parents that I imagine are his look disappointed when he doesn't wave back at them.

"There. Tell the woman your name. She'll show you which line to get in." Eric moves efficiently; while some greet him, he barely nods hello so we can keep walking. He moves his hand lower, splaying his palm across my back. "And remember –"

"Everly."

My name is gasped.

I look over to see Sophia clutching her hands together, and her eyes are widened in horror. She blinks a few times before she says my name again, but there's no time to speak with her. Courtney is beside her, looking green as someone points at me, and both stop in their tracks. They try to change direction, but Jerry ushers them onward, paying little attention to their protest.

"Eric, wait, that's –"

Eric doesn't listen to my protest, either.

We are greeted by a woman in blue, curtly asking for my name.

"Everly…Car –"

"Carlen. Everly Carlen," Eric interrupts. He nudges me towards her, and his gaze becomes exasperated. "Her birthday was yesterday."

"I found her." The woman strikes something out on a piece of paper before nodding. "Second line. She's behind the kid with glasses. Hurry. We only have a few more minutes before they'll be inside. We're already behind, so make sure she hurries."

"Great. Thanks." Eric answers for me. He continues his trek to the line, and I'm shoved into place by not only him but Harrison. "I thought you were with Max."

"I've been looking all over for you. They're all here. Does she know?" Harrison glances at me, and his shirt is nicer than the one he had on the last time I saw him. "If they try to talk to her? Her friends are looking for her."

"She knows what to say."

Eric's answer is terse.

He surveys the area, and when he finds it satisfactory, he moves his hand away.

"Stay here and wait until they call your name," he reminds me. "When they do…"

"I know. Cut my palm and pick Dauntless," I answered evenly. The guy in front of me turns, and he frowns when Eric looks at him. "I'll find you after."

"You'll do great." Harrison pats my arm, but his attention is on someone else. He radios someone, asking them to meet him by the doors. "Area six, I need at least five people."

"Eric…"

I started to ask him a question, but the buzz of the Choosing Ceremony was too great for him to hear me. Eric leaves with Harrison, storming through the crowd like he's on a mission. I stare at the back of his head until I can't see him anymore, and I'm elbowed by the guy who was eavesdropping.

"You don't have to do what your father says, you know. You can pick any faction." He pushes his glasses into place and smirks. "Are you really from Dauntless? Because you look like you're from Amity."

"He's not my father." Like Eric, I narrow my eyes in annoyance at him. "And where I'm from isn't your business."

"Oh, okay," he mocks me. "Is he your husband? I know who he is. I know why he's here, too."

"Because he's a Leader, and they attend every Choosing Ceremony?" I retort, ignoring the nerves firing. His comments are hitting a little too close to home, but there's no way he'd know any of this. "All the Leaders are here, dummy."

"Dummy? Really? That was uncalled for," he snaps.

He starts to say something, but a woman in blue appears, and the line begins to head inside the building. I follow him up the stairs, inside a large room, and to the side. The line stops momentarily, and I have a second to look around.

The auditorium is filled with people.

A good distance back, Sophia is desperately trying to force her way up the line to get to me, and Courtney is crying beside her. They've both been pushed back into place by someone tall, and when he turns, we lock eyes.

I take great satisfaction in the way Landon's face turns as white as the clouds in the sky, and his mouth drops open.

The cut bleeds immediately and a little too much.

The blood pours out, bright red and bold. Eric failed to mention how hard or light to press, but it didn't take much. I'm dizzy over what seems to be a lot of blood, but not dizzy enough to stop myself from looking into the audience.

In the section for those from Amity, I see a lot of familiar faces. Every single of them looks confused, except for my father. He sits to the side with Johanna, likely here because of his position in Amity. He stares at me in fear, his mouth agape and his hands fidgeting as he waits to see what I will do.

Next to him, a section over is the man who hit me in the face.

He watches intently, his stare scraping over me like shards of glass.

I don't know anyone else from Abnegation, nor do I see any of the girls I was with. The other sections are no one I recognize, except for the new Leader of Erudite. Her head tilts when I hesitate over the bowl of soil, and her stare is impassive.

The lights blind me as my name is repeated. I barely hear it. I'm dimly aware of Landon hissing something at one of his friends, his skin still pale. Rylan waits near one of the exits, casually leaning against a pillar, and Jason waits at the other.

In the middle is Eric.

He stands away from the wall with his arms behind his back. His stare is locked on me, unblinking when I move to the next bowl.

He occasionally drops it to my hand, his mouth tensing when the red is a little too much, and his shoulders rise as I near the last bowl.

The Dauntless faction watches, and there is no confusion on their faces. Parents smile up at me, some elbowing each other to whisper to one another, and some softly mouthing do it as I waver over the bowl. The skirt of my dress tangles between my legs, and a wave of wet warmth hits my hand when I turn my palm over.

The blood spills down, sizzling when it hits the coal.

"Dauntless."

A roar emerges from the Dauntless section, louder than anything I have heard. Marcus' expression darkens, and my father leans back in his chair, shutting his eyes tightly. Johanna tries to catch my stare, and as I walk, I hear Cara offer up a congratulations.

I pay attention to none of them.

The weight of today lifts from my shoulders as I head to Eric. I probably should be heading in another direction, but no one stops me. The next person is up on stage, and their selection is quick. They pick Candor, and the applause is polite and appropriate.

By the time I reach the end of the auditorium, a third person is choosing. I make it to Eric as they pick Dauntless, and he takes a few steps toward me. He meets me without any hesitation; Eric pulls me away from the row into him, and his grip is tight as he holds onto me. He gives me a second to compose myself, and right as someone from Erudite heads our way, he murmurs something against my ear.

I slowly realize I'm holding onto him tightly, terrified to let go.

My hands lock on his jacket, and his moves to my lower back as he leans in, and very quietly tells me I made the right choice.

"Good girl."

He pulls away as another chooses Dauntless, and the crowd erupts louder than ever.

Chapter Text

The chosen crowd for Dauntless is impressive.

A sea of color surrounds Jason and Rylan as they direct people to the trucks. They're calling anyone who chose Dauntless toward them, loudly explaining that they'll be heading out soon and to pick a truck to ride in. There are plenty of people already dressed in black, but others are dressed in blues and golds. I recognize a few from Amity, but I have no chance to say anything.

Eric keeps me next to him while he and Harrison talk about Jeanine. I catch snippets of their conversation as Eric's hand closes around my wrist, but it's hardly tight. From a distance, it might even look affectionate as he bumps into me, then pulls me half in front of him.

"You think it's someone taking a page out of her book? Did she have any other family?" Harrison asks. "Anyone who might want to avenge her death? Other than you?"

"Funny." Eric's answer is snapped as he glances down, and his mouth tightens. "Is your hand still bleeding?"

"It is." I answer as he turns it over, narrowing his eyes at the cut. "It hurts."

"It looks deep." Harrison examines my hand, too. His stare is less critical than Eric's, far more paternal than my own father's had been. "Did any of them talk to you?"

"The people in line?" I look up, trying not to focus on Eric pressing alongside the cut. He drags his fingers across my skin, trying to slow the bleeding. "Just some guy. He said I didn't have to do what my dad told me. He said it after Eric left."

"He can fuck off." Eric huffs. "This might need stitches. I'll have Arlene look when we're back."

"Here, press this against it. Hopefully, it'll stop on its own." Harrison hands me a green handkerchief. "Landon didn't say anything to you, did he? Or your dad?"

When my eyes meet his, I'm met with a world of worry. The lines around his eyes deepened, and when I shake my head, he purses his lips.

"No."

"Cowards." Harrison crosses his arms over his chest. "Both of them."

"They weren't gonna say shit to her because they didn't think she'd be there," Eric retorts. He lets go of my hand when Max joins us, and their uniforms present a very unified front as more people head toward us. "Well?"

"We'll talk when we get back. So far, nothing of any real interest. Her father asked to speak to her, but I told him she's no longer a member of the Amity faction, and he can swing by on Visiting Day." Max answers. "Obviously, she won't be in the initiation class, but he doesn't know that."

"No, she won't."

Eric's answer is firm. He faces me, but he's quickly interrupted by Jeremy asking him to look at something on the truck. Eric tells me to stay with Harrison, and he leaves with an annoyed looking Jeremy.

"You know any of these kids?" Harrison points to the few in red who have joined the group, and his stare turns amused as they examine the trucks. "I know the one named Jake."

"He picked Dauntless?" My surprise catches me off guard. Jake has always been brave. He was adventurous and outgoing, and he loved hiking and swimming in the lake. I assumed he'd stay in Amity to help his family and marry whatever girl could keep up with him. "He's a friend of mine. The others…I know who they are, but I wasn't close with them."

"I know a few. Just thought I'd get your critique before we head home. We drive them for a bit before we let them claw their way into the faction." He pauses, shrugging when I tilt my head. "Initiation starts early."

Harrison watches as more join the group, smiling as some look at him. Dauntless is a popular choice this year, and I overhear someone yelling they need another truck.

"How about her? She's been staring at you since Rylan told her where to go." Harrison points in the distance, and it's my turn to look like I've seen a ghost. "I would guess she's a friend of yours."

"She is."

Sophia stands alone, her hands clasped in front of her, looking lost. The boys next to her keeps looking at her in confusion, and one attempts to strike up a conversation. She ignores him in favor of looking at me, and she only breaks her stare when Jason directs her to one of the trucks with a concerned look on his face.

"Did she pick Dauntless?" I ask, drowning beneath a wave of optimism. "Is she going with us?"

Though I'm not in Dauntless for the same reasons, if Sophia stays, I'll know someone here.

"She did. She's the one who found me and reported you missing." Harrison pauses to pull out a pair of sunglasses and slide them on. "For your sake, I hope she makes it through initiation."

"What happens if you don't?"

I suddenly realize I know very little about Dauntless and even less about how they welcome the transfers. I know they have an initiation. I assumed it was similar to Amity's, but the way Harrison is speaking makes it sound like there's a good chance she won't stay.

"She'll be factionless. We only take the top-ranking initiates. There's an agenda in place to accept more, but it hasn't passed yet. Eric is voting on it at the end of this week." His stare follows Sophia as she climbs into a truck, and she struggles when her skirt gets caught beneath her feet. "I think it's a smart move, but occasionally, we get some who show up thinking we're an easy choice."

I follow his stare from the truck over to Eric, talking to Jeremy. They both look furious at each other and when Jeremy shakes his head, Eric stalks away from him. He heads toward me, cutting through the crowd with a vengeance. Most step away fearfully, but a few from Dauntless try to greet him.

He acknowledges no one.

"We have everyone. There's no one left inside," Eric announces. He stops right beside me, and his hand touches my lower back. "Cara has asked to meet with us next week some time. I'll make everyone is available."

"Sounds good to me. You and Everly driving together?" He looks at Eric, unbothered, as someone yells out that they've made a mistake and want to go back to Candor. "Are you watching them jump? I told Rylan to drive them to the outskirts of the compound. They'll walk to their roof from there."

"No, we are not watching them."

Eric's answer is flat but not annoyed anymore. If anything, he looks curious as a few stragglers show up, running to make it to a truck in time.

"What happens now?" I tilt my head to look at him, and in the sunlight, he appears harsher. Less friendly than ever, and somehow taller. "Do we go home?"

Eric looks down, and all I can see is a sharp stare, narrowed eyes, and the outline of his browbone when he smirks.

I realize what I've said a second too late, but I can't take it back.

"We do go home."

"Do you think she'll survive initiation?"

My question comes as Eric drives the truck through the Dauntless gates. There was no one else with us, and I was surprised to find that Eric didn't offer to let anyone join us. I watched as the initiates squeezed into the trucks, and so did Eric. He bit down on his cheek when he looked at someone in the distance, but he quickly ushered me into the truck we'd driven and slammed the door shut before I could ask if he'd seen Sophia.

Our drive was fast and quiet.

Other than telling me Dauntless had changed how the initiates get to the roof –jumping from a moving train had left them with far more dead bodies than they wanted, he fell silent. I found myself oddly relieved no one was with us, and other than Eric asking again if my hand was still bleeding, he was lost in his own thoughts.

"Who?" He looks at me out of the corner of his eye, and it's clear I've distracted him. "That girl?"

"Sophia." I shift to face him as he slows the truck to speak to the soldier at the gate. "She's the one who reported me missing."

"Right." Eric nods at the guard, and he's waved through to a different side of the docking bay. "As noble as her gesture is, I don't think she'll last."

"Why?" I deflated against the truck seat, pressing harder on my palm.

"Because. The initiation is designed to create soldiers. Unless she's able to run for miles, fight for her life, and face her fears, she'll fail. She likely won't be able to hold her own against the others, nor will she be able to keep up. You'd both get the shit beat out of you by day three." Eric's answer is tight and decidedly unhappy. "And before you ask, no, I can't help her."

"Are you sure?" I try to figure out if I think Sophia could do all that, but I have no clue. "What if you did?"

When Eric looks at me, his stare is piercing.

"How would I help her? I have my own work to do. I have nothing to do with the initiation. Even if I went down there and told Four to make sure she passes or ranks high enough not to be suspicious, she'd have to prove she could do what's asked of her." He parks violently, and the truck slams to a stop. "The second she walks a patrol and finds herself attacked, she won't make it out."

"What if you train her?" I try desperately to think of a way to keep Sophia safe. I look around us, noticing Harrison parks to the side and Jason parks a few feet away. "What if I help her? I could do the class with her. I could –"

"No." Eric shakes his head and his demeanor changes.

He leans back against his seat and rubs his hands over his face.

"It's admirable that she came here, but you don't even know why she chose Dauntless. Maybe she'll make it. Maybe she'll surprise us all. But you are not a part of the initiation class, and I'm not going to send you down there. You have other things to do." He turns his head, and when his eyes find mine, he's frustrated. "You've spent your life worried about everyone else. You should worry about yourself for once."

He doesn't wait for an answer; Eric throws the door open and hops out of the truck. I'm left sitting in the passenger seat, not sure what to say or do. There's a lump in my throat that wasn't there before, and it's hard to breathe.

He's not wrong.

I've only been here for a month, but he must have picked up on my life in Amity and how little of it was my own. It was only with Eric that I wasn't responsible for anyone but me. This was the first time in my life that I wasn't a stand-in babysitter, and even though I was here on some unusual terms, Eric hasn't asked much of me.

But Sophia is my friend, and there's not a chance I'll let her end up factionless if she came here to save me.

"Everly, get out of the truck."

The sound of the door opening, paired with Eric's voice, is dull. I stare at the controls on the dashboard, and when he barks my name, I shake my head.

I hear Eric mutter something, and the dials blur before me as his words grow faint.

If Sophia isn't chosen and she ends up factionless, she could very well end up with Shannon and her friends. She could end up dead or injured, unconscious and bleeding at the hands of whoever got her, gone because she tried to find me. It will be my fault. Her blood will be on my hands, and there isn't anything I can do to help her.

"EVERLY." Eric snaps my name, but I shake my head again, refusing to cry in front of him.

The feeling is so intense I can barely handle it. Since the day Eric showed up at the tents, I've managed to keep it together. I've been able to stay strong, even without whatever Arlene gave me, but seeing Sophia has reminded me that none of this is my choice, and it never will be.

"Everly, I have to go. Get out of the truck, now." He tries again, opening the door wider. "That's an order."

"I don't want her to be factionless." I manage to keep my voice even, though I'm sure he's noticed that it's shaky. "That's not fair. They could find her. They could sell her, and no one would know, and they could hurt her and…"

I can't finish my sentence.

"Those are the rules. She chose to come here, and we can choose not to keep her if she doesn't meet our requirements." Eric answers sharply. "Now get out."

"She's my friend." I turn to look at him, and though I feel like I'm acting like Zander would, I can't bring myself to move. "If she was your friend –"

"Get. Out. Of. The. Truck." Eric grits out the words slowly, and his next ones are a threat. "Don't make me come get you."

"Would you let Jason or Rylan get kicked out?"

"No, because they made it through initiation on their own," he hisses. "Everly –"

I meet his stare. It's as furious as I expect, maybe more so, and it strikes a wave of fear through me. He radiates anger over my refusal to listen to him. His eyes are dark as he snaps something at me, and his whole face tightens when I don't move. My exhale is weary and exhausted, and when I shift away from him, not wanting him to jerk me out of the truck, regret flashes across his face like lightning.

It's gone in a second, dulling when he leans back.

"Okay." I relent. "I understand. I hope…I hope she makes it."

This is a battle I can't win.

At least not with him.

Maybe Harrison can help me. I'll ask him if he can look out for her or maybe fix the rankings, but I won't ask Eric again.

I push the heel of my palms into my eyes and try to summon the strength to climb out of the truck. I know Eric will take me back to his apartment, and once he leaves, I can think of a plan. Maybe I can convince Four to let me help her or work off a debt to Harrison if he can skew the rankings. Someone has to have the power to save her or be willing to help me.

"There's a chance she'll be fine." Eric's voice echoes in the truck, and I dimly realize he's inches away. "I'll…I'll see if Four thinks she has any potential."

His hands find my arms, but when he pulls me toward the door, there's no real anger behind it. For a moment, I lean against him, and the way he's around me almost feels like he's hugging me.

He's not.

It's very clear he's trying to get me out of the truck so he can get on with his day, but I let my head rest against the rough fabric of his jacket and close my eyes. I pretend he is holding onto me, the first person in months to do such a thing, while he reassures me that my friend will be fine.

That I will be fine.

I let myself drown in the fantasy until he bends his head down.

His cheek touches the crown of my head, and his words are so quiet I'm not sure he's really said anything.

"If you come with me, I promise it'll be okay. I told you…" he trails off as an alarm blares. "You did great today. Sophia will be fine. I'm sure Four will find her very…ambitious."

"You just said she won't make it," I point out. I twist toward him, and he's so close that my forehead could touch his. "You said –"

"Is that what you really want? You want me to make sure she stays?" He demands. His eyes are locked on mine, grey and chilly. "Out of everything I can give you, you want me to make sure Sophia passes initiation?"

It feels like a bargain.

A slippery, not at all well-meaning bargain, but a bargain, nonetheless.

"Yes." I whisper, unable to ignore the way his mouth tightens. "Please. If you can help her...I'll do whatever…whatever you want."

Eric hesitates.

I can see his brain whirling. He's too intelligent to be making deals with someone like me, but there must be something worth it for him.

He inhales sharply, and his hands move from holding onto me to grasp my face. It's an easy position for him to snap my neck, but he curls his fingers into my hair with a nod.

"Fine."

He lets go, and the disconnection is quick.

"Now get out of the truck."

He hops down. He greets someone walking past, and he's patient as I slide toward the door. When I'm close enough, he extends his hand out to help me down. His grip is like iron as he pulls me toward him, and this time, he doesn't let go.

Eric holds onto me as I'm escorted through the docking bay, down the hallway, and to the infirmary.

The class stands in a jumble as they listen to Four greet them.

His words are rehearsed and dull. I bet he's practiced this speech a dozen times, probably even this morning. He informs them that they've chosen Dauntless, and the Dauntless initiation will take place over eight to ten weeks, depending on a few scenarios. There are three stages, and each one is progressively harder. They'll be scored on everything they do, and the highest-ranking initiates will move on to the next stage. The lower-ranking initiates will still have a shot, but those who fail to score the lowest will be cut.

Atop a balcony, I stand with Jason and watch the realization wash over the group.

"It's not that hard. And I think we're going to take more this year. Eric has finally relented on the whole top thirty thing and his vote is the final one." Jason announces. He elbows me, and his stare sweeps over the group. "The blonde one is your friend, right?"

"Yeah, that's Sophia. Eric said she wouldn't make it." My hands grab the railing, cold and slick. Where Arlene has stitched, my palm stings against the metal, but it feels better than it did. "I asked if he could make sure she stayed."

"I heard." Jason laughs. "He probably didn't tell you, but he used to help with the initiation. I can't imagine Four is happy to have him involved again."

"Is he helping this year?"

I look up at Jason, and my shoulders feel lighter.

After I got out of the truck, Eric and I stared at one another. I'd essentially promised him I'd do whatever he asked in exchange for making sure Sophia stayed. There wasn't a guarantee that I'd ever see her again, but at least I'd know she was alive and not at risk of being abducted. The look on his face told me that while he'd follow through with it, he wasn't happy about it.

He took me to Arlene, scowled at my hand, and sunk into a chair while she closed the cut. She kept glancing at him, but he ignored her in favor of typing on his phone. When she was done, he thanked her with a sharp, curt thanks, then took me not to his apartment but upstairs to a lofty area above where the class would meet. I learned that in the time it took us to walk there, almost every person had jumped. Eric left me with Jason and informed us he'd be back within the hour.

Jason was less intense than Eric by a long shot. He grinned, beckoned me to the railing, and leaned against it like it didn't look like it was about to break.

"He told me he's going manipulate the rankings. I don't know how he got Four to agree, but he did," Jason shrugs. "If anything, he'll just let her stay. When they kick the initiates out, we walk them pretty far away. Eric will just give her somewhere to stay."

He pauses, and his grin widens.

"Not with you guys, though."

"I'm sure he'd love that. I messed up by asking him to help her, but I don't want her to be factionless. Not because she came to find me," I answer bleakly. "Or maybe Eric is right. Maybe she picked Dauntless on her own."

"Maybe. You never know." Jason salutes Four when he looks upwards. "Either way, she'll be fine. Four isn't that shitty of a person or trainer. And he'll likely pair her up with people who won't maim her."

"Do you think Eric is mad?"

I glance down at the class to see Eric joining Four. He strides toward the class with ease, and his authority is hard to miss. With his arms behind his back, he looks powerful. He stops to scrutinize the group, but when Four starts talking again, he looks up.

His eyes search the wall until he lands on Jason and me.

"No. If he was mad, he'd have told you no and then made you do something as punishment. He agreed and immediately went to find Four." Jason waves, and Eric smirks. "He's looking for you."

"He's looking to make sure I'm listening." I wave down at him, too, and he nods back. It's an unenthused gesture, but he doesn't break eye contact, not even when Four says his name. "You know him well, don't you?"

"I do." Jason straightens up when the entire group looks in our direction, and he smiles down at them. "We went through initiation together. Out of anyone in Dauntless, there's no one I'd rather have on my side than Eric."

"He said he did something and was held accountable. Then he came back, and… it's been different." I stare as Eric's eyes find mine, possessively locked on me, as the class murmurs amongst themselves. "He didn't say what. Just that he hunted people."

Jason waits a beat before answering. "He did. Which is why he was selected for his current mission. He probably didn't tell you, but we all helped. Me, Rylan… even Harrison investigated a few people. Harrison never brought them in, but we did. Jeremy…Peter…anyone who works in Leadership or wanted to work in Leadership had orders to help Jeanine. If you disobeyed them, you were branded a traitor. As time went on, we all wised up. Eric willingly took the fall for everyone. He wasn't afraid of what would happen."

"Were you?" I try to break my stare from Eric's, and I do when Four interrupts by stepping in front of Eric.

"Oh, of being executed? Yeah. Just a little. Imagine knowing you could be sentenced to death because you listened to your boss." He snickers, then leans away from the railing. "It was when we decided to lessen our alliance with Erudite. He likely won't tell you much about it, but the new Leader of Candor had the hots for Eric for the first year. Actually, she still might."

"Cara? Did he like her?" I grin at Jason. Hearing all of this is funny, aside from the hunting people. "I can't imagine him liking anyone like that."

"Nah. He was told to tread carefully, so he socialized with no one until he had his job back. I don't think screwing the Leader of Erudite would have been a good move." He shrugs. "Or maybe it would have. Cara isn't on a power-hungry rampage, and she's pretty boring, but at least she's better than Jeanine."

"Right."

I met Jeanine once.

She came to Amity to meet with Johanna. Her time in the faction was brief; she didn't like being there, and the displeased look on her was hard to miss. She left after speaking to my father, and I got the feeling she was gathering information. A few weeks later, I heard she was no longer the Leader of Erudite, but not anything past that.

I've only seen Cara at the Choosing Ceremony.

"Were you guys there when they sentenced Jeanine?" I ask. "Who did it?"

"Eric. We thought since he took the blame, we'd let him have the honor. I think Four would have done it, but he was busy that day." Jason laughs when Four glares at him. I doubt he can hear what we're saying, but he knows we're talking about him. "Hey, when you were in Amity, did you know anyone named Colton?"

"I didn't." I step back when Eric leaves Four's side. "I don't know everyone in Amity. He might have come through with the factionless. Johanna always welcomes them to eat dinner with us. Sometimes, they tell us their names, but they usually don't. Why?"

"Just wondering."

Jason joins me, and a second later, heavy footsteps echo in the distance. Eric arrives a second later, talking to someone on his phone.

"Send Peter that way. Let me know how it goes."

He ends the call with an unimpressed sneer.

"There's an attack near the gates of Dauntless. Someone was trying to get in, and they brought back up. Max wanted to know which one of us wanted to deal with it before he sent anyone. Jeremy is already gone for the day, and Tori is helping Lauren." Eric glances at me, then Jason. "Where's Rylan?"

"He got sent to the infirmary." Jason struggles not to laugh.

"Dare I ask why?" Eric moves closer to me, and this time, I anticipate his hand on my back.

"He accidentally ingested six times the allotted amount of fear serum. It got sent to the coffee shop and labeled as vanilla. Someone made him a coffee, and when he started hallucinating, they knew something was wrong." Jason smiles, still fighting back the laughter. "He asked for you. He wants to know if you'll come to hold his hand while they try to counteract it."

"I'll pass."

Eric rolls his eyes.

He nudges me forward, and his next words make me feel considerably better.

"Four agreed to rank Sophia high enough to stay, but he insists it looks legit. He'll make sure she's got a safe place to sleep and that the others know that anyone caught attacking someone outside of the training is grounds for an immediate disqualification. We aren't tolerating violence unless it's in the ring." Eric waits until I look at him, then he turns to Jason. "He's asked that you help finish the tour since there's so many of them. They're about to leave."

"Will do." Jason salutes Eric, then me. "I'll see you soon, Everly."

"Bye Jason."

"If you need anything, let me know." Eric's goodbye is accompanied by him coaxing me away from the railing. "Come on."

"Okay." I follow him away from the balcony toward a hallway. I wait until we're alone, then glance up. "Um, thank you…for helping Sophia."

Our footsteps echo. Eric's shoulders lower, and his hand stays on my back as we round the corner. This hallway is lit up by a neon blue light that runs along the top of the rocky panels, and a set of stairs leads to another floor. We pass by to take another right, and the lights dim.

"Don't thank me." Eric answers dryly. "Four is the one overseeing her."

"Aren't they your orders?" I ask, noticing the way his gaze sneaks down toward me. "I owe you for making sure she can stay. I'll keep my word."

"I know you will."

We walk around another turn. I bump into Eric, but he doesn't push me away. He lets me walk close to him, but his lips press together, and his posture stays stiff as my shoulder touches his arm.

"I have a few things to do. Can you keep yourself busy until I'm back?" His fingers move to the middle of my back, pressing harder as we walk beneath the flashing red of a security camera. "If not, I can see if –"

"I'll be fine."

Relieved that he trusts me enough to walk home and that he's promised to let Sophia stay, I slow when we near the split in the hallway. I will go left to walk back to his apartment, and he will go right to head to his office.

It dawns on me that I know where I am, and there's a flash of pride that I'm not lost in the mazelike layout.

"Good."

He pulls his hand away, looking back once before he heads to an elevator.

Eric steps into the darkness and vanishes as the doors close before he can look at me.

That relief from earlier dies when Eric comes to bed.

Once I knew Sophia was safe, I spent the rest of the day alone. Eric was gone for most of the night, and when he returned, he was sweaty and cranky. He nodded at me, went to take a shower, and threw his phone onto the nightstand. It rang constantly, and after a dozen calls, I slid over to his side of the bed to look at it.

I never had a phone because almost no one in Amity does. The farmers liked to use handheld radios to communicate, and only the most tech savvy had any interest in using a phone. My father had one for emergencies, but he kept it in the greenhouse, powered off.

Eric's phone is slick and shiny. As large as his hand, and bright. The screen lights up as someone sends him a message, demanding he call them back because they have a lead. I wait for the next message to arrive, and a second later, it does.

Peter texts repeatedly, telling Eric that he thinks he found someone who will talk.

After a few more messages, I grow bored with whatever they're discussing. I don't know who they're looking for, and it wouldn't matter if I did. I put his phone further onto the nightstand, and before I could scoot back to my own side of the bed, Eric emerged from the bathroom.

"What are you doing?" He asks, his tone rightfully suspicious. "Are you alright? Your friend is doing fine. Four confirmed she's with a few girls he believes won't kill her. He said he'll make sure she's okay."

My position near his pillow makes his head tilt.

"Are you cold?"

"Why would you think I'm cold?" I ask, wondering if he finally realized his apartment is freezing. "I'm fine. I was just…looking at your phone."

"Why?" He sits down on the side of the bed, and I nearly fall into him. "Something interesting happening?"

"Who are they looking for?" I do end up crashing into him as he sits back. He picks up his phone to skim the messages, then tosses it aside with a scowl. "Peter sent you a lot of messages. He seems…needy."

"He does, doesn't he?" Eric snickers. "He's leading a mission to find one of the guys who works the auctions. He's trying to find his real name."

"Don't you have their information?" I look up when he glances down. "How did you find it?"

Eric doesn't answer right away.

I've noticed he often looks like he's debating how much he should reveal.

"I heard about it though a few soldiers. One patrol was approached by a guy who had him pass the information on to me. He said he thought I'd be interested, or at least want to see his inventory."

I blink at being called inventory.

"Why you?" I ignore how warm Eric is when he leans in and how reluctant he appears to talk about this. "Or did you just go to check it out?"

He knocks me backward.

It's purely on accident, but I hit his pillow the same time he does. I'm left lying beside him, sharing his pillow and so close that he could throw his leg over me if he wanted to.

"It was brought to the attention of all the Leaders here, maybe a year ago, and there was some concern over how the sale of another human for labor. The idea isn't new." He turns to face me, and my heartbeat turns painful. "It's been going on for a while. I originally assumed Jeanine was behind it, but when she was executed, it continued."

"Are you surprised you were wrong?" I hold still when he moves my hair back to look at my neck. "Was that the first time you went?"

"I wouldn't say surprised. More… disappointed that my theory was incorrect. And yes, that was the first time I've been there. You have to confirm everything ahead of time, and they vet their applicants. They look for a certain type of person to invite." Eric's lips quirk up. "I guess I fit their profile."

"Most of the guys I spoke with didn't seem like they'd say a word about it. They were hoping to take someone home," I say. "Only Marcus seemed like he might rat everyone out."

"He would. He'd sell out the whole operation to make himself look like the hero." Eric moves his hand back, and when his stare drops, his eyes are dark. "I should tell you that since the auction you were at, two of the girls are presumed dead. I don't know which ones or where they went, but that's what the soldiers heard. The guy has been trying to locate the people the same way Peter is."

"Is that why you agreed to let Sophia stay?" Fear takes hold of my veins, hot and painful. "If she becomes factionless…"

"Partially," he admits, his tone oddly rough. "Odds are, if she became factionless, they'd find her. Someone is targeting a certain type of girls. Girls who don't have anyone looking for them."

"Like me."

My words are bitter-tasting. My throat burns knowing that Landon thought so little of me, and so did the men working the auction. Everyone around me assumed I'd amount to nothing; I had no redeemable skills other than doing laundry, and my only purpose was to serve someone else. The thought makes bile rise into my throat, but it stops when Eric shakes his head.

"I told you, Landon had the upper hand, and that's the only reason he got you there. I imagine if they saw you in Amity, you wouldn't have hung around to entertain them." Eric answers quietly, and his fingers stay near my neck. "None of the girls I saw seemed like they were easy targets. Maybe less likely to fight back or try and run, but only because they knew what would happen."

"What happens when you find them? I thought you wanted…"

I trail off, not knowing what he wants.

Since coming here, he hasn't been shy about who he is or what he's doing, but he's guarded about his work.

"I'll make your place here is official once the training starts. I need the word to get out to every faction. If these people think I'm the one looking for them, they might change tactics. Which means all the girls they have are at risk, and it'll be harder to find them." Eric presses his palm flat, and the warmth is soothing. "The other Leaders are in agreement."

"Are you trying to find them? Is Peter going to buy someone?"

What he's saying is confusing. Eric shakes his head, and when he moves his hand away, I feel oddly alone.

"Let's hope he doesn't try."

The initiation class looks like…a lot.

From the safety of Eric's couch, I sit beside him as he idly watches the class on a tablet while marking off some report. Grainy security footage shows the initiates scaling a wall, climbing ropes, and throwing knives. Most of them are decent until Harrison shows up. He scares the daylights out of them by examining each initiate intently; his help is monumental when he offers it, but his methods are diabolical.

While I hold Eric's shirt in my hands, I watch Harrison cut the bottom of the rope at least six feet from the ground and the initiate above panic when the realize they'll have to jump the rest of the way down.

"Where do you get another rope?" I ask, carefully turning the shirt over to find but the rip in the stitching. "How will someone get up there to fix it?"

"What?"

Eric looks down at me like he's forgotten I'm sitting next to him. His stare drops to the shirt, then back up to my face.

"What rope?"

"The initiation class. I'm watching on your tablet." For a half second, I wonder if I'm not allowed to watch the class. Maybe Eric didn't want me getting any ideas, or maybe it's top secret. "Harrison just cut the rope the guy is climbing."

"He did?" Eric tears his stare away from me to glare at the tablet. "I bet Four is losing his shit."

He squints at the screen, shrugging when Four storms over to Harrison, pointing at the rope on the ground with a furious look on his face.

"They get them at the Market but they have to be connected to the ceiling. Four will have to climb up there and replace it." He snickers at the last part, then looks down at me again. "What are you doing?"

"This one is ripped. I think I can fix it." I look at him, then back at the dark fabric.

Sewing is not my strong suit, but I'm better at it than cooking.

My mother had shown me a few simple techniques that occasionally came in handy. Zander's clothes often were ripped, so I learned to fix them. My own clothes frequently came too long, so she showed me how to hem the length. Paige and Holly hated any sort of tag or itchy fabric along the neckline, so I learned to cut them out and redo the stitches. Forrest routinely ripped the elbows and cuffs of his shirt, so if I had extra time, I'd help mend the shirts he left for our mother to fix.

Eric's shirt is the same.

The stitch of the cuff has come loose. It's a fancier shirt, one I haven't seen him wear. The thick fabric is nicer than what anyone wore in Amity, and the stiffness hints it's formal. I found it with his laundry; there was a note that it needed to be taken to Christian, and I figured I could help.

It only takes me a few passes of the needle to close the tear, and when I'm done, I look up to Eric's dark stare.

"You don't have to do that. We have a tailor," he presses his lips into a flat line. "I wouldn't ask you to fix my shirts."

"It's not a big deal. You had the thread in the cabinet drawer." I shrug. His gaze is a little too pointed. It flicks from the shirt to my hand, then back to the needle. "This way, you can wear it."

He cocks his head at me.

He takes in the shirt then sighs.

"I have no reason to wear it," he says slowly. "But…thank you."

"You're welcome." I knot the thread, cut it, then place the shirt on his table. "Have you ever had to climb the ropes?"

"Once." His lips twitch at the memory, and he shrugs as Four argues with Harrison. "It's not hard if you know what you're doing."

"Do you think Sophia climbed them?" I sit back against the couch, now very aware of his attention.

I'd sat down beside him carefully, keeping space between us. He hadn't even looked up from his work, and I was quiet so I wouldn't bother him. It wasn't uncomfortable until he realized I was sitting there, and now he looks curious when our eyes meet.

"She already did. She was fine. She was faster than most," he shrugs again. "Good for her. It's a skill that can come in handy for anyone working as a soldier."

"I bet."

I turn my attention back to the screen. The class scrambles again; they split up as Four walks off in a huff, and Harrison calls out an order I can't hear. I watch them line up in rows, then march out of the training room in an orderly fashion.

I look for Sophia, but I don't see her.

"Did you eat lunch?" Eric's voice interrupts my thoughts. "I have a meeting in an hour. If you want to eat, I'll make you something."

"I didn't eat, yet. I can make something," I offer, but he smirks. "Shouldn't I be the one making you lunch?"

"You should. But I'd like to continue living here and not have the place burn down." He stands abruptly, and his commentary is tinged with the barest flicker of humor. "You can watch."

"Sounds good."

I stand to follow him into the kitchen but hesitate when I see someone running across the screen.

Sophia and Jake run as quickly as they can to catch up, and behind them, a few others trail out of the training room in a group, looking as panicked as ever.

A few days later, I visit the class with Rylan.

In a vast room filled with windows and sawdust, I decide he's funny. Especially when he narrows his eyes at Four and mutters something about his jacket being a size too small.

"Interesting. He can afford a new one. Unless they cut his pay for sulking during cafeteria hours," Rylan squints his eyes suspiciously, but he talks loud enough that Four turns his direction. "Hey, what's up? Looking good my dude. Did you get a haircut?"

"Do you need something?" Four's dry answer is aimed at both of us. He nods at me, then says my name like he's being held at gunpoint. "Everly, good to see you again."

"Hi."

I answer confidently until my eyes meet Eric's across the room.

A few days ago, I fell asleep beside Eric after learning he was trying to find the men who held the auction. I was way too close for comfort, except that comfort was exactly what I needed. I slept well. I woke up with my head pressed against Eric's side and his hand stuck in my hair. It was a position he didn't like because once he was awake, he pushed himself away and went to shower.

He left in a huff of annoyance.

I would normally feel stressed by him leaving without saying anything, but for once, I wasn't so exhausted and found myself feeling much better than I had.

Today is no exception. I woke up feeling better about almost everything, until Eric told me he was going to check on the initiation class, and if I wanted to walk down there with him, I could. I was surprised by his offer, but I accepted. I got ready while he answered a few emails, and when we arrived, he told me to stay by Rylan while he talked to Four.

I was stunned to find the class fighting with a level of violence I've never seen before.

I don't know what I assumed happened during the Dauntless initiation, but it wasn't this. They fought in partners of equal size, some more violent than others. There was uniformity in their movements, and it was clear they'd been taught a handful of basic fighting techniques. Four instructed as he walked through the crowd, and Eric followed, heavily scrutinizing the initiates with an unimpressed stare.

His gaze flitted over them, stopping on Sophia as she desperately tried to keep up with the girl she was paired with. He nodded when the girls looked at him, then said something that made them both step back. With a look of determination, they worked together, sparring with more intention and less panic. Sophia and I locked eyes only once, and she smiled before getting smacked in the head.

"Hey, I've been looking for you. We need Everly to come with Eric."

My observation is broken by Jason's arrival. He jogs over to us, his cheeks red and his hair a mess.

"Max sent me down here. He wants them both to the west side, now."

"Did you run here?" Rylan squints at him. "Where were you?"

"I did. I was near the boundary line when I got the call. Eric hasn't answered his phone and Max panicked. He said to have them head that way now." Jason takes a deep breath then grins. "Don't worry. It'll be quick."

"What will?" Fear strikes through me, worsening when Eric notices Jason is here. He heads toward us, nearly stepping on someone as they hit the mat. "What is going on?"

"Nothing bad. Just…you gotta come with us." Jason deflects by leaving me to meet Eric. They speak quickly; Eric nods curtly, and Jason gestures wildly at me.

"What are they doing?" Rylan crosses his arms over his chest. "No one said anything to me."

"Really?" I glance as he pulls out his phone, and his eyes narrow. "What?"

"Oh, wait they did. I didn't hear my phone. Apparently, someone is here to see you, and they want Eric there just in case."

"Who is here? In case of what?"

For a second, my hopes soar.

I wonder if it's my brother or maybe my parents. Maybe someone finally clued them in on what happened, and they've come to make sure I'm alive.

That very hope drops when Rylan grimaces, and his stare slips over my head.

"Shannon."

"Give me your hand."

Eric's voice is low and tense as he reaches for me. He's already adjusted my dress, fixing the straps and pulling them into place. I glance up to a sharp stare, and his smile isn't nervous.

It's irritated.

"Everly…"

"Where are we going?" I reach for him, and in a second, my hand is swallowed by his. His palm is warm as it touches mine, and his fingers slide between my own. His grip is tight, and it grows tighter as we near the end of the hallway. I have no clue where we are, and I'm so turned around that I'll never find my way back to the training room. "Eric…"

"I can't believe they let her in," Jason throws out. "She had paperwork from Amity, but it could have fallen off the truck."

"Shannon said she's from Amity?" I ask, staring from Jason to Eric. My heart races at the sound of her name, and my stomach churns. "She's not."

"No one believes she is. She showed up right after Amity came by to drop off the delivery for this week. She told them she was with volunteers, and they let her in because she had a basket of food. She then asked if she could check on her niece." Eric answers with enough distaste that I can feel it. "We're gonna play along with it. I won't let her get close to you, though. Just…be careful with what you tell her. Let me do most of the talking."

I nod, holding onto him tighter, wishing I could vanish into thin air.

Even more cowardly is the way my other hand reaches to anchor myself to him when I see her. Tall, thin, and dressed in nondescript clothes, Shannon waits with Harrison. They're chatting with two of the soldiers, and their laughter is easy until Harrison looks at me out of the corner of his eyes, and the mood shifts.

He crosses his arms over his chest, then cocks his head at her as Jason joins them.

"Oh goodness, there she is! Everly, you look great. So happy and healthy!"

Shannon's stare is slick. It slides over me with great interest, slugging its way back to my face. She smiles brightly, and though she keeps reaching me, she eventually pulls her hands back and clasps them in front of her when it becomes clear Eric isn't about to let go. She waits until Harrison and Jason step away before her stare shoots to Eric. "Hello, Eric."

He greets her curtly. "Shannon."

"It's good to see you." She glances around, then lowers her voice. "Any issues so far?"

"No." Eric's hand tightens on mine. "None."

His grip is painful, but I wish he'd hold on tighter. I press myself against him, subconsciously trying to get away from Shannon.

She's different than when we met the first time.

Less warm, like she might physically rip me away from him and declare the sale void.

"That's…good." Shannon's mouth wrinkles as she tries not to frown. "It looks like everything is going well."

She pauses so Eric can answer, but he doesn't.

"Well…" Shannon smiles again, this time so forced it must hurt her cheeks. "I came by because her tracker is off. We noticed the signal dropped a while ago, but… obviously we can't just walk in here. I tried to call, but when I didn't hear back, I figured I'd swing by to remind how important it is that you know where she is at all times. If she were to… say, get lost in the woods, it would be an issue for all of us."

"She won't leave," Eric answers cockily. "She can't get past the guards."

"I know you were very confident in your ability to keep whoever you chose, but you have to understand, on our end, it will cause problems if we aren't able to locate her." Shannon tries again, attempting to look at my neck. "Problems I can't fix."

She squints at me, but it's useless.

Before we walked here, Eric ripped my hair out of the bun it was in and pulled it down.

"Problems for you, too. We can't fulfill our end of the bargain. I'd hate for you to lose her. She looks like you've got her under control, but we know how quickly things can change." Shannon talks only to Eric, but her gaze keeps returning to me. "There was a lot of interest in her. If she were to wander off, someone else wouldn't hesitate to take her. You'd lose out on what you paid, and a replacement might not be similar to her. I only get so many from Amity these days."

"Do your trackers often malfunction?" Eric asks coldly. "You promised high-quality technology with each purchase."

"Oh…no. Not…usually. She's the first we've had where it stopped sending a signal. I would assume it had been taken out and destroyed, but I know you wouldn't do that." She hesitates when he doesn't answer. "You didn't…did you?"

"Why would I take the tracker out of her?" Eric retorts. "I paid for her. You think I want her able to get away from me?"

Shannon looks at me so intense that I wish I had a way out.

I wish I'd never gone anywhere with Landon or that I'd invited my brother to come along with us.

I must be digging my nails into Eric's palm because he squeezes my hand, mostly to get me to stop. I look up at him out of the corner of my eye, and he nods.

"I don't think you would. I just thought –" Shannon backtracks when Eric's eyes narrow. "I thought perhaps she did it."

"You think she knows you put one in her? I don't even know where it is," Eric lies so convincingly that even I believe him. "How would she take something like that out without me noticing?"

"There were a few cases where the girls tried to get them out. We've used different spots. It doesn't always work in certain areas, so…perhaps hers failed. If you'd like, I can replace it at your convenience." Shannon offers. "There's no rush if you're confident she won't run. Though going back home wouldn't be very smart, now would it?"

She looks at me, pursing her lips in concentration.

"You have sisters, don't you? I'd hate for them to be upset by your return."

I don't answer her.

"Did you tell her not to speak?" Shannon asks, her stare impressed. "She's so quiet. You must have done a number on her."

"Isn't that what you advertise?" Eric counters. "A well-behaved purchase to do whatever I want with?"

"Yes. She seems good with you. Other than a few days of intense spikes, her heart rate was normal for as long as we could see. It was unusual, but you've clearly worked things out with her." Shannon counters right back. "We have others, too. Less quiet. A little more outgoing. Are any of your friends interested?"

"They are. The price is a bit high for some," Eric carefully steps around me so I'm half-hidden by him. My hand stays in his, throbbing with each beat of my heart. "When's your next auction?"

"Three weeks. We're securing an area. We garnered some attention from a few choice people, so we're waiting until it dies down. I'm also checking into a different tracker. If hers died, the batch might have been damaged."

"Possibly." In a moment of horror, Eric lets go of me.

I have to smother my gasp when he looks at me.

"Go home. I'll find you when I'm done."

"Eric…" The ground sways beneath my feet. "I…"

"I'll be back in a half hour, tops. I was talking things over with Jason and he was thinking we'll find you a friend. Someone you can hang out with during the day and stay with him at night. If the price is right. I'll get the information before I come home." Eric says, pausing so our eyes meet. "You know which way to go."

He's looking at me, but he's speaking so Shannon can hear him. When I look at her, her gaze sneaks past him into the faction.

"She should stay. I can look at her and see if –" Shannon starts, but she's cut off by Harrison snapping that her paperwork doesn't look legit. "It's accurate. My name is always on it."

"Thirty minutes. Harrison can walk with you if you want." Eric murmurs. He steps back toward me, his boots hitting my feet, and his mouth tenses. "You'll be fine."

"Are you sure?"

I'm frozen in place as Shannon offers to look at me, letting it slip that they put the tracker in my neck, and she might be able to feel it. I barely hear her. My heart beats so loudly that all I can do is look at Eric's eyes, wide in annoyance, as she insists that he might enjoy another girl to keep him company and that his friends will have first choice if he goes with them.

He moves his hands to my face, and his next words are so quiet I know she can't hear him.

"Everly, go home. I'll be back before you know it."

"I can't. Eric… I… she's…."

"You're fine," he murmurs. "She can't get past me. Go home and I'll find you."

"Okay."

I nod, my voice nothing more than a whisper. Eric leans in, and before I know what he's doing, I'm against his chest. He stiffens when his cheek hits his jacket, and my hands hold onto him. He wraps his arm around me, then holds on tight enough that I can't breathe. I feel him inhale once, and his exhale is slow as his grip tightens. Right before my lungs beg for air, he lets go and gruffly orders Harrison to walk me home.

I leave Eric with Shannon, hating the way my hands shake the entire walk to his apartment.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven: The Second Girl

My dreams are lovely.

They are a bubble of warmth and softness, made of sunlight dripping onto my skin while clouds streak across the sky. A warm glass of cider between my palms and the smell of flowers in the breeze. The sound of laughter in the air, followed by a call for dinner and the feeling of returning home.

When I take the first step up the porch stairs, a sharp nudge pushes my arm.

"Wake up."

Eric's voice is too far away to hear properly. He says my name, but I keep my eyes closed. The pull of home is too strong to resist, so I don't bother trying. An idyllic scene plays out before me, fizzling when his voice grows harsher.

"Everly, you have to get up. It's almost eight in the morning." He tries again, refusing to give up. "You slept through the night."

I would shake my head, but it's too much effort. I hear my youngest brother telling me to be careful because the stairs are wobbly, and the pie on the railing might fall.

"Everly… come on. Stop playing around. If you don't get up…." His threat is halfhearted at best. "You need to fix this." He hisses at someone else. "If she's sick, give her something."

"I don't think she's sick."

An even harsher voice joins his. My brother vanishes from my sleep, and Eric's room comes into view. I open one eye when Arlene touches my forehead and the other when she prods at the side of my throat.

"If she is sick, then I can't just fix it. You have to let it run its course. But it looks to me like seeing the person who sold her at an auction has exhausted her." Arlene pulls her hand away with a sigh. "Eric, did you hear me?"

"I heard you," he snaps. "This isn't my fault."

I shut my eyes again, desperately hoping for Amity to return.

"I didn't say it was. I'd let her sleep. When she's ready to get up, she will. I'd also advise you not to let her see the lady again. Harrison said she'll come back. I wouldn't let her past the gates." Arlene's voice quiets. "Does it not worry you that they came looking for her?"

Eric makes an unpleasant noise in response.

"She showed up because the tracker wasn't sending a signal anymore. She claims it was for my benefit, but I know she thinks I did something to it." Eric pauses, and his next words are extra sharp. "Even if I did, it's none of Shannon's business."

"Right. I told you that would happen. But does Everly know what you're doing?" Arlene asks. "Are you going to tell her?"

"No."

They must leave the room because I don't hear anything else. I fall back asleep before I can wonder what she's talking about, and this time, my sleep is dreamless.

By lunch, I feel better.

I wake to the sound of someone knocking on the door. Whoever it is tries their best for a minute but eventually gives up and leaves.

When the apartment is silent again, I rub my eyes and try to ignore the lingering dread of seeing Shannon. I loathe the way knowing she's been inside Dauntless. I worry that she can find her way back in or somehow make it to Eric's apartment.

When that thought gives me a new sense of panic, I focus on the tangible things that I can touch to prove I'm fine: Eric's pillows, the sheets that smell like his shampoo, and the heavy comforter pulled over me. The dread wanes slowly, so I head into Eric's bathroom and straight into the shower. I wash my hair for a long time, then scrub my skin until it's red. I stand under the scalding water until the threat of Shannon's stare is gone, and I feel as normal as I can.

I step out of the shower, wrap myself in a dark towel, and study my reflection in the mirror.

The bruise on my neck is bold, wrapping around my throat the same way Eric's tattoo does. The stitches look fine; they are neat and clean, laid out in an even row. There's little chance Shannon saw them, but if she did, she'd know what they were for. I blink at myself, a mess of dark hair much too long now and skin that holds the color of a sunless existence, but it's fine.

I'm alive.

I'm safe.

I'm here.

Far away from Shannon, from the tents, from the men working the auction, and very far from Landon. And while Eric isn't exactly the most charismatic host, he's yet to do anything that hurt. Other than an impending marriage that he may or may not follow through with, he's left me alone and trusted I won't do anything stupid.

At this point, I feel so unlike myself that I might.

"Are you alright?"

Eric's voice is quiet as it breaks my concentration. I jump, more obviously than I'd like to, and when I turn, he's leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed.

"You slept forever. I had Arlene come look at you." His lips press flat, and his unimpressed expression is recognizable when he sighs. "I thought maybe you were sick. They told me you'd never get sick."

His tone is petulant, and I wonder if he really thought that was possible.

"I'm not sick. I think…it was seeing Shannon. Being at the tents with everyone, being told what to say and what to do…" I answer in a jumble of thoughts, and I wish I had more time to collect them. I pull the towel tighter, but he makes no move to look anywhere but my face. "Will she come back?"

"Yes."

"Can you stop her?" I ask, leaving the mirror. I head toward him, figuring I'll slink by and get dressed. "Do I have to see her next time?"

"No, you don't. She didn't stay long. She mostly asked about how you were doing and why I wasn't worried that you'd get away. She called later to schedule a time to check on the tracker. I declined, but I think she's worried something has gone wrong, and she's at fault for it." Eric cocks his head at me, and his stare falls to my shoulders. "If anything, I'll handle her."

"Are you going back there?" I stop before him, and his eyes are a dark grey today. "With…Jason?"

"Yes." Eric nods his answer at me, and the bottom of my stomach drops like I'm back on the roof. "He left this morning to meet with someone. Hopefully, he'll come back with information for us. They told him there's no auction right now, but they had some new girls arrive that he could check out."

I nod, wondering how they were finding the girls for their auction so easily.

"If he goes to the real auction, they promised him upwards of forty showings." Eric adds, his tone darkening. "Or more. Depending on how today goes."

"Did you see very many of us?" I ask, not really wanting to know the answer.

For some reason, the thought makes my chest burn. For all I know, Eric saw everyone. Miranda, the girls I sat in the trailer with, and even some of the girls who were there when I first got there. A lot of them were very pretty; none stuck out for any particular reason, but it was apparent they'd chosen girls they thought people would be interested in purchasing.

"I saw twelve." Eric's stare bores into mine. "I could have seen more, but I declined most of them."

"Why?"

My question makes him look over me.

"I didn't want to." He says, shrugging as his mouth twists. "There was no reason."

"I didn't see you in the line." I adjust the towel, and he looks at me like he's only now realized I've just gotten out of the shower. "I saw Marcus waiting. Maybe I did see you. There were a few in black."

"They advise you to dress in a color that doesn't reflect your true faction. No one really listened." He pauses, and his next words are tight. "Get dressed. I'll make you lunch."

"Okay."

I wait until he leaves to head into his bedroom. I try not to think about the other girls and what would have happened if he picked someone else. I don't like the idea, especially when I riffle through the drawers and his clothes are next to mine. I envision myself stuck with Marcus or one of the guys who visibly disliked me and their hands wrapping around my throat when I didn't listen.

I close the drawer harder than I mean to.

The odds were against all of us, but the girls deserved a fair shot just as much as I did. Maybe it's knowing that not everyone would treat them kindly that was making me dizzy, or maybe it was seeing how easily they could get violent without anyone around. I dress quickly, hoping none of them have been hurt, but deep down, I know it's likely the opposite.

By the time I comb out my hair, Eric is back.

He sits down on the edge of his bed, typing on his phone with a sigh.

"Did you know anyone named Marigold? Or hear that name when you were there?" He looks up, his stare emotionless, until I walk toward him. "What?"

"Did they tell you my name?" I stop when I'm in front of him. "Did they tell you who I was?"

"No. They told me your faction, how tall you were, and how likely you would be to fight back or try to run." When Eric's eyes meet mine, they are less chilly but still dismissive. "I was also told you'd been brought in last and were predicted to have the most bids."

"How do they know that?" I glance down at his phone, frowning when Harrison's name flashes. "They can't possibly know how many bids anyone would have before they see them."

"Each girl is marketed with certain qualifications and traits." Eric puts his phone aside and looks directly at me. "They told me you were easy going. Very young, not particularly strong, but helpful. You were likely to marry quickly in Amity, and you'd been raised to take care of a house and family. That you'd be afraid of leaving Amity, but you'd adapt well if I gave it time. Oh, and they assured me no one was looking for you. That your parents had numerous children and their concern over you would die down quickly."

I don't say anything.

"I know the girl from Dauntless. I saw her. She begged me to take her home." Eric continues. His hand reaches for mine, still rough and warm. His fingers encircle my wrist as he pulls me closer, then tighten with his unprompted confession. "I've worked with her father."

"Why didn't you pick her?" My stomach tightens at the thought of him picking Miranda, but it also tightens at the thought of him not picking her. "She would have been free if you brought her back."

"Part of why I was sent there was to find out who is behind all this. Dauntless is trying to put a stop to it, but it's harder than we thought. I picked you…" He stops as his phone rings, and the sound is loud. "Shit."

"Why did you pick me?" My question is lost as he stands. His hand falls away, and he towers over me. When he looks down, his lips press together, and his worry is impossible to miss. "Eric?"

"I'll be back. Stay here. Don't leave the apartment." He orders. He doesn't answer me past rushing by, and his next words are tense. "Don't answer the door, either."

"I won't."

I watch him leave, and the fear comes right back, stronger than ever.

In the spare room, I find a closet full of Eric's past.

I wander in after eating something in his fridge, cleaning the kitchen, and making his bed. The boredom isn't unwelcome, but it leaves me anxious. I don't know where he went or why, and his orders to stay inside made me nervous. I assume the worst; I decide that Shannon has returned and insisted I see her, or maybe the whole thing had unraveled, and Eric will be forced to hand me over to her.

Or maybe he was done with me.

What better way to find the people hosting the auction than to be unsatisfied with the merchandise.

I try not to think of what would happen if I went back. I tell myself I can't go back: I picked Dauntless, and it has to show up somewhere that I live here now. I was technically a member, even if the only record they had was me picking Dauntless. Pacified with this thought, I walked around the apartment. I went into the room Eric planned on putting another bed in, walked past his boots, boxes, and work, and opened the closet doors, expecting to find nothing.

I'm met with an array of darkness, literally and figuratively. His old uniforms hang in a row, each one with a blue stripe on the arm, and the black faded to a washed-out color. The belts are thick and bulky, the pants are meant for holstering numerous weapons, and the boots are different. He has other clothes in here, but they are less impressive. Several black vests, dark t-shirts with frayed edges, and some workout clothes that have seen better days. On the floor, near the corners of the closet, are pages with his name on them, and almost all look like work documents. His signature is the same one I'd seen before: neat, precise, and controlled, and written like he was forced to sign his life away. In the final box are papers revealing his guilty verdict and his sentencing.

The last box is the most telling.

I open it up gingerly, trying to listen for his return.

Inside the box is a picture of him in Candor. Stripped of his uniform, he's dressed in a white t-shirt. His hair is unparted, his ears are bare, and so is his eyebrow. There is a number across the bottom, and his name is typed out in black letters. Unsmiling and grim-faced, his picture is attached to a list of his crimes, and so is the agreement to work with Rachel as part of his rehabilitation. Her signature is less precise, lopsided, and rushed. Also clipped to the paper is a written promise to make sure Eric fulfills the orders signed by Max, Tori, and Harrison.

Beneath the paperwork are letters.

One is from his mother. It's a scathing note full of disappointment and disdain, followed by a hysterical plea to spare his aunt and publicly denounce her conviction. Several similar ones follow, each losing its uniformed cursive as her panic sets in. On the day Jeanine is executed, his mother sends one telling him she'll never speak to him again, and if she sees him, she will pretend he doesn't exist. She also threatens to have him executed, and a subsequent letter redacts this statement by asking he ignore her presence in Jeanine's life in favor of her ignoring his existence.

There are a few from his father, written as though Dr. Coulter has never met his son in his life. He relays being understanding of what Eric has done and asks to speak with him after his time in Candor is over. His second is a plea to come by and for Eric not to decline his visit. By his third letter, he has given up and instead apologizes for not being there when he should have been. He also apologizes for his wife's behavior and in a final letter, announces he has moved, and if Eric is ever in Erudite, he is more than welcome to come by.

A letter from Max is printed on computer paper, thanking Eric for his service and offering him whatever he'd like once he's back. It's stapled to a note from Harrison, scrawled on what appears to be a memo from Max. He, too, thanks Eric for his work but promises his return will be worth it if he can keep his mouth shut for a year. He says he'll see him sooner than later, and not to listen a word out of Four's mouth.

The other letters are from Jason and Rylan.

Both are very apologetic. I gather they are an attempt to keep Eric up to date on what's happening in Dauntless. Like Jason said, Eric served time in Candor for the crimes of Dauntless, while his friends did not. While Rylan details Four's latest misstep in the training room, Jason reassures him everyone is finding fault in Candor's verdict. He laments not taking the fall with Eric, but a second attempt to sway Jack King did little to nothing, and the case is considered closed.

The final letter is from someone named Ashley.

In the politest way possible, she likens him to a petty criminal. She points out that his reputation was one of the very things she admired about him, and his fall from grace is unappealing. She says that his violence toward everyone, children, adults, the factionless, and even those who asked for his help, is something she admired. She tells him not to bother contacting her when he is released, that her position in Erudite is secure, and that she will not risk him ruining her chances with the new Leader. I don't know who she is, but her letter is crumpled like it should have gone in the trash, and someone included it on accident.

Beneath the letters is a gun.

I pick it up slowly, surprised to find how heavy it is. I have no idea if it's loaded or not, so I set it beside a knife, papers with initiate ranking, and a thick looking wrist band. When I pick that up, it flashes a warning that the battery is low. It crackles, the screen lighting up for a second, then powers itself off with a whine.

I sink back on my knees, and I have the most vivid image of Eric running through the woods, snarling at someone through the band, while he hunted down whomever he was ordered to find. It's a striking scenario, one that becomes tangible when I see the other items in the box. A license to drive the trucks, his name on a packet of paperwork for an initiation class, and a report detailing the absence of someone named Amar.

I put everything back in the box carefully, so it looks the same as it did. When I close the top, something pricks at the back of my neck. I turn slowly, expecting Eric to have returned, and my stomach sinks, knowing that he won't be pleased with me going through his things.

Fully prepared for a lecture, I shut my eyes, and the voice is tenser than ever.

"That shit feels like a lifetime ago."

When I look over, Rylan leans into the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest.

"We all had them. The watches with the wrist communicator. The guns from Erudite, the orders, the notes on the Divergents. Even Max was in on it." He tilts his head, and his stare turns far away. "If I could change anything, it would be how long I listened to Jeanine. That and agreeing to wear the uniforms she sent. They fit weird."

"I didn't hear you come in," I rise to my feet. "I um, sorry, I don't know what I was looking for. I just… thought I'd open his closet and see what's inside."

"Oh, I don't care. Eric would. But only because there's paperwork that says he's guilty of crimes he most definitely committed." Rylan straightens himself up. "Sorry to scare you. I let myself in because I know Eric told you not to answer the door because he told me he told you not to answer the door so I figured you definitely wouldn't answer the door." He pauses to flash a bright grin at me, but it doesn't meet his eyes. "I'm supposed to walk you downstairs to Eric."

"Is everything okay?" I shut his closet, stopping when Rylan doesn't answer. "Rylan?"

"Yeah. Great. This morning, Jason went to meet with some people, and he brought someone back. Eric wants to see if you know her." Rylan makes a face like he doesn't approve of this plan. "I didn't know her, and I know everyone, but maybe you can help."

"Sure." I agree, wondering if Rylan knew many people from Amity. "Let me get my keycard."

"Yeah, no rush." Rylan watches me closely. He follows me out of the guest room and toward the kitchen. "He said that uh, you could take your time if you want. Or not come down there at all. Actually, we could just go to the mess hall if you're hungry."

I stop in the kitchen, and when I look back at him, his hands are in his pockets and he's examining Eric's walls intently.

"We could also go see the armory. It's a wild place. Sometimes, there's a guy with one eye who works there."

"Did something happen?" I open a cabinet to grab a glass, and I notice they're lower now. Eric's cabinets are high, and his cups and plates are usually just out of my reach. "It seems like you don't want to go down there."

"Have you been to where the initiates sleep? It's interesting. We could tour there." He's moved on to staring at the thermostat, and when he turns to face, his smile is less than enthused. "Or the kitchens. We have a chef here. He's a terrible human being, but you might like him. He has a pet tarantula."

"Rylan, did something happen? Is… is Eric okay?" I pull the glass down, and my stomach turns over.

Not at the thought of Eric being hurt but at the idea of being left alone here.

The thought should spark joy in me; I could run, and he wouldn't be here to stop me, but instead, my insides twist like I might be sick.

"He's… fine." Rylan jabs the thermostat with his finger, then shrugs. "Really. We could also go tour the daycare. I like visiting them. The little kids are always impressed by the uniforms. One always asks if I have any knives on me."

I stare at him as he rambles on about visiting someone who runs the daycare. He fidgets with the thermostat again before joining me in the kitchen. He grabs one of Eric's glasses and helps himself to some water, then slams the cup down on the counter dramatically.

"Do you want to see any of those places first?" He asks hopefully. "Please?"

"I should probably go meet Eric."

I find my keycard on the counter, and when Rylan nods miserably, a wave of nausea washes over me.

The nausea intensifies when we reach the docking bay.

Soldiers hurry to clear the area as the trucks pull in. I follow Rylan to the stairs, slowing only so he can flash a badge at someone standing guard. He makes us wait while he radios something in. The extra security precaution catches my attention, but I quickly figure out why.

When the final truck arrives, Eric parks off to the side. He jumps out, then storms around, flings a door open, and pulls someone out. Time slows as I see the girl stumble out of the trucks the same way I did; her bare feet catch the running board, and she yelps, but Eric pays no mind to her. He barely looks to see that she's standing, and they're immediately surrounded by others.

Arlene waits off to the side, her expression grim, a man hovers beside her with his phone pressed to his ear. Eric says something to the girl, but his gaze flies upward. It finds me, unreadable as my I stare down at him. He doesn't smile, but his expression softens just enough that I notice it.

Behind him, the girl crosses her arms over her chest and tries to step closer to him.

Her posture is recognizable as my own was. Her shoulders are hunched inward, and her arms wrap around defensively until a soldier hands her a pair of shoes. She's dressed in black and white, something more tailored than what I had on, but her hair is the same. It's combed, parted, and shiny. When she moves, it wafts away, revealing a red mark on her neck. This one is bolder than mine, already bruising. Her eyes hold the same despondent look that mine did, and she jumps when someone slams one of the truck doors shut.

When someone calls out a code, her stare skirts the area. Her eyes widen as Jason joins them with paperwork in his hand and an ill look on his face. He speaks to Eric, but Eric doesn't answer him. He pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, then shakes his head when Jason says something else.

"Looks like they're back." Rylan's voice interrupts my staring. "Do you remember the girl? Was she with you?"

"I don't think so." I shake my head, tasting bile.

"Are you sure?" Rylan asks again, not questioning me but giving me a second to look at her "Or is she new?"

"She could be," I answer quietly. "I don't think she was with the same group that I was."

I take in the girl beside Eric. She's tall, very pretty, but visibly shaken. Her hair is a reddish-brown color, and when she follows Eric's stare to me, she looks even more miserable.

"Yeah, Eric said he thinks they had new girls. He said…" Rylan keeps talking as the girl reaches for Eric.

She moves to grab his arm, but he takes off, heading toward me. He's upstairs before I can blink and in front of me before I can hear what Rylan is saying.

"Do you know her?" Eric takes hold of my arm so I don't run. It's less of an arrest and more of a way to keep me against him. I'm covered by him completely, and the girl vanishes from my sight as he walks me back a step. "Everly?"

I can't think.

All I can see is her reaching for him, her hand outstretched as he walked away, desperate to hold onto him.

Eric was safe to her.

Maybe not as safe as she'd prefer, but he had some respite in a nightmare scenario. He'd been the one to drive her away from the tents, and she knew that for the briefest moment, she was okay.

I try to look at her again, but I can't.

My vision blurs as I stare at his uniform until the black is all I can see.

"Everly, do you know who she is? Max thought you might."

"I don't want her to stay with you," I blurt out. "Where is she going to sleep? Is she staying with Jason?"

A wave of dizziness washes over me, so much so that I hold onto Eric's arms to keep myself steady.

"She shouldn't be here. She's –"

I can't finish my sentence, but I don't even know what I'm trying to say. I do know that I'm being incredibly selfish. If the girl suffered the same fate that I did –tricked into being a part of an auction and sold to a man who could do as he pleased – then she deserves a fair shot. She deserves to feel safe, to be kept away from the men and Shannon, to be reassured no one will hurt her. She deserves someone who can empathize with what she just went through or help her adjust to life in Dauntless.

I don't think that person can be me.

I envision her in Eric's apartment, the bed having finally arrived, or maybe in his room. I see myself trying to sleep alone, struggling with the knowledge that I'd then be fair game for anyone who broke into Eric's apartment or was grabbed in the middle of the night by someone from Shannon's group. He might like her better. She might be easier. She'd probably willingly do whatever he asked, maybe more than I could dare think of, in order to keep herself alive. He might like it. Eric could find her braver than me, even if it was only a way for her to stay safe.

My ears ring as Eric says something, but all I can do is stare at his chest. The thick buttons worked through his jacket, and the dark threads keeping them in place.

"She's not staying with us. Everly, are you listening to me?" Eric's voice grows loud enough that I look up. He's staring down at me in confusion; his brow wrinkles when I shake my head, and his cheek tenses. "What's wrong?"

"She wasn't there when I was." I manage an answer, but it's so quiet I'm not sure I really said it. I force myself to swallow, and the panic dies just enough that I loosen my grip on him. "Was there another auction?"

"Not… quite. Jason was given the offer to purchase in advance for a fee. He sent me a few photos, but none of the girls were who I saw. He chose her after we sent him the points. She said there are almost a hundred girls, and someone told her they're selling faster than before. No clue if that's true or not." Eric pauses, and when he looks down, he pulls me toward him. "I was hoping you recognize her."

"If she was there when I was, I didn't see her." I try to step back, knowing my thoughts are cruel. She must be terrified, especially with the suddenness of the purchase and how abruptly this happened. "Where will she stay?"

I peer around Eric to see the girl talking with Jason. She looks less nervous now but equally as distrustful as when she got out of the truck. She looks at me, and when our eyes meet, there is a flash of white-hot jealousy swirling with rage. She keeps looking at Eric like she's waiting for him to return.

When he doesn't, her expression turns furious.

"She doesn't know who you are. We didn't tell her anything. As far as she knows, you've always lived here." Eric says, tilting his head. "She's going to stay with Arlene, somewhere close to the infirmary. We're trying to keep her away from the faction for now. The less she goes through, the better."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"We brought you here and made sure people knew you chose Dauntless. I can't replicate that with this girl. Jason can't, either. Our best bet is to get information out of her and keep her comfortable until this is all over, then figure out a way to get her home." He shakes his head, and when I step backward, he steps forward. "Everly –"

"You said I wouldn't go home." I tilt my head up, and he tilts his down. "How can she go back home? How can –"

"I don't know," Eric admits, but his tone is unexpectedly sharp. "I'm not sure how any of this end, but I do know that you aren't going anywhere. Not for a long time. But she's not staying with you and me, and you'll have little to do with each other. Understood?"

"Yeah." My voice dies in my throat. The relief I feel is bitter; I should be pacified in knowing the girl won't be around me, but I feel like the worst human in the world for not wanting to talk to her. "I just….I don't…"

"You don't have to explain it to me," Eric murmurs. He looks over his shoulder as Harrison shows up to speak to Rylan, but he quickly looks back. "I need you ask her a few questions about Shannon and where she was. After that, things will go back to normal."

"Normal."

I repeat the word quietly, and it's funny sounding.

Normal, isn't this.

It's not being purchased by a man I don't know, nor is it told that she might get to go home while I won't.

I'm not even sure I want to go back to Amity. I can't trust anyone there. Not to mention, Sophia is here, and leaving her alone in Dauntless isn't fair. And I'd be alone, away from anyone who really cared what had happened to me, and left vulnerable in a faction that couldn't protect me.

It's why Eric feels like the best choice, and having someone take him away from me, even in the most strange way possible, makes it hard to breathe.

"As normal as things can be." Eric exhales heavily. "Listen, they're going to take her to the infirmary. Max wants you to see if you can find out the names of who she was with or how she got there. Anything that might help. She wouldn't talk to Jason and he's not certain this isn't a trick of Shannon's to get some inside information."

"Why would she talk to me?" I ask, ignoring the way he's pulled me close enough that I could rest my head against him. "You said she doesn't know me."

"I think she does," Eric announces. "I think she's lying about how long she was with them. She wouldn't tell us much, only that she'd been at the same tents and the process was the same as far as she knew."

"I swear I never saw her there," I counter. My hands are still on him, and he carefully untangles himself from me. "Why do you think she's lying?"

"I just do."

He drops his hands, but not before they take hold of mine. He squeezes tightly, and his grip is hot when he lets go.

"Jason will walk you to the infirmary. This shouldn't take long. When you're done, I'll make sure you're rewarded for helping. Anything she tells you can change this whole thing around. Just ask her what I've told you. Don't give her any information about yourself, and don't let her think you know more than her. Understood?"

"Yeah, sure. I can do it." I agree, knowing I don't have a choice.

I'm not confident I'll get any information from this girl, but I'll try. I have nothing to lose except pissing Eric off if I don't talk to her or making my own situation worse. If anything, I should follow his orders purely to keep myself safe.

With a heavy sigh, I watch Eric head down the stairs toward Jason, and the girl's eyes never leave him.

It turns out that the girl takes being auctioned off far worse than I did.

Even though Jason has made it very clear that he won't do anything to her, she panics the second Arlene begins her exam. I sit beside Jason in the hallway, listening to her scream as Arlene attempts to get close. The crash coming from the room doesn't sound promising, nor does Arlene's page for backup.

"This isn't going very well." Jason chews on the straw of his drink, and his stare is weary. "Eric said you were quiet."

"I was. I didn't know what he was going to do to me," I confess as a few in black enter the room. The screaming dies down, but they don't leave. "Shannon told me to that if I was quiet, it would be easier."

"I told the girl I wasn't going to hurt her. I didn't have much time with her. The guys watching got suspicious, and Harrison pushed for me to buy her so we could leave." Jason glumly answers. "I mentioned she'd be safe, but she doesn't believe me. She only got in the truck when Eric showed up."

"I wouldn't have believed you, either." I confess. "It wouldn't matter what you or Eric said. I still don't know what Eric wants half the time. He said she gets to go home, but I don't."

Jason glances down, blinking at what I've said.

"He means if we can get her home. But it might not work out that way. Best case scenario is we find out who took her, find a way to shut the auction down, and she gets to resume a normal life. Worst case scenario is she stays here for a while, then we find out where she wants to go. She might have chosen a faction." He leans back in the chair, defeat all over his face. "Or maybe not. I think she's older than you."

"Do you know if she did choose a faction?" I look up when one of the guys in black scrubs pokes his head out. He gestures for me to join him, and my hesitation makes him glare at me. "Am I supposed to go in there?"

"Yeah, see if she'll tell you anything. Her name is Hannah."

Jason slumps even further into the chair when I stand. I join the guy acting as security, and when I step inside the room, I'm met with a frustrated look from Arlene and a suspicious stare from the girl. Up close, her skin is ashen and dry, and her lips are cracked. The spot on her neck has been cleaned, but the absence of stitches hints the tracker remains beneath her skin.

She's defeated and scared, but understandably so.

"We're going to take a quick break so Everly can talk to you." Arlene announces. "I'll be just outside. So will security, so don't think of running."

"Sure."

I'm the only one to answer. The girl is silent; her stare stays on me as I sit beside her, and when she looks up, her eyes are glazed over. She doesn't move past, pulling her arms in close, and the faintest shadow of a handprint curls around her bicep.

"Hi, I'm Everly," I tell her, keeping my voice low as the door shuts. "Welcome to Dauntless."

"What do you want?" The girl presses herself against the wall. "Why did they bring you in here?"

"Eric wanted me to talk to you," I answer. "He thought it might help to talk to someone other than the soldiers."

"Are you his wife?" She tilts her head, then her eyes narrow as her stare becomes clear. She sits up, and her head tilts. "No, you aren't. You're too young to be here. You wouldn't even have gone through initiation yet."

I don't answer her.

I glance down at my hands, then back at her.

"They won't do anything to you. They're just trying to help." I tell her. "They helped me out."

"Wonderful." She retorts sarcastically. "I'm thrilled for you. Truly."

"Did you pick a faction?" I hesitate when her lips tremble. "I don't remember seeing you at the Choosing Ceremony."

"Candor." She answers tightly, her nails digging into her palms. "I chose last year. I was doing well there. I took an internship at the courts a few months ago and thought I'd be set after that. I had a whole path planned and look how that went."

"Did you like Candor?" I pull my feet up beside me, ignoring the way she's staring at me like I brought her to the auction. "I've never been there."

She tilts her head further, debating on whether she should trust me or not.

It takes a second, but she does.

"I did. I had my own apartment. I was up for a promotion." She responds, but her tone sharpens with malice. "Do you like Dauntless? Or did he force you to stay here?"

"I do like it," I answer evenly. "And no, he didn't force me to do anything."

My answer sounds like a lie, and I hope she doesn't notice.

"I was curious how you got… to the… auction." I look at her, wondering if she was there with me. "I know a little about them."

She narrows her eyes.

"I've seen them," I continue as she shifts. "Did someone bring you to them?"

"You were there, weren't you?" She demands. "That's how Eric has you."

She huffs when I don't say anything, and her posture turns defensive.

"You really want to know what happened? I was an idiot. I was invited to lunch, and I went. A few of the guys told me they wanted to show me something afterward. I drank whatever they gave me, and the next thing I knew, I woke up in a fucking tent, surrounded by girls who had also woken up there." She bites her lip, and her next words are thick with anger. "Your friend out there must have fancied a wife. He showed up and took me home after a whole six minutes of meeting me."

"How long were you with the people? Was Shannon there?" I try not to look at the door. "And you're right. I was there. I was in one."

She looks away, shaking her head like the memory is one she doesn't want to revisit.

"Three months. I found a way out and wound up getting hurt. They took me back and said they were doing me favor by letting me stay. I was told they weren't looking for anyone so outspoken and my odds would be better if I was less mouthy. They gave me some other advice, told me how to fix my hair and they threw some dresses at me. I quickly learned the men are looking for girls who don't talk back. Jason…" She stops to look down, and her cheeks turn red. "He was the first one to show any interest in me. Come to find out, he's not really interested, and now I'm stuck here with you freaks."

I ignore the insult and the thought that she was there at the same time I was.

"Yeah, I know. Did they tell you –"

"They told me that Amity is the easiest sell. You're from there, aren't you?" Her gaze sweeps over me, and when she's satisfied that I am not from Dauntless, she turns smug. "Shannon said they like the innocent ones the best."

"Does anyone know you're missing? Other than the people you work with? Do you have family who'd look for you?" I keep my voice even while trying to listen to what's going on in the hallway. The faint sounds of someone arguing filters in, but it's too low to make out. "Do you have –"

"Why do you care?" She snaps. "No, I don't have anyone looking for me. I picked another faction, you idiot. The only people I knew were the guys I worked with. The people who I thought were my friends probably didn't even notice that I left. And if they did, what would they do? File a report to the guys I left with? How stupid are you?"

"I'm not stupid. I'm trying to help you," I counter, half wishing Arlene would reappear to dose her again. She's combative in a way I wasn't, but I understand why. "Do you think your friends filed a report? Or your work?"

"Did yours?" She looks right at me, and her eyes flash with anger. "How much did Eric pay for you? When he showed up to meet his friend, they pressured him to buy someone else, but he was adamant he had to get home to you. He barely spoke to me on the drive back. I saw you waiting for him, like he'd ordered you to stand there, gazing at him longingly. Except he didn't, did he? You want to wait for him. You're good with all this, aren't you?"

"I'm –"

"He's gonna kill you. Six of the girls I was with were returned. Two for being mouthy. One for being too aggressive. Two for crying too much. Over a month, five of them disappeared. When Eric is done with you, he'll bring you back for a different girl. A newer version of you. There are plenty willing to do whatever is asked of them to stay alive." She stares, and her lips turn up cruelly. "So, tell me, Everly, does he sound so appealing now?"

"What's your name? I ask, struggling to keep my tone neutral. "What should I call you?"

"Hannah." She answers, her tone sour as ever. "Hanna Evans."

"Did they hurt you while you were there?" My question is quiet, but it makes her wince. "Other than when you ran?"

"Yes." She shuts her eyes, and the anger softens. I see it change into fear, the same unfair feeling of helplessness I experienced. "More than once. They try to keep the bruises out of sight. The last…. the last time I ran, I almost got away. I didn't know it at the time, but there's a guy who stays near the outskirts, looking for anyone who runs. He was lenient twice, but a month ago, he shoved me down a ravine and promised that no one would find me if I ran again. Not a single piece of me. I stayed put after that."

"I never tried to run. But I wasn't there long," I confess. "I—"

"Yeah, well, it doesn't matter. In the end, you were sold to a man who can and will kill you. He'll hurt you. They all will." She shakes her head, and her eyes stay shut. "If you're here to convince me Jason won't do the same, you can get the fuck out and leave me alone. I don't believe a word out of your mouth. If you're happy with Eric, then you're just as bad as everyone else."

"Jason won't hurt you." I protest. "He's good guy. He's –"

"He's Eric's friend, right? Can you tell me how good they've been to you? What freedom has Eric give you? Because I heard about you. All anyone could talk about was what a quick and profitable transaction you were. What an easy sale you'll be if and when he brings you back." Hannah opens her eyes, now wet and glistening. "It's not the first time someone has asked for you to come back. Shannon is hoping he doesn't like you. She's just waiting for him to tire of his boring purchase."

"Why?" I recoil like she's struck me. "I thought –"

"It's a business. They profit off us, and if they can do it more than once, it's even better." She pauses when the doorknob turns. "There are new girls scheduled for the end of next week that they think he might like. They want him back. He's a big spender, your husband."

Her tone is terse, but she stops speaking when Eric strides through the door. He's followed by Arlene, more men in black, and several nurses. When he stops, the look on his face is impressively terrifying.

"We're done for the day." He steps between us, ignoring the flash of panic from Hannah. "Come on."

Eric extends his hand out, and when I take it, he slides his fingers between mine. His grip is as tight as when we saw Shannon, and it turns painful as he pulls me to my feet. Hannah winces when Arlene picks up a syringe, and someone explains to Jason that Hannah will be given a second dose to help her calm down.

"She'll stay here. We'll have a sitter around the clock, as well as security. If the need arises, she stays dosed until she's calm enough to reason with." Arlene decides with a sigh. "Eric, tell Jason he can check her on in a few hours. Until then, whatever she told Everly should be enough."

"I knew it." Hannah struggles to get away from someone holding her back. "He's using you. I hope it feels good to know you're a rat."

She yelps when Arlene stabs a syringe in her arm. Arlene depresses it with a weary sigh; when the liquid is gone, Hannah's eyes start to close.

"Don't take anything she said personally." Arlene looks mostly at me. "When she's calmed down, you can talk to her again if you'd like."

"I can try," I answer around Eric. He stands between us, letting me watch as the nurse helps Hannah lie down. They slide something on her wrist, then clamp the bracelet shut. "What is that?"

"It's both a tracker and a deterrent. There's a very good chance she'll try to run. She won't find her way out, and it's too dangerous to let her roam free. You've earned the privilege, but she hasn't. Not until she can accept that we're trying to help." Arlene's tone loses its edge when she turns to face me. "You did a great job speaking with her. I imagine seeing you is jarring for her, maybe more so than you seeing her."

"Why?"

My hand tights in Eric's. His grip is so strong that I would shake his hand away, but I hold on as though my life depends on it.

"From what I gathered, she'd heard of you as both a warning and a success story. She's presumably jealous that you're alive and unharmed, and terrified that her future will be nothing like yours. If anything, she's given us plenty to worry about." Arlene pushes her glasses up her nose. "If they're hoping you'll come back, that puts us in a compromised position. They're paying attention. And not just to the tracker Eric took out of your neck."

"Right," I crane my head up at Eric, and when he glances down, I can't read his expression. "I don't want to go back."

"You won't."

He sounds angry, but that means nothing.

Eric tugs on my hand to pull me out of the room. He says a curt goodbye to Jason and an even harsher goodbye to the soldiers standing guard. I know he's taking me home, but for once, I don't mind.

I glance back at the exam room, and my heart slips down to my stomach when I see them pick up Hannah and carry her to another room.

"Will you see her again?"

Seated on Eric's couch, I glance up from the papers in my hand. They are a list of names that mean nothing to me but something to him. A few have notes by their name –the words so tiny they're barely legible, while others have an asterisk by them. My name is highlighted, or at least Everly Carlen's name is.

"Who? Hannah? I'll have to speak to her at some point." He walks over from the kitchen and hands me a bowl. I stare at it curiously, and his gaze is amused. "It's ice cream. I thought you might like it after today."

"I've never had it before," I admit. I set the papers down on the coffee table and lean back. "Thank you. Is it good?"

"Some people think so." Eric shrugs. "I don't."

He sits down next to me, too close to simply be sharing the couch but far enough away that he's not touching me.

"Rylan loves it."

"I bet." I take a bite of the ice cream, and it's so sweet it's hard to swallow. "It's really good."

"I'm sure." Eric snickers. When I look over at him, he tilts his head but keeps his stare on me as I take another bite. "I'm surprised Amity doesn't have something similar."

"If they do, I was never offered any." I grow warm when he doesn't look away. "Do you want some?"

"No."

He kicks his feet up on the coffee table. We got home not long after speaking to Hannah and spent the rest of the day discussing it with Harrison. He showed up in a panic, and he asked me to relay everything she said. We went round and round, trying to read between the lines of what she told me, but there was nothing hidden in her words. It was true that Shannon told the girls to make themselves appear soft and quiet, and it was true that there were numerous men who watched the area. The only new pieces of information were that she'd been somewhere near a ravine and that Shannon was expecting Eric to grow bored with me and had girls in mind for him.

Harrison didn't seem thrilled with either of those pieces of information.

After he left, Eric went back to work, and I did nothing. I thought a lot about what Hannah said, and by the time he returned, I was on edge that he would grow bored with me. Even if he'd gone purely to investigate the auctions, he'd still paid for me. He had to want something out of his purchase.

That fear left me standing in his kitchen wide-eyed, attempting to make something for dinner. It was the reason I shook my head when he pried the spoon out of my hand, and I almost couldn't move when he sent me away with the offer to finish cooking.

I felt like he was starting to get antsy and that he'd decided a fantastic way to further his investigation would be to send me back to Shannon with his own tracker.

Before I fully panic, he announced dinner was ready. I sat beside him, more nervous than ever, and the meal was so awkward that he knew something was up. Rather than wash the dishes with him, he told me to go sit in the living room and look at the papers. He promised he'd be right over, and true to his word, he returned a few minutes later with dessert.

"Do you think Hannah was there before you?" Eric reaches for the remote, and his tv screen turns on to reveal a slew of icons to choose from. "Jason said she was there for months. Shannon offered him a lesser price, but it was only good for today."

"She told me she was there for three months. So we would have been there at the same time. Maybe they split everyone into rotating groups." I take another bite of ice cream, but my attention is on the screen. Eric scrolls through the icons until he finds one he likes, then scans down the list with impressive speed. "One girl was trying to tell me they get rid of you if you don't sell. Maybe she was with a different group who hadn't had many bids."

"Yeah." Eric answers distractedly. "Maybe."

"Did they tell you how many they had waiting?" I ask, watching him stop on something that sounds terrifying to watch.

"Not specifically. They gave me the option to see as many as I liked. If I didn't find anyone appealing, I could ask to see more." His answer is muttered with disdain. "Some saw upwards of thirty girls."

"Would you have wanted to see more?" I turn to face him, and his eyes search mine. "If you didn't –"

"I told you. I didn't see anyone else after you," Eric holds my stare. "I chose to purchase you, and things went quickly after that. It wasn't more than an hour later that they brought you to me."

"You never told me why you picked me." I pause with the spoon halfway to my mouth. "You started to but had to leave."

He doesn't say anything.

I may be overstepping my bounds here because he shuts his eyes and tilts his head back. The blocks on his throat stretch, then realign when he looks down.

"When I saw you, you were afraid, but it wasn't because of something I had done. I thought…" he pauses, and his next words are very careful. "I thought you looked vulnerable and that someone else would see that and take the opportunity to do terrible things to you. That they'd take advantage of the situation in ways you couldn't fathom. I knew that if I didn't choose you, you'd be gone. I'd never see you again, and I'd have no idea where you went or if you were still alive."

The spoon shakes.

My stomach turns over, and the ice cream threatens to come back up.

"Most of the men didn't go with honorable intentions. No one there was looking for a housekeeper or a private chef." He tilts his head, and when I make myself nod, his gaze drops to my hands. He takes the bowl from me slowly and sets it on the table. "Out of everyone there, I felt like you deserved more than what awaited you. Like you weren't supposed to be there, and they knew it. They knew that you'd fetch a large price, and the worst of all people would be the buyer."

"What about the others? What will they do them?" I ask, barely able to get the words out. "What about –"

"Lots of things. Things Hannah is prepared for. She might have been told what happens or what could happen. Things you weren't prepared for. Things that you didn't have time to hear about." Eric shifts closer, and my chest tightens when he looks over me. "As someone who has been in a position of such power, it wasn't hard to know what would happen."

I meet his gaze, not quite as frigid as it once was, holding my stare with a slew of emotions I don't understand.

"Hannah will be fine." Eric throws out. "She'll realize she's out of bad situation. It might be a few days, or maybe it'll be a few weeks, but it'll happen. No one here will hurt her."

"She was really mad. She said…she said that I'm just as bad as you guys if I'm okay with being here," I admit. "She said that you'll kill me."

"I could." Eric doesn't look surprised. His lips turn up into a sneer, but it's fleeting. "Anyone is capable of violence when no one is looking. But why spend all the points just to get rid of you?"

"That's true, I guess." I lean back, and his expression darkens. "What?"

"Nothing."

He falls silent.

The air turns frigid, thanks to whatever Rylan did to the thermostat. It matches Eric's mood, and the tenseness lasts until he sighs.

"Did you ever think about leaving Amity?" He asks, his voice low now. "Or did you assume you'd stay?"

"I planned on staying," I admit. "I thought it was what I was supposed to do. Leaving never felt like an option."

"I see."

Eric falls into his own thoughts. He watches me take another bite of ice cream before he turns his attention to the tv. I keep waiting for him to say something else that would make this feel better; his admission that he could kill me isn't surprising, but the notion that he won't because it would be a waste of his points stings.

It shouldn't.

I'm not anyone to him except a way into his investigation.

It hurts in a way I didn't expect. The feeling lingers long after I finish the ice cream and even after I've gone to bed.

It settles into my chest, raw, aching, and heavy.

The feeling lingers.

It sticks to my skin like a band-aid that won't peel off. On Visitor's Day, I am, for reasons I cannot explain, optimistic that someone will show up to see me. I am also optimistic that if they do show up, things will change.

I can't explain why; it just feels like it.

I stand with Eric and Jason, slightly off to the side. Beside them, Four watches with a scrunched look on his face, and I get the feeling seeing the families will set his class back. The first few girls screech with joy as their parents arrive, and the boys who tower over everyone struggle to look brave as their fathers arrive with huge grins on their faces.

The area is filled with people.

They weave in and out, some dressed in dark clothes, others dressed in their factional colors. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sophia's mother looking nervous as someone points to the opposite side of the room, and a flash of blonde as Sophia finds her. She hugs her desperately, and they immediately begin speaking about something. Sophia keeps looking around, and every so often, her mother does, too.

They somehow miss me standing beside Eric.

There are other parents, too. A surprising amount from Erudite, a handful from Candor, two from Abnegation, and Jake's mother, showing up in a hurry as she explains she got lost near the Pit. A woman from Abnegation proudly hugging her son, and a woman from Erudite looks horrified when her daughter shows her bruised arm. A flash of red as someone runs by with both their parents and a flash of black as one of the Dauntless born jokingly shows his parents a hallway they've likely walked down a hundred times before.

"Is that everyone?" Eric asks, cocking his head in boredom. "Or are there more?"

"I think this is it." Jason shrugs.

Eric glances at me out of the corner of his eye, then goes back to typing, staring at his phone.

No one shows up for me.

Though my father watched me pick Dauntless, I have the sinking feeling Landon has told him quite the story, and me being alive doesn't line up with it. My stomach aches with the thought that maybe my mother would show up, but it looks like neither have come.

"They're about to close the gates," Jason announces, turning to face Eric. "You remember when Blythe came storming through here, looking like she owned the place?"

"Don't remind me," Eric mutters. "She called yesterday. I'm tempted to ask her a few questions, but asking Satan for help is a low move."

"Yeah, the last time I saw her, she hit me in the head and told me I was a bad influence over you," Jason laughs, stopping when Harrison walks in with Lauren.

He salutes them both cheerfully, but only Harrison nods.

I haven't been introduced to Lauren, but I've heard them say her name. She's not much taller than me, very unfriendly looking, and the only other trainer Dauntless has. She looks smug when Harrison gestures his approval on something and annoyed when Eric doesn't immediately look at her. Her attention is on him, and his attention is on his phone, looking at what appears to be an account with points.

He clears his throat as he types something, and a painful feeling of loneliness washes over me.

Mothers and fathers reunite with their children, and almost every single reunion is one filled with pride, joy, and warmth. Over the head of one of the smaller initiates, a woman stares, and her eyes are filled with empathy. She keeps looking from me to Eric, and I make the guess that she thinks I am an initiate left out of Visiting Day. I can feel her sympathy when Harrison joins me, and his arm nudges mine.

"You okay over here?"

"Yeah, I'm… good."

I swallow down the truth, bitter to the last drop.

I'm far from good, far from fine, and far from anything except watching as the people around me relish in the respite of familiarity.

The woman watches as Jason takes a call from Max, then says we'll be here for a few more minutes.

"Did someone else show up?" I ask, wondering if maybe someone from my family did come to Dauntless. "Or did they find someone?"

"No, Max needs Eric to sign off on a few forms. He didn't catch him in time, and Eric didn't answer his phone." Jason looks down at me, and realization is all over his face. "Hey, um, you guys want to go get lunch after this?"

"It's nine thirty in the morning," Eric answers offhandedly. He's not paying attention, nor is he hungry. "Maybe later."

"Yeah, sure." Jason looks over my head at Harrison, and they exchange a look I hate.

It's filled with pity, all for me.

Eric misses it.

He approves something on his phone, then smiles blandly as the faction announces it will be locked down until Visitor's Day is over.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight: Familiar Faces

Sophia's face is a mess of snot, blood, and tears.

This fighting is now far more intense than what I first saw.

From the sidelines, I stare in horror as she trembles. Dressed in workout clothes, her punches are aimless and weak with exhaustion; blood gushes from a gash in her forehead, obscuring her vision, and her cheeks are bright red. Her opponent –a boy a solid foot taller and fifty pounds heavier –hesitates when she trips. He keeps looking at me but mostly at Jason. His trepidation is impossible to miss: it's all over his face, worsening when she sways on her feet. We all know he could easily knock her out, but he doesn't.

When Sophia lets out a plea for a break, Jason clears his throat.

"So, um sometimes, people get hurt during the initiation class. We aim to minimize it, but it happens."

"I see." My answer is quiet as Four appears.

He stops by Sophia, instructing her to sit down, and awards the boy a few extra points for having restraint. I listen to him reassure the guy he's fine; Four appreciates him not beating Sophia needlessly, and he won't be penalized for stopping.

"Someone said we can't give up." The boy's voice shakes with uncertainty. "They said Eric said that Dauntless never give up and neither should I. That I need to keep fighting."

"Those were the old rules. You don't have to kill her to prove you can fight." Four counters. "Why don't you walk her to the infirmary? You've both got enough points to pass this section."

"Okay."

He looks for Sophia, horror blossoming on his face when she tries to sip her water and instead gags.

The initiation class swarms the training room like bees. The buzz in the air is filled with sparking violence. Most have never had a reason to fight someone else. Some like it. Some are good at it. Others are less enthused; they fight only because they have to. Those people have a look of desperation on their faces, one I understand.

After seeing their families, all are determined to make them proud.

"Do you want some water?" Jason asks. "Or a muffin?"

"No, I'm good. Thank you." I stand by him with my hands clasped in front of me, obediently waiting for Eric.

Three days ago, Hannah arrived.

She fell out of the truck the same way I did: shoeless, hopeless, and uncertain as to what came next. She reached for Eric, and when her stare rose to him heading toward me, it was angry.

I was stunned by my own lack of empathy at seeing her.

I told myself it was a defense mechanism. Her arrival brought forth another wave of fear that I didn't need and couldn't handle. I was threatened by her because I was worried about my own survival.

Determined to prove I was fine, I spoke with her like Eric asked, and in the exam room, I found myself under attack. Like a wounded animal, Hannah lashed out at my attempt to commiserate with her. She retaliated by telling me I was no better than Eric, nor would I live to see this through.

Eric would later point out that she was wrong and right: I wasn't him, but he wasn't going to waste his hard-earned points by killing me. He went back to watching tv, and I sat on the couch beside him, staring blankly at the screen until I went to bed.

His words left me feeling…nothing.

I felt empty, cracked wide open, only to have there be absolutely no value to me.

I felt numb when Eric came to bed and even number when he left. I sank into myself, completing the tasks he left with little emotion. I ate with him, brushed my teeth beside him, and watched silently when he pulled his uniform on. I folded his clothes when they came rumpled, made him a coffee that he took wordlessly, and stayed out of his way. Knowing my life amounted to a single transaction left me feeling despondent, lost in a sea of emotions I didn't like.

This wasn't me.

It couldn't be.

I'd spent my whole life helping others, resilient to my own needs in favor of keeping the peace. I was failing to do that here, even if it guaranteed my survival. I was letting everyone get the best of me. I was letting Shannon win, letting Landon have the last laugh, letting Hannah be the brave one, and letting everyone around me dictate how I felt. I was now quiet and unhappy, desperate for something to make me feel alive again and wondering if Shannon had been right. My only value was whatever Eric deemed it to be.

I thought I'd feel better on Visitor's Day, guessing that someone might come to see me. Even if they only came by to confirm I was alive, it would make me feel better.

But no one did.

I stood next to Eric and Jason as families reunited, and each one felt like they were staring at me with such pity that it was unbearable. It didn't help my mood, and if anything, it worsened the wave of depression enough that I almost didn't bother getting out of bed.

This morning, Eric had enough.

He ordered me to spend the morning with Jason, watching the initiation class until he was done with his meeting.

He must have told Jason something was wrong. Jason spent most of our walk trying to cheer me up. He offered the tour again, politely insisting that I would like it, and even said he'd bring along Rylan if I wanted a good laugh. By the time we got to the training room, I felt marginally better, but not much. I knew my place in Dauntless was temporary, but not. Even if Eric found out who ran the auction, my part in this wouldn't end just because he had their name.

Even if he halted the sale, I didn't have a home to return to, nor did it matter.

Both Shannon and Eric had made that clear.

"Will Sophia be okay?" I ask Jason.

On the mats, Four kneels to help Sophia to her feet. He says something to her, and her nod is miserable. I hear her promise to do better; she says she's been trying, and she was more tired than usual. Four reassures her she's done fine, and if the infirmary writes that she needs a few days off, he understands.

"She will. They'll give her something to help with the pain, clean her up, and let her rest. It happens every year. I know Four has been keeping an eye on her, and he's tried to pair her with people who are her size." Jason nods when Four looks at us with a frustrated grimace. "They must have switched partners and he didn't realize it."

"Will this ruin her score?" I look up at him, his long red hair twisted atop his head, and it's a comical clash against the black uniform. "Is she ranking high enough?"

"I think so. From what I saw, she's in the middle. Which is safe." He explains. "She'll be fine."

I hope he's not lying to me.

Sophia leaves with the boy, walking unsteadily off the mats. She wipes her face off with a towel, and the rest of the class watches in rapt fascination when the boy extends his hand toward her. He still looks apprehensive, especially when she groans when she touches her cheek.

"Eric is here. Are you guys going to lunch?" Jason asks. He points in the distance, where Eric arrives with an array of soldiers. They spread out immediately; they watch the initiation class with interest, having clear orders to scour the room for someone. "He didn't say what you were doing today."

"I don't know. We'll do whatever he wants," I respond evenly.

Across the room, Eric stops to speak to someone. His posture is tense as he shows the soldier a map, and when he hands it to him, he looks even more tense. He radiates an aura of authority, impossible to imitate and impressive, until he looks over at me.

His eyes narrow in annoyance, and I know he's not happy.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Eric's voice is rough as he murmurs the question to me. His fingers tap against his drink –a tall glass of something light, and his attention is on the bowl of chips on the table. He hasn't eaten a single one, nor has he taken a sip of his drink.

"I'm fi – "

"No, you aren't fine," he cuts me off forcefully. "Ever since Hannah showed up, you've been extraordinarily quiet. Did she say something to you? Did she threaten you?"

"I told you everything you said. Besides," I pause to look up at him, and today, his patience is razor thin. "I'm supposed to be quiet. I don't want to waste your points."

The words leave my mouth before I can stop myself.

Had he purchased me with the same intentions Marcus had, he'd probably done more than slap me across the face. I would bet anything neither would tolerate insubordination nor my pointed reminder that I'm not supposed to speak to him unless he wants me to.

Next to me, he stiffens.

Eric's shoulders tighten, and he finally takes a long sip of his drink.

"Right."

He doesn't like my answer. The muscle in his jaw tenses as he stretches his head to the side, composing himself before he turns to look at me.

"Have I told you to be quiet? Have I asked you to stop talking?" His eyes search mine, but he keeps his expression detached. "You were alright until Hannah –"

"You said killing me would be a waste of your points. I'm just… doing what I'm told until you decide what you want from me. You said I have to marry you, so it looks legit, and I'm making it look legit. Your wife should listen to you, right?" I look away from him, and my eyes burn. The sensation makes me feel stupid. I'm not about to cry in front of him, and if I do, it won't do me any good. "So… I'm alright. I just… don't have anything to tell you."

His fingers press against the glass like he's trying to crush it.

He swallows another sip of his drink, moving his stare straight ahead, and then he looks at me out of the corner of his eye. The silence between us is heavy with tension; one carefully chosen word could make it burst open.

"Sophia was admitted to the infirmary," Eric finally announces. "She'll be there for a few days."

"How do you know that?" My gaze flies to him. "Is she alright?"

He makes me wait.

Eric swallows another sip and tilts the glass to examine it.

"I got a message before we sat down. Arlene thinks she has a concussion. There's a protocol to follow, so she'll stay for a few days." He pauses, and when he turns, it's slight. His body shifts just enough that I can feel how warm he is. "Would you like to go see her?"

His question hangs between us: it's a deal that will undoubtedly have consequences.

Or not.

He might be offering to let me visit her because he doesn't want someone moping around him.

"Yes." I look at him, noticing the way his eyebrows rise slightly as his eyes widen. "Is this a trick? Will I have to…do something?"

"It's not a trick," Eric answers with a shrug. "I thought you might want to check in on her. I'm sure she could use a familiar face. But only if you're up for it."

Before I can say a single word, his phone rings.

Harrison's name flashes across the screen until Eric answers. His low greeting is even but unhurried. He responds with several uninspired mmhmms, then a nod like Harrison is sitting with us.

"And the girl?"

Harrison's answer is tiny, but I can hear it.

"She knows Everly. She said she was with her. Max would like her to have truth serum in case this is Shannon trying to get to you both." Harrison's pause is long. "I'm sure Tori told you, but Everly's father has been begging for you to return her. He's willing to do anything, including offering himself up for the arrest of her kidnapping. No one thinks he had any part in it, but there's a reason he didn't look very hard for her."

Eric inhales sharply. He toys with the glass again, pursing his lips in displeasure.

"No."

"And you still plan on marrying her? Cara is asking. She doesn't want it to interrupt the meetings you have scheduled." Harrison's question makes me look over at Eric. "You are aware that your wife will be eighteen, correct? And the whole faction will know this?"

"You are aware you voted in favor of this plan, are you not?" Eric's stare slips to me as if on accident. "Either way, she's not to return to Amity. Her father is as guilty as Shannon."

"Eric…"

I don't hear the rest of what Harrison says.

I stare at Eric, suddenly wondering what his life was like before it was bisected by being put on trial for his work. He's still a Leader, but this must be wildly different than hunting people for Jeanine. I have no clue how he did it or how anyone could trust him because even now, I find myself afraid to answer him in case I'm wrong. I want to go see Sophia, but telling him that might not be the right decision.

"I'll keep you updated if anything changes." Eric's tone is bored. "And she's doing just fine. She was just… a little down because your shitty restaurant is out of onion rings."

"I'll have Quinten make some." Harrison laughs through the phone, then ends the call with a quick reminder to meet him later. "Tell her goodbye."

"Will do." Eric sets the phone down with an impatient smile. "Sorry. He rarely calls, so when he does, I have to answer." Eric glances down at me, and his eyes narrow. "What?"

"How old are you?" I examine his face, trying to figure out his age.

I can't tell. I know he's older than me, maybe older than my brother. His skin is smooth and even, clear except for a hint of stubble and tan. His hair is thick, waving where he doesn't want it to, and longer on top. I stare at his brow bone, the faint lines around his eyes, and the barest hint of dark beneath them.

He looks like he hasn't been sleeping well.

"Does it matter?" He looks right at me, he rolls his eyes. "Twenty-four."

"Oh."

He is older.

Not as old as Marcus and not nearly as old as some of the men who goaded me with what they wanted. Old enough, I guess, that he could be married or have a girlfriend if he really wanted one.

"Were you expecting something else?" Eric asks, looking mildly insulted. "You looking for someone older?"

"I wasn't looking for anyone," I remind him. His eyebrow raises, and I force myself to remember he's kept his word. "I was just curious. I thought maybe you were my brother's age."

"I'm not." Eric glances up as someone sinks past the table. "If you'd like, I'll take you to Sophia when we're done eating."

When I don't answer, he cocks his head at me and purposely feigns a look of innocence.

"We can go whenever." His offer is spoken softly, too softly for him. "If not, I'm sure she'll be fine once she's released. But I bet seeing her friend would make her feel much less alone."

He looks at me.

I make the guess that Eric is manipulative by default. It's second nature for him to find people's weaknesses and use them to his advantage. He's either charming enough that they go along with it or brutal enough that they agree without question.

His eyes are as gray as Marcus's shirt was, and the collar of his jacket is askew. He waits patiently, giving me time to decide. It's not so much that I don't want to go, but that he hasn't reassured me I'm worth more than seventy thousand points, and choosing wrong lowers my value even further.

I hate the feeling.

"We can stop by after this." He offers, nudging my arm with his elbow. "Unless you don't want to see her. I can see how it might be upsetting."

"I want to see her."

My answer is as even as I can make it. The burning of my eyes stops, and I find myself leaning toward Eric until my arm touches his. The fabric of his jacket is rough; the utilitarian material is even darker and thicker than his last one.

"I'll take you to her if you promise you'll knock off the attitude." His mouth turns downward, not quite a frown. "I'm sick of listening to myself breathe."

"Eric…" His name dies on my lips.

I've also moved, shifting my own body towards his. I'm so close to him that I could lean against him and let the worry slip away. It would be nice to have someone to look to for reassurance, but the idea that it would be Eric is ridiculous.

"Yes?" His hand finds mine, taking hold with careful precision. "What?"

His hand is much larger than mine, swallowing my own whole as he takes hold of it. He examines my hand like he's inspecting it for something, pressing carefully.

He's pacifying himself. He doesn't want to deal with the shift in my attitude, nor does he have the patience to figure out why I've been quiet. He could. He's intelligent; it wouldn't be hard for him to take a guess, and I've even said it.

But it doesn't matter.

His fingers are warm as they curl around my hand, and this thumb grazes my knuckles. His own are now bruised. The pad of his finger is rough when it reaches my wrist. He stills, leaving behind invisible fingerprints over my skin.

"Everly?"

"Thank you." I meet his stare, the grey defrosted a single degree, and his fingers stop. "That means a lot."

My answer is what he's looking for.

He nods, and when he lets go, it's to push the chips toward me. I wait until he has one, then follow his lead and eat enough that he's forgotten he was watching me. We lapse into an easy rhythm: our waitress returns to take our order, and this time, Eric makes me pick something.

A hamburger might not be the sign that things are looking up, but today, it is.

The infirmary brings back a slew of unpleasant memories.

I ignore them as we are led toward the back. In a small room, one just large enough to for a few pieces of equipment, Sophia sits on the bed. She looks slightly better than when I saw her last. Her long blonde hair is a mess of red and gold, and a good chunk of her hair is full of dried blood. She sat up the second she saw us, and I headed right towards her.

I haven't been able to talk to her since she picked Dauntless, but there's no time for pleasantries. She reaches for me with a shriek and throws her arms around me. My head bashes against hers as she hugs me so tightly I can't breathe, and it's the first time in months someone hasn't yanked me by the arm to drag me away.

Eric sinks into the lone visitor's chair with a look of resignation.

"Everly, I can't believe you're alive." She half whispers, pulling back to look at me. Her eyes widen as they rake over me, narrowing when they fall to Eric behind us. "Who is he?"

"That's Eric. He's a Leader here. He's –"

"No, I know that." She shakes her head, then winces. "Dang, that hurts. And yeah, I know he's Eric. I met him my first day. I mean, why are you with him? Someone said you work for him, someone said you've married him…and someone said he bought you at an auction. There's a girl in my class who said she's been to the auctions. She was talking about her sister going missing and I instantly thought of you."

Bile rises into my throat and my mouth waters.

"Um…"

"Is it true?" Sophia lowers her voice like Eric isn't two feet away from us. "I know you didn't run away. I know Landon is a lying piece of shit. And I know that Eric hasn't taken his eyes off you since you came in here."

"Is that what Landon told everyone?" I ask, not at all surprised that he really waltzed back into Amity and pretended I fled into the woods. "I didn't leave Amity. He brought me there. He took me to this place in the woods and said we were going on a picnic, and instead… it was this… it was somewhere with these tents and a bunch of guys working. They sell girls our age to whoever bids the most."

"What do you mean, sell them? For what?" Sophia recoils. "For work?"

"Whatever they want," I shrug, but my stare falls to the thin sheet on the bed. "Work, cooking, cleaning…um, some are –"

"Sophia, do you think Four is an adequate trainer?" Eric interrupts. When I glance back at him, he's arrogant as he lounges in a too small chair. He shrugs before flashing us a condescending smile. "I figured I'd ask since I'm here."

Sophia shoots him a funny look. She stares at him, and he stares right back.

"Would you say he's acceptable at his job?" Eric counters. "Decent? Passable? Subpar?"

"He's…fine." Sophia's attention switches from Eric to me. "Everly, is he your husband?"

Her tone is curious but alarmed.

Her eyes search my face, and when I don't answer right away, she asks again.

"Did he buy you to be his wife?" She looks over my head, or tries to. "Are you okay? Do you need help?"

For the first time in months, I laugh.

It's crazy sounding, half of a laugh and half of a sob, but much needed.

"I'm fine. It could have been much worse. I'm supposed to marry him soon. But it's part of this plan to find the people working the auction…" My voice sounds strange in my ears as if it's too high-pitched. "Whenever he wants. But he saved me from another guy. There was one, Marcus, he slapped me when I didn't greet him correctly. Eric hasn't hurt me."

"Holy fuck, Everly. Is he keeping you here against your will? Is he hurting you? Did he try and –" She shifts forward, wincing when her arm gets tangled in the tubing of an IV. "Is he doing anything you don't want him to do? We could run. I could get us out of here. Four showed us an exit that goes near the woods and – "

"No," I shake my head firmly, well aware that Eric can hear every word she's whispering. "I can't. Even if I left or he took me to Amity, where would I go? My parents didn't look for me. Landon told everyone some lie about me running away. If I go back, they'll go after my sisters."

"Right…" Sophia deflates. "What about Johanna? We could talk to her."

"She called off the investigation, too. Out of everyone in Amity, you were the only one who cared." The words are hard to get out, and even harder when I hear Eric clear his throat. "Eric told me you filed the missing person's report."

Sophia looks at me, and her eyes are wet. She bites down on her lip, and I can see the regret all over her face.

"I should have looked harder," she whispers. "I shouldn't have stopped when the soldiers left. I tried to tell Johanna something was wrong."

"You did more than enough," I promise. "You spoke up when it could have gotten you in trouble."

She looks down at her hands.

They are covered in blue and green splotches and cracked near her knuckles.

"No, I didn't do enough." She shakes her head. "Not even close."

It's my turn to shake my head. I've known Sophia since we were babies. I grew up with her, figured we'd get married at the same time, have families that hung out together, and houses near each other. I never pictured her leaving Amity, but I'm eternally grateful that she did.

"What did my parents say?" I try to change the subject, thinking perhaps hearing about my family will give me some closure.

Or, at the very least, some sort of explanation.

"Nothing. I was dropping off muffins when they realized you hadn't come back. Landon showed up at your parent's house and pretended he didn't know you were missing. When they asked him where you were, he kept saying you ran off, and he assumed you came back home. Your dad didn't question him, but your mom did. She kept pushing the issue until your dad told her to stop." Sophia blinks at the memory, then wraps her arms around herself. "I told Johanna something happened to you. I filed a report when no one found you. When Dauntless showed up, I was the one who told soldiers there was no way you'd run off."

"Is that why you came here?" I watch her face scrunch up.

"Mostly. I thought if I became a soldier, I could find you. I'd join Dauntless and convince them to look for you. No one told me I'd be getting the living daylights beat out of me, every hour, on the hour." She smiles, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Or that I'd have to sleep in some ancient bunkbed with a hundred other people beside a row of toilets."

"We do. It's in the informational packets about each faction," Eric throws out. When I look at him, he smiles mockingly. "Page Five. No one ever reads that far. Also, you can't take Everly anywhere, even if Four personally escorts you outside. Someone should have told you that."

"Yeah, well, I never got… that packet. I picked Dauntless with Jake and come to find out, he's doing great. He can fight, throw knives with horrifying accuracy, and he's got a harem of ladies vying for his attention," Sophia grimaces at the thought, or maybe it's Eric vetoing her plan. "He's ranked first."

"Is he?" Eric murmurs, and I hear him pull out his phone. He taps on the screen and then stands. "I'll be back. Neither of you leave."

"Is he always like that?" Sophia throws him a funny look until the door shuts. "You can tell me the truth. Is he keeping you here against your will?"

"Not like you think. He's investigating the auction, but until it's over, I'm stuck here. Maybe even after." I ignore the way my chest tightens because I'm not sure what part is causing the ache. "I have to listen to him. I don't have anywhere else to go."

"Tell me about the auction." Sophia leans in again and very gingerly touches my neck. "Did they do that?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure he's not hurting you?" Her eyes narrow. "Four doesn't speak too highly of him. He's asked a few times for Eric not to come by, but Eric doesn't listen. He's talked to me more than once, even when Four asks him to leave."

"He's the only reason I'm still alive," I admit. "He could have killed me a month ago, but he hasn't."

I lean back, trying to think of how to explain Eric.

I'm not defensive of him, not by a long shot. I don't doubt he'd have purchased someone else on his own, perhaps multiple girls, if he felt like it. He seems to have more control over Dauntless than most, and while he's being watched, he knows how to keep everyone's suspicions of him low. A wife would be a great decoy for him, or so would someone to mess around with whenever he decided he wanted that.

But telling Sophia that Eric hasn't slammed my head into the wall or made me bleed won't make her stop staring at me with the same embarrassing sympathy as everyone else.

So, I choose to tell her that for now, Eric hasn't been violent, he hasn't assaulted me or made me cry, and he's the first person in my entire life to tell me to think about myself for once. Her eye twitches when she asks where I'm sleeping, but I blame her concussion.

"In his bed."

"Everly!" Her gasp, appropriately horrified, is nothing compared to the way she pales. "Are you sleeping with him?"

Before I can answer her, Eric returns.

"He's not bad-looking," she whispers as he strolls back through the door. "A little… snotty, but I guess… not terrible."

I try not to laugh.

"Are you two done?" He stops by the bed, and his hand finds my elbow. "Did you finish catching up?"

"We did." I crane my head up at him, and his expression is curious. "Thank you for bringing me here."

"You're welcome." He answers curtly. His fingers tighten like he's about to pull me off the bed. "Did Arlene tell you how long you're staying?"

He looks from me to Sophia, eying her up and down with great scrutiny.

I daresay, even bruised and bloody, she looks a little healthier than I do.

"At least through tomorrow. If I don't feel better, they're going to call in a Neurologist from Erudite to make sure I'm alright." She answers with a hint of shame. "I told her I don't need that."

"I'm sure you'll live," Eric murmurs.

"I am, too."

She stares at Eric the same way I looked at him when I first saw him. She takes in his hair, askew from running his fingers through it, and his uniform. The tattoo on his throat, the way his jawline curves into sharpness, and the way he's close enough that my arm is against his jacket. She watches him curiously but with a dose of fear.

"Thank you for bringing Everly to see me," she says, dropping her stare to his hands. The bruising is bolder than hers and larger. "Can she come by the initiation? Or maybe down to the Mess Hall for lunch once I'm back?"

I look up at Eric hopefully, thinking he's trusted me enough to stay with Sophia on my own, and he let me visit with Jason. Perhaps he'll trust me enough to go see her or even to have dinner with her.

Eric's eyes widen in sheer mockery, and he shakes his head with a sneer.

"No."

He's silent.

Eric moves around his apartment gracefully. He opens his bathroom cabinet, turns on the water, and brushes his teeth. I listen to him take his sweet time to come to bed while I wait.

I'm not eager for him to return because he's still irritated over something, but I want to ask him why he said no.

On our walk back to his apartment, his mood soured. He became the one to turn distant; he snapped at me to walk faster, grew annoyed when I mixed up the directions in one section, and grew furious when we saw the initiation class walking to lunch. He greeted Four with a bark of irritation; their conversation hinged on why Four's class was late, and Four explained that someone had been found near the gates, and he brought the class out to see how the soldiers handled it.

I stood to the side, trying to figure out how anyone chose Dauntless.

I suppose they found it brave or exciting, and maybe being stolen from another faction had damped my adventurous spirit, but I found what Sophia was doing to be terrifying. Fighting against people who I'd later work with seemed impractical, but it must be how soldiers were made.

I'd spent the rest of the afternoon by myself. Eric said a terse goodbye and left, slamming the door as I stood in his kitchen, trying to figure out my mistake. It could be anything: I didn't get the information he wanted, or maybe my miserable feelings were really starting to bother him. He couldn't possibly understand what it felt like to be powerless because he never had been. Even during his time away from Dauntless, he was promised his life would be normal upon his return.

Tonight, he returned, looking every inch the Leader of Dauntless.

He nodded, strode past me without really looking at me, and ate his dinner while on the phone with someone.

I eventually got ready for bed, figuring he'd speak to me sooner or later.

"Did you eat?"

Despite knowing he'd come in here, I startle when he walks into his bedroom. Shirtless, dressed in black boxers, he glances at me with a fair amount of suspicion.

"Everly?"

"I did. I had… leftovers." I try to remember what I ate because dinner felt like an eternity ago. "Eric, are you –"

"Where did Sophia live in Amity?" He cuts me off, staring at the wall beside me. "Did she live near you? Did you see her every day?"

"Not far. Maybe a ten-minute walk. Why?" I look up at him, and his eyes fall to his own shirt, slipping off my shoulder. "Her parents work with Johanna, but her dad worked with mine a lot."

"I see." He licks his lips, and his eyes turn to the ceiling. "Did she have a boyfriend there?"

Fear blossoms through me, fresh and new. I haven't felt this kind of anxiety before, a spiky, unrelenting, ice-cold feeling that he's curious about her for other reasons. My chest clenches painfully, and I wonder if he's interested in her. He could be. She can fight. She's taken a blow to the head and didn't die. She's blonde. Pretty, funny once you get to know her and daring. She chose Dauntless on a whim, and other than getting hit in the head, she seemed to be doing fine.

Compared to her, I was a teary-eyed, pointless thorn in his side.

"No." I pull my knees up, wrapping my arms around them. "She's very nice. And she's really pretty. And she's doing well. Jason said she ranked in the middle. Sophia is easygoing. She's really brave for coming here. I think… you'd really like her. In a lot of ways. Like… the ways on that paper."

I try to smile, and it must look wretched.

Eric's expression darkens.

"What exactly are you saying?" He demands. "Are you implying that I want to fuck your friend?"

My eyes widen.

I wasn't, but if he ended up marrying her, he would.

"Are you sure you didn't hit your head?" His jaw becomes askew with annoyance. "Everly, is that why…"

He stops, staring at me like I have two heads.

"You were mad after we saw her. I just thought maybe you liked her and you're stuck with me." I answer, trying to look anywhere but at him. "You spent all the points and –"

"The points mean nothing. You could try and spend all of them and you still wouldn't be able to. Is that why you've been upset? Because I said that?" He interrupts with a skeptical look across his face. "Answer me."

I don't.

I chew on my cheek while he angles his head.

"You have to answer me," he points at me threateningly. "Do you want to see her again? Because if you do –"

"Yes." I finally look right at him, and the words are hard to say. "You said you wouldn't kill me because you spent the points. That's it. You don't like me or want me here. I know it's…to help you figure out who is behind the auction, but… I have no one. No one back home, no one here until Sophia showed up. And she might not even stay."

"She is staying," he answers with a glance at the ceiling. "I promised you she would."

"I know," I agree, forcing myself to look at him. My chest hurts in a way I haven't felt before, not like when Landon dragged me to the picnic or when Hannah attacked me for wanting to survive. It hurts in a new way –something far more painful. "It's just…"

I trail off, unsure of what he wants to hear.

"Your friend being here is the first time you've looked alive in weeks," he snaps. "She's the first person that you haven't looked miserable around."

He steps toward the bed, and I scoot backward before I can stop myself.

"Are you afraid?" Eric blinks, and I see the exact moment he looks thrown off. A storm of emotions flashes across his face, but the most prominent one is insult. He steels himself and swallows down whatever he was about to say. "Is that what this is about?"

"I don't know how not to be afraid," I meet his stare with a frown. "What about this should I be okay with? You could send me back to Shannon. You can make me marry you, and everyone will think I'm some idiot that you order around. If I piss you off, you can murder me, and no one here will notice or care. I can't go anywhere without you or do anything to help, and now you're asking me about Sophia and… yes, Eric, I am afraid."

Eric blinks.

He looks wild. His posture changes to something less threatening, and his shoulders drop. He looks surprised, and it dawns on me that he's never considered that I might actually be terrified of what's happened to me.

In Eric's world, fear was nothing but a minor inconvenience that one should be able to overcome.

"Do you want to go back to Amity?" He walks toward me slowly. His hands ball into fists, and his head tilts when he forces himself to unclench them. "Is that where you want to live?"

"No." My stomach burns as he nears me. "I don't want to go back there."

"You shouldn't," he agrees with a scoff. "The faction could have kept looking for you. Johanna should have had every member helping. A single day of searching the woods near Amity wasn't enough. Someone in Amity knows what's going on, and they're letting it happen."

"Why?" I tilt my head, and my vision blurs when he sits down beside me. "Who is okay with this?"

"I don't know,'" Eric answers honestly. For once, there is no hidden smugness or anger in him. He stares at me with a funny look on his face. "But when I find out, I'll ask them."

My lips turn up, along with my gaze. I have to crane my head to really look at him, and he's still annoyed.

"Really?"

"Yeah, really." He blinks down at me, inching closer so his arm hits mine. "Fuck the points. Hannah doesn't know a thing about you or me. I've kept you safe. I've kept my word."

"You have," I respond, shifting when he leans in.

"Then trust me when I say that I will continue to take care of you."

The ache in my chest lessons.

It's almost gone when he's close that his nose could brush against mine.

"Things will be different next week. After that, you can go wherever you'd like, within reason. You can eat with Sophia, you can visit whatever floor you want, and you can buy whatever you want. But until then, stop looking like I'm about to rip your head off." He demands so quietly that it sounds dangerous. "Once I know who's behind all this, everything will change."

"For the better?" I ask as his eyes lock on mine. "What will I do after?"

Eric's gaze drops.

He doesn't answer me –thought I'm fairly confident he has an answer. I could return to Amity. If the paperwork I saw is correct, and Dauntless will oversee it, maybe he can assign me a house to live in. Far away from everyone, far away from anyone who might hurt me. There's a chance he could stay there, maybe shaping Amity into another military faction to keep beneath his fingertips.

The thought is chilling, or maybe it's the way he pulls away, and his eyes are dark.

"We'll talk about it then."

In the morning, Harrison is here.

I wake up to the sound of arguing; it's louder than intended, and both are zealous about getting their point across. Eric left his bedroom door open, and Harrison's announcement that he wants me to see the girl that's here left Eric snapping that he doesn't.

"She shut down after speaking to Hannah. I gave you that one. I let her talk to her, and then I had to deal with her acting like I was going to kill her in her sleep." He's forceful as he speaks, but also when he slams something on the counter. "So, no. She will not speak to whoever you found."

"She might recognize her," Harrison counters. "She might know something we don't. The girl claims to know her. We haven't given her truth serum yet, but it's an option."

"She doesn't know her. Everly was there for a few hours, max. She didn't see Hannah, she only saw Shannon, and she spoke with Miranda. Seeing… whoever… is not going to make her suddenly remember some new information." Eric answers so caustically that even I recoil. "I already told you no."

"I see." Harrison sounds surprised, but it dampens his argument. "Is she doing alright?"

"She's fine."

Eric sounds defensive.

His voice lowers, but I can still hear him.

"I'd like her to be left out of whatever you're doing. If anyone else shows up, you can ask your questions through me."

"That is far from the orders we agreed upon." Harrison says, and I can hear the stress in his voice. "You and I both decided that –"

"I've changed my mind. I'm the one assigned to keep her safe. Having Everly paraded out to every person you find in hopes that she'll get them to talk or reveal information you want, is not doing any good. It's in her best interest to be left alone." Eric snarls the last part, and I find myself taken aback by his decision.

I never thought he'd be the one to stop the interrogation of Shannon's victims.

I sit up in bed, tilting my head when the apartment is silent. Surrounded by dark sheets that smell like Eric's shampoo, I wait for Harrison's answer.

It comes after a lengthy pause.

"You know, just when I thought you couldn't surprise me anymore…" Harrison pauses, and his next words are muffled.

I don't hear what he says, only Eric's brittle response of fuck off.

"Did you buy these?"

Barefoot and dressed in his shirt, I stare at Eric from the kitchen. He's made breakfast this morning, and to my surprise, he's still here, sitting at the table despite the fact that I swore I heard him leave earlier. I hadn't gotten up when he did, but for good reason: I felt off after talking to Eric about how I felt.

It was ironic that out of the two of us, I was the one who was embarrassed to admit I was afraid. I hope he found some bravery in me telling him the truth, but I was left red-faced as he climbed into bed without saying much more. I assumed he found me cowardly for every reason; I hadn't chosen to come fight for the faction, nor was I capable of helping Eric the way he wanted. I was his last choice for someone to come here, no matter how much he pretended otherwise.

This morning, I find a plant on the counter.

Surrounded by pink flowers.

They aren't the same as the ones I bought Rachel, but some are far more expensive. I know Eric doesn't have a membership to the flower shop, and though he was forthcoming with how little the points meant to him, this still looks like it cost a small fortune.

I touch the petals carefully, noticing the flowers are neatly arranged around a small, still growing Venus flytrap. There is a tiny note beneath it, with lettering so mall I can barely read it. Rylan very nicely hopes that I have a good week, and he'll take the plant if I don't want it.

"Rachel suggested it." Eric's answer –rough and grouchy –makes me tilt my head at him.

"Really?"

"I told her you were…" he pauses to glance upwards like he's searching for a certain word. "…feeling a little down. She thought perhaps flowers would cheer you up."

"Did she say anything else?" My lips turn up before I can stop myself from smiling at him. "Did she force you to buy these?"

"No." Eric leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Just that I was right to stop you from speaking to whoever they bring here, and the best thing for you is to remind you that you're safe with us."

"With you and Rachel?" I lose the fight not to grin when his expression darkens and shuts his eyes and inhales slowly. "That's very nice."

"No, not with me and Rachel. With the Dauntless faction," Eric slowly answers, opening his eyes like he's contemplating every single one of his life's decisions. "I went down there, the same lady was working, and she told me you looked at those for a while. Rylan picked out the plant. He offered to take it if you don't want it."

"And you don't mind the smell?" I touch the flowers once more, wishing I had my own house to put them in. If I was still in Amity after my initiation, I'd be given somewhere to live. I might have a roommate, or I might have gotten lucky and been on my own. I could have decorated however I liked, including plenty of fresh flowers on a windowsill. "They're really pretty."

"They are."

His answer catches me off guard.

I look back to see Eric watching me, uncomfortable as ever.

"That's what Rachel said." He catches himself, shaking his head dismissively. "You can leave them there. Or put them wherever. I don't care."

"Thank you."

For a moment, I can feel the sunlight on my skin.

It pours in from a window, overlooking a lake with a bright blue sky, fluffy cloud, and a thick forest behind it. I can feel the rays warming my arm all the way down to my fingers, a sensation so vivid that I can smell the cinnamon muffins baking in the oven, and the faintest hint of a fall storm beginning to form.

When I pull my hand away, the feeling vanishes, and I am in Eric's kitchen, wearing his shirt, while he reminds me that his laundry will be dropped off soon and can I please fold it while he's gone.

Only if I want to.

A week later, I sit at the table with Jason, watching as a line forms in the mess hall.

The soldiers have arrived for lunch, a surprising array of proteins, side dishes, and what is supposed to be dessert, and they are loud. I catch fragments of their conversations –everything from how dull their route was to how hot they are after being outside –while Jason bounces his knee up and down. Energized by his coffee, he grins, waves at someone who yells his name, then side-eyes me.

"So… I hear you're doing better."

"Yeah, I'm…good."

I'm far from good, but since Eric spoke about his points meaning nothing, things have felt a little better. The flowers were a positive sign, and even if they weren't his idea, they were a gesture I didn't expect him to be capable of. I didn't feel quite as uneasy, even though I had no clue if Eric would follow through with half of what he said.

I stuck with my decision to trust him.

It was probably a stupid decision, but it felt right.

"Eric said you wanted to eat here," Jason looks at me, and his expression hints I'm crazy. "Why?"

"I said I wanted to eat here with Sophia. I think he missed that part." I dryly point out, and Jason's snicker tells me he knows. "Do you eat here?"

"Not if I can help it. The food is fine. It's mostly edible, but it gets crowded and loud. Just wait until the initiation class shows up."

As if on cue, the doors to the hall open with force. A wave of initiates spills inside, filling the space excitedly. A quick perusal shows them all to share the same enthusiasm and the same beat-up appearance. Almost everyone has some sort of scrape, bruise, or mark. A few have split lips, and one has a swollen eye. I don't see the boy Sophia fought against, but I do see Four.

He directs the class into the lines and then makes a beeline for Jason.

"Are you working now?" His question is to the point. His greeting to me was a nod, then a look over my head, presumably scanning the area for Eric. "Is she here alone?"

"She's not alone. I'm eating with her," Jason grins. "And technically I'm working, but I don't have anything too crazy going on. Do you need help?"

"Who's the other girl? What faction is she from?" He sits down at the table, and his posture turns apprehensive. "Last week, Harrison has a girl with him. He brought her down to see the class, and mentioned he'd be back to talk to me. I haven't seen him since."

"Oh…. yeah, that's…an interesting subject. I think she's from Abnegation, but she doesn't have a chosen faction. She vanished when she was seventeen. According to Jeremy, she's been at the auctions for a while. Maybe a year or so, which is weird since Everly said they don't keep them long. Anyway, Harrison found her wandering in the woods. No tracker, no clue how long she was walking for… just… lost. She's here, somewhere." Jason pauses, trying very hard not to look at me. "Eric has asked Everly not speak with her."

To my surprise, Four nods.

"I think that's for the best. The guy we found outside was looking for someone. He refused to say who, but he bolted the second we offered to help. I think he's searching for whoever Harrison found," Four says. "Max thought Everly might know her, but… I think they're looking for her, too. Or a way in."

"Do you know about the auction? Do you think it's the same people?" I sit up straighter and find myself unconsciously looking for Eric. I glance around, both hoping and expecting to see him walking through the mess hall doors. "Have you been there?"

"No. I've heard a few things, but I've held off saying anything in case I'm wrong." Four answers quietly. "I haven't been there. I have no interest in going, but the guy gave me a card. I already gave it to Eric."

"Where is he?" I ask.

"You don't know?" Four looks startled. "I thought you'd be with him."

"He's with Max today. And no, she doesn't always know where he is. I'm hanging out with her now. She doesn't need to go everywhere he does." Jason points out. "Did the guy you saw say anything about Everly?"

"No, just that Eric might be interested in this next round. He was careful not to say what it was." Four looks everywhere but at me. "I think the guy was bullshitting me, but I wouldn't ignore it. He could be lying but there's a good chance he's not."

"What did he look like?" I look over Four, still hoping to see Eric walk in. Unease has worked its way up my spine, and it worsens when he frowns at me. "What?"

"Nothing special. Older, normal clothes, no visible tattoos or piercings. I'd assume Amity from his hair, or maybe factionless." Four finally looks at me. "It's hard to say."

"Could be anyone," Jason shrugs dismissively. "It's probably someone looking for Eric. He said Shannon pushed for him to purchase someone else. I wouldn't be shocked to learn they're trying to find a way to force him back there."

"Are there orders to keep her safe?" Four points at me. "I'm surprised he's not with her if he thinks they're trying to find her."

"I don't think so. I think Eric believes the girl they found is a plant to get to him, but he doesn't give a shit. He doesn't plan on going back," Jason pauses. "Max asked him twice. Since Shannon is obsessed with him, it would make sense he'd go, but he's refusing."

"Because of her," Four looks at me, then Jason. "He declined for her to stay elsewhere, too."

"How do you know that?" I ask, feeling a wave of defensiveness rise. "I don't really know anyone here. Why would I stay with them?"

"Why would you stay with Eric?" Four counters. "I get sending him to investigate, but they're trusting him with your life. You aren't worried?"

"No."

"Nah."

Jason and I answer at the same time.

"If he wanted her gone, she'd be gone. Eric has really done his part this time around," Jason offers. "Why? Do you want to hang out with Everly?"

"No…I…." Four stops, clearly trying not to insult me. "I just don't know what he's planning on doing."

"I don't think it involves you," Jason shakes his head. "Unless you want to help him, you won't be dealing with him."

"I am involved. I'm keeping her friend here, the initiation class is different this time around, and their affected by what's happening. I can only explain so much about what the soldiers are doing considering not everyone stays. Even Tori mentioned that kicking out some of the younger girls might be handing them over to whoever is running this auction."

"Yeah…" Jason's agreement stops when Eric does walk through the mess hall doors. "Look at it this way, if you want to help, I think everyone would appreciate it. And Sophia staying doesn't change much. We're keeping more of them this year. Maybe all of them. Odds are, she'd have stayed anyway."

"I guess." Four's answer, an unenthused huff, is lost in the sea of people swarming around Eric.

He scans the mess hall with a look of exasperation. There's an edginess to his expression that makes me wonder if something is going on, or if he's not thrilled to wait in line for lunch.

His stare eventually finds me, and I find myself relaxing.

He does, too.

The tension in him lessons, and he cuts through the crowd with ease. He reaches our table quickly and very lowly informs me he's not eating here, and neither am I.

On Wednesday, a head is found.

The news is blared across the faction as though they are announcing a new lunch menu: it's a call for soldiers to report for duty, repeated four times over an hour, then twice more before the next announcement asks for three specific groups of soldiers to meet with Max. I sit in a restaurant with Eric, watching as he bites his cheek while trying to decide if he needs to be there.

Information comes to him via text. The head was found inside the gates like someone threw it over. The security footage saw nothing: a truck dropping off tomatoes, followed by patrol groups leaving. The head appears on camera half an hour later, and was found by a poor soldier working his second shift ever.

The security footage is graphic; the soldier nears the head, realizes what's happening, and vomits a few times. He's soon joined by someone else before an alarm goes off.

Eric responds quickly to Harrison and less quickly to Tori. While Jason declines to join the soldiers –citing he's already been down there once –Rylan agrees on the grounds that he's excused from helping Peter later in the day. Eric doesn't seem too invested, though he grimaces when Tori eventually sends a picture.

I recognize the girl immediately.

Miranda finally made it out of the auction, but not in the way she was hoping.

"Um...that's…." I can't finish my sentence. My stomach hurts in a way I haven't ever felt before. I'm suddenly so afraid that my insides are twisting together that they will rip apart. "Eric, that's…Miranda."

"Yeah." Eric cuts me off by setting his phone on the table and rubbing his temples. "You weren't supposed to see that."

I stare at his face noticing the way his eyes narrow and his lips press together.

"I'm sorry…" I offer, not knowing what to say. The picture of her is fresh in my mind. The chill of what has been done is fresh and startling, but so is the way another picture shows up seconds later. "I know you said you worked with her father."

"They haven't told him yet," Eric mutters, his tone distant. "When they do, he won't say here."

"Do you know him well?"

Despite the sudden wave of queasiness, I find myself wondering if this bothers him. It sounded like death had always been a part of his life, but not like this.

"Not especially. I only worked with him a handful of times, but I did lead the hunt for her more than once. He and Miranda didn't get along. She ran away on several occasions. The last time, the soldiers chasing her near Candor couldn't get to her before she went into the city. I can only assume she ran into the group working with Shannon, and they lured her in with the promise of freedom. I dealt with the fallout of not finding her for months." He pauses, swiping away a picture of her arm. "No one outright said it was my fault, but her father insisted that I should have been able to grab her."

"That's not fair," I say, suddenly unsure of myself. On one hand, I get having a father who doesn't think you have a brain, but on the other, it isn't Eric's job to rescue everyone who runs away. "Why couldn't he grab her?"

"Good question," Eric mutters. He looks at me out of the corner of his eye, and I notice he looks pale today. Maybe it's the picture of the head, or maybe it's something else. "I guess he was hoping I'd handle it, so he didn't have to be the bad guy."

"I thought you were the bad guy," I take a sip of my water, and his smirk is immediate but fleeting. "Are you not?"

"I would say if you were to ask anyone here, they'd tell you yes." He leans back, exhaling heavily as another barrage of messages rolls in. "Miranda didn't like that there were rules. She barely made it through initiation. According to Four, she would have failed out, but she somehow ranked high enough to stay. When I got back, she was a regular issue on my to-do list. I understood, and I was able to find a speck of empathy for her father, but…I didn't have time to be her babysitter. He knew. I think he was as frustrated with anyone, especially when she was an official member."

"Right." I nod as the waitress sets down menus, and her gaze sneakily tries to look at Eric's phone. "Do you think Shannon did that to her?"

"Yes."

Eric pushes the menu reluctantly, and I know neither of us can stomach lunch right now. Mine churns in horror at what has been done, and the shaky feeling returns.

Miranda is a warning. Her death is pointless, yet purposeful: it's a cautionary tale meant for me. Shannon knows that Eric is suspicious of her, but she's showing me that if I mess this up or if Eric digs too deep, I could be next. How she could get to me is beyond my comprehension, but she's clearly resourceful.

After all, how could one run an entire auction without a soul noticing or reporting it?

"Do you think Shannon has been in charge the whole time?" I crane my head up at him, and his nod makes my heart sink.

"I think she's run it for a couple years now. We got an anonymous tip involving someone being sold for labor, but couldn't find anything on it. Harrison has been keeping an eye on it for a while, and we lucked out when someone mentioned the auction to a soldier. It was after my return that we got the lead to find it. I wasn't expecting it to be such a production," Eric answers tightly. "She's been clever about it; I'll give her that."

"What does she do with all the points? Or whatever people give her?"

I try to ignore the image of Miranda's head that keeps popping into my mind. I focus on her telling me about Eric and her warning that he wouldn't really like me.

"She splits it up. I tried to find where or what account she's using, but there are no overly large transactions that have been flagged. You can buy anything at the market and it's the same code. Someone could pay the same for a person as they might for a couch." Eric's shrug is worrisome. "The goods she's given are presumably divided between her workers."

"Who will you send this time?" I bravely ask, inching closer without realizing it. The fear is immense now, grasping me by the arms and shaking me. "Will Jason go again?"

"No, it'll be someone else."

The fear that it'll be Eric comes right back. The thought of him returning with someone else makes my head hurt. It makes my chest ache, the same way it did when I thought he might find Sophia a good fit for him and the same way it did when I realize he didn't always adhere to his routine.

For a dizzying second, I think I might be jealous.

Then I shake my head, remembering why I am here and how, and force myself to nod my head as more messages ding on his phone.

I catch the last one, and the burn in my chest only intensifies.

"Everly's father is here."

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine: The Market

“Do you want to see him?”

Eric’s fingers are still on his jacket. He pauses unbuttoning it, and from the foot of his bed, he looks taller than before.

“Everly?”

“No.” My answer surprises even me. “I do not want to see him.”

“Okay.” Eric stares as I look everywhere but at him.

The guilt over declining to see my father is white hot

I should be desperate to see someone from my family. Grateful that they have finally come to look for me, and ecstatic with relief that my father cared enough to brave coming here. But hearing that he was fine with the search being called off after a single day is painful, and so is knowing that he’s here to presumably demand I forgive him for not doing more to find me.

I know exactly what will happen if I go see him. He would break down, apologize for not believing Sophia or perhaps try to explain why he didn’t look for me. He will have an explanation that almost makes sense but also covers for Landon. He will hug me, wrapping me in flannel-covered arms while Eric looks on with his lips quirked in disapproval. My father will whisper how sorry he is, how he’s here to fix things, but most importantly, how he hopes I will forgive him.

How he knows I will.

Why wouldn’t I?

Someone from Amity will always keep the peace. It’s my job to make sure no one is upset or uncomfortable, even at the expense of myself.

Especially at the expense of him.

“Are you sure?” Eric continues to take off his jacket, and his eyes flash with something I can’t read. “I told Harrison it was up to you. He said your father had Landon drive him here. They’re both waiting but are aware that you might not want to see either of them.”

The throbbing in my head comes out of nowhere. My mouth is dry, and my bones feel brittle. Landon could easily snap several, though it feels like I might break all of them by moving from Eric’s bed.

I’m paralyzed at the thought of walking downstairs and nauseated at the idea of seeing Landon again. Seeing my father should feel good, but something is telling me it’s not safe.

“Everly?”

“Why is Landon here?” I ask, focusing on Eric undressing. He reaches for the collar of his shirt and pulls it over his head with one hand. “Can you arrest him?”

“I can’t. He hasn’t been found guilty of anything,” Eric counters. His bare chest holds the last bit of a tan, and the jealousy of him going outside is another emotion I can’t stomach. For a moment, he stands still, giving me a chance to notice how far down the blocks on his throat go. “You know he’s guilty, and I know he’s guilty, but I have no proof of his involvement other than your word.”

“Does that matter?” I ask bitterly. “That’s not enough?”

“In the past, it wouldn’t matter. But now…” Eric hesitates, turning to rummage through his dresser. “it does. If I drag him in here without cause, it’ll piss off Johanna. I need her compliant for a little longer.”

“Are you going to take over Amity?” I watch in fascination as he plucks a shirt from the drawer. It’s as black as the others, maybe even darker. “I saw that on the papers.”

“If all goes according to plan.”

Eric stops to face me. He pulls the t-shirt on, and his casual appearance is jarring compared to his uniformed one. The sound of his phone ringing echoes so loud it hurts my ears. He reaches for his phone, and a second later, Harrison’s voice fills the room.

“Did she decide?” Harrison asks, his voice thin with little patience. “The boy said he’ll stay outside. He didn’t push to see her, but Jason is speaking with him now because he keeps trying to walk around. Her father is insistent that it’s dire. I have to warn you, he doesn’t look well.”

Eric doesn’t answer him.

His stare finds mine when I look up, and his sigh is one I feel in my bones.

After we both ate a few bites of lunch, Eric paid. He shoved his card at the waitress, asked for to-go boxes, and murmured that we were going home. He didn’t seem particularly concerned about what the soldiers were doing, but he did seem on edge about Miranda’s father.

He was right about him.

By the time we reached the elevators, the news had reached Nelson. He reacted just as Eric predicted; he quietly thanked whoever told him, hung up, and put in a notice that he was done working and not to contact him any further. He couldn’t quite leave because Dauntless didn’t work that way, but Max approved a leave of absence with no end date. Nelson took it, but it was assumed he wouldn’t return for some time, if ever.

Eric didn’t seem to think anyone would see him again.

I walked by Eric silently, occasionally bumping into him. I wrapped my arms around myself and tried to stay out of his way. Every so often, he’d place his palm on my lower back, and by the time we reached his apartment, I hoped he’d leave it there.

His apartment number, 1080, blurred before my eyes.

I’d lingered at his doorway, staring at the wall, wondering what would happen once we married. If he did go through with it, would the grand, reformed Leader of Dauntless, want a family? Was that part of his plan? Would I stay in his apartment with his child, brought out only to remind the faction that he was a changed man? Would he enjoy a child? My family is large enough that it felt like there was always a toddler running around, but I couldn’t picture Eric happy with numerous kids. I couldn’t picture him crouching down to tie someone’s shoelaces or picking up a screaming baby when they refused to nap.

What I did know was that if one of his children went missing, Eric wouldn’t be sitting at home, declining an investigation.

I stood still as he held his keycard to the lock, glancing at me over his shoulder. His stare was sticky like he could read my mind, and he ushered me through with a promise that most parents in Dauntless knew their child could end up in danger. You accepted it as fact by living here, and Nelson was no stranger to seeing what happened when teens rebelled. Sometimes, they got it out of their systems by piercing themselves or lopping off their hair. Others took daring jobs or spent their nights at the bars, exploring the faction like it were a giant playground.

When I asked Eric how old Miranda was the first time she ran, he had a funny look on his face, but it’s the same one he has right now.

Harrison asks him something I can’t hear, and Eric shakes his head.

“No.” Eric answers while looking directly at me. “If I change my mind in the future, I’ll reach out.”

There is a beat of silence, but it’s agreeable.

“Sounds good. I told him not to get his hopes up.” Harrison doesn’t question if Eric made the decision for me. “He said it’s urgent, but one would think finding your missing daughter would also be urgent.”

“Right. Tell him we’ll be in touch if Everly wants to see him. Thanks.” Eric hangs up with an abrupt goodbye, clearly done with the conversation. His stare holds mine, and when his mouth is a flat line, I know he’s not happy. “I’m sure he’ll be back.”

“He will. He wants something…”

My agreement is quiet and soft, but less so when Eric looks to the side of me. His body language is off; his normal irritation is gone, replaced with something akin to resignation.

“Yeah, he does.” He pulls at his shirt, and his stare turns thunderous.

“What’s wrong?” From the safety of his pillows, I look up and tilt my head. “You look...”

“I think you could use some fresh air,” Eric announces. “The Market opens in an hour. You won’t see your father on the way out. We’ll go a different way. But only if you’re up for it.”

I blink in surprise, and my nod is so quick that Eric almost smiles.

The market is just as crowded as Dauntless.

People swarm the aisles in droves, laughing as they pick up books and hold up shirts to see if they fit. The air is less warm than it was when I chose Dauntless, and the occasional chill leaves me wishing I had brought a sweater. I stick close to Eric’s side as we walk down an aisle of handmade pottery, and his steely gaze is on a rack of weapons near the end.

He'd given me a few minutes to get ready, and I hurried so he wouldn’t change his mind.

His offer felt like a trap, but one I was happy to walk into. With the heavy thought of Miranda and my father, I changed my clothes, twisted my hair up, and swiped some of the lipgloss Amy had let me keep. I didn’t think the Market would be anything extravagant, but I wanted to feel normal. Like this was something I’d do with Sophia and Courtney, or maybe even friends that I might have made here.

I ignored the pang of agony over such a thought, I decided to try and have a relatively decent time.

I could wallow in self-pity, but there was no point. I met Eric in the living room and followed him downstairs to the docking bay. Dauntless had become somewhat familiar now; I’d walked this way twice, and I felt far more skilled at remembering which direction to go. I nodded at two of the soldiers who nodded at me, and I felt less like a novelty and more like someone who belonged here.

Almost.

The feeling lasted until Eric drove opposite the same route he’d taken when we’d driven to Dauntless, and for a half second, I paled at the thought that he was taking me back to Shannon. But he continued until we reached a well-marked area advertising the Market, and to my relief it was packed.

He paid a small fee to get in, with proceeds going to help Abnegation feed the factionless, and told me to head inside and to the left.

It was far larger than I was expecting and much brighter. I was impressed with how much stuff there was, but even more impressed with how glorious it felt to be outside. I basked in the sunlight while he squinted at a hardcover book, I eavesdropped on a couple trying to decide if they wanted Italian for dinner or something lighter, and I relished in the wind scraping my cheeks as it flitted over a rack of heavy winter coats.

Eric slows his walk to look at a jacket, and my fingers graze over a table of makeup, the exact kind Amy had used. I examine the gold compacts, the array of brushes, and the woman grinning as she offers me a discount. I pretend to think it over, knowing I could ask Eric to pay for it. I didn’t bring the card he gave me, but my guess is he would buy something if I really wanted it.

By the time I look at everything, Eric returns with a coat in his hands.

“Put this on.” His command is as even as his expression. “I need to see if it fits you.”

“Why?” I take the coat cautiously and slip it over my sundress. I begin to button it, noticing how heavy the material is. “I think it’s fine.”

“You’ll need a jacket for when it snows. It’s almost September." His answer is spoken boredly. “By October, you should be okay to walk around with Sophia.”

"What?" My fingers slip. “I thought it was… it’s…”

I ignore the fact that he said I can potentially go inside because all I can focus on is the date. There is no calendar in his apartment. There is one on his phone, and he’s never kept the date from me, but this seems wrong. There’s no way it’ll snow soon. When I left Amity, it was hot and sunny. The roof was burning hot, and even now it’s far from cold.

The thought of winter is impossible.

“It’s August twenty-fifth,” Eric informs me, his gaze on my hands. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah…it’s just... that’s…later than I expected.” I fumble over with the last button. “I thought it had only been a month.”

“I’m sure.” Eric closes the distance between us and quickly buttons the jacket to the collar. He moves my hair off my neck, then steps back to look at me. “It looks good. If you like it, I can have them make it in another color.”

“How long does the initiation last?” I unbutton the coat, immediately cold when he takes it from me. “I feel like it just started.”

“Four more weeks or so, depending on wherever Four is. We’ve had a few setbacks, so they gave him more time. It should be done by October, then new members begin working with seasoned members before officially accepting jobs.” He pauses, and it’s like he can read my mind. “Sophia will be fine. She was cleared by Arlene and has been back with the class for a week now.”

“How long have I been here?” Dizzied by time slipping through my fingers, I blink when he hands me another jacket. “When was the auction?”

“Two months ago.” Eric answers roughly. “I met you in June.”

When I blink, his spine stiffens, along with mine.

June sounds like ages ago.

Like a year has passed since I dressed in yellow, met Landon with a smile, and began walking away from Amity with him.

“Oh,” I tilt my head up, noticing the way his eyes narrow. “That’s… surprising.”

“Yeah. Here, try this one.” He hands me another jacket made of a lighter material, but black. “If anything, it’s good that time has passed so quickly. Imagine if you were elsewhere.”

His words make me pause when my fingers touch his.

They are warm. He doesn’t move, and I try to imagine him forcing me to do all kinds of things for him. I try to imagine doing those things not as someone he paid for, but as someone he actually liked. The idea, forbidden and absurd, sends a wave of elation through me as if I’d like to be someone he chose.

“I would be dead.”

My confession is quiet. Had I stayed with Shannon, who knows if I’d even be alive. I’d probably be pregnant, a thought that makes my stomach turn over, or missing a limb. I could be in the trailer still, brought out to display for a few hours, until someone decided they liked me enough to take me home.

Or I could be the one she chose to kill when I didn’t sell.

“I don’t think you’d be dead, but I don’t think you’d be very happy,” Eric answers. His tone is careful now, less intense than it has been, as he hands me a third jacket. “When you’re done, we’ll go to the next section.”

I pull on another coat, lighter and a stunning shade of pale tan, and I like it better. I stall when he doesn’t move away, waiting to see if he’ll help me button this one.

He does.

He expertly fixes the collar once he’s done, and his eyes lock on mine.

“Do you like the way it fits?”

“I do, but it’s…” I pause to look at the tag, and the numbers swim before my eyes. “It’s a lot, considering I can’t go outside. Or if I can only go when you say I can.”

“What would you do outside?” He asks, side-eyeing when someone walks around us. His hands stay near my neck, and he shoots the guy a dirty look when he smiles at me. “There’s nothing for you to do unless you want to walk around with the initiation class. The compound is surrounded by forest, and there is no walkway except for a few running trails in the woods.”

“Maybe we could go for a walk? You and me?” I ask, hopeful that he’ll agree. He doesn’t have to let me outside, but it’s suffocating to stay underground. “Can Rylan go outside?”

Eric stares at me down his nose.

“Yes, Rylan can go outside, but he’s not here for the same reason you are.” Eric stops, and his head tilts. “If I take you on a walk, will you go back inside? How do I know you won’t run off into the woods?”

“I thought you weren’t worried about that,” I point out.

“I’m not.” He scoffs. “You wouldn’t get far, but I have no interest in chasing you.”

“Where would I go? Back to Amity? Maybe swing by Erudite on my walk home? I don’t even know where I am.” I watch his expression stay carefully closed, hating the way I feel ill that he might not trust me. “I told you I wouldn’t run. I don’t have any reason to.”

“You don’t,” he agrees.

I wait while he looks over my head, and something in him softens just enough that I know he’s going to say yes. I see it in the way his mouth isn’t turned downwards, there’s no tension to him, and his body is primed towards mine. His eyes do narrow until he’s squinting, but it’s at someone behind me.

“Fine. One hour, every other day. If I have time.” His hands fall away, and he steps back to point at me. “If you invite Rylan, your outside time is canceled. And Sophia can’t join you until initiation is over and no, I’m not asking Four to make an exception.”

A thrill runs through me.

Triumph isn’t quite mine, but this is a big win in my book.

“Thank you! I won’t ask Rylan.” I try to think of a reason he wouldn’t want Rylan to come along, but I don’t want anything to jeopardize an hour of freedom. “Can we go tomorrow?”

“Sure.” He shrugs and gestures for me to unbutton the coat. “We should grab you some boots, too. You’ll need a pair that fits.”

“Okay.”

Pleased at this daringly personal interaction and the agreement that he’ll take me for a walk, I reluctantly take off the jacket. I hand it to Eric and follow him while he pays for four of them. I listen as he orders one to be made in white, and when he’s given a return time to pick it up, I notice a few in black milling around near one of the rows.

They descend upon a table filled with clothes, clearly angled toward the Dauntless faction.

At the very end is Jake.

I almost don’t recognize him. His hair has been cut so short it’s nearly gone, and he’s broader than I remember. The politeness he normally exudes is still there, but he’s far more confident than he was in Amity. He’s with a girl from his class, and the two of them rifle through a pile of black pants, laughing as they show each other what they’ve picked out.

He looks wild as he holds up a pair for her, and his pleased smile is happier than I’ve ever seen him. He nudges her with his arm, then leans in to rest his head atop hers when she elbows him back.

He’s everything anyone would hope to marry in Amity: handsome, strong, and kind.

In Dauntless, he’s the same, only braver.

“He’s not ranked first. He’s not even second. He’s fourth. Nowhere near as good as Sophia claimed. I’d say he’s passable at best.” Eric interrupts my staring with his dry commentary. “If anything, he should be lower. He outweighs the people he’s fought against, and he scored shitty when it came to Four’s target practice.”

Eric’s hand finds my elbow, and he tugs me towards him as though Jake will run over here the second he sees me.

He won’t.

We were friends in Amity, but much like everyone else, he knew me because of my father.

“With a little effort, you could have outranked him,” Eric snickers, alive now that he gets the chance to mock Four’s class. “That would have been infesting to watch.”

“He looks different,” I tell Eric. “He had long hair in Amity.”

“It happens. Wait until Sophia pierces something you never thought possible,” Eric says. I look back and up, and he smiles tightly. “It’s the first time they’ve been away from everything they know. He’ll probably look different the next time you see him.”

“Did you do anything crazy?” I blink when Jake hands the woman working the table a card, and I realize he knows how to pay. “Did you cut your hair off?”

“No, it was already short when I got here.”

He must be done with our conversation because he guides me toward another aisle. Jake falls out of sight, and I’m surrounded by a wall of statues, artwork, oversized rugs, and carpets. I examine a few, pretending I have somewhere to decorate. When I look back, Eric has stepped away to speak to someone. He doesn’t appear to be in any hurry, so I head to the end of the aisle, just far enough that I can still see him, and stop to look at a fountain.

A wave of nerves runs through me.

For the first time in months, I am on my own.

The feeling is oddly intoxicating. I breathe in the fresh air, glancing around like I’ve been here before, and wander just a little further. Around me, people swirl as they weave through the displays. I pass by a booth selling bracelets and another selling earrings. I stop to look at some flowers, freshly cut but presumably the last that Amity will grow, and continue toward a farmer selling produce. He’s not anyone I know, so I keep going, sneaking a peak at the crates of carrots and potatoes he’s selling.

I stop when I reach a display of fountains. I examine two frogs spitting water at each other, and when I step back, the man who wiped the blood off my face is next to me. He towers over me like before; dressed in gray, he smells like desperation and sweat.

“Hey, Everly. Long time no see.”

“What are you doing here?” I stare in horror at the sight of him, and it worsens when I realize he was presumably watching me for some time. “Go away.”

“I’m looking at what’s for sale,” he answers with a shrug. “They always have new things to look at.” He squints at me, then smiles. “Every month, in fact.”

“I have to go.” I shake my head, the panic choking my throat. “Leave me alone.”

“I’m glad I found you. I didn’t expect you to see you here,” he snickers, revealing a mouthful of cracked, sharp teeth. “I thought Eric would be with you. He paid a lot for you. I bet he’d pay even more to get you back.”

My blood turns ice cold.

“Shannon had a few others ask about you, you know.” He continues, one hand caressing the head of a duck statue. “There was a lot of interest in when you’d be back.”

“No.” I step back, bumping into something heavy. The blood leaves my hands, and it’s impossible to swallow. “I'm not going back.”

“Relax, it won’t be any worse this time around,” he holds his palms up, and my heart feels like it might explode. “You look good. Shannon said you looked the healthiest out of any of the girls we’ve sold. You’ll fetch a high price again.”

He moves closer, and my body freezes. At this moment, I am terrified. The tracker is out of my neck, so even if Eric had access to it, it wouldn’t matter. There isn’t anyone in this section, and if I yell for help, Eric won’t hear me. The man selling the fountains is nowhere to be found; out of the corner of my eye, I see him busy with a customer, and even worse, there is no one nearby.

“Does Eric know where you are?” The guy smiles when he looks around. “I’m surprised he let you out of his sight.”

“I said leave me alone.” I move back further, keeping my stare on him. The rows behind him blur, and the noise grows so loud I can’t think straight. “Don’t come any closer. I’ll …I’ll –”

“You’ll what?” He looks like he wants to laugh. “Run? I doubt you’ll get very far. None of you ever do.”

I take off.

I’m faster than he thinks, and though my knowledge of the area is nothing, I make it to the next row in seconds. I sprint through the crowd, trying to stay ahead of him. The rows become a blur when he yells my name, demanding I stop. If he can grab me, I’m done for. He’ll take me with him, and Eric won’t have any clue where I am.

The idea of returning to Shannon is overwhelmingly horrific. I run faster, cutting in and out of a group of people, until I crash right into the side of someone. I stumble as a man in a blue jacket takes hold of my arm to steady me. He looks down in annoyance, and his black glasses slip when he startles. He holds on tighter, yanking me back, ready to lecture me, but the look on my face makes him pause.

“Are you alright? Why are you running?” Clinical as ever, he examines me with a surprised look on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Let me go! I have to find Eric!” I wrench my arm free, and the man’s mouth falls open.

“Eric?” He repeats. His eyes widen, and he turns to the woman beside him. She’s just as tall and equally as polished. “Camille, have you –”

“There he is!” I leave the man’s side, nearly choking with relief when Eric rounds the corner.

His livid expression is appropriate. It lands on me, and it only lessens when I’m too panicked to be afraid of how mad he’ll be that I walked away. It was a stupid move, but I can’t change that now.

I run toward him like my life depends on it.

“Eric!”

I make it to him as the man catches up to me. I grab onto Eric with everything I have, and he jerks me into him so hard the wind is knocked out of me. His hands grasp the back of my head, and he forcefully turns and pushes me at Harrison. Harrison engulfs me with the same death grip before shoving me to the side of him. His hand stays on my arm, half hugging me as I struggle to breathe.

“You’re alright. You’re good. I’ve got you. Eric will handle him,” Harrison promises. “Take a deep breath.”

I can’t.

There’s a lethargic hum in my veins like the adrenaline is hardening to stone. I close my eyes, then open them to Eric, knocking the man back.

“Care to tell me what you’re doing?” Eric demands, shoving him again when the guy tries to push him back. “Why is she running from you?”

“She was lost. I was helping her.” The guy’s answer is quick but not quick enough. “Besides, you let her get out of sight. She could have walked off with someone else. Her tracker doesn’t. She –”

He stops speaking when Eric slams him to the ground. I catch sight of Eric kicking him in the side as hard as he can. The sound of bone cracking is hard to miss, so Eric does it again.

It’s louder the third time and even louder the fourth.

“Bullshit.” He slams his boot into the guy’s side again, ignoring the roar of pain and the man begging for him to stop. “Now tell me, who else is here?”

“No… one….” The guy grunts. He tries to cover his side with his arms, but it’s useless “Swear.”

“Who else is here?” Eric repeats slowly. He kneels down, then unholsters a gun I didn’t even know he had on him. “Is Shannon here?”

“Yes. By the exit.” He gasps. “We saw you walk in. She told me if Everly was alone to take her.”

“Why?” Eric’s question is dangerously patient. “Why does she want her back?”

“She got…the highest points…” his words are choppy. Eric rises to his feet, and a small crowd has formed around them. “She can use her again.”

“Close the exits.” Eric commands the soldiers emerging around him. Dauntless swarms the area with precision, and his orders are second nature to them. “If you see Shannon, detain her. Close the roads in every direction.”

“They’re on it. I called it in as soon as I saw her running.” Harrison answers, his grip still on me. “We’ll take him in and make him talk. I think you might have just found your answer.”

I swallow when the man rolls over. Bloodied and green-looking, he winces but eventually sits up. He knows better than to try and run. He’s handcuffed and hauled to his feet before he can protest, and his groan that a bone in his chest is broken is ignored.

Eric turns to face me.

His expression becomes unreadable as the soldiers surround us, and I realize I am crying.

“Did he hurt you?”

Eric’s voice is dangerously low. I sit on his bed, dressed in something soft and pink, and not his shirt. The nightgown is ruffly but not revealing. A size that isn’t mine, and too long for anyone to find seductive.

I’d grabbed it in a blur and threw it on after taking a shower.

“Everly?” Eric inches closer, rubbing his eyes with his hands before exhaling sharply. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, he didn’t.” I shake my head, hating how hoarse my voice sounds. “He didn’t do anything except chase me.”

My throat burns, along with my eyes.

To my horror, once I started crying, I couldn’t stop.

The crowd surrounding us at the Market was large, and it thickened when the man in blue cut through and asked if I needed medical attention. Much like Arlene, he swooped in, pressed a hand to my forehead, and attempted to wrangle me away from Harrison with the declaration that Erudite had an emergency room that could help, and we needed to leave now. He managed to get me a step away before Harrison yanked me back. Eric declined with a curt fuck no and told him to get lost. The man snapped his name, countering that he was a professional, and then snippily told Eric that it was nice to see him.

Eric didn’t share his sentiments.

He told him to fuck off again and tried to drag me away from the group. The tug of war between them should have been funny, but I was too horrified to do anything but wipe my eyes and try to stop the tears. Plenty from Dauntless, including some from the initiation class, gathered around. They were panicked over what happened, but almost all looked ready to fight on my behalf. A few called out for Eric, and when he turned to glance down at me, he was furious.

Rightfully so.

I shouldn’t have left his side, shouldn’t have walked that far away, and now my chances of him trusting me to do anything were zero. He’d make good on his deal of using me as his wife, but I’d be a wife that he kept in his apartment and only let out when someone told him to.

Stuck in the middle of three people arguing that they each knew what I needed, I finally pulled away and quietly asked to go home.

I promised the doctor I was fine. The look on his face told me he didn’t believe me, and the look on Harrison’s face told me he agreed. The look on Eric’s face stayed malicious; the man from the auction had been taken away, but Shannon was nowhere to be found. Eric wrapped his hand around my arm and, in the most acidic voice I’d ever heard, told the man in blue that he’d call him later. He practically pushed me into the truck, drove us back to Dauntless silently, and rushed me to his apartment.

I stepped inside, and like someone cast a spell on me, I stopped crying.

The tears stopped, the unbearable burn of fear stopped, and my heart rate slowed. The sight of his couch was comforting, as were my clothes on his counter, the note he’d left on the fridge reminding me to eat breakfast, and the flowers he’d purchased. Eric muttered that he’d be back, and I was not to leave under any circumstances. He took off while answering a phone call, and I went and took the longest shower of my life. When I was done, I dressed in whatever I found in the drawer.

I wasn’t hungry or tired, nor did I even care that he’d probably never let me walk around by myself again.

I was worried he’d think I was an idiot.

The freedom of the market was intoxicating. I had boldly assumed I’d be fine, and I hadn’t even considered someone from the auction would be there. That realization left me shivering until Eric returned to his bedroom with a cup in his hand. He gave it to me, then stepped away to stare at his comforter.

“His name is Darren. Harrison dosed him with truth serum. He talked to him for a while, Max listened, the other Leaders were there, and Four was called in. Sophia is being pulled from the initiation to keep her safe. She’ll be given an apartment near Jason, and she has orders not to leave the faction. The same orders apply to you. You’ll both stay inside, where we can see you on camera.” Eric announces. “I know that’s not what you want to hear, but until we find Shannon, I don’t have better news.”

“He was going to take me with him,” I say, not sure if it’s to Eric or myself. “I was so stupid. I thought I’d be okay if I went to the end of the aisle.”

I’m met with silence, then a shake of Eric’s head.

“You weren’t stupid.” His mouth flattens as he ducks his head. “You went to the end of the row, not the other side of the Market. I didn’t…I didn’t think they’d be there. It was my mistake.”

When he looks up, he is miserable.

It’s all over his face, etched deeply into his skin.

“The factionless don’t regularly go to the Market, and I wouldn’t think someone working as an accomplice to Shannon would be there.” He pauses, and his tone is rough. “I owe you…an apology.”

He licks his lips, visibly uncomfortable.

“Why?” I sit up straighter, thankful he’d given me something to drink. It’s warm, similar to the tea my mom often gave us when we couldn’t sleep. “How would you know they’d be there?”

“Because it’s my investigation. I should assume they’re everywhere.” His jaw tenses. “I put you in danger, and I won’t let it happen again.”

His eyes meet mine, and it’s odd to see him this way. He clears his throat, and when I don’t say anything, his mouth twists.

“Tell me how I can make it up to you. I asked you to trust me, and you did.” Eric steps closer, his shoulders rising. “What would you like me to do? She can’t find you here, and the faction is on high alert for anyone coming by. Even the deliveries won’t be let in past the gates.”

“What do you mean, what I do want you to do?” I watch him sit down on the bed, so close that his leg touches my knee.

“Tell me and I’ll do it. You want Sophia to live here? She can. You want your own room? A million points? A closet full of clothes?” He offers things that, to someone else, would be an easy yes.

He’s offering what he has –something he thinks is important to me, and something that would be important to others.

Neither option is right.

“Shoes? A restaurant of your own? You want to hang out with Rachel?”

I stare at the way his head falls forward like the defeat is stepping on his neck.

“You can have anything except going outside.” He continues, staring at his hands. “The woods are off limits, and so are the trucks. You’ll stay inside until I can fix this.”

The air in the room is silent as he waits for my answer. It’s jittery, like the tension is new to him.

“Everly?”

“I want to be warm.” The words spill past my lips before I can think of something better.

I should ask to learn to drive.

To fight.

To defend myself.

Maybe for a gun or some weapon that I can hide, or maybe an apartment to myself.

Or to let Sophia live nearby.

Instead, I ask for what I really want, even if I had no clue I wanted it.

“What?” Eric asks, confusion wrinkling his brow. “What do you mean, warm?”

“I’m really cold.” I half-whisper, hoping he doesn’t think I’m losing my mind. “It’s really cold in here. Rylan did something to your thermostat. But if I could sleep closer to you, I’d feel better.”

“You want to sleep closer to me? Why?” Eric asks, looking lost. “I don’t think that’s… that’s really what you want?”

“Yes.”

He’s offering me the world at my fingertips; I should take advantage of the situation and ask for something better. A place of my own, an apartment next door, or the ability to spend his points on things I want without feeling bad.

But none of that feels right. Eric’s guilt over the man nearly catching me is paramount. There’s some relief in knowing he’s not mad at me, but it’s canceled out by how visibly uneasy he is.

“Okay,” he nods, his mouth twisting to hide what he really wants to say. “If that’s what you want.”

“And I want more ice cream,” I add, unable to stop myself. “And um, something to read. Since I know you won’t let me outside now.”

He inhales slowly like he’s trying not to lose it.

His blond hair is wrecked from his tantrum over what happened, and his lips are dry. He looks like he could lie down and sleep for days. When he meets my stare, it’s like he’s been found guilty all over again. It’s blank, stoic yet tinged with unease.

“You aren’t going outside. There’s no reason. Not anymore.” He rises from the bed, and his shoulders pull towards his ears. “I’ll be back.”

“Okay.”

I stay still as he leaves his bedroom.

The mechanical whirl of air conditioning is noticeable until it’s not. The noise stops, and though the room doesn’t grow warm, I know he’s turned the temperature up. A door opens in the hallway, followed by the muffled sounds of him searching for something. I hear him slam the door, and when he returns, his arms are full of blankets.

He hands them to me silently, then very quietly tells me he needs to make a call.

By midnight, I am warm.

Warmer than I have been in a month, so warm I’m almost hot.

Almost.

Beneath the extra blankets, the less freezing air, and Eric being much closer than usual, it’s pleasant. I lie facing Eric, watching him try to fall asleep. His mood is less than stellar; whatever his phone call was, it left him annoyed. He returned in a huff, took a shower, and came to bed without saying much else. I guessed he was warm now that his apartment wasn’t the temperature of his freezer, and he wasn’t loving it.

When I’m confident he’s less angry than when he climbed into bed, I inch closer.

“Eric?”

“Yeah?” He turns his head to look down at me. “I thought you were asleep.”

“It’s really nice in here,” I say, hoping he’ll appreciate how appreciative I am. “Thank you.”

“Mmmhm,” his answer is nothing. “It’s like being in a terrarium.”

“Are you hot?” I scoot even closer, having lost all my brain cells in the time he was gone.

Maybe it’s the warm air, the way he’s kicked most of the sheets off him, or the way he’s currently exasperated, like he’s about to melt before he can fall asleep, but something about him is telling me to get closer.

Like he’s warmer than the bed, and I could be even warmer if I were to lie really close beside him.

“Yeah, I would say that I’m hot. I feel like I’m sweating,” he answers, his tone rich with disdain. “Maybe you should sleep in the other room.”

“There’s no bed. You said you’d order one, but it never showed up,” I remind him. “I could sleep on the couch, I guess.”

I hate the idea, especially when he shifts himself so he’s a few inches closer than he was.

“I didn’t order it. I didn’t…care to.” He mutters his confession with disgust at himself. “I thought about it, but I figured you wouldn’t sleep in it.”

“Why?” Curious over why he thought it would be a waste, I pull the covers higher, then turn to face him. “You don’t even know me. Why would you be okay with me sleeping here?”

“I know you now,” he counters, the slightest hint of aggravation weaving into his tone. “But fine. You want your own bed? I’ll order you one.”

“No, I don’t.”

Bold in my desire to stay warm, alive, and on his good side, I slide over until my head is near his chest. Not touching him, and certainly not against him, but close enough that I could. He’s so warm that I have the urge to bury myself beneath him and sleep for days, not opening my eyes until I feel better.

He’d probably let me.

At least tonight.

I shift closer, accidentally touching him, and he turns.

“Everly, what are you –"

“Goodnight.” I ignore his interruption by shutting my eyes, pulling my hands in front of me, and silently counting to ten.

The heat from his body is soothing in a way I’d never once dreamt of. Being this close to him feels illegal, like I am a criminal and he is the heist of the century. My body relaxes when he sighs; the tense muscles of my neck soften, and my hands unclaw themselves. The ache in my chest, the one that spirals through my limbs, wanes. My head no longer throbs, and the parched feeling in my lungs vanishes when I breathe in.

He smells familiar now.

Rich, like brand new, hard cover books that my mother pressed into the bookshelves we weren’t allowed to touch.

Smokey, like the fires I sat in front of, watching my brother leave with his friend while I stayed behind to watch my sisters.

Warm, like the dark drink he occasionally had with dinner, sipping it while he watched me with an indecipherable look in his stare.

He smells like Eric. Dangerous because he owns me, and there is nothing I can do about it, even if I screamed the truth from the rooftops. He smells like safety because I know he won’t hurt me, and he’s angry at himself for letting me out of his sight. He smells like a different kind of desperation when he turns further onto his side, and his chest touches the top of my head. He moves his arm over me until his hand touches the back of my head, and his sigh is quietly relieved.

It's exhaustion, complicated by the way he gives in to what I’ve asked.

He’s careful not to engulf me, but he doesn’t move away past letting his arm rest over me.

Eventually, placated by my request to be warm, Eric falls asleep, too.

The next few nights are the same.

Eric climbs into bed with a look of reluctance on his face –but it’s not at sleeping beside me.

It’s because he secretly doesn’t mind the arrangement.

At least, that’s what I tell myself.

He pulls the covers over the both of us; his sigh is annoyed at the additional blanket, and I swear he’s turned the air back up a few degrees. I don’t care. I move closer to him until my head is almost on his pillow, and he lies down with a huff.

“Are you warm enough yet?” He asks, his voice gruff as he settles onto his back. “How did you stay warm in Amity?”

“I had a fireplace in my room,” I yawn, closing my eyes when he squints at me. I open them to an unimpressed stare, but he eventually looks curious. “I would light it at night, and eventually, I was warm enough to fall asleep.”

“How unpleasant,” Eric mutters. “I’m shocked the house didn’t burn down.”

“It was nice. I would say I miss it but…” I trail off, feeling his stare scrape over me. “I um, I don’t… not anymore.”

He’s silent.

Eric shifts. His leg hits mine, and he turns on his side, huffing with annoyance when the sheets tangle.

“Good.” Eric snaps. “They’re not doing so well, anyway.”

“Why not?”

I try to imagine Amity, but it’s oddly hard. It’s like trying to remember the last few seconds of a dream that you liked. Desperate to hold onto the images, the harder you try, the faster they slip away. I can conjure up an image of my parent’s house and the general faction, but everything else is fuzzy.

Maybe I don’t want to remember it.

“They’re overworked. There was an attack a day ago. Several of the farmers were injured…” Eric pauses, and his hand moves to my hair. He pushes back the strands near my temple, leaving his hand there when I don’t move. “Johanna couldn’t stop the attack with her words and had to ask us for help. She wasn’t happy with that.”

“I bet,” I murmur, sleep heavy behind my eyes, thanks to his movements.

Eric’s fingers skim slower, dragging through my hair lazily. A second later, then skim down to press where the tracker was taken from my neck.

“What are you doing?” I ask, feeling his fingers press along my neck to my shoulder.

“Trying to get you to fall asleep. The sooner you stop talking,” he pauses, his tone thick with pretend annoyance. “The faster I can go to sleep.”

“I am tired,” my confession makes his fingers still. “Are you?”

“I am.”

He falls silent, but it’s a comfortable one. His bed is warm, and for once, I am warm. I feel his arm grow heavy, his fingers slipping just enough that I know he’s drifting off, and his breathing slows. I listen to him with a mild interest in staying awake for a few more minutes, but I don’t make it.

My own sleep is deep and dreamless, far better than it has been in months.

“Do you recognize her?”

Four days after the market, Harrison slaps a photo onto the table in front of me. I look up at him, and his expression is smug as he smirks at Eric.

“I didn’t ask you to bring her downstairs. I brought downstairs up to her.” He points to the picture, and Eric’s lips slant into a scowl. “Oh, knock it off. It’s been days since the attempted abduction. Your soon-to-be wife looks like she’s doing much better.”

Eric smiles.

So tightly, I’m surprised his cheeks don’t crack apart.

“I told you, I don’t want Everly involved. They have an interest in getting her back. Of course, they are going to start sending you girls she was with.” Eric patiently answers. The sounds of the Mess Hall swirl around him, growing louder as a group enters, followed by two more. “The girl in the photo –”

“That’s… Courtney.”

I squint at the picture, and my hands shake.

“Eric, that’s –”

“Sorry, wrong photo. I was helping Johanna take some pictures of the Amity initiation class. My apologies.” Harrison plucks the photo off the table and slams down another. “How about this one? Anyone? Everly?”

I glance down at the picture, but it’s impossible to speak.

“Anything?”

“Jesus Christ, Harrison, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Eric snaps. “Maybe don’t show her pictures of her friends and make her think they’ve been kidnapped.”

“I’m trying to help you,” Harrison huffs. “Three girls were found last night, all dead, all missing various limbs. You’re lucky Jeremy only threw up once, and he managed to make it away from the crime scene in time. I found the eyeballs nearly a mile away. I’m showing Everly the girl we found this morning.”

“Is she alive?” I gingerly touch the photo, and when I look over at Eric, he blanches. “What?”

“She’s alive. She’s downstairs with Max.” Eric answers, careful not to look at me. “The first question she asked was if you were alright. She was with you the night I…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence.

Since falling asleep close to him, in a dreamy, warm wonderland of blankets and Eric, he’d been significantly less open about his work. The investigation. Why I was in Dauntless, or who exactly I was to him.

He continued to let me sleep close, and he never once pushed me away. Instead, he let me sleep against him, with my hands resting against his chest and his hand on the back of my head. For the second time, he threads his fingers through, twisting my hair around like he’d never felt anything like it before. Last night, he lazily dragged his fingers near my temples, mumbling that he thought he had a fever.

It went unspoken that he’d keep me warm, but he was quickly crumbling under the impending threat of heat stroke.

I didn’t care.

Sleeping against him was intoxicating. I imagined it was what taking large amounts of peace serum felt like. I was so woozily content that I barely felt him nudge his leg over mine and so blissfully asleep that I didn’t notice that he wouldn’t let go until morning. He was like finding the warmest shelter in a snowstorm or the last bite of desert, eaten before my brother could pull it out of my hands.

He was also very reluctant to admit that he must have been sleeping better. The dark circles under his eyes lessened, and he was less annoyed when his alarm went off.

“The night we met.”

“Right. The night you two met. Am I missing something here? Are you not in charge of this investigation, Coulter? Did you not ask for my assistance, and I quote, in order to help you prove that you are as trustworthy as Four?”

“No, I did not ask you that,” Eric looks at him with disgust. “I wanted help with the investigation, not shaping my reputation into our least revered member.”

“I think that honor goes to you. If I’m being polite, I vividly recall your descent into terror as you helped Jeanine,” Four shows up with an unimpressed grimace. He takes the seat beside me, and his stare turns less unhappy when he looks at me. “Hey.”

“Hi, Four.”

I stare at him warily, wondering why he’s here.

“Fuck off, Four.” Eric rolls his eyes. “You aren’t so innocent, either.”

“I’d say more innocent than someone who –”

“You know who isn’t innocent? The person out there, murdering the girls being sold as labor,” Harrison reminds everyone. “If you think it’s solely Shannon, I’ll gladly bring her in, but that stops your investigation.”

“What else do you need to investigate? Are you going back?” I look at Eric, reclined in his chair with his jacket unbuttoned, and I notice he looks warm. His face looks like it’s sunburnt, and he pulls at the collar of his shirt in annoyance. “Or Jason?”

“No, he’s marrying you first. You didn’t get the invitation to your own wedding?” Four’s eyes find mine, and his amusement is annoying. “You didn’t tell her?”

“My marriage is none of your business, Four. As much as I understand your desire to be involved in everything that goes on around here, this doesn’t involve you, no matter how hard you try,” Eric cooly answers before turning to me. “We’re getting married next week. I had to set a date, and I figured I’d tell you later.”

“Good to know,” I shrug, trying not to laugh at the now horrified look on Four’s face. “Will you be in attendance?”

“Yeah, yeah, you know what? I will be there to watch Eric marry the girl he bought as his wife.” Four widens his eyes, and though he’s trying hard to sound intimidating, it comes off like Zander whining for another cookie. “No one sees any problem with this? He’s just going to marry her, and she has no say in it? Shouldn’t she be doing something else?”

“What else would you like me to do with her?” Eric cocks his head to the side. “Kill her? Make her mop my floors? Let her work with you?”

“She’s eighteen,” Four retorts. “No one else finds this wrong? Has he asked her if she wants to get married?”

Eric squints his eyes at me, and his next question is thick with amusement. “Everly, do you want to get married? It’s that, or you can live with Four.”

“No, she cannot –”

“I could marry you. Can I still use your card?” Feeling lighter than I have in ages, I look up to see Eric smirking at me. “I don’t want to live with Four. No offense.”

“None taken because I don’t want you living with me, either.” Four huffs, but he has the decency to look apologetic. “And Harrison, you approve of this? We don’t even let the initiates marry until they’re eighteen.”

“She is eighteen. If she were still in Amity, she’d likely be married by now,” Harrison throws out. I look at him, and so does Eric. He raises an eyebrow like Harrison has asked him to lace his boots for him, and his head tilts. “At the very least, engaged. Had she stayed, her boyfriend might have proposed the minute she got back from the Choosing Ceremony.”

“This isn’t Amity,” Four shakes his head, then glares when someone yells his name. “And you think her marrying Eric is safe?”

“I think she’s safer with Eric than she is with Shannon. Or back at the auction. Or…in your class. You had a security breach yesterday. You’re lucky Everly or Sophia wasn’t down there.”

“You did?” I face Four, and across from me, Eric is staring me down like he’s never seen me before. “Who was it?”

“It was some guy who claimed to be from Amity. He got lost in the woods, and wound up near where we have target practice. I found him, brought him inside, and he ran,” Four answers, sounding irritated that he’s admitting it. “He wasn’t a threat, but he wasn’t supposed to be wandering around the locker rooms, either.”

“Still a threat,” Harrison shrugs. “Eric, I’m sure you agree.”

“Would you have married Landon?” Eric asks, ignoring Harrison. “If you had stayed in Amity?”

“Um…” I avert my stare because his gaze is piercing. “If I had stayed, yes. But not… not because I wanted to or was in love with him. Because someone would have told me it was the right thing to do, and his dad knew my dad, and it would have been… easier.”

“Easier,” Eric repeats. “Okay.”

His eyes stay on me, and the muscle in his cheek tenses.

“What if you had said no?” He asks, still ignoring Harrison staring at him. “Or just didn’t show up?”

“They would have found me. I mean, if I really refused, I could have stopped it. But it would have been a whole thing. Everyone would be upset, and my father’s work would be ruined.” I shrug, but the thought makes a chill run up my spine. “I would probably have a lot of people talking about me and encouraging me to make better decisions.”

“She’d also have a huge party. Oh, and she’d get a week off to spend in a cabin somewhere,” Harrison winks at me. “Are you giving her a week off? I saw you requested some time off.”

“From what?” Four asks. “Why does Eric need a week off to celebrate getting married?”

“Why do you care?” Eric snaps. “And why are you going through my paperwork?”

“If you can find someone to marry you, you’re more than welcome to take a week off.” Harrison hands me another photo, and this time, it’s of a girl I don’t know. He flips through a dozen more, stopping only on the first few. “Does she look familiar?”

“No.” I shake my head, but my gaze stays on the picture. “Wait.”

Yes.

Yes.

A horrifying yes.

It’s me.

Towards the back, hidden by others, is a photo that is different than the ones he’s showing me. It’s not a close up picture but one taken from a distance. At some point during my time in the tents, someone took my picture. I am standing in front of Eric, and my face is stained with blood. My head is tilted up at him, his down at me, and the look on my face is sheer desperation.

I start to pull it out, but Harrison rescinds the cards with a quickness I can’t beat.

“Harrison –”

“Eric, with your permission, I’d like to take over the investigation while you’re gone. Since you will be celebrating, it’s only right that someone oversee your work.” Harrison stares around the table as he puts the photos in his jacket. “Unless you’re leaving it to Jason and Rylan.”

“I’m not. You’re more than welcome to take it over. We have Shannon as our main suspect and a slew of people helping her. Peter found the bank transfers that were flagged as suspicious, and Tori is heading to Abnegation this Friday to talk to Marcus. The girl you found today was sold to him a week ago.”

“What?”

Four and I ask the same question at the same time.

“You can bring him in if you want,” Eric shrugs, flashing Four a bright smile. “You might want to sit in on that interrogation.”

“Did he hurt her?” Four leans back. “Harrison, did he – ”

“Yes.”

Their conversation ends on a low note.

Harrison steps away from the table with a knowing look on his face. Four presses his mouth into a flat line, and his knuckles turn white when his hands ball into fists. Eric looks only at me, and his eyes are lighter than I’ve seen them in a long time.

It could be the redness of his cheeks.

He eventually mutters that he’s going to see Arlene and he’ll be right back.

I’m left with Four, visibly nauseated over Harrison’s news.

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten: Mr. and Mrs. Coulter

I don’t recognize the girl.

She doesn’t look like she came from Shannon; her wavy brown hair would make anyone envious, and she’s tall enough to reach the top shelf of Eric’s cabinets. Her dress is old but clean, and she’s far more cheerful than Hannah was.

From the safety of a not-so-safe security railing, Jason and I watch her flit around Rylan, cheerfully asking a million questions despite the mural of bruises along her limbs.

“You don’t remember her, do you?” Jason’s eyes follow them around the Pit, narrowing when Rylan looks at the girl in horror. “Ohhh, he looks stressed.”

“He really does.”

It’s hard not to smile when the girl, who Harrison told us was named Marie, ran circles around Rylan. Free from the auction and saved by someone from Dauntless, she was delighted to be here. She skipped through the crowd with ease, was fearless in her desire to get closer to the ring, and kept pulling on Rylan’s arm to hurry him along. The third time she grabbed him to point at something, asking him a dozen questions in a row, his eyes widened, and he looked around like he was expecting someone to swoop in and save him.

Marie is nearly as tall as he is and just as enthused when someone announces the fight is beginning. She asks him question after question, and his forced, polite expression eventually morphs into something akin to horror. If she was affected by what happened to her, she doesn’t show it.

At least not until the two men begin fighting, and her posture hints she’s uncomfortable. Once she realizes the violence isn’t aimed at her, she resumes grinning and cheering, like she’s been here all along.

“She hasn’t stopped talking since she got here. I think Rylan might have met his match.” Jason snickers. “I honestly didn’t think anyone spoke more than he did.”

“Is she staying with him?” I ask.

The area below us swarms with members of Dauntless. They fill the free space, pushing each other as close to the ring as they can get. Bets are called out quickly; most pick the larger member fighting, while a few bravely wager points on the smaller one.

“Nah, Christina wouldn’t like that. I think she’s staying with Quinten.” Jason says. His red hair is pulled high onto his head, and his cheeks are flushed as someone calls out their bet. “Hey, is it hot in here?”

“No, but you might want to go see the nurse. Eric isn’t feeling well, either.” I inform him. “In fact, you look like he did. He was fine during lunch, then suddenly he was bright red.”

“Yeah, there’s a bug going around. Some… flu or something.” He answers with a hint of worry. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

Despite sleeping beside Eric, I don’t think I’m catching whatever he has. I’m assuming it’s a mild cold; he left lunch looking more annoyed that he had to go to the infirmary than that he didn’t feel well, and his irritation was likely due to a lack of time. We both knew he’d be gone for a bit, which meant I stuck with Jason while he worked.

“I don’t think I’ve caught it.” I step back as a wave of initiates enters the Pit. The space feels even smaller when Lauren’s class shows up, and the two mix together as they are instructed to watch the members fight. “Hey, is that…”

“There’s Sophia. She looks good. And oh, there’s Jake. Eric told me to keep an eye on him.” Jason looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “He mentioned you know him from Amity.”

“I do, but not the way Eric thinks.” I answer, smiling when Jason snickers.

I have the faintest, most amused idea that Eric doesn’t like Jake because I know him. My mention of Jake piqued his interest enough to look him up, which probably isn’t to Jake’s benefit. Eric had been invested in where he ranked, and his dismissal of him felt personal on my behalf.

I should tell him that Jake had never done anything to wrong me.

We existed in Amity as members of the same faction and nothing more.

Which Eric should know.

And not care about in the slightest.

“He doesn’t like him. He said he’s too cocky,” Jason confesses, looking down at me with a guilty grin. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t tell you that. I thought it was odd Eric brought it up.”

“What else did he say?” I grin back, hoping he’ll spill Eric’s inner thoughts on a boy who had absolutely nothing to do with him. “I know he looked him up.”

“To be fair…” Jason pauses, keeping one eye on the ring as the smaller guy lands a blow to his opponent. “Eric is watching the initiation on your behalf. In order to make sure Sophia is fine, he’s been watching the rankings. Probably a bit more than he needs to, but still…nothing he wouldn’t normally look at.”

“And?” I lean over the railing as Sophia and Jake point to the men fighting. I wish I could hear what she’s telling him, but I can’t. He grins, then cheers for the one as he hits the other man in the jaw. “Go on.”

“He had a lot of interest in his background. How he knows your family, what his family does there. He’s been down to the class a few times to speak to him. Or to put the fear of himself in Jake.”

“I’m sure.” I downplay my interest in hopes that Jason will keep talking, but luck is not on my side.

We are joined by Harrison, who very slickly announces I am to head home and Jason is to follow him to the gates.

“Everly, do you need me to walk you back?” Jason asks.

“No, I’m alright. But thank you. Are you sure I can’t stay and watch the fight?” I look at Harrison, who is watching the crowd. “I won’t go anywhere else.”

“I think that’s fine. What about you?” Jason glances over at Harrison, who hesitates before he nods.

“So long as you don’t go anywhere else and don’t offer to fight,” he smiles, but he’s distracted. “Stay up here, too. I don’t need an earful from Eric about how I let you loose with the initiation class.”

“I will.”

I almost laugh at how ridiculous the situation is.

I’ve been in Dauntless for some time now. I haven’t tried to run, I haven’t done anything stupid, and I haven’t even hinted that I thought I could leave without Eric finding me. I’d like to think there’s some trust between us, but I understand Eric’s heightened security these days.

I stay by the railing as Jason and Harrison leave, and when I glance down over the faction, a few look up at me. They elbow a friend, pointing up at the balcony, and their eyes widen. They whisper something, but for once, it’s not a giggled joke that Eric’s wife is here or that I have been kidnapped and sold to Eric for all his points.

It’s in awe.

Sunlight pours over the rooftop, bathing us in warmth.

We came up here after Eric returned from the infirmary. It was obvious he wasn’t feeling great, nor did he look any better after he flatly told me there was somewhere he’d like to show me. I half expected him to take me to the basement or perhaps another level of Dauntless where no one would find me, but he took a route I had never been before. Up several flights of stairs, a quick elevator ride, and around a corner before swiping his badge and leading me onto the rooftop.

The area was large, spanning what looked like half of Dauntless, and decorated with places to sit. There were couches and chairs shoved together, in front of a rooftop bar serving drinks and snacks, and metal bins for late night fires. Some of the seats were inside an open air section, but the majority of the roof was covered in rows of worn out lounge chairs, with members enjoying the sun.

It was surprisingly crowded; people look like they’ve been out here for hours, and almost every seat is taken.

Apparently, I’m not the only one in Dauntless in need of fresh air.

“This is really nice,” I announce, stretching my legs out in front of me. The last few clouds have thinned, and the blue of the sky is slowly turning darker. “Don’t you think?”

“No.”

Eric’s answer makes me smile even though he can’t see me. When I glance over my shoulder, his eyes are shut, and his skin is pale, but his cheeks appear red.

Arlene had sent him home with something for his fever, a bottle of water, and told him to come back if he still felt bad in a few days. He probably should have gone straight home, but instead, he brought me here.

“We can go inside if you’re hot,” I offer, knowing he hates this more than quite possibly anything. He has to be warm, but he’s ditched his jacket, and the t-shirt he has on is thin. “Eric?”

“I promised you could go outside, and then I said you couldn’t, but Rylan reminded me that we have this place. So…. enjoy your outside.” Eric gruffly responds. “All I ask is that you not come here without me. There’s a way outside the compound from up here.”

“Where?”

I sit up, scanning the rooftop for an exit. There isn’t one I can see, but the area wraps around to another section, then even further to where a huge basin is surrounded by members filling it with water.

“Do you really think I’ll tell you?” Eric retorts. “Stop looking for it. You said yourself that you can’t go back to Amity, so you certainly don’t need to be wandering out of Dauntless and into the woods.”

He opens one eye, then shuts it.

“Are you sleeping better?”

His question is carried away by a breeze. I settle back against the chair, taking full advantage of his guilt, because I want to stay close to him. In the most selfish way possible, thanks to the most traumatic experience of my life, I give in to the need to feel safe.

“I have been sleeping better. How about you?” I ask, idly reaching for his wrist when his watch beeps.

The screen lights up with a message from Harrison, and the texts runs across in a banner. Dauntless has found the spot in Amity they were looking for, and their plan will continue as agreed upon. He sends coordinates, a picture of what looks like a fox, and a question asking how I am.

“Oh, it was great. I woke up drenched in sweat and my head hurts,” his answer is full of disdain. “I know you slept better because you barely moved.”

I pull his wrist up to squint at the watch, pressing my luck when I touch the message.

“What are you doing?” Eric tries to pull his arm away, but its halfhearted at best. “You wanna talk to Harrison that badly?”

“Why is he in Amity?” I try to wrap my fingers around Eric’s wrist to hold it in place, but I lose my grip when he wrenches his arm free. “Eric?”

I twist around to look at him, even redder now, and his lips rest in a scowl.

“He’s looking for a spleen.”

“What?” I blink.

“One of the girls…there’s another one here today, and… I don’t know, she told him they’d taken her spleen as punishment and threw it somewhere in Amity. So, he’s trying to find it. Not… to do anything with, just as evidence.” Eric grimaces, but his eyes open fully. “I have no clue if they’re telling the truth or not. He’s also there to secure a base.”

“Oh.”

“That’s why he’s in Amity.” Eric looks down at me, his brow furrowing but the guarded stare lessening, and he reaches toward me. He moves my hair out of my eyes, leaving his hand alongside my temple.

The action is startling; I assume he’s slightly delirious from the fever and doesn’t care that people can see him.

“He also went to put in an order for flowers. For the wedding.”

“Right.” My stomach twists at the thought of marrying Eric, knowing this has gone on longer than he planned. “When will it be?”

“Soon.” Eric pulls his hand away, and his skin becomes even paler. “Are you enjoying it out here?”

“Are you?” I stare at him, the black blocks trailing down his throat, the way his hair is short and neat, and his cheeks hold the faint shadow of stubble. The way his lips are full, his eyelashes are long, and the way his eyes screw shut when he shakes his head no.

“What do you think?” He shrugs. “It’s hot and humid and yet you appear to be thriving.”

“I like it,” I tell him, watching his eyebrows raise while he remains silent. “I think we should sit out here every day.”

“I’m sure you do,” he murmurs.

He tries to get comfortable on the seat, ignoring the howl of someone shrieking his name in the distance, and someone’s gasp that they have never seen him up here.

They say my name too, and I’m surprised.

I wasn’t sure anyone actually knew it.

“It’s really big. You could work up here if you wanted to.” I tell him, and this time, his eyes open wide. “Can you bring your tablet up here?”

He stares me down with a vengeance and shakes his head no. “I’ll pass, but points for bravely making such a suggestion.”

I try not to laugh.

Sleeping by him has made him slightly more human to me. The pain of knowing he doesn’t really care who I am is almost gone. The way he acted after the Market hints that he might care more than he lets on, and at the very least, he was bothered enough to offer me whatever I wanted. Even now, while he’s clearly not feeling well, nor does he like the heat, he’s brought me outside.

I smile when he shakes his head again, sitting up as someone yells for him to come join them.

“We should go. I need something for my headache,” he leans in, sighing when his watch beeps again. “We can stop and grab dinner on the walk home.”

“Thank you for this.” I don’t move, and neither does he. “I’d like to come back tomorrow.”

“If I have time, we will.”

His promise is mechanical. Something in him shifts when a soldier arrives, shoving a paper at Eric. He insists it’s urgent, and Eric’s signature is needed. I watch the change happen in real-time as his work returns; he stiffens, untangling himself from me and rising from the lounge chair. He takes the papers with a curt question of who sent them, then glances back at me with a look of frustration.

The person suggests I see myself home while Eric goes with him.

I slide off the lounger, fully ready to spend the evening alone.

“I’ll walk her back and meet up with you. You can start with without me,” Eric pushes the papers back to the soldier. “Call in Jeremy.”

“But, Sir!”

Eric doesn’t answer him.

He turns to make sure I am standing, then extends his hand for me to join him. He moves it to my back when the soldier leaves with a look of defeat, and without saying anything, coaxes me toward the exit.

He goes into the stairwell first, and when he looks over his shoulder, our eyes meet.

There isn’t a single person in Amity like Eric, and the thought of not knowing him is suddenly a little too real for my own liking.

Hours later, I eat dinner at the table while Eric reads something on his phone.

There is some normalcy in sitting next to him, especially when he slid me a plate and reminded me that there was salad, too. He sat down with a weary look on his face, rubbed his eyes, and watched me with an unreadable look. He’d returned from his errand after less than an hour. He looked exhausted, and his irritation was muttered that what the soldier asked could have been handled by anyone else.

His phone went off not much later, and the messages came one after the other, written in all caps.

Harrison had found not only a base he wanted to take over but a small child wandering around by itself, a girl who claimed to have psychic powers and for ten points would tell him his future, but a spleen.

Well, some sort of organ.

He wasn’t sure if it was human or animal, and he very cheerfully asked if Eric wanted to see it.

Eric’s no, typed back with a weary exhale, was so exhausted I felt it in my bones.

A letter arrives for me, delivered by a soldier who is so curious she almost knocks me out of the way in her attempt to get into Eric’s apartment.

“This came for you. I’m supposed to deliver it.” Willowy and bright-eyed, she holds the envelope in her hands, not quite ready to hand it over to me. “Eric okayed it.”

“Thank you.”

My answer is lost in her perusal of Eric’s apartment. Her eyes greedily sweep over whatever she can see, desperate to note something personal. I know exactly what she’s looking for –proof that he is human and that our relationship will be visible somewhere in his living room.

It’s not.

Behind me, his couch is pristine, aside from my lone coffee cup, and his kitchen is spotless. There is no paperwork anywhere, nothing scandalous on his counters or revealing on his kitchen table. The only proof I live here is in his bedroom, and it’s not like she can march in there and fling the closet open.

“Is he here?” She asks, her uniform crinkling as she looks over me again.

“Didn’t he send you here?” I pluck the envelope from her hands, and her eyes widen. “If he did, you’d know he’s at work.”

“Harrison actually sent me. He told me Eric said to bring this to you.” She backpedals, her gaze firmly planted behind me like Eric will wander out from the hallway. “Do you need anything else?”

“No.” I answer pointedly, my hands growing hot with anger the longer she stands there. Her survey of the apartment is annoying, especially when she doesn’t appear to be leaving. “Thank you. Have a nice day.”

“Sure. Hey, if you –”

I close the door while she’s still speaking. It slams shut, and her protest is lost as the lock clicks. I stare at the envelope in my hands, and a sudden burst of fear runs down my spine.

It’s a plain envelope. A stark white, with my name written in elegant lettering on the front.

I open it carefully. Inside is a single piece of paper, written in the same lettering.

Be careful.

He’s a monster. No amount of repentance will make him better, no matter what he tells you. Ask him how he knows your father. Ask him why he chose you. Ask him why, out of anyone he could have purchased, he chose a girl from Amity who could offer him absolutely nothing of value.

If you know what’s good for you, you’ll run the second you find a way out.

Good luck.

I stare at the words for a long time. They eventually run together, a blur of black ink that turns illegible, before carefully folding the paper back into the envelope.

I set it on Eric’s counter, and it takes everything in me not to throw it away.

The stems poke my scalp, and the thorns tangle in my hair.

“Ow!”

“Sorry,” Amy mutters, trying to adjust the flowers so they aren’t stabbing me. “I’ve never done this before. Maybe we should have gotten someone from the flower shop to help.”

“I doubt Eric would let them in his apartment,” I shake my head, meeting her eyes in the mirror. “Maybe we can trim them. They’re pretty long.”

“Let me try that. We have time.” Amy removes the flower with a glare. “This is harder than I thought it would be.”

I smile at her frustration because I share it.

A week has passed since it felt like my world splintered apart.

It wasn’t just the note that had been delivered. Eric read it the second he came home, pale, with red cheeks and glassy eyes, and very quietly told me it was something from the auction who had sent it. With what little energy he had left, he looked right at me, his mouth fighting a scowl, and reminded me he’d been very clear with who he was.

“I don’t know your father past his name. I told you why I picked you, and…I haven’t done anything since being back. If I was the one responsible for the auctions, you wouldn’t be part of the investigation. The only reason I’ve kept you inside is because of the murders. Everly, I swear on my life…I’m not hiding anything from you.”

His words felt honest to me: his eyes held no anger, only desperation that I believe him.

I chalked it up to his fever and the way he looked ready to fall asleep standing up.

He was sicker than he let on. The day after he took us to the roof, Arlene called to tell him he had the flu. He went to shower, fell asleep not much later, and for the next three days, didn’t do much else.

On a particularly feverish night, he told me I should sleep elsewhere so I didn’t get sick. My heart clenched painfully at the thought, not because I didn’t have anywhere else to go but because I didn’t think I could sleep without him. He’d become a security blanket that kept me from being awake all night, and now that I could be close to him, there was no way I’d fall asleep in a guest room.

Not to mention, he’d never ordered a bed.

So, I refused.

I went downstairs to pick up something Arlene called in for him. While he slept, I put an oil from Erudite that smelled like it came from Amity on his temples and chest. I skimmed the tattoo on his throat, and when his breathing slowed, I touched his hair. I slid my fingers through the longest part, hoping he’d stay asleep. The faster he recovered, the faster he could stop the auction and put a halt to Shannon’s sales.

It also meant the faster we’d be married.

In my haste to help him feel better, I’d completely forgotten that he’d mentioned a wedding, yet failed to tell me it was happening the following week.

It felt ridiculous to think of him with a wife; Eric seemed to want for nothing, and that included someone he’d be legally tied to. I suppose it made no real difference in his world. He’d continue the same work schedule, I’d still live here, and the only real permanence it would bring is that I’d be recorded as his spouse. If Shannon were able to find me, or I did end up apart from Eric, odds are someone would know who I was, or someone would be looking for me.

The thought was both reassuring and terrifying.

It was likely he’d expect me to act as his wife, which extended into his bedroom.

So, while he slept, I stared at him, picturing him asleep after our wedding. I looked at how strong he was, how the muscles in his back tensed when he shifted, and how much larger his hands were. How his chest rose and fell, how his skin was warm beneath my hands, and how sharp the cut of his bicep was. How much taller he was, but also how pale he’d become. The last hint of his tan was gone, and his skin now matched mine.

I imagined what it would feel like to lie beneath him and how inexperienced I’d be compared to him. There were a few years between us, and in that span of time, Eric had lived several lives. My time in Amity prepared me for not quite this situation, but the general acceptance that my place in anyone’s life would be whatever they wanted. My naivety might be appealing, or he might end up dissatisfied and regretting his plan.

The thought lingered for days.

Three more days until he felt better.

Two more days before, he woke up while I was touching his hair, but he simply shut his eyes and went back to sleep.

Another day before, he bounced back and slickly reminded me that multiple dresses were being delivered, and I was to pick one to wear.

Behind the scenes of Dauntless, a wedding was constructed with little input from either of us. I heard bits and pieces, always second hand: Rylan was the best man, but also in charge of the food and the decor. Jason had found vows for us to repeat, and Harrison had procured rings. My dress was made by Christian, and the flowers were ordered from Amity. Eric’s father accepted his invitation, his grandfather was also coming, and his mother was not invited. My parents were also not invited, but my brother was. Courtney was coming, and so was Johanna, whose invitation was purely a ploy to have her in Dauntless while Peter went to station soldiers around the faction.

The quick yet careful plot to take over Amity was put in full motion.

The Leaders of the other factions had confirmed they’d be in attendance; Jack Kang RSVP’d almost immediately, Cara had taken a day to say yes, and Marcus Eaton had announced he was sending Andrew Prior in his place. Eric smirked when he listened to Max tell him this. He didn’t seem to care, but he was too busy to care.

His cough lingered, and so did his stare.

I had a feeling he’d finally give in to his desire for whatever was on the original papers I’d found.

Since the girl Marcus had purchased was found, others had arrived. Each one was a prick at my skin, dragged down my arms. The girls were dirty and terrified but soon realized they were safe here. Quinten took almost all of them under his wing, allowing them to stay with him and help in the bakery. I learned Hannah was making our wedding cake, and the newest girl, who had a mural of bruises over a broken arm, was helping decorate for the party because Rylan had overextended himself.

The girl’s arrival was both a good sign and a distraction.

We all knew no one was just letting the girls go free, especially not after Miranda.

It left Eric contemplative but also confident that once we were married, Shannon would up her game, slip up, and his investigation would be over. He’d be free from the constant parade of girls being found, and he’d presumably resume overseeing Dauntless the way he preferred, along with Amity.

A day later, the dresses arrived, and so did Eric’s reminder that I was to look like I came from Amity. Part of his plan was to sell the marriage as a legit, blissful union that happened, not because I was tricked by Landon but by chance. Fate would have brought me to Dauntless, not Eric, in an oversized truck, hissing that if I ran, he’d find me and drag me back here.

He left this morning after handing me a coffee, murmuring that he’d see me later. His perusal over me left me feeling like I was being auctioned all over again: he stared me up and down before leaving with a forced smile.

“Do you want the back twisted up?” Amy returns to the bathroom with a frustrated sigh. “Fuck. We don’t have as much time as I thought. Maybe five more minutes.”

“No, I’ll leave it down. I think it looks more Amity that way.” I would grimace at the word, but I understand the instructions I’d been given. “Will you help me with the side?” I ask, turning to face her. “Do you think that’ll look good?”

Amy sizes me up, pretending to be critical of my appearance. Her eyes narrow, and she struggles not to smile.

“If I’m being honest, you look like a lamb being sent to slaughter.” She remarks. “But a pretty lamb.”

“Thanks.” I laugh at the look on her face, and I know what she’s seeing.

A pink dress made of a fabric, both sheer and shimmery, with enough twists and floral appliques to make it look fancy. The bodice is fitted, a nod to the clothing I wore in Amity, and the skirt is full. The puff of the sleeves is enough to make it look like it came from a fairytale, though not one I’ve read.

It was youthful but revealing enough that it wasn’t something a child would wear. I had a feeling someone made it so Eric would appear more intimidating and I would look like his docile, innocent wife.

I would be mad, but the dress was startlingly beautiful once I put it on.

My hair was left down, but I decided to pin back one side, with the flowers neatly arranged in a complicated pattern.

Eric’s instructions demanded that I needed to look like I left Amity on good terms; strolling down the aisle in black would be a middle finger to the Leader he was currently about to ambush with a surprise takeover, and so would changing my appearance drastically. Along with the dress, I was given a pair of pink earrings, a flower crown meant to be woven through my hair, and a bracelet.

It had my initials on it: the EC was etched into a placet with a flower design beneath it, and beneath that was today’s date. It was pink when I held up to the light, the metal shining and heavier than expected.

Everything was as far from Dauntless as it could be. My nails were painted pink, Amy had shown up with a pair of pink ballet flats, and she was given a stern reminder that I was to look like I did normally. No overly theatrical makeup, nothing crazy with my hair, no towering heels or extravagant jewelry, and no surprise piercings or tattoos. The blush was pink, the lip gloss was pink, and the bottle of perfume she brought was pink.

She worked quickly, giving me no real time to worry about what this meant, and before long, I was as ready as I could be.

She pauses now, looking as though she regrets coming here. She leans against the sink, and her stare is anywhere but on me.

“Okay, so I know no one has told you, or maybe your mom did…” Amy swallows
thickly. “But tonight, if…. he uh, Eric might… want, you know… most people after getting married… if they love each other…. okay, well, I know you don’t love him, and you probably would never pick him to marry… fuck, this is so weird. I don’t know what should happen in this situation. I guess… if you want to… if you’re in the mood or you think… Eric might… you know…”

“Are you trying to tell me he might want to have sex?” I lose the fight not to laugh when she turns red, and it’s hilarious, given the revealing dress she has on and how unafraid of Eric she’s been. “Amy…I’m not a child. I know how it works. And you can rest easy because I don’t think he wants to sleep with me. He’s been very upfront that this marriage is purely because he wants to make sure this doesn’t look like he really bought me from some lady as part of his investigation.”

“Yeah…” Her cheeks stay red, and her eyes close for a moment. “Ok, thank the Lord. Arlene recruited me to tell you. She’s convinced that Eric might want your marriage to be legit. Obviously, if you tell him no, he’ll listen. I believe him when he says he won’t hurt you.” She chops the stem off another flower, more forceful than necessary. “I just think it could be rougher than you’re thinking. If…you’re thinking about it.”

“I’m not,” I watch her try to keep her expression neutral. I get a small speck of satisfaction in how awkward she looks, but I appreciate her concern. “Have you thought about having sex with him?”

“Uh, no. He’s far from my type,” she snickers, but her face stays beet red. “Honestly, he won’t do anything you don’t want to. I don’t think he planned on marrying anyone this year, but he seems okay with it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. He looked… um, well he looked like Eric this morning.” I still as she returns to my hair, carefully adding the remaining flowers. “Are you sure he’s going to like this?”

“I think you’re underestimating him,” she grins. “He said your mom sent the flowers. I take it that’s important.”

“I didn’t know that.” I sink against the counter, crossing my arms to face her. “I know she wasn’t invited.”

“I’m sure she would have liked to come. But it’s safer this way.” Amy nods, sliding the flowers into my hair with more ease. “Harrison is going to walk you down the aisle, and you get to meet Christina.”

“Sounds great,” I nod at her, stopping when she picks up the last flower. “You’re really good at this. Are you from Amity?”

I stare at her face, her makeup far more dramatic than mine and her hair a shade of blonde so intense it hurts my eyes. Her own dress is red, though far from poufy, it’s one of the colors Amity loved. It wouldn’t be hard to picture her walking down the pathways with a basket of flowers in her hands.

“No. I was obsessed with it for a long time, though. I used to beg my mother to take me there. When I was ten, I told everyone that I was going to choose Amity.” She steps back to examine her work, and her eyes sparkle with delight. “I didn’t. I ended up with the worst crush on a guy in my math class, and he picked Dauntless. So, I did, too.”

“Are you serious?” I laugh. “That’s why you picked here?”

“Dead serious. I jumped off the train behind him, landed next to him, and thought we’d end up together after initiation. I had to fight him a week later. I accidentally kicked him in the balls, and he never spoke to me again,” she shrugs. “It didn’t play out the way I thought it would.”

“Where is he now?” I ask, leaning away from the cabinet when someone yells Harrison is here to walk us downstairs. “Do you still see him?”

“Occasionally.” Amy shakes her head and gathers up the makeup she used. She puts it in a small bag and pushes me out of the bathroom. “He works in the infirmary. I try never to go, but it’s unavoidable sometimes.”

“That sounds… interesting.”

I head through the bedroom down the hallway, slowing as Amy sprays something on me. She picks up my hair and sprays my neck, then my wrists, while Harrison sneezes.

“What is that? Ant Repellant?”

“Funny. I got it at the market.” She mock glares at him. “It’s always sold out.”

“I can see why. Amity must use it as bug spray.” He sneezes again, then shakes his head. “I hope you didn’t pay much for it.”

“Harrison…” Amy sighs. “You know, they have a men’s version. If you used it, I bet you could find a wife.”

“A wife is the last thing I need to find.” He rolls his eyes, then waves me over to him. “Come on. If we leave now, we’ll have a few minutes before it starts.”

“Where is Eric?” I glance around the apartment, surprised that his absence feels tangible. “Did he come back?”

“He’s waiting for you downstairs.”

Harrison’s smile is patient until Amy mumbles that she’s left her phone somewhere. She leaves to find it, and I wait with Harrison, suddenly more nervous than when Landon asked me to go to lunch.

The memory is so painful that I almost move when Harrison tells me it’s time to leave.

His hand was rough, calloused after months of working in the fields.

“You trust me, right?”

Landon beamed at me, attempting to slide his fingers through mine. I’d paused near the edge of the woods, my stomach tightening as the sunlight spilled through the trees. His face tensed when I pulled back, wiggling my hand free; he’d recently lost the boyish look to him, making him appear older each day I saw him. His beard was well-kept, but full. His long hair was as dark as mine but less wavy and usually tied back. His shirt was as green as the grass, his pants were a shade of gold, and when he moved, I could smell the woodsy scent oil he’d put on himself.

His stare softened temporarily until he couldn’t stop himself from frowning.

I’d always trusted him, but today, my stomach hurt when he asked me to go on a walk with him.

I couldn’t figure out why.

My mother smiled when he showed up, nodding in a way that hinted she wasn’t listening when he talked about where he wanted to go, and insisted I take a basket of muffins with me. I hesitated then, just like I did at the woods, and the whole world tilted dizzily when she pressed it into my hands and told me she’d see me soon.

“It’s just lunch But I have something I want to ask you. I think you’ll be excited. It’s… life changing.”

His tone was off.

He was nervous.

I could tell in the way he didn’t quite look at me, and his expression became exasperated when I didn’t immediately take hold of his hand.

“Come on, Everly. It’s not far from here.” He insisted, stepping forward to grab me before I could move away from him. He took the basket, setting it down to the side with a shake of his head. “We’ll come back for these. I promise. Twenty minutes at best. It’s an easy hike.”

“Why don’t we eat by the lake?”

“No.”

He stood before me in an unusually intense manner. His skin was flushed from both a simmering anger that I wasn’t blindly listening to him and the heat. His hand was hot when it grabbed my arm, and I was hit with the thought that he was going to propose.

I was seventeen.

Not technically an adult, but not a child.

In a month, I’d be eighteen, and if I said yes, because why wouldn’t I say yes, we’d marry before the faction. In a sunny field, surrounded by our families. By fireflies, the hazy scent of fall in the air, and flowers. I’d wear something my mother made, and he’d dress in whatever he deemed formal enough. I’d hold onto him as I promised my life to Landon, and my sisters would watch, clapping when he finally kissed me as his wife. They’d cheer in delight at how happy we looked and would promise to come by and visit once I moved.

I’d be miserable.

Too young to really know what I wanted, too trapped to do anything about it.

“I found a spot I want to show you. I thought we’d go for a walk… nothing crazy.” He was convincing in that moment because I’d always trusted him. I knew better, though; something pricked at my neck, mand y stomach hurt like I might throw up. “You’ll love it. I showed your dad and he said I should bring you.”

He paused, and his eyes found mine.

They were suddenly cold, so intense that I finally took a step forward out of fear that he’d shove me into the woods and later tell my father I’d been rude.

“This way. I promise, you’ll love it.”

“Okay.”

I walked alongside him but also slightly in front because he wasn’t going to give me the chance to turn around. He wouldn’t hurt me. I knew that. He was never physically violent, and at his worst, he might sulk if I went home early or didn’t want to hang out. But Landon wouldn’t hurt me, and that’s what I told myself as I obediently walked into the woods.

Into the darkness of the forest, silent and uneasy, until we reached a clearing filled with tents.

Eric’s hand is warm.

He takes hold of mine, his stare glued to me, as he helps me up a step.

The shoes Amy gave me were a smart choice; my walk with Harrison was quick but slippery. Harrison made small talk until we reached a room with cavernous ceilings, huge arches, and glowing candles. The room was so dark I thought we were in the wrong place. It was filled with rows of people, then others standing off to the side who hadn’t found seats yet. Dark flowers were set around the aisles, carefully placed beside tall, black candles.

When we reached the back of the rows, Harrison stopped walking. Dressed in a dark suit, with his hair neatly combed and his boots shined, he turned and told me I would be fine. He crushed me against his jacket, holding onto my hair so he wouldn’t ruin it, and whispered that he was proud of me and not to worry. Eric had been warned that if he did anything I didn’t like, he’d be in trouble, and Harrison would personally discipline him.

“Remember, he has to make this look legit. If he does anything stupid, he’ll work post-duty for the next six months. Or sit in the corner. Your choice.”

“Got it.” I grinned at the idea of Eric being put in time out for misbehaving, but it lessened when my stomach turned over with nerves. “I think I’m ready.”

I grew nervous when Harrison pulled away. I held onto his arm tightly as we began our march down the aisle, and every person turned to stare.

This morning, I accepted my fate.

In my time in Dauntless, I had gone through every emotion possible. I’d struggled with what had been done to me. Landon’s plan to profit off my existence was unfathomable, but I couldn’t change it. Eric’s appearance at the auction and eventual purchase wasn’t what I thought it was, but I was now entangled in a plan that I couldn’t walk away from, even if I wanted to.

I’d grieved the loss of the life I thought I’d have and mourned the death of a family who had less than honest intentions toward their own child. I’d come to terms with the ache that permanently settled in my chest, and only a few days ago, cI ame to realize it was time to move on.

Despite what others claimed, I could find safety here. I could have life that meant something, even if it was at the hands of a man who barely knew me. Eric had promised I’d be safe with him, and there was a small, almost impossible chance that I might even be happy.

That thought got me through this morning.

It’s what moves me forward, down an aisle of black, skimming the crowd for anyone I knew.

To my right, Johanna looks nervous, while the man beside her, a friend of my father’s, looks worried. Courtney looks like she’s not sure I’m real; her eyes widen, and her jaw drops, but she tries to smile when I walk past. Cara looks rather sour as she eyes my dress. The man from Abnegation can’t bring himself to smile, and the woman, I assume is his wife, stares with wide eyes. The others are a blur. Amy and Rachel are here, looking hesitant yet relieved. I finally see Christina, not much taller than me, looking like she might die of excitement as she waits across from Rylan, and I see the girls who had been found sitting near Quinten, with Hannah watching intently. Her eyes narrow, but the anger from when I first met her is gone.

Behind her, my brother sits alone, with his hands clasped in front of him and his gaze on the floor.

“Are you alright?” Eric’s voice jars me back to Earth, his palm touching mine. “Everly?”

My eyes find his, a frozen shade of gray, warming slightly when I look up, and his jaw tenses. He’s worried for reasons I can’t imagine.

“I am.”

“Good.” His answer is a murmur as he pulls me up the final step to a platform in front of an arch of flowers.

Tiny tea lights are placed through the flowers, though most are dark. A handful are pink, peeking through the black beneath the glow of the flames.

I tilt my head as Eric looks me up and down, and his expression is impossible to read.

I try to guess if he’s planning on doing anything to make this wedding official, but my mind goes blank when the corners of his lips turn up so slightly that it’s gone in a flash.

Next to us, an officiant begins speaking.

“Thank you for joining us as we celebrate this momentous occasion.” A man dressed like he’s come from Candor beams at the crowd. “We are honored to bring two factions together, especially now, in this time of turmoil. Today, the Dauntless and Amity factions will be joined, in more ways than one.”

The officiant continues his speech, though I barely hear him.

My heart pounds so loudly that I’m afraid Eric can hear it. His stare is glued to me as he leans in close while the man rambles on about serving each other as man and wife.

“Everly…” Eric murmurs, dropping his head so only I can hear him. “I—”

He hesitates as someone whistles from the crowd. I can feel their stares on me, and I know this is quite the spectacle. I doubt many in Dauntless thought Eric would ever marry, nor am I who he would choose. Something pricks at the back of my neck when I hear my name whispered; the person tries hard to be quiet, but I hear their worry as they admit Eric is the last person to marry someone from Amity.

“Once this is over…I’ll make sure you’re happy,” Eric murmurs a bargain to me, as though I could yank my hands away and ask Johanna to drive me home. His offer comes as his eyes darken, and the space between us lessens. “I’ll make this right. You have my word.”

My heart nearly stops beating.

I stare at his hair, combed completely back instead of to the side, and his dark suit. His uniform has been replaced by a black jacket, black pants, and dress shoes. His skin is smooth and clear, he smells like something dark and expensive, and the black in his ears looks larger than it did days ago. He looks powerful. Like someone who could purchase a wife, and she’d stupidly yet understandably do whatever he asked. Like he’d do anything to find me if I went missing, and he wouldn’t merely accept such a disappearance with a shrug.

“I’ve kept my word,” he continues, ignoring the officiant speaking about how symbolic the ceremony is. “I haven’t done anything to hurt you.”

“I know,” I manage to answer him. My stomach tenses just like it did in the woods but for a different reason. He’s trying to convince me of something, but not like Landon.

He’s being honest.

“Eric…”

The officiant keeps speaking; his lecture on how Eric will stay by me in sickness and in health fades in and out. I’m dizzied, especially when Eric lessens his grip and steps back.

“I know this isn’t your choice,” Eric says, looking at me so intently that a wave of warmth courses through my veins. “But I promise –”

“The rings, please?” The officiant interrupts Eric with a grin. “Rylan, you have them, right?”

“I do!”

He emerges from the side of Eric, and I somehow missed him standing beside his friend. Rylan’s hair has been pulled atop his head, and his own suit is just as dark. He grins as he produces rings from his pocket. Eric is handed one, and Rylan waits as the officiant mentions the rings being traditional yet not often used in Dauntless.

On his cue, Eric gestures for me to give him my hand. He slides the ring onto my finger, adjusting it until it’s situated the right way, and the black stone sparkles even in the dim lighting. He lets go when Rylan slips around to hand me a black band and whispers I’m supposed to put it on Eric.

“Just so you know, this is the best moment of my life. Even better than when Four fell down the stairs in front of everyone.” Rylan returns to his place beside Eric with a grin. “Okay, I’m ready. Go ahead.”

A murmur rises from the front row. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Four looking like he’s debating jumping up and knocking Rylan backward to stop the ceremony. The girl beside him elbows him hard enough that he sits back, and his mutter of disapproval is impossible to miss.

Eric smirks.

I reach for his hand, gently pulling it toward me. The band is cold as I twist it; the black metal is just thick enough to be noticeable and surprisingly heavy. I focus on how he stays still as I slide it up his ring finger, but I don’t let go.

When I meet his stare, and his smirk is gone.

“Now, the knife.” The officiant commands. “Eric, you’ll go first, then Everly.”

I startle as Eric is handed a knife similar to the one used at the Choosing Ceremony. He holds it in his hand carefully, then reaches for mine.

My lungs flatten.

This is what everyone was talking about. This is the moment Eric sacrifices me for the greater good or maybe to further his own career. This is where the faction watches, pleased that he’s still in charge and thrilled that he’s the Eric they’ve always known.

I wait for him to slice my wrist open or stab me in the chest, but instead, he turns my hand over until my palm is face up. With surprising care, he uses the blade to trace the line left behind from when I chose Dauntless. I barely feel anything as the blood emerges in tiny dots along a once-healed scar. When he’s done, he nods at me, but his stare stays on my hand.

“Everly, you’ll do the same. This moment shows how you trust one another. During our lives, the choices we make define us. The Choosing Ceremony is the first major decision we are tasked with making. Both Eric and Everly have chosen Dauntless, and today, they honor their choices before us, as they choose one another.”

Eric hands me the knife.

His eyes stay on mine, and when I look at him, I can tell he’s uneasy about letting me cut him.

He should be.

Though I’d be risking a lot by attempting to kill him in front of his own faction, we both know why we are being married today.

Eric raises an eyebrow when I turn his hand over the same way he did mine. He’s still as I examine his skin. To my surprise, there is no mark from the day he chose Dauntless. I raise my eyes to his, and when he nods, I carefully press the tip of the knife near the middle of his palm.

I drag the knife down his hand, pressing just hard enough that blood appears. The red matches my own, weeping through the cuts. When I’m done, I hand Rylan the knife and face Eric.

My hands shake.

Both of them.

“Take hold our each other’s hands,” the officiant instructs. “Hold onto one another as you repeat after me.”

Eric takes hold of my hands, bending his head down, and when he speaks, his voice is so quiet that only I can hear what he’s saying. The words he recites are far from his own, but for a second, I believe he means them.

With this hand, I will lift your sorrows.
Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine.
With this candle, I will light your way in darkness.
With this ring, I ask you to be mine.

“Everly, you will now repeat the vows to Eric.”

I repeat them quietly, stumbling over a few as I grow warm, and something in me shifts. The anger at what Landon has done fizzles as Eric’s stare stays on mine, and it wanes when his fingers tighten. I find the very peace I’ve longed for when his palm is flush with my own, safe as the cavernous space is bathed in candlelight and relieved as Eric continuously pulls me closer. I might not know him the way his real wife should, but in this moment, I know that he will keep his promise to me.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. Eric, you may kiss your bride.”

The officiant concludes with an outdated tradition in a faction that didn’t care about tradition; Eric is given permission to make our marriage official the same way Landon would have back in Amity.

He closes the distance between us, pulling me toward him until I am fully against his chest. My dress is crushed as he moves to press me closer until his hands leave mine to take hold of my face, and he cranes my head up to look at him. Warmth presses against my cheeks, intensifying when he tilts his head. I suddenly can’t breathe, nor can I move.

“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 don’t know your name.”

“Eric.”

He blurs before me, then comes back into focus. I’m taken back to the moment I met him, desperate and terrified, as he asked if I was hurt. The moment I learned he’d placed the highest bid, and the moment I realized he was the only one who saw me as a real person and not a babysitter or a brainless idiot. He’d given me the freedom he could within the circumstances he had.

Had he not chosen me, I might not be here today.

“You did good.” Eric murmurs, resting his forehead against mine. “The hard part is over.”

His inhale is slow, and he pauses only to let his nose graze mine, stopping when I swallow. It dawns on me, a second too late, that Eric is about to kiss me in front of the Dauntless faction. My thoughts are an endless battle of imagined reactions, but it happens before I can react.

The tension is palpable as his lips touch mine –warm, soft, and careful.

My heart ceases to beat. Death comes for me in the form of a pure, unaltered joy. I shouldn’t feel an ounce of happiness right now. I should be pulling myself away and screaming that I didn’t choose to come here, and I can’t choose to leave. I should shove Eric away, reminding him that he has the upper hand in every way and that nothing about this is fair. That I am here just like the other girls, and when this is over, he will be done with me the same way the others were discarded.

But I don’t.

He is patient.

Slow.

Content as I lean into him, letting my lips press against his. He’s solid as my hands touch his chest, the fabric of his jacket slick under my fingers. I hold on tightly as he pulls away to take a breath, and then he kisses me again, this time with enough force that I almost lose my balance.

My world tilts; I’m lost in something black, smokey, the scent of whiskey and wine, and the dizzying feeling of falling off the roof, all rolled into one. My heart constricts like he’s squeezing it, and when he breaks the kiss as the roar of the crowd fills the space, the blood rushes to my head like my brain is starving.

He looks at me through hazy, half-hooded eyes, nodding slightly as he turns to face the faction as the officiant claps.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I present to you…”

I don’t hear the rest.

I don’t need to.

My lips burn.

They feel swollen and tingly, and the thought of kissing him again rams through my head like a runaway truck. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, his smirk please,d and his eyes narrowed in delight as the crowd claps, and he glances down at me.

His smirk never lessens.

Eric’s hand moves to my back, then down to my hip. He leaves it there as our names are announced. Everly Carlen becomes a ghost in both factions, and Everly Coulter is officially born as not only a member of Dauntless, but as Eric’s wife.

“You did great,” Eric murmurs, unmoving as Johanna shuts her eyes, and my brother finally looks up. “I told you, you would.”

I feel wildly triumphant as I am pressed into his side, like the game is over, and I have won.

Eric is even warmer as we sit together.

His arm is slung on the back of the chair, keeping me close to him. His jacket is unbuttoned now, and he’s loosened the top buttons of his shirt. From the front of a massive hall filled with tables, he and I watch as the faction delves into celebratory, organized chaos. Each table is full. Fires are lit throughout the room, there are numerous floral arrangements so large that there is no way my mother made them, and the candles on the floor beg for someone to knock them over.

The tables are filled with mostly those from Dauntless yet mixed with others. Christina and Rylan sit with Four and his girlfriend. Next to them, my brother sits with Jason, staring at me like he’s waiting for the chance to come talk. A table over, Eric’s father sits with a dark-haired woman, and his grandfather sits with them. They look at ease until Jack wanders by to say hello. The rest is a sea of black, and purples, a hint of red when Courtney walks by with someone I don’t recognize, and dark green when Harrison ditches his jacket and sits beside Max. The atmosphere is lively yet full of strange, frantic electricity.

I avoid my brother’s stare as Eric moves his hand to touch the back of my neck.

His fingers stay there as Cara walks up to us.

“Let me be the first to offer a congratulations to you both,” she smiles, but it’s despondent when she looks at me. “Everly, you look beautiful.”

“Thank you. You do, too.” I answer politely, squirming when Eric’s fingers curl against my neck. Cara drags her stare over to him, and I think of Jason talking about how much she liked him. “And Eric, it’s nice to see you out of uniform.”

I narrow my eyes at her.

I’m far from possessive over Eric, though I’d be lying if I said the thought of someone else sleeping in his bed didn’t bother me. I glance up at him, and his lips quirked into a wrly amused smirk.

“Thanks.”

His answer is curt and sharp but still cordial.

“So… I’ll still see you next week?” Cara tries to appear professional, but I can feel her looking at me like she’s hoping I’ll encourage him to run back to work. “To go over… our agenda. I don’t think it would be wise to let this remain unfinished.”

She’s met with silence.

Her eyes are hopeful as Eric clears his throat, shifting his body toward me.

“Will you be back at work by then?” I lean into Eric, and his fingers tense.

“Probably not. If I’m still gone…” He looks down at me with a hint of amusement. “Harrison will go in my place. If not him, then Rylan. He’s agreed to help out since this can’t wait. It would be ill-advised to hold off until I’m back.”

“Oh.” Cara deflates. She nods, clasping her hands together in front of her, and admits defeat. “I see.”

“He’s been briefed on everything. He can easily step in if need be.” Eric shrugs. “I’m sure you understand.”

“Right. Well, congrats to you both.” She forces a smile and leaves before Eric can respond.

She heads back through the crowd, taking a seat at a table full of blue.

“She seems nice,” I offer, watching her try to act like she’s not bothered by Eric’s dismissal. “What meeting do you have?”

“She is nice, isn’t she?” Eric asks mockingly. He pulls his arm away from me, then fumbles for my hand. “Does this still hurt?”

“No. Does yours?”

After walking down the aisle with my hand firmly in his, we were met by Harrison. He handed both of us a cloth to wipe the blood off our hands and my cheeks, then something to put over the cut. Whatever it was, it worked fast. The cut closed quickly, and the bleeding stopped almost immediately. It stung for a moment, but by the time we reached the hall, I felt fine.

Only the faintest mark remains, mirrored on each other’s palm.

“No, it’s good.” He answers, looking at my hand intently.

When he looks at me, it’s hard to breathe.

I’ve never really thought of him in any way other than as the man who was sent to make a purchase at a barbaric event. I followed his orders, doing whatever he asked of me so I’d stay safe, and I understood my place with him.

But right now, I’m staring at him like he’s the only person in the room, and he’s looking at me the same way.

“Everly, I think I should tell you –”

He’s cut off by a waiter, dropping off two bubbling pink drinks in fancy glasses. They are decorated with a floral garnish, sparkling when the light catches.

“These are for you. We’re about to do a toast, led by uh, Rylan. He handcrafted these, so I suggest you sip them slowly.” The waiter blinks, clutching the serving platter to his chest. “Very slowly.”

“What are they?” Eric asks, taking one like it’s about to catch fire.

“It’s hibiscus syrup, rose water, gin, lemon, grapefruit juice, sparkling soda, and… a healthy dose of Himalayan sea salt procured from Amity. The flowers are from Amity, as well as the edible glitter.” He half bows, nodding in my direction. “A tribute to your wife, Sir.”

“Oh,” Eric looks surprised, but he shrugs. “Alright. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

The waiter disappears into the crowd. Eric and I both reach for the drinks at the same time. He knocks his into mine, muttering cheers as someone makes the unfortunate decision of giving Rylan a microphone. Eric’s eyes narrow as he takes a sip, and I nearly choke on my drink when Rylan starts his speech by announcing that tonight will be the best night of my life.

“As you all know, tonight, is important for more reasons than one. We know what happens on a regular night for Eric, so imagine his wedding night. Let me set the scene for you: a quiet, secluded apartment, personally decorated by myself and Christina. A plethora of accessories, flowers, chocolates, handcuffs, and a welcome home banner for our newest Mrs. Coulter. Balloons, everywhere. Fighting for dominance, much like Everly will be tonight.”

The liquid nearly kills me when I swear it accidentally goes into my lungs.

“What?”

“What is he talking about?” Eric sits up straighter, and I try not to laugh as I sip the drink. “Did he get into my apartment?”

“It sounds like it,” I answer, taking another drink. Eric’s expression turns thunderous as he downs his entire drink in a single gulp, and he looks ready to commit murder. “Maybe he just… dropped something off.”

Eric glances down at me, and his expression changes.

Despite having never drunk anything like this in my life, I like it. The drink is surprisingly good, and I find myself halfway done with it; it’s chilly and sweet yet unassuming. By the time I reach the bottom, my body is warm. I relax against Eric, enjoying the way my thoughts are slowly becoming fuzzy. The way my whole body is tingling, especially when his hand returns to my shoulders. He’s all-encompassing as he pulls me toward him, and when I glance up, his murderous stare has been replaced by a smile.

A wide, pleased, loopy grin.

He blinks slowly, and his cheeks flushing as an overwhelming sense of calm washes over him. His shoulders relax, he smiles brightly when the waiter returns with another drink, and he cheerfully thanks him for bringing him a napkin.

Twice.

The man almost trips as he walks away, surprised at the drastic change in Eric’s personality.

I blink as Eric finishes another drink and the pink glitter gleams beneath the candlelight. It sticks to the glass, along with a faintly glimmering shadow of syrup.

It’s not syrup.

“Eric, I think… I think the drinks…” I try to speak clearly, but it’s hard. “I wouldn’t have anymore.”

In front of me, Eric’s father looks confused as the woman seated next to him giggles. I realize he was the one I crashed into at the market, and it explains the way he and Eric argued. Eric’s grandfather, a darling old man dressed in a formal blue suit, scrutinizes the drink. He holds it up to the light, shaking his head as it swirls in the glass. Around them, others follow suit. Some laugh as the food arrives, and others are smiling lazily as they talk. Four looks drunk as his girlfriend holds his hand, and even Cara laughs as her cheeks turn red while she asks for a second drink.

Johanna, Courtney, and my brother are fine.

They sip the drinks with a look of confusion, as everyone around them slowly, and happily becomes drunk off peace serum.

I feel it coursing through my veins, just like when Arlene gave me something similar my first night here.

The slow, lush feeling of peace and acceptance washes over me, intensifying when I look at Eric.

“You know what… you’re really pretty,” Eric announces, his hand tangling in my hair. His eyes are light as he leans in, holding on tightly like he thinks I’m about to run. “I can’t believe I married you.”

“Me, either.”

My answer makes him grin even wider.

I’ve had peace serum before.

It was introduced when I turned thirteen, given in small amounts so I’d build a tolerance to the actual dose. The goal was that when I started taking it regularly, it wouldn’t affect me like I’d never had it before. I’d ingest it as part of a routine, and the effects would be pure: it would keep me tame and agreeable, allowing me to think as peacefully as possible without the drunken side effects.

I quit eating at home when I noticed my thoughts were nothing but rainbows and butterflies. When Landon became hilariously funny and I agreed to whatever he asked without a second thought. When my father’s demands of watching my siblings over doing anything myself were just fine. When everyone looked at me as I ate dinner, knowing that a bad mood would be gone once I finished my dinner.

When I realized my mother was putting in my food, I felt oddly insulted. I quickly chose to eat elsewhere and only picked things I knew were prepared without it. The effects quickly reversed. The times I had it at home left me nodding off at dinner, and my mother eventually stopped putting it in my food when I was asleep before I could help put everyone to bed.

When I had something similar here, it kept me from panicking.

But this isn’t what Arlene gave me.

It’s pure, unaltered peace serum in a cocktail.

“Rylan said I should be thrilled to marry you,” Eric gleefully informs me, knocking his head into mine on accident. He blinks, then shrugs as his constant vigilance and tension melt away. “And you should be thrilled to marry me. Because… I saved you.”

His stares bore into mine, heavy with arrogance.

“Didn’t I?”

“You did save me.” My head swims as I try to think of a more pleasing answer. “And I can’t thank you enough.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he shakes his head. “I won’t let them take you from me. Even… even when I find them, I’ll keep you as my wife. I’ll make sure you’re happy, and then you won’t want to leave. Ever.”

His eyes light up in delight at his plan –one oh so brilliant and clever, flashes through his serum-muddled mind.

“I can give you anything you want,” he mutters, his lips inches from mine. “Anything.”

“I want go home,” I shiver when his lips brush against mine. My entire body feels like it might combust. Eric’s kiss grows firmer, and I swear he mumbles my name against my lips. “I want –”

“I thought you didn’t want to go back to Amity,” Eric pulls away, taking hold of my face. Insult is all over him, and so is frustration. “You said –”

“No, to your apartment,” I answer dizzily, reaching up to touch his hands. For a moment, my head clears, and everything is razor sharp. The Leader of Dauntless sits beside me, now my husband, higher than a kite. His lips are parted, and his stare is wild with lust. “Eric, the drinks have peace serum in them. Everyone is high right now. Really high. Even you.”

“Bullshit,” he scoffs. “I’ve had peace serum. We all had to take it so we’d know what it feels like. There’s nothing in these.”

“I think there is,” I counter, torn between wanting to sink into the relief of feeling nothing but bliss and the realization that he’s not someone who’d repeatedly kiss me in front of everyone. “I can’t think straight.”

“Because you’re so delighted to be my wife.” Eric’s words are funny, even to him. He snickers as he says them, then turns serious. “You’re not upset, are you?”

His evident concern, a rare occurrence, makes me want to kiss him. I chew on my lip as he frowns, and his thumb grazes over my cheek. I lean in until my nose touches his, and the smell of him is intoxicating.

It’s the peace serum.

“No, I’m not upset. I just…” I trail off as his self-control slips. His hands slip into my hair. He pushes himself closer, then presses his lips to my cheek. He slowly trails his mouth down to my neck, and his hands fall away. One rests on my side, but the other lingers on my throat. “Eric, we should…”

The world softens before it bursts into flames.

The peace serum works well—a little too well.

Eric’s teeth sink into my neck as Jason trips over his date, then laughs as she falls, trying to help him up. Four’s eyes widen as his girlfriend moves to his lap, attempting to undo the buttons on his shirt. The couple from Abnegation avert their stares, but they look a little flushed. Tori leans into her date, smirking up at him, and the man, I assume is Quinten, narrows his eyes as someone drops their fork as they try to straddle their date. The waiter rushes by with our dinner, insisting we eat to ease the effects of the drinks, and his panicked plea is useless. I should tell him not to bother; the serum lasts up to twelve hours, depending on the dose, and doesn’t dilute if you eat something.

Given the way my stomach burns as Eric’s hands skim my side, it’s not going to wear off anytime soon. Any logic or rational thinking goes out the window when he kisses the side of my jaw and pulls back.

“I’m going to take you home, and I’m going to make sure you know how much I –”

A crash echoes through the hall as someone knocks over a row of chairs. The curtains behind Rylan catch fire as he whirls around to see who is interrupting him. He’s still giving his speech, and his current section focuses on how many walls Eric has built up, how I am the only one who can tear them down, and how Eric’s grandfather is the only one listening. He nods in agreement, then laughs as someone douses the fire with water, only to have the flames soar higher. Rylan continues, revealing Eric has mentioned how overwhelmed he has been with keeping me safe, and how his focus has shifted to me, and only me, over even his closest friends.

I get the sense that Rylan is feeling a bit slighted that Eric has paid less attention to him.

“I’d like to sleep with you tonight. I’ll make sure you enjoy yourself,” Eric graciously offers, staring at me with an intensity that makes my head spin. “You trust me, don’t you? I know…this isn’t how you’d normally marry someone, but if you let me, I’ll make it worth your while.”

I remember thinking how manipulative Eric once seemed. How he could crush his enemies with their own actions, and how he always had the upper hand. Smart and cunning, he let people crumble before him, or gave them just enough rope to hang themselves.

He’s not manipulative now.

He’s staring at me, unblinking, hope creeping across his face as thoughts he’d never dream of speaking aloud come tumbling past his lips.

“Everly…”

“I trust you.” I answer softly as Harrison joins Rylan.

He politely says hello, congratulates Eric and me, then announces that Dauntless has officially taken over Amity, and Johanna will not return as their Leader.

Her gasp accompanies everyone else’s as the entire wall of flowers goes up in flames.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven Aftermath

“What if I make sure Sophia lives near us?”

Beside a tower of black balloons so tall and wide that they almost cover Eric, his bargains spill forth as fast as he can think of them. Still dressed in his suit, his eyes darker than I have seen them, he stares at me with a look of impatience.

“What if she lives next door?”

“I don’t even know where she lives now,” I point out, my mind whirling as though I’ve been spun around in circles. The warmth from earlier is still there, cocooning my brain in cotton candy and making him oddly appealing.

Somehow, I am surprised when he strides toward me.

“Eric, what are you –”

He slinks across the room in a second, done with his perusal of Rylan’s decorating. If I had to describe Rylan’s efforts, I’d say Eric’s apartment looks like a toddler was told to decorate, threw up halfway through, took a nap, and then finished in six minutes before having a tantrum. The sheer amount of wedding décor Rylan managed to find is impressive, but it’s hard to walk over the heaps of flower petals and swaths of black fabric. The banner is nice but enormous, and Eric’s couch is covered in what looks like Christian’s finest wedding pajamas and matching robes. Because I am just as dizzied as Rylan is, I think the apartment is hilarious and a subtle nod to the décor of the hall.

We’d left the wedding reception once the décor went up in flames.

Dulled by the serum, no one reacted to the fire except for Quinten and Eric’s grandfather. Both were surprisingly spry as they knocked Rylan and Harrison out of the way, ending his speech with a fire extinguisher. The audience stared in awe, and only Max seemed annoyed that we weren’t going to hear the entirely of the speech. Quinten gruffly announced the party could continue, and from the crowd, Christina clapped and cheerfully told Rylan he was doing great.

He wasn’t pleased.

For someone who thrived on chaos, he sulked when Quinten marched him off the stage and hissed at him not to light anything else on fire.

What followed was fine; I leaned into Eric as he slowly pressed his fingers up my side, and when I asked to go home again, he agreed.

He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, and though higher than a kite, relief flashed across his face.

Our exit was quick and unceremonious. Most assumed we were heading home to consummate our marriage, and a handful looked worried that we were leaving to do exactly that. From a table on the side, Sophia kept mouthing something at me, and her date was someone I didn’t know. Jake was at another table, his eyes trained on Eric as he stood to help me up, and his date looked both drunk and jealous when Jake sat back in his seat with a huff. Johanna looked on in horror, but she was busy trying to make sense of Harrison’s announcement, while Jeremy returned from Amity, sweaty and swearing that he’d missed everything but that the faction was secure, and he was hoping someone had saved him cake.

Harrison waved goodbye as he helped Eric’s grandfather back to his seat, then stopped in his tracks, spun around, and shouted for Eric to stop.

Were I not slipping down the steps and nearly tripping over Eric’s feet, I’d have noticed Harrison’s panic as he realized we weren’t staying for dinner. He wasn’t fast enough to reach us in time, and we made it through the hall doors before he could reach us.

Our walk home was faster than ever.

I barely remembered the way, but it didn’t matter. Eric got us back to the apartment in minutes, kicked a congratulatory sign out of the way, and practically dragged me inside. He stopped only to narrow his eyes at a giant poster of himself, the letters proudly congratulating Eric on finding someone to marry. I could see him deciding if it was worth a fight with Rylan, perhaps even returning to the wedding to bring it down to him and demand to know where he got it from.

But it wasn’t.

Eric turned and it was like he’d never seen me before.

His head tilted, his lips parted, and his eyes darkened. A small part of my brain pointed out that he was not himself right now; his slick smile was the result of the serum, as was the way he generously offered to give me whatever I wanted now that I was his wife. I, too, was lost in the rush of how good everything felt. At the moment, I trusted Eric with my life, and the thought of being the one he chose was beyond appealing.

I had won.

Landon had no clue what had been handed to me: the worst deck of cards had turned into a jackpot.

At least, a serum-induced jackpot in a suit.

“She lives two doors down,” Eric confesses, in front of me before I can ask when Sophia moved. He takes my face in his hand, dragging his thumb over my lips. His touch is even slower now that we’re alone. “She was moved a week ago, but I had her move closer when everyone started showing up.”

“Is there anything else I should know?” I ask, frozen as he pulls his hand back to take off his jacket. “Eric?”

He cocks his head, and through a wave of warmth and excitement, it dawns on me that we should stop. Though this is tempting, it will be a harsh wake-up call when the serum wears off.

“Eric, we should go to bed. This is the serum. It’s not you… or me… it’s…”

My eyes close.

They are suddenly heavy, like I can’t keep them open.

“It’s the…”

He picks me up.

Mistaking the heavy daze as lust, one of his arms slides around my waist and beneath my back, and my feet leave the floor. He carries me down the hallway, kicking his bedroom door open with more force than necessary. He strides across the room and drops me onto his bed with a scoff.

“It’s not the serum. There wasn’t any serum. This is… I’ve never felt better.” Eric announces. He unbuttons his shirt, and his breathing becomes uneven as his cheeks flush. “Everything is good now. I’m not worried that they’ll find you. I don’t have to go back to the auction. I have a week off work. I can take you anywhere I want. All I can think about is you and how once this is over, it’ll be right.”

“What?” I lean back onto his pillows, and his shirt is tossed aside. “What do you mean you can take me anywhere you want?”

“We can go to Erudite. My grandfather has an estate there. He has horses. A whole stable of them.” Eric pulls his undershirt off, then unbuckles his belt. “Or we could go to Amity. It’s mine now. I bet there’s a cabin somewhere, or a house I can take. I’ll make sure no one knows we’re there.”

He slides his pants down, leaving him in nothing but his boxers.

“Would you like that?”

I can’t answer him.

My stomach burns as he kneels onto the bed with a funny look on his face. The serum has made me far from afraid, but he appears much larger undressed than in his uniform.

“I…”

“Everly?” He swallows, suddenly unsure that I haven’t answered. “Would you like to go with me?”

It becomes hard to breathe. The dress tangles between my legs as he inches closer until he’s almost over me. I can feel the heat radiating off his body, especially when he swallows. His eyes search mine, and for a second, I feel like I’m seeing the real Eric.

“I promise I won’t hurt you.”

“How do I take the dress off?” My brain short circuits as the serum finally wins. Just like Eric, it takes over, one dreamy, powerful, peaceful second at a time. “I can’t reach the back.”

With my skin afire and my brain ablaze with delusion, I sit up as he moves to unzip the fabric with practiced skill. He helps me undo the bodice, then pulls it over my head. It tangles in the flowers, and he eventually rips the whole thing over me in a fit of impatience.

My mind tries to remind me that this is moving very fast, almost too fast. A week ago, I wasn’t even sure he cared about me past having paid for me. A day ago, he seemed wary of me, though it could have been the last of his fever. Last night, I wasn’t convinced he still didn’t have the flu even though he appeared fine but warm, and his gaze stuck to me like he wasn’t sure he could go through with the wedding.

Right now, his eyes are dark as they linger on the bare skin of my shoulders, and he slows to recline beside me.

When I look at Eric, really look at him, the worry over how he feels is gone.

“How many of these are in your hair?” He plucks one stem out, then another. He carelessly tosses them to the floor, and I know for a fact there’s no way he’d throw the flowers around if he wasn’t under the influence of the serum. “Would Landon have liked them?”

“No,” I stare up at Eric’s expression, stormy when he cuts his finger on a thorn. “He would have hated the flowers and the dress.”

“What do you like?” Eric murmurs, still fixated on getting every flower out of my hair. “I’ll get it for you. I’ll make sure you have whatever you want.”

His offer, spoken as a dot of blood drips down his thumb, makes my chest tighten.

“Do you like it…here? Do you want a pet?”

“I don’t even know anymore,” I confess as he reaches for another flower, then another before he returns his attention to me. “I liked to swim. I like to be outside, and I like reading. I like to be around other people, but not all the time. I liked helping people, and I would like the Market so long as Shannon isn’t there.”

“I see,” he answers, his mind a million miles away. “What else?”

“I like the coffee you made,” I grin when he makes a face. “And I like not freezing at night.”

“Mmm.”

Distracted by the last flower, he pulls it from my hair with a triumphant look on his face before he drops his stare to me.

“I’ll teach you how to cook. So, you don’t burn my apartment down.” Eric pauses, his jaw tensing like he’s just remembered something. “And I can…I’ll….”

He closes his eyes and then forces them back open.

“I can…” He pauses, his words now slow and heavy. “Everly… we can…”

I know exactly what’s happening.

Beneath a cloud of joy and elation, his thoughts are coated in pure happiness. He is powerful. Unstoppable. His mind is warm now that his thoughts have turned dreamy but woozy. Exhausted enough that he knows he’s tired, but it feels too good to sleep.

Eric blinks again, and his expression turns wistful. “I… uh”

“Eric…” I touch his face, my fingers stilling on his cheeks.

“Yeah?” He smiles, a real smile –not a smirk or sneer, and when he lies down, he reaches for me.

He undoes the clasp on the strapless bra Amy had brought, somehow undoing it with one hand. The air is cold as he fumbles for a blanket, and before I can panic at being almost completely undressed beside him, he covers us up. His head hits my pillow, and his eyes close again.

“It’s really good to have you here,” he mumbles, trying to hold onto me. I’m facing him, and the warmth of his chest against my bare skin would be electrifying, except I’m so exhausted that it barely registers. “I would have picked you out of all the girls, no matter what. Even if you came here on your own.”

“Would you really?”

My own mumble is lost in his skin. He throws his arm over me, hitching his leg over mine to get closer.

“You could have made it here. I would have helped you,” he mutters, his breathing slowing as the serum fully takes hold. “I could have trained you.”

“You wouldn’t have trained me,” I shake my head, yawning when his hand moves to my hair. “You would have been annoyed at the sight of me.”

“Not for long.” His hand clumsily slides through. “I would have taken care of you,” he mumbles. “I’ll take care of you now. You’ll see.”

It’s the last thing he says.

His promise sends a wave of happiness through me. I inch closer to him until my head hits his chest, and the space between us is nonexistent.

My breathing matches his, and the feeling of peace is suddenly understandably alluring.

We fall asleep at the same time, beneath a thick, blue blanket amongst hundreds of rose petals.

I awake to Eric hissing fuck.

I open my eyes to the sight of his chest as he sits up, the brush of his bicep as he lifts his arm away from me, and a second hiss as he stumbles out of bed. I blink a few times before I see him staring down at the bed with a look of regret. His skin is as pale as when he was sick, and his jaw tenses when I look up at him.

“Everly…” He swallows thickly. “Everly, are you –”

“Are you going to be sick?” I force myself to sit up, taking the sheets and blanket with me. My head swims as the room tilts, and I screw my eyes shut until the feeling passes. “I forgot the serum makes you feel terrible after. The first time my brother had it, he threw up for hours after it wore off.”

“Have you had it before?” Eric stares his jaw slack and his eyes half hooded from the aftermath of the serum. “When?”

“In Amity, they start everyone on it when they’re young. That way, you build a tolerance, and eventually, you don’t get the hangover feeling.” I breathe slowly, hating the way my stomach turns over. “Are you alright?

“Did we…did I….” Eric stumbles over his words, but his gaze sharpens suddenly. “If I slept with you last night…”

“You told me you wanted to, but we fell asleep,” I answer, trying to push away the nausea. My head feels like the cotton candy is melting, and with it, the memories of last night become vibrant. “I um…. it’s fine. I knew there was something in the drinks.”

“The drinks?” He repeats.

“The one Rylan came up with. We both drank them. I think you had a few.” I watch his expression darkens as he realizes this is his friend’s fault. “The waiter said they were Amity inspired.”

“Right.” Eric answers so tightly that I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him so thrown off. “Whatever…the serum was… I wouldn’t take advantage of you like that. I promised you I’d… I’d….”

He doesn’t finish his sentence.

He looks everywhere but at me.

“You didn’t do anything.” I crane my head up at him, ignoring the pang of unease. “Though you did tell me all kinds of things. Some were really sweet. Others were…quite interesting.”

Eric looks like he might vomit.

If I had to take a wild guess, I’d dare say he doesn’t normally throw himself at anyone, nor does he offer such delightful arrangements in exchange for marriage. I imagine he’s reeling from how he couldn’t stop himself from sharing his thoughts or how out of control he felt.

“Did you know Rylan was going to do that? Has he had peace serum?” I sit up further, shutting my eyes as a wave of vertigo washes over me. “I bet most of the faction is going to be hung over today.”

“We had it a few times during Leadership training. But not in large quantities. Who knows how much he put in the drinks.” Eric steps toward the bed and then glances down. “Let me grab you something to put on.”

He’s quick to his dresser, and he returns with one of his t-shirts in his hands. He hands it to me, then rubs his face. “I’ll make you something to eat. Maybe it’ll help.”

“Sure.” I pull his shirt over my head, and I’m engulfed by the scent of him. “Did you sleep okay?”

I throw the blanket off me and climb out of bed. I’d slept at an odd angle, but it was the most comfortable I’d been in months. Drunk off peace serum wasn’t my ideal wedding night, but I didn’t regret falling asleep so close to him or hearing that he thought I was pretty.

When I look up, he’s staring.

His gaze lingers on my face, then moves down to my hand, where the ring sits askew. I can feel the memory of his mouth against mine, trailing down my throat as he mumbled all sorts of confessions. The way his fingers pressed along my spine and the way he helped me take the dress off before lying beside me.

He must remember, too.

“Fine.”

Eric turns on his heels and storms down the hallway.

“Here.”

As Eric hands me a plate of pancakes, eggs, and bacon, my brain cheerfully reminds me we’ve been married for a little under twelve hours. It also repeats his offers with glee: Sophia could move even closer, but more importantly, we could leave Dauntless. He’d volunteered to take me out of the faction, visiting both Erudite and Amity. He’d let it slip that he was now in charge of Amity, and it was clear he’d take whatever he wanted there.

So far, being married to him had a few advantages.

“Thank you.”

We both stop in the middle of the kitchen. I look up at him through a mess of hair that he’d destroyed by pulling the flowers out, and he looks down at me. He’s still shirtless, in only his boxers, and his own hair looks wild. He steels himself like he’s meeting me for the first time and presses his lips into a fine line.

“I uh, hope you know…” he hesitates. “I…”

I wait patiently.

I’m not naïve as to what could have happened, but I find myself not entirely afraid of the thought. At the altar, I’d stood before him as he promised to take care of me. The way he spoke was earnest enough that I believed what he was saying: he hadn’t lied to me so far, and I had no reason to believe he would.

In his own way, Eric had saved me from a fate worse than death.

“Last night…”

“I would have been okay with it,” I offer, brave now that he looks like he’s seen a ghost. “I mean… I’m not… I haven’t… done that before, but you said you’d keep me safe. And if you want me to really be your wife until this is over, then… I… will. And your wife would obviously… um…”

My words are as sticky as the syrup on the pancakes he’s made.

“Everly…” Eric hesitates, and his stare is hard to read. “This isn’t…it’s not…”

“I know. But… I know why you had to marry me. I’m just trying to make it easy.” I admit, remembering Shannon’s advice. As much as I hate that she was right, there’s some truth to what she said. “You said you’d keep me alive. If being your wife keeps me alive, then…I understand.”

“Okay.” He retreats to grab another plate. “Let’s eat, and then we’ll figure out what we’re doing. I’m supposed to take you to Erudite for the night, but I have to stop in Amity first. You can stay here if you’d prefer, but I’ll have to assign someone to keep an eye on you.”

“No, I’ll go. Maybe we should clean up the mess before we leave.” I glance around, noticing the balloons are still floating and the decorations are mostly intact. Eric’s jacket is on his couch, and his shoes are in the hallway. “What happens if I see my parents? Or someone I know?”

“You won’t see your parents.” Eric cuts me off with a shake of his head. “I’ll make sure of it. We won’t be anywhere near the main faction.”

“Does your grandfather really have horses?” I clutch the plate tighter, heading toward the table with a quick glance back at Eric. “I didn’t get to meet him.”

“He does. He’s not supposed to, but no one tells him no.” Eric answers tightly. “Him or Daniel.”

“Sounds familiar.”

I watch Eric take the seat beside me. His posture isn’t as uneasy as it was before, but it’s clear he had no intention of acting on anything from last night. The peace serum gave him free rein to experience emotions he has little interest in, and I dare say he looks ill over his lack of control.

“Funny.” He glares at me out of the corner of his eye, but it’s halfhearted. “He buys them from someone in Amity. I don’t know how many he has now, but he’s one of the few people in Erudite allowed to house them. Jeanine always let him since she wanted his help.”

“What about your father? Who is he?” I take a bite of eggs, wondering if Eric will introduce me to him.

“You met him at the Market,” Eric answers slowly. He pushes the eggs around his plate, but he makes no move to take a bite. “He’s been asking about you since then. He offered his services in case you hit your head, but I declined.”

“Is he a doctor?” I ask.

“A neurologist,” Eric mutters. “He’s the head of the department in Erudite. I’m sure he’d be delighted to tell you all about it.”

“Are you close with him?” My curiosity wins out. I keep my stare on my plate, guessing Eric will answer if I don’t look right at him.

I’m right.

“No, I’m not.” Eric exhales sharply. When I look up, his expression is annoyed. “He was only at the wedding because Rylan invited him.”

“Are they close?” I try to pry a few more details out of Eric, but the look on his face makes me wish he was still high off peace serum. “Does Rylan like him? Daniel is the one I crashed into, right?”

“He is.” Eric looks right at me, and his shoulders lower. “He and Rylan are close, but not the way you’re thinking. Rylan finds him entertaining, and Daniel is desperate to keep tabs on what I’m doing. If you talk to Rylan long enough, he’ll tell you whatever you want. And yes, Daniel is the one you crashed into, and now he thinks he’s entitled to know you.”

“Does he?” Surprise runs through me since I talked to Daniel for all of thirty seconds. “I didn’t really say anything to him. In fact, he slowed me down.”

“Yeah, well…that’s enough for Daniel to consider you the daughter he never had,” Eric looks at his ceiling. “He’s asked to meet you at some point. I told him no.”

“Why?”

When Eric’s stare meets mine, it’s laced with a slew of emotions: impatience that I don’t understand, annoyance that I’m asking about someone he doesn’t want to talk about, and anger that Daniel would attempt to maintain a connection to him.

“It’s easier this way.”

Eric’s answer is final.

He forces himself to eat his breakfast. We finish our meal in silence, but the atmosphere isn’t as tense as I would think; Eric’s foot keeps hitting mine as if he’s doing it on purpose. I lean into the feeling of his knee touching my thigh, the way he unconsciously shifts closer, and the moment we both reach for the pepper at the same time.

“You take it.”

He pushes the pepper in my direction until I take it from him. Our fingers touch, but worlds do not collide.

They slowly inch toward one another, overlapping as he very quietly tells me I should pack for a few days and we’ll leave after breakfast.

The thought of leaving Dauntless is blissful.

I pack a bag of things I think I might need: some new clothes, a pair of boots, a brush, and one of the jackets Eric bought. Eric packs efficiently, but everything is black and uniform. By the time I finish, Eric is already done. He glances around the apartment with a huff, then returns to his phone to fire off a few messages. His jaw tenses when he reads something, and before I can ask what’s wrong, someone knocks on the front door.

“Are you expecting someone?” Eric stares at the door in annoyance. “Did you order something?”

“No.” I shake my head. “Did you?”

“No.”

He strides to the door, throwing it open with a huff, and his mood immediately sours.

Weary-looking, with rumpled hair and a suit jacket that looks like it’s seen better days, Jason says hello. He mutters that he knows we are trying to leave, but Nelson has decided to host Miranda’s memorial today, and Max is requesting that we attend.

Within the next half hour.

“Are you serious?” Eric’s jaw clenches. “Now?”

“Yeah. It started an hour ago and is most definitely aimed at getting back at you. He must have gotten the memo stating that you will be out of the office to celebrate your marriage, so he picked today to request your presence.” Jason pauses to yawn, then grins at me. “Hi, Everly. How does it feel to be the newest Mrs. Coulter?”

“I’m good, but why would Nelson have the memorial today?” I join Eric’s side, ignoring the way he glances down like he’s never seen me before. “Why not another day?”

“Nelson blames Eric for Miranda’s death, and he knows Eric has to show up or it looks bad. Max said you guys can swing by on your way out, give your condolences and leave.” Jason shrugs, looking less than enthused. “Harrison spoke to Nelson at length, but there’s not much that can be done. They’re predicting he’ll bail after this.”

“Nelson doesn’t give a shit if it looks bad.” Eric adjusts the cuff of his shirt –a dark button-down I’ve never seen before –and shrugs back. “We’ll stop by so he knows we’re there and leave. I need to get to Amity. Jeremy is there now, and he’s having some issues.”

“He is. Harrison is going to head that way if he can leave early. Rylan is already there.” Jason’s stare skirts over to me, then over my head, and down the hallway. His lips turn up, and though hung over and vaguely green-looking, his stare turns smug. “Did you guys have a good night?”

“Yeah, great.” Eric answers swiftly. “We should head there now so we can be in Amity by dinner.”

I watch Jason’s face as Eric turns to grab the bags. He observes him take both of them, and his head tilts when Eric stops.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just weird to see you enjoying your marital bliss,” Jason snickers. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Funny.” Eric glares at him. “Are you done here? Don’t you also need to make an appearance?”

“I am. I thought I’d walk you guys down there.” Jason moves to the front door, holding it open with a grin. “Besides, I wanted to tell Everly something.”

Eric side-eyes him.

The look on his face hints he’d prefer he didn’t. He walks past Jason and into the hallway while I wait. Jason’s eyes meet mine, and when his lips turn up into a grin, I fully expect him to ask me if anything happened.

Instead, he very cheerfully tells me that he’ll be in Amity too, and he very much would like to meet my friend Courtney.

The memorial is a bleak affair.

It is dark, full of an unspoken, heavy grief that is out of place in Dauntless.

I imagine death is a common occurrence in a faction designed to protect others. Eric was unphased by the blood on his hands, the fighting in the Pit, and the violence that proved people belonged here. The more skilled one was at taking down others, the longer they lived. The safer the factions were. Death was a side effect of this safety, doled out in necessary doses as needed.

I’ve never once wondered how it was handled in other factions, but when I step into the hall, the wave of despair hits my skin like shards of glass.

In Amity, death is often celebrated rather than mourned. There is no somber mood or family dressed in black. Everyone chooses to honor the person’s life with a party that matched their interests, and the celebration often spanned several days, with help from anyone who wanted to volunteer. It’s always loud, often jubilant, but occasionally quiet when the death is unexpected.

In Dauntless, everyone is silent.

Miranda’s death is far from the passing of someone’s grandfather. The atmosphere holds an air of violence, and the few words whispered are spoken only near the tribute to Miranda that Nelson has displayed.

The picture of her placed at the front of the room shows a smug-looking girl staring down the camera. Pretty, but decorated with a face full of metal, hair painted a vibrant rainbow of colors, and an outfit of black, she’s not the girl I met at the auction. She’s wild. Her eyes gleam with defiance, and her smirk rivals Eric’s. Her name is written beneath the picture with her birthdate, a day scarily close to my own but a year before.

I stare at the photo with a hint of trepidation: her stare follows me as I walk with Eric like I can feel her disdain woven into the picture.

The crowd is large but quiet as they mingle in groups. The black isn’t unusual for anyone attending, but it amplifies an already terrible situation. There are no flowers, only black candles, a table with snacks, and a handful of men and women serving drinks. I am handed something dark and strong smelling, which Eric promptly plucks from my hand.

“Don’t drink that,” he murmurs.

He hands the drink back to the waiter, declining one for himself, and his posture changes as he guides me forward. He takes hold of my hand, his grip tight as we weave through the crowd in search of Max. I’d normally relish in the feeling of his hand in mine –a startling, brand new, public display of purposeful affection I would think he’d choose to avoid –but this feels different.

It feels like he’s worried.

As we near the front, his grip turns painful. I half expect to find Shannon here, but instead, I find someone just as intense, just as desperate for my downfall.

Beside Harrison, Nelson stands with his arms crossed. I’ve never seen him before, but I’m reminded of a living zombie. Wanting to rest but forced to live, he’s agony personified. His eyes are red yet dry, and his lips are cracked. He is as pale as ga houl, dressed in whatever he was able to find that’s presentable. His hair is unruly, and so is his stare when it lands on me.

I don’t know what I’m expecting, but it’s not the blind rage he can barely contain.

Harrison says something, but Nelson leaves while he’s speaking. His hands clench into fists as he heads straight towards us, his stare fixed on Eric. It twists in anger ashe shoves Eric as hard as he can, screaming for the whole room to hear.

“Fuck you, you piece of shit.”

The push barely makes an impact. Nelson shoves him again, and though Eric merely shakes his head, the third push makes the both of us stumble.

“You could have saved her. You went there, knowing my daughter was alive, and you came back with… with… her.” He hisses the word, looking at me in disgust. “You let Miranda die so you could fuck some girl from Amity.”

My heart drops.

Not because of the hatred radiating from him, but because I understand it. None of us at the auction stood a chance, but to Nelson, his daughter would be alive had Eric chosen differently.

If he had chosen her.

“You know I had orders to follow.” Eric’s tone is unbothered, but he steps forward as Nelson prepares to shove him again. “Your daughter was not my responsibility. She left Dauntless after announcing she’d never return. My job is not to chase down every person who changes their mind about living here. I’ve done my part, and you know it.”

“You let her die. Her blood is on your hands. Hers will be, too.” Nelson yells, pointing toward us. “You are responsible for the death of –”

He’s interrupted by Tori taking hold of his arm and forcefully pulling him back.

“Nelson, now is not the time nor the place.” She looks at Eric, and the mild panic on her face increases when Nelson jerks his arm away. “Eric did everything he could to get Miranda back. You were briefed every time she was spotted. You knew his orders and why he was told to leave her there.”

“Why does she deserve to be here, but my daughter didn’t?” Nelson angles himself toward me, shoving his finger in my face. “Fuck you. My daughter should be here, not her.”

“Back up, right now.” Eric snaps. He steps forward, blocking Nelson from getting close to me. “Everly has nothing to do with Miranda’s death.”

“She has everything to do with it,” Nelson snarls. “You left my daughter to rot. Do you know what it’s like to hear that not only did Miranda not get picked, but that they found pieces of her strewn around? Meanwhile your wife is welcomed with open arms. Do you have any idea how that feels? Do you?”

“I told you, I had orders to follow and your daughter was not part of those orders. Perhaps you should take it up with the Leaders she actively caused harm to before you blame me.” Eric’s tone darkens. “No one wins when it comes to the auction. If it wasn’t Miranda, it would have been someone else.”

“It should have been Everly.”

Nelson’s tone is as dark as his eyes and as dark as the flash when he rears his arm back, and something glints in the light. Eric spots it at the same time I do. I’m shoved backward, and Nelson is knocked to the floor. A knife clatters to the side of him, just out of reach.

“Fuck you both.” Nelson’s voice is raspy as he struggles to get up. He’s held down by Harrison and Tori, and when others jog toward him, he sneers. “I knew your return would be nothing but destruction. I voted against you. I told everyone to vote against you.”

“While I have no doubts that many found my return unsatisfactory, attempting to kill me isn’t an acceptable way to handle this. You have…” Eric pauses, glancing back out of the corner of his eye. “My utmost sympathy for your loss. As a member of Dauntless, I commend your commitment to keeping your daughter safe in a faction lends itself to danger. As a Leader, I’m going to tell you you’re done here.”

“Nelson…” I say his name, realizing I’ve grabbed onto Eric’s wrist.

I hold on just as tightly as he did, inching forward when he looks down. He doesn’t exactly give me permission to talk, and it might not be my place, but I figure it’s worth a shot.

“I’m sorry about Miranda. I know she was proud to be from Dauntless. I know… she missed you and would have done anything to see you again.”

Eric’s eyes narrow.

He knows I’m lying.

Miranda never said a word about her father, nor did she say she wanted to return. But she was confident that they wouldn’t break her. Her death was purely because they needed her out of the way. If I had stayed, her death could have been my own.

Had I been forced to go through more rounds, I don’t think I would have been as fearless as Miranda was. She never gave up, not even when new girls were brought in and she was pushed aside.

I don’t think Nelson realizes what it took to sit in the trailer, eating a handful of grapes, pretending to be fearless, even though we all knew what was coming.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Nelson lowers his stare to mine.

“I wanted you to know she was brave. She wasn’t afraid. Not like I was.” I stop, and his jaw turns slack.

His eyes darken, and when he shifts his leg, I have seconds to react.

Despite Eric being in front of me and Harrison and Tori instructing others to join them as they take him away from us, Nelson scrambles to his feet. He grabs hold of my throat, choking me as hard as he can, and every second of his anger is felt in my bones. His fingers press against my windpipe, and the faint roar of people screaming becomes muffled. I’m dimly aware of Jason yelling my name, of Harrison knocking Tori out of the way, and of Four –walking by with a confused look on his face –reaching for Nelson.

It’s over before I can struggle to breathe.

Eric rips him off me, his face red with rage. He shoves Nelson to the ground so hard that his head bounces with a sickening thud. When Eric faces me, his eyes are wide, and his mouth is turned down in anger. He shakes his head as he takes hold of my face, and his hands are hot. His breathing is terrifyingly even, yet there’s something impressive about the way he’s mostly unbothered.

While Nelson groans that his vision is blurry, Eric’s palms press against my cheeks.

“We’re leaving. Don’t say another word to him.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. I thought…I thought it would help. She wasn’t afraid. She was… just… sitting there. Eating and talking and… she knew about all of this. About you and she told me… she said you’d… you…”

The words tumble from my mouth, unstoppable and dizzied. Eric listens with a look of slight alarm; he doesn’t care what people think of him, nor does it bother him, but whatever Miranda might have said about him clearly strikes a nerve.

“I have a feeling I know what she said.” His posture tenses.

Behind us, the sounds of chaos are muffled. I barely make out what Tori is yelling, but Four’s sharp snap of annoyance doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone.

“Who the hell okayed a memorial on the heels of Eric’s wedding?”

I try to turn my head, but I can’t.

“Did anyone really think this would go off without a hitch?” Four continues, now joined by his date from the wedding. “No one expected this?”

“Four, it’s alright. She’s okay, and they’re going to walk him upstairs.” The voice next to Four is quiet. “Nelson won’t stay.”

In front of me, Eric’s expression is blank.

The worry is gone, and his eyes are emotionless as someone calls out that the memorial will be shut down. Eric looks like he’s miles away, immersed in a memory he’d rather not think about.

When his eyes find mine, he nods tightly.

“I searched for Miranda for a long time. More than I was required to. I eventually found her after learning she was at the auction, but my orders were to leave her there to further the investigation. She knew this. Whatever she told you about me…” Eric hesitates, glancing away only to nod as Jason walks past with a groan and a mumbled oh shit. “It was the truth. In her eyes, I was no better than any other Leader who abandoned her while simultaneously ordering her back to the faction she had left. The only reason she ever came back was because her father used his position to have her found. She never had plans of returning. She endangered the lives of almost everyone here, more than once. It was… more than the others were willing to put up with.”

“Why did she run?” I reach upwards, holding onto his wrist. “He cared about her.”

“He did.” Eric’s stare turns cold. “I don’t know why she ran, but it’s doesn’t matter now.”

“What happens to Nelson?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a crowd forming around us. Nelson sits with Harrison’s help, but the murmured talk is that Nelson will not stay in Dauntless. Someone else whispers he won’t make it out of Dauntless, either. Attacking a Leader is a serious offense, and by default, so is attacking me.

Eric’s grip lessens, and his eyes lighten.

“He’s done here.”

Our walk out is tense.

Eric silently makes sure I’m alright. I can feel his stare on me when he thinks I’m not looking, and when I catch him gazing at my throat, I smile.

“I’m fine,” I reassure him, adjusting my fingers between his.

We walk across a narrow bridgeway until we reach the entrance to the docking bay.

“He didn’t do much. You stopped him in time.” I take hold of Eric’s wrist, the same way I did when Shannon came to Dauntless, and he nods tightly. “I promise.”

“Good.”

He guides me forward to a swarm of soldiers awaiting orders. Most smile in my direction, but one stands out to me.

At the end of a row, dressed in her uniform, is Amy.

It’s funny to see her dressed like a soldier; I met her when she helped me get ready for the wedding, but now, she looks like everyone else, waiting at attention as Eric leaves.

Next to her is Rachel.

For a moment, the relief is palpable.

I didn’t see Rachel at the wedding, but I didn’t expect her to be there. It was too soon after having surgery for to show up. Even now, she doesn’t look like she feels amazing; she smiles at me, but it’s halfhearted as she shifts her weight with a wince.

“We’ll stop for a second. She sent me a message saying she wanted to see you before we left.” Eric murmurs, pulling his hand away to take hold of my elbow. “Do me a favor, and don’t ask her anything about being in love with anyone. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Well, I wasn’t planning on it, but now I will,” I glance at Eric out of the corner of my eye, and his smirk is amused. “Are you sure you didn’t have feelings for her? Now would be a great time to confess if you did.”

“Now would be a terrible time to confess, considering we’re married.” He dryly points out. “And need I remind you, that I worked with Rachel, and had I not listened to her, I wouldn’t be in Dauntless, and you’d be married to whatever random soldier they sent your way. If they picked you. If not, you’d be sweeping Marcus’ floors and hoping he didn’t get violent if you missed a spot.”

“Right.”

Disliking the thought, I slow as we near Rachel.

Up close, she looks better than I first thought. Her hair is clean, the cast on her leg has signatures all over it, and she only grimaces when Amy pushes someone out of the way before they can knock into her. The crutches look uncomfortable, but she’s able to leave the line and head over to us.

Before I can say hello, she narrows her eyes at Eric and shakes her head. “Congratulations on your wedding.” She pauses, and her stare flicks to me. “Both of you.”

“Thanks.” Eric answers. “How are you feeling? Are you back yet?”

“I don’t have a return date, but it’s alright. I’m no longer confined to my apartment, and hopefully will be back at my desk next week.” Rachel relaxes at the thought. “Do you mind if I speak with Everly alone?”

“Why?” Eric asks sharply. “Whatever you plan on saying to her, you can say in front of me.”

“Eric…” Rachel says his name just as patiently, but with a hint of mild authority. He doesn’t like her tone, because his jaw tenses. “Give us a second. I’m not asking you to leave her here. I just want to talk to her.”

“Right.” He scoffs. “Fine. Two minutes. We’re already behind schedule.”

Rachel ignores him.

She’s silent until Eric lets go with a huff. He throws me a look down his nose, then takes a dramatic step away to talk to a guard nearby. I can tell he’s not happy, but he doesn’t return.

In front of me, Rachel smiles tiredly.

“Sorry, I knew he wasn’t going to let you out of his sight. I heard about the Market,” Rachel says, hesitating when Eric stares at her. “He was more upset than I’ve ever seen him. And I saw him the day they brought him back here.”

“Did he tell you what happened?” I ask, surprised Eric would have mentioned it. “It was my fault, not his. I walked away from him and ended up where he couldn’t see me. I wasn’t thinking they’d be at the Market. I’d never been before.”

“It’s not your fault. It was a generous of him to take you there. They’ve been trying to get a hold of him for a while, and no one thought they’d be there. He had orders to keep you here, and I was shocked he broke them.” Rachel hesitates, and her next words are spoken quietly. “Everly, I know you’re doing what you’ve been told, but I want to make sure you’re alright with him. While I don’t believe he’ll do anything you don’t want him to, Eric can be…persuasive when he wants something. He’s very used to getting his way.”

She clears her throat, suddenly apprehensive.

“He’s very…attached to you. I never thought he’d agree to marry anyone, and he shot down all orders to let you leave once this is over, claiming you still won’t be safe. Which, I don’t disagree with him. But, for now, I don’t want you to feel obligated to act as his wife when you aren’t in public. If you know what I’m saying.”

My skin feels like it’s on fire. I stare at Rachel, and her gaze softens to something more protective.

“Everly….”

“I know you told Amy to talk to me,” I say quietly, a flash of odd defensiveness coursing through my veins. “Eric hasn’t done anything. I understand his orders, and I respect what he’s doing. He hasn’t asked me to do anything that I don’t want to do.”

“I heard he wasn’t quite himself last night.” She responds carefully, like Eric can hear her. “Amy said he was rather affectionate at the reception.”

“Oh, he’s not normally like that?” I half joke, but her face drops. “The drinks we had were made from peace serum. He was a little loopy, and when he woke up this morning, he knew what had happened. I think he’ll be even more cautious now.”

“Did he tell you that?” She looks over at Eric, and he looks back at us. His eyes search mine, annoyed that Rachel is still talking. “He’s put in a request for you two to move.”

“To where?”

I look right at Eric, horrified, because the thought of moving makes my stomach hurt.

His apartment isn’t exactly home, but it’s the closest thing to a home I’ve had since my father started hinting that I should stay in Amity purely for Landon’s benefit. After it was implied that my future would only be worth something to him if I stuck around and eventually married his friend’s son, I felt out of place in my parent’s house. It was like I had been demoted to guest, and when my time ran out, I’d have no choice but to agree to their plans or they’d make my life miserable.

Eric’s apartment is safe.

It’s warmer than it has been. It’s quiet. Secluded. It has my things beside his, a toothbrush next to his own, shampoo that was bought solely for me, and my pillow pushed against Eric’s. It had the table where we eat dinner, the couch where I realized he knew far more about the case than he was letting on, and the guest room where he could have forced me to sleep but he didn’t. It has him, sleeping next to me, allowing me a moment of sanctuary as I drifted off.

I don’t know where we’ll move to, and it’s not my decision, but it feels like the last strand of permeance I have is being ripped from my hands.

“Not far. He’s technically supposed to live on the floor where all Leader’s live. When he came back, he was given a new apartment, and he didn’t ask to go back to his old one. Now that he’s married, he’ll be given one of the largest ones on the highest floors.” Rachel pauses, and her next words should make me worry. “The Leaders from the other factions will demand he prove that he’s stable now. He knows this, and… I think, if things were different, he’d be willing to part ways when his job is done. But he needs you, and he knows you’ll agree to whatever he asks.”

“What is he going to ask me?” I try not to look at Eric. “He’s been honest so far.”

“It doesn’t matter. Maybe he’ll…maybe he won’t... I don’t know.” She shakes her head, and discomfort is scribbled all over her face. “I just worry about you. I’ve seen the photos from what’s happened. I’ve been helping investigate. I know it’s not fair and –”

“Enough.”

Eric must have had his fill of her talking to me. He cuts between us with a huff, and his hand finds my arm. Not as tight as when he would drag me through the faction, but possessive enough that I know he’s pissed off.

“I’ve done everything in my power to keep her safe. When this is done,” Eric pauses, looking down at me. He wets his lips, and his next words are full of anger. “She will not leave. This is no longer just the auction or Shannon luring girls into the woods. She’d be returning her to community who will look at her as a spectacle. Her family lives there. Her friends live there. The man who took her lives there. Even after they are prosecuted and the family is held accountable, the rest of the faction knows what happened. She will never be able to exist without the story following her. I’m not the only one who thinks it’s an idiotic move to send her back to Amity.”

“Then what are you going to do with the faction?” Rachel counters, staring at me around Eric’s arm. “You have Amity. Johanna is gone. You could easily have her return once this is done.”

“I’m aware of all the things I could do.” Eric smiles, a grin that is so fake I know it hurts. “I appreciate your concern, but Everly and I are leaving now.”

“Eric, I’m just trying to help!” Rachel protests. “This isn’t a game. You married her and—”

She’s cut off by an alarm blaring out orders. Rylan’s voice echoes across the room over a loudspeaker: his snicker fills the air, then a cough, followed by a dry command that Harrison would like to meet with the squads assigned to work this weekend in the Mess Hall.

“Oh, and anyone who made bets on the wedding, please pay up or you’ll be shaken down by the gambling board. Thank you and have a very Dauntless Day.”

The speaker crackles. A few soldiers laugh at this announcement, while others shake their heads, lamenting how much they owe.

“Thank you for your help. You can go back to your scheduled shift.” Eric turns, taking me with him. “For the record, do not feed my wife any more bullshit. I have no intentions of leaving her alone to fend for herself or asking anything of her that she doesn’t agree with. I think out of everyone here, you would be the one to understand why returning her to Amity isn’t safe. Do I make myself clear, Rachel?”

I glance back just in time to see Rachel nod.

“Yes.”

“What did you say?” Eric snarls. “Do I need to remind you…”

“Yes, Sir.”

Defeat is heavy through Rachel’s voice. Maybe it’s her broken leg, or maybe she knows she has no choice but to bow to Eric’s authority. Rachel drops her stare, and beside her, Amy looks frantic as someone orders them out of the docking bay to check on an arrival.

I have no clue what just happened, or why Eric is suddenly furious at the one person he seemed to respect, but I don’t ask.

His hand finds mine, warm and rough, and he leads me toward the trucks.

The Amity faction is completely foreign.

I wait for the wave of familiarity. The rush of homesickness and the punch of relief as the faction comes into view. From the passenger seat, I stare as the trees darken, and the color of the leaves hint that fall is days away. The landscape grows harsh as we turn down the dirt road, and the sun does little to make the woods look appealing.

I sigh when the road appears familiar, then not, and the feeling of relief never comes.

“Are you alright?” Eric asks, declining a message from someone in the control room. It flashes on the screen twice, and someone is annoyed that he won’t respond. “Everly?”

“Yeah, sorry. I’m trying to see where we are.”

Rather than lie, I focus on figuring out where he’s going. Surrounded by the woods and a waning sun, the moment I left with Landon returns, as does the memory of walking this way with my family. Joining the faction to listen to Johanna’s meeting and laughing with my friends as we snuck out after growing bored. Summers spent by the lake, and winters spent by the fire.

I don’t feel homesick, but rather ill at the thought of seeing the faction. The feeling worsens when Eric takes a different route, passing the main entrance to Amity in favor of driving down a road I’ve never taken.

We cut behind Amity, where soldiers now stand at posts, then continue south until a familiar building comes into view. The General Store is busy with people, and Forrest’s bar sits off to the side. The patio tables are full, both with soldiers and members of Amity. Things appear amicable, but when a soldier who looks a lot like Rylan stands, the members of Amity flinch away from the gun on his hip.

Through the truck, I can hear an announcement being called out; soldiers show up in droves, cutting into the forest and heading toward the main faction like they’ve always been here. Another announcement ruffles the tree leaves, this one less intense. Several more trucks arrive, this time parking by the bar.

It’s easy to see that Dauntless has taken it over.

Above us, high in the trees, new cameras scan the area. Another truck drives the opposite direction, and a man waves us through after Eric slows to flash a badge. The soldier glances at me, forcing a polite but curious smile, and mutters that Rylan is already here. Eric’s answer is uninterested; he doesn’t care that Rylan has left ahead of us, because leaving Dauntless had taken longer than expected.

It turns out that Nelson, attacking both Eric and me, had landed him in hot water. Had he simply held the memorial and disappeared, he could have lived out his days without anyone bothering him. I learned there were rules to leaving, and for years, no one left by walking out. It was considered cowardly to give up. You were branded a quitter, and there was no better way to destroy your reputation by deflecting from the faction.

When those in Dauntless could no longer physically continue, the rule was that they jumped. They boldly leapt to their death in front of the faction. Over time, the rule changed. The new belief was smarter: there was no point in forcing those with valuable knowledge out simply because they weren’t as agile as they once were. With waves of new soldiers being trained, their expertise remained useful, and only those who really wished to leave would leap from the Chasm.

Nelson wouldn’t be given the option.

In some ways, death was the kindest option. Miranda was his only child; his wife had been killed during a simulation gone bad, and the only reason he remained in Dauntless was to keep an eye on his daughter. Her absence had made him an unpredictable soldier; where he once excelled, he now put in minimal effort, and felt like he had no loyalty to a faction who couldn’t save his child.

I didn’t ask what would happen.

After speaking with Rachel, Eric and I left. He was on edge as we headed to the trucks, and our drive out of Dauntless was far from joyful. Eric’s sour attitude lessened as we drove through Amity, turning from annoyed to reluctant.

“In case you were wondering, your parents have been warned not to come near you,” Eric announces, turning the truck sharply. “If they do, they’ll be consequences. You’re to be treated as a guest in the faction, but also as the wife of a Leader.”

“Do you think they’ll try?” I pull my feet up beside me, shifting to face Eric. His shrug is indifferent, but when he glances over, I know he’s considered it. “Do they know we’re here?”

“They know you’re here for the night. As for if they’ll try to see you, I’d assume yes, but they won’t get close.”

He parks near a home I’ve never seen before. It looks more like a cabin, nestled amongst others occupied by Dauntless. It’s strange to see the gray trucks lining the road, and even stranger to see them parked in front of the houses.

“Don’t get out yet.” Eric kills the engine and hops out of the truck. He cuts around the front to the passenger door, pausing to speak with a soldier. They leave as quickly as they arrived; they head in the direction of Forrest’s bar with a glance back at me as Eric opens the truck door. “Here.”

He extends his hand, and when I take it, he pulls me toward him. I’m prepared for the drop this time, and I’m able to climb out easily. I pride myself on not feeling like I’m falling, but when my feet hit the ground, I notice a slew of people staring from the woods.

None of the faces are immediately familiar, but their clothes hint they’ve come from the fields. Farmers and field workers gawk at me, but they keep their distance.

“There’s been a change of plans. We’ll stay here for a few nights, then you can decide what you’d like to do. If you want to visit Erudite, we will.” Eric tells me. “We’ll return to Dauntless in a week.”

“Is it safe for us to be out here?” I crane my head up at him. He nods, but it’s far from reassuring. “What if Shannon comes through?”

“She can’t. We’ve shut the faction down. All deliveries are now being made by Dauntless, and anyone coming into the faction must show ID. There are no more free lunches, and the only people working are strictly members of Amity or Dauntless.” He pauses to meet my stare. “You’ll be safe here. I promise.”

“Are you staying?”

For a moment, fresh new horror runs through me. He hasn’t really left me alone since the auction, and I’ve almost always had him beside me at night. Amity is nothing like Dauntless, but it’s especially different out here. I don’t think he realizes how open the faction truly is.

How deep the woods are, or how expansive the Amity faction really is.

“I am.”

Eric’s stare drops.

It lingers on my face, then down my neck. He swallows thickly, reaching out to touch my throat where Nelson had strangled me. His fingers skim my skin slowly, warm as his lips part.

“Everly –”

“Good. I’m glad you’ll be here.”

I cut him off, startling when someone clears their throat. I glance to the side, and there, looking guilty as ever, stands my brother.

“Are you okay?”

Forrest, as tall as Eric but less intimidating looking, leans against the kitchen counter with a look of utter agony on his face. He keeps averting his stare, and his hands shake when he tries to steady them.

The sight of him makes me angry. I should be the one who looks terrified, not him.

In a fit of what feels like juvenile rage, I cross my arms over my chest, glancing out the window to see Eric on the porch. I wish he’d come back in so he could explain why he let my brother follow me inside, but his phone rang, and Harrison’s call took precedence.

“Everly?”

“I’m fine.” I cross my arms tighter, wanting nothing more than to hug my moron of a brother, but also wanting to scream at him. “How are you, Forrest? Are you good? How’s everything in Amity since I’ve been gone?”

He blanches and I hate him just a little more.

For years, I adored my brother. I found him brave and funny, always slickly avoiding his chores in favor of hanging out with friends. He was smart. He was never expected to stick around like I was. Once our younger brothers and sisters arrived, he was the fun sibling. He would make them laugh, make a mess with them, or cause total havoc while they shrieked with delight, while I was expected to help my mother care for them. They outnumbered all of us, and without my help, my mother was left to do everything on her own.

Forrest often stuck up for me.

He was vocal that my schooling was just as important as babysitting, and my friends were, too. He covered for me so I could hang out with Sophia and Courtney and recruited neighbors and friends to babysit so I could live my life. He gave me the speck of the independence my parents were unwilling to grant me, but it came with one hell of an expectation.

Landon.

Landon was a good friend of his, and the two of them spent a lot of time with Landon’s father.

Which meant it was unfathomable to think that Landon would have done anything wrong.

“It’s been…I don’t know. I heard you picked…Dauntless.” He wavers before speaking again. “I thought that was cool.”

“Yeah, it was very cool, Forrest.” The sarcasm, much more Eric than me, makes him drop his stare to the floor. “Definitely the coolest thing I’ve ever done.”

I’m met with a slice of silence.

It continues until he looks up.

“Is that all you want to know?” I wait for him to answer me, and the rage bubbles beneath my skin. “You don’t have anything else to say? Not, oh hey, sorry my friend kidnapped you and told everyone you ran off.”

“What do you want me to say?” Forrest blinks. “I…wasn’t even sure what happened. Landon made it sound like you ran from him, and I…I just thought maybe you’d finally had enough.”

At the mention of Landon’s name, my skin feels two sizes too small. There’s something unnerving knowing that Landon is in the same faction as me, living his life like nothing has happened.

“What did Landon tell you when I didn’t come home?” I stare at Forrest, still wishing Eric would storm back inside. “Did you believe him?”

Forrest averts his stare.

He clears his throat, then looks to the side.

“Everly, he swore up and down he doesn’t know what happened to you. I believed him because I didn’t think he had any reason to lie…” Forrest trails off. “You did leave him there, right? What Eric said isn’t true? About the auctions…”

I stare at my brother, and the rage subsides to resignation.

I have no doubts Landon told him a story that sounded true, but I never thought Forrest would believe him.

“Everly, he’s telling the truth, right? There is no…no…thing he took you to. Dad and I looked. We went into the woods. I didn’t find anything.”

My heart sinks.

The floor undulates beneath my feet, and the taste of bile rises up my throat. I look at my brother, and his expression is starkly hopeful.

“There isn’t an auction, right?”

“I did not leave Landon in the woods. He told me we were going on a picnic, and then he sold me to a group who auctions off girls to men who want them.” My answer drips with venom. “I thought he was proposing. Imagine when I learned what I would really be doing.”

Forrest pales.

His skin turns the color of ash, and his shoulders rise toward his ears.

“I was brought out for men to look at and decide if they liked me or not. I was told to be quiet. If I was chosen, I would go home with someone. There’s a whole packet on how to keep us compliant and out of sight. I’m lucky to be alive and incredibly fortunate that Eric chose to make a purchase that day. Had he not, I would be dead. Or perhaps I’d be alive, but hidden away inside someone’s house and waiting until they decided what task I should perform for them.” My nails dig into my skin, hard enough to scratch it. “I see Landon failed to tell you that.”

“He wouldn’t do that.” Forrest looks everywhere but me. “He’s not like that.”

“You think I left on my own? You think I just walked into the woods and didn’t come back? Or that I wound up at the Choosing Ceremony, months later, with the Leader of Dauntless? None of that was suspicious to you?” I unwind my arms, and the sick feeling returns to my stomach. “Your friend is not who he says he is. If you believe Landon over me, then…I don’t know what to tell you.”

“What did they do to you?” Forrest asks, his voice breaking when our eyes meet. “Landon swore you left and –”

“They sold me like cattle. Like a product. There are plenty of girls still there. The ones who don’t sell end up dead.” The words scrape their way up my throat. “Landon was paid after the auction, and I would bet anything he’s still being paid. They seem to have an endless need for girls.”

“Okay.” Forrest nods miserable. “Yeah…I believe you. But I’ve been in the woods. I went with dad. I’ve –”

“I don’t care what you believe. If I see Landon, I will make sure he doesn’t walk away from me.” I announce. “The auction is very real, and…there was a threat made against our sisters. It’s why I’ve stayed with Eric and not fought to get away from him. They know who Paisley and Holly are. They know how old they are. They could be next.”

Forrest nods, his hands gripping the counter behind him. He clears his throat, but his voice is shaky.

“I ran into Eric after the Choosing Ceremony. He told me you were okay. He told me the same story, but he said…he said you were alright. That you were safe with him and he wasn’t going to let them find you.”

Forrest looks down again, and he sounds like he’s going to cry.

“I believed Landon, but I looked for you. I asked to keep looking but Dad said to leave it be. I’m sorry.” He fixes his stare to my face, and his eyes are watery. “You didn’t deserve that.”

“How do you know who Eric is?” I hate the lump in my throat. “When did you talk to him at the Choosing Ceremony?”

“I’ve seen him around plenty of times but I worked the Choosing Ceremony. I spoke with him while you were in line. He told me to fuck off until his friend confirmed I was your brother. I told him I was worried about you and he eventually mentioned the wedding. I thought he was lying but…he wasn’t. He told me you’ll never come back here, even when he’s sure there isn’t another auction.” Forrest pauses, blinking frantically. “Is that true? You’ll stay with him?”

“Yes, it’s true.”

“Landon says he’s a criminal.” Forrest says, his tone becoming urgent. “He claims Eric has killed people and he’s dangerous and…there was a kid…and Eric…he…”

“I’m sure Landon said a lot of things.” I force myself to keep my voice even. “Did you really think he’d tell you Eric is some sort of hero?”

“No.” Forrest looks right at me. “But I still don’t know why Landon would do that. He liked you.”

“They paid him. That’s why he did it,” I answer with more force than necessary. “They pay all of them. Has anyone else from Amity gone missing? Maybe he’s been quiet because he’s busy coaxing girls into the woods and profiting off them. Even if he likes them.”

Forrest doesn’t answer me.

The house creaks. It’s old and weathered, but it’s cozy. Smaller than I’d think Eric would like, but out of the way enough that no one should bother us. The kitchen is pretty; it’s not as nice as Eric’s, but it’s clean and spacious. It’s a fine house, one that anyone in Amity would be happy to have, especially someone who had their whole lives ahead of them.

Especially those finishing up the Amity initiation, having experienced the first taste of freedom since turning eighteen.

“Forrest?” I say his name as the front door opens. “Have others gone missing?”

He looks at me like a deer in headlights.

He stares at me dress, black not green, and the ring on my finger.

“Does Eric love you?” He asks, looking through me. “Does he really want to be married to you?”

“No, he does not.” My answer is flat, but it’s drowned out by the sound of Eric’s boots thudding over the floor as he barks out an order for someone to bring him a coffee. “Forrest, are there other girls missing from here? Do you know who they are?”

He looks at me, miserable as ever, and his lips twist.

In the distance, Eric wearily commands someone to the lake, and Forrest slumps against the counter.

His gaze finds the floor, heavy with remorse.

“Yes.”

“It has to be him. I’m telling you. If you arrest Landon, you’ll find Shannon. Then you can kill her. Just give Landon that…that serum thing that Harrison gave the other guy so he’ll talk.”

Frustration rips through me as I watched Eric brush his teeth. The metal above his eyebrow is dull in the bathroom lighting, and his skin looks tan thanks to the dark room.

“Eric, he’s still doing it. Forrest said –”

“I know.” Eric cuts me off, spitting out his toothpaste and sighing. “We all know it’s him. We’ve been watching him for a while. He’s taken a few girls since you. Harrison was able to intervene once, but we were too late the other times.”

“How many have been from here?” I ask, inching closer as he looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “Do you talk to Forrest often? How do you know who he is? When did you see him? Is he lying? Why didn’t you tell me there were more girls?”

Eric rinses his mouth with water, then raises an eyebrow at me. “Which of those questions would you like me to answer first?”

“I…”

“You brother has been a fucking pain in my ass since the moment he realized you were alive. He was invited to Dauntless to show that you were fine, but now, he’s convinced you should stay here and he’ll keep you safe despite still being friends with Landon.” Eric looks at his reflection then exhales sharply. “There are seventeen girls missing from Amity. I haven’t said anything to you because there’s been a lot going on, and you can’t do anything to help them. The best we can do is show up to the auctions and try to get them out there while keeping tabs on what Landon is doing. That’s part of the reason we’re in Amity.”

“Have you gone back?” I stare when he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it onto the counter. “Eric?”

“Personally? No. I’ve spent my time with you, making sure you stayed warm.” He shoots me a pointed look, then narrows his eyes at my nightgown. “Where did you get that?”

“I bought it from Christian. I thought it was pretty.” I cross my arms defensively. “Actually, you bought it.”

“Oh, right.” He looks repulsed, but it’s good natured. “Is there anything else you want to know? I haven’t gone back to the auctions other than to help Jason, and yes, the marriage is real, and no, you will not be left here with your brother. He’s a nice guy and I get the concern, but he’s still around the guy who sold you. Yes, other people are going, and no, it’s not just us. We have recruits in other factions now.”

“I don’t want to stay here. When we go back, I want to go home.” My words come out far quieter than I want them to. “Rachel said we’re moving.”

“We are,” Eric answers roughly. “I’m supposed to live by the other Leaders. I never pushed the issue because I was happy to return to Dauntless instead of jail.”

“I like your apartment,” I tell him quietly, stopping when he throws me a funny look. “What?”

“I’ve never given it much thought,” he shrugs. “I’m sure you’ll like the new one. If you don’t… we’ll… we can move again.”

He throws this out to pacify me, but the look on his face tells me that Eric Coulter has never once given a fuck about where he lives.

“We should go to sleep. In the morning, I have a meeting. You can relax and take a few days to unwind. Then we’ll leave for Erudite when you’re ready. Hopefully, before your brother comes back with another demand that I hide you in a barn.”

“Okay.”

I agree, staring up at him while he stares down at me.

Our time in Amity has been brief.

Very brief.

After Eric returned from his phone call, he greeted Forrest and sharply told him he was needed at his bar, and Harrison was on his way to meet him. I didn’t even know Forrest knew Harrison, but Forrest nodded and said he’d leave now. He asked me if I’d see him before I left, and I didn’t have an answer for him. I stayed frozen in place until he walked out the door with his head down, and Eric’s phone rang again.

The rest of the evening was quick: I confessed that my brother was an idiot while Eric made dinner, he apologized for Nelson grabbing me, and I told him he didn’t need to apologize. I then explored the house to find absolutely nothing interesting before sitting on the balcony to spy on the soldiers walking below. I saw no one familiar aside from Rylan, happily explaining something to Jason as they walked toward the main faction.

Eric eventually found me and insisted I come inside so we could eat.

Now, I follow him into the bedroom, a quiet space nestled in the furthest corner from the stairs. He shuts the bedroom door, locking it as a precaution, before sitting down on the side of the bed. I haven’t gotten in it yet, and his posture hints he’s prepared for me to ask him a hundred other questions.

“What else would you like to know?” He raises both eyebrows. “And before you ask, no, you can’t go help find the girls, and no, I have no plans to go back. There are others whose orders involve the active auctions besides me. It’s Harrison’s project now. Since we’ve been here, no one else has gone missing.”

“I wasn’t going to ask that,” I walk toward him, and my lungs stick when I stop right in front of him. “Do you think you’ll –”

“No.” He interrupts me with a dark look.

“You didn’t even let me ask my question!” My protest makes him smile, one so slight it’s gone before I can smile back. “What happens when you find Shannon? Can you arrest Landon then? Why can’t you just call her and tell her to meet you? You guys could ambush her.”

“I told you, if I call her and arrest her, I blow the cover of everyone else working. I’d be risking the lives of every girl there. I’m not the only one working on this, nor am I in charge of it. My guess is if something happens to her, the others have orders on where to take the girls.” He takes hold of my wrist, his fingers curling into my skin to pull me closer. “I can’t arrest Landon until I have proof. If he’s sourcing the girls, it would be obvious when he doesn’t show up. We’re giving him enough rope to hang himself. I’m thinking he’ll do something stupid while we we’re here, and that’s my in.”

“I guess…” I trail off, and his head tilts.

He stays still.

His eyes are warm.

They have lost the arctic refusal of anything but indifference. He smiles again when my hands tentatively touch his chest, and I’m unsurprised at the heat of his skin. I have slept beside him for some time now, and I’m familiar with the warmth of him, especially when he says my name.

“Everly….”

“Did you drink more peace serum?” I ask, inching even closer. He huffs in exasperation, but his grip lessens. He moves his hands to my waist, and my heart nearly explodes when he shakes his head. “Eric –”

“No.”

“I could go with you. We could go back to the auction together. Maybe… maybe I’ll see someone I recognize,” I offer. “Like how you had me see the girls that they brought to Dauntless.”

“No.”

He shakes his head again, and I’m so close that I could climb onto his lap.

“Your only involvement is to continue your life with me. You’ll act as my wife, and you’ll act as though you are unafraid, no matter what happens. In a few months, this should all be over.” He swallows, and this time, his hands move to my back. “I told you I’d keep you safe. Bringing you the auction wouldn’t be keeping you safe.”

“I know it’s not safe,” I agree. “You’re right.”

“I am.” He smiles humorlessly. “Everly…”

He leans back, like he’s taken back by his actions.

“What?”

“I’m sorry. I—” He shakes his head, stiffening when I touch his face. “This isn’t –”

He stops, and I know he’s not happy with his actions under the peace serum.

I understand; I once found myself staring dreamily at a guy after my mother put the serum in pan of brownies. He eventually noticed and gently smiled, and I was mortified that I couldn’t stop myself from gawking as he hastily retreated to the fields.

“It’s fine. I know you won’t hurt me. But I want to kiss you goodnight. That way…when I kiss you in public, it won’t look awkward.” I think quickly, and his head tilts as he listens. “If you want people to believe this, then…kiss me again. So, I know what to expect.”

“That’s not a good idea.” He shuts his eyes, then opens them. “That’s –”

“Show me how to kiss you so it looks like I’m your wife,” I counter. “If you want this to be legitimate…”

Eric’s palms are hot as they press against my cheeks. His moves his hands into my hair, digging his fingers in to tilt my head up as he considers my offer. My heart beats wildly as danger courses through my veins with startling force.

He nods before his mouth crashes against mine.

“Okay.” He mumbles against my lips, pulling me closer. Tighter. Until I am tangled around him, and my feet leave the floor. “But only this. Nothing else.”

Triumph rushes through me as he manages to turn so I am the one on the bed. He’s over me, his hands on my throat as they push my hair away, and his eyes dark as he kisses my neck, sinking his teeth into my skin.

Despite him pretending this is simply a way to keep up appearances, when he sighs my name as my fingers touch the back of his head, and his nose presses against my skin.

He sighs my name, so softly that I almost imagine he said it.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve: A Way Out

It feels like the end of the world when I open my eyes to darkness. To the stab of cold as the sheets slip off and the ache in my skin when I realize I am alone, in an unfamiliar house, in an unfamiliar bed. The thick blanket has been pushed aside, and where Eric slept is empty. My hand skims the sheet to find a distinct lack of warmth, and the disappointment is biting.

We’d fallen asleep not long after he kissed me.

In every way, I knew what I was doing was far more dangerous than choosing Dauntless on my own. Kissing Eric was a brave move but also a stupid one. Whatever he might feel for me, pity or perhaps some genuine affection, was complicated; neither of us was in any position to feel anything but a united front against the auctions.

And I should be united against Shannon by being afraid of him, of the Dauntless faction, of my own brother stupidly believing his friend. I should be afraid of knowing I cannot leave Eric’s side, and when all is said and done, I am officially a member of Dauntless –a faction designed to manufacture soldiers and foster a comradery that I’ll never understand. I do not fit in there, and though I can try, it is painfully obvious that I was brought to Dauntless against my will.

Eric isn’t afraid, but he is determined, and my part in his plans falls neatly into his life’s purpose. Right his reputation, save the day, then retreat to the world where he is both feared and revered, but now with a wife who will prove he is a changed man. Eventually, he will request more in exchange for keeping me alive.

The realization hit me last night.

His mouth moved slowly, carefully, like he was taking time to memorize every inch of my skin.

Nothing Eric does is rushed, aside from the time he knocked me out of the way to save me from the man following me. Eric is calculated. Precise. Confident in his ability to best anyone, including me. He is fully aware that my connection to him is by chance, but it has long surpassed the point where logic makes sense.

He has made a life-changing purchase under the guise of official orders, yet there I was, slipping my hands behind his neck to pull him closer. I was legally bound to him but willing to do my part to save the others. Ironically, my part was living out Shannon’s orders: I’d do whatever I was asked to stay alive, and the odds might skew in my favor if I listened.

It was unfair and unfathomable that it was working, but last night, I didn’t care.

As Eric sighed, his hands warm and his mouth even warmer, I knew he was critical of his own actions. I was young, probably too young for the person his wife should be, and in a position of disadvantage. Eric had lived dozens of lives that I couldn’t even begin to imagine, yet when he pulled away, I saw all of them. The version of him that chose Dauntless, fighting alongside the other initiates without anyone knowing who he’d become. The version who was a Leader handed power and gifted violence to dole out as he saw fit. The Eric who chose to obey orders drilled into him until he figured out their end game. The newer Eric, the one who had been sentenced yet unrepenting of his sins, was now fully determined to never let anyone best him again.

And this Eric, the one allowing himself to give into a moment of rare pleasure.

He made sure I was close to him, that his arm was over me, and that I was warm, and when he shifted his weight to face me, I knew the complicated matter of this relationship wouldn’t be undone once his job was over.

It wouldn’t be over.

Not like I was thinking.

Sure, he could easily cut ties the minute he arrested Shannon and rescued those awaiting the sale, but I knew he wouldn’t. He would need more. He would need to continue to prove he’d redeemed himself, not just to the Leaders and other factions, but to himself.

Which is why finding him gone sends a shiver up my spine. Shannon has given me a gift a loneliness, one that emerges when I let my guard down. It’s left me reeling, knowing Eric is the only constant I have. Determined to find him and shake the feeling, I throw the covers aside, grab a sweater, and head downstairs. The wood creaks beneath my feet, and relief hits me as soon as I hear Rylan’s voice along with Eric’s grunt of annoyance.

“Everyone out there is my enemy. And no, Eric, I will not elaborate. You know what I’m talking about.” Rylan lets out a huff. He crosses his arms over his chest, and Eric’s eyes shut as his patience becomes nonexistent. “You got lucky this time. I should have gone in your place.”

“Rylan –”

“No one trusts me because I have the uniform on. No one will tell me anything because they think I’m a spy. No one will show me where Landon is going because they think I’ll tell you.”

“Which you will. Because it’s your job, and you are a spy,” Eric counters. His stare flicks over Rylan’s head to me, and he leans back. “Where is Landon, anyway?”

“He’s with Everly’s dad.”

Rylan’s answer –unhappy and snappy –makes Eric’s lips press together. His stare stays on me, and when I smile, he forces one back.

Rylan turns immediately.

“I knew there was only one reason you’d be smiling while in Amity.” He gloats. “Hi, Everly.”

“Hi, Rylan. Hi, Eric.”

My eyes search Eric’s, but I’m met with something less than delight. Eric looks uneasy; his hands wrap around his coffee mug like he wants to crush it, and when he looks up, he’s apprehensive.

I don’t blame him.

In the past few days, he’d professed his desire to sleep with me, reminded me that I was married to him, appeared horrified by his own thoughts, agreed to kiss me goodnight, and woke up in Amity.

In his world, this had to be a nightmare scenario, perhaps even worse than the day he was arrested.

“Did you sleep well?” Eric asks, reclining against the chair. He’s out of place in the kitchen. His uniform jacket is nowhere to be found, but his t-shirt is familiar. “Are you hungry?”

“I did sleep well.” I head toward the table, noticing Rylan is dressed in his uniform, though his hair is down, and his boots are a different color than he normally wears. “Are you hungry? I can make you something to eat.”

“Sit. Harrison dropped off something from the kitchen. Whether it’s safe or not to eat is a gamble, but I imagine it’s fine. He ate it and seems to be alright.” Eric shrugs dismissively, but Rylan shakes his head.

“Brave of you to willingly ingest anything you didn’t prepare yourself,” he winks. “I heard you didn’t enjoy your drinks at your reception. And to think I spent hours researching every ingredient.”

“Yeah, it was great. I’m sure Everly loved you drugging her, too.” Eric points out. He gestures for me to sit beside him, and when I do, he exhales. “And now that she’s here, you can apologize.”

“No thanks. I have nothing to apologize for.” Rylan answers cheerfully. “I enjoyed you leaving together, happily ever after. The only apology that’ll be happening is when you tell me you’re sorry for not believing me all this time.”

Eric’s jaw tenses.

His knee hits mine, and when I look up, he quickly averts his stare.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

The mood shifts. Eric looks at Rylan, and Rylan’s demeanor slips.

I wait patiently as they silently debate who will answer.

Rylan loses.

“Fine. I will be the bearer of bad news. There’s an invitation that came our way. Someone from Erudite is hosting a party and the attendees are those who have made successful purchases at the auction.” Rylan pauses and Eric’s stare shifts to me. “Harrison is pushing for Eric to attend. He thinks it’ll buy us some time and keep the girls alive a little longer.”

My stomach knots itself violently.

“A party…for the people who… went to the auction?” I repeat the words, but they’re hard to say. “Like a celebration for the men who went?”

“It’s not just me,” Eric clarifies. “The invitation insists that I bring you. It’s hosted by a man named Dillion. He’s one of Erudite’s leading researchers. He has no connection to Shannon that I can see. He purchased a girl from Abnegation as a wife a little over a year ago. She’ll be there.”

“Oh.”

I freeze, inches from the table.

I can barely breathe, but it lasts until Eric takes hold of my wrist. His hand curls around it, pulling it closer to him.

“Dillon received his original invitation while he was at an awards banquet. He went thinking it was a joke by some of his coworkers.” Eric pauses, and his explanation makes my ears ring. “He was at the same auction I was, but I don’t know if you met him. His wife heard her friend had gone missing and she was worried they’d found her the same way they found Amelia.”

“Amelia?” I ask. “Is that her name?”

‘Yeah. She was there when Jason and I toured the labs the other day.” Rylan nods. “Kinda stuck up if you ask me. She did question if we’d found her friend or heard anything about the next group.”

“Did Dillion ever find the friend?” I sit up straighter when Rylan shakes his head.

“No, he didn’t. If it makes you feel any better, Amelia is doing alright. They’ve hosted another version of this party before and have a way of knowing exactly who has been to the auctions. The invites are very… specific. Harrison thinks Dillon is a frequent visitor.”

“And you think he’s involved?” I tilt my head at Eric, but his expression is unreadable. “Does he have something to do with the tracker? You said they were made in Erudite.”

“We looked at them. The lab Dillion oversees manufactures them. His involvement didn’t come until after he bought Amelia. I can’t figure out if he was curious about the tracker or is trying to improve them for his own benefit. Either way, the choice is yours. We’ll go, you can see… whoever is there, and we’ll leave. But we have to play their game and make them believe we aren’t involved in the investigation. If you wish to skip it, which I think is a smart move, then we’ll stay home.”

“When is the party?” I ask as the fear subsides in a surprising manner.

Going anywhere involving the auction or people who were at it should make me nauseous. But there’s a chance to learn what Amelia knows, which means Eric could find out who is running things if it’s not Shannon. Perhaps enough progress can be made so that the case will be closed and his focus will shift to other things.

My stomach twists until my insides hurt.

“Tonight.” Eric mutters. “I have to respond by lunch. I normally wouldn’t ask you to go, but Harrison thinks this is it. It’s how we find out how to shut it down.”

I stare at Eric and Rylan, both looking anywhere but at me. Eric’s fingers twitch on my wrist, and his thumb presses firmly when I don’t answer right away.

I look past Eric, toward the large window over the sink. Large, leafy green plants have been placed along the windowsill. A smaller pot holds a hint of pink flowers, like the ones Eric bought, and beside that is a plant with blue flowers. They are vibrant, slightly taller, growing towards the pink flowers.

I look at them until my eyes blur, and my answer is as quiet as Eric’s.

“I’ll go.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? What if they rekidnap you?”

Forrest, presumably the only person in Amity I’m allowed to see, sits down on the edge of the bed. He frowns as I rifle through my bag, and his arrival is both a distraction and a curse.

He showed up looking apologetic.

Embarrassed.

Ashamed.

He handed me a stack of books, a dress that my sisters had borrowed and never turned, and a plate of brownies. I put the dessert on the counter and take the dress upstairs as he followed with a mumbled, desperate explanation as to why he’d trusted Landon, how he felt about him now, and his new offer to help Eric. He sat quietly while I told him that it was fine; I understood that he’d believe his friend, and it didn’t sting as much as it did yesterday. He looked grateful until he asked what I was doing, and his expression changed to disapproval.

“You said it’s dangerous. Why would you willingly go there?”

“Eric will be there. I don’t think anything will happen under his watch,” I point out. “Plus, it’s others who have been to the auction. No one is doing to do anything stupid.”

“What if it’s a trap?” Forrest demands. “What if Eric reveals his true colors and sells you himself?”

When I sigh, he shakes his head.

“You don’t really know the guy.”

“Eric said I might see some of the girls I was with. It’s a chance to find out where they went and see if they’re okay.” I counter. “Besides, if Eric was going to get rid of me…he would have by now.”

I pretend I don’t remember his talking about the points and instead focus on finding what I’m looking for.

A dress that Eric had given me to replace the one my father gave away.

“I’m surprised Eric said yes.” Forrest sighs when his look meets my stare. “Especially now. What if you see someone who shouldn’t be there? Or someone you never would think would go to the auction? I don’t think this is smart.”

He fidgets with his hands, clearly nervous.

“You should stay home.”

“It’ll be fine,” I shake my head. “And who are you thinking I’ll see that shouldn’t be there? Eric said it’s only for people who have made a purchase at the auction. You haven’t gone, have you?”

For a split second, I wonder if Forrest would go.

He has plenty of friends here he could marry, but he’s stayed single.

“Forrest?”

He doesn’t answer. He looks down at his feet, and his shoulders rise.

“Did Landon take you there?” I demand. “Did he bring you with him?”

“He sent me an invitation today. They’re hosting a last-minute auction near the border of Amity and Candor. Eric told me he’s taking you to the party because he knows the auction is tonight, and the risk of Shannon being at the party is low. I told him I’d go. I’m going to ask Rylan to go with me or have him follow me. I want to do my part.” He looks at me, and my fingers gripping the dress in horror. “I could save someone. Or I could trade them for whatever they want. I have a few farm animals now.”

“Forrest…”

My head spins.

For a moment, I’m so dizzy I can barely stand. The thought of another auction is terrifying, but knowing it’s so close is enough that my vision swims. The dress drops, and when I step back, my legs feel weak.

“You can’t go. It’s not safe. It’s–”

“Everly.”

I hit Eric’s chest. He steadies me with a firm grasp of my arms, keeping me upright.

“What the fuck is going on?” Eric demands. “What did you say to her?”

“I told her I got the invite. I didn’t want to lie to her!” Forrest protests. “You said it yourself –if I can save even one person, that’s one less person they have.”

“I also said to leave your sister out of this.” Eric's tone is furious, but his voice sounds far away. “Harrison said it might be a risk, but they’re planning on shutting everything down if you can find Shannon. But you’ll have to make her think you’re serious. She’s not stupid. She knows you’re related to Everly.”

“Eric…” I twist to face him, and his expression is grimmer than I’d like. “They’ll know who he is. His invitation isn’t by accident.”

“He’ll be fine. Four is going with him.” Eric glances down at me, jaw askew. “You’ll be nowhere near the auction. Erudite is a safer faction for the evening.”

“And you don’t need to be there?” I crane my head up, noticing that Eric looks less enthused and oddly hesitant. “You don’t want to be the one to arrest her?”

“It doesn’t have to be me. Rylan is fully capable of bringing Shannon to Dauntless. There’s an entire army who will be there to help. It’s…” He pauses, and his fingers dig into my skin. “Look, there’s a chance she won’t be there. We got word that some of her guys aren’t happy with how they’re being compensated, and this is their attempt to screw her over. If this isn’t her doing, and Shannon isn’t hosting this one, then it’s even more important that we’re at both events.”

I stare at him, unsure of what to say.

My brain clearly doesn’t work like Eric’s, nor does it understand their plan. But since I am not a Leader in Dauntless, let alone a soldier, I have no say in their plans.

“You’ll attend this party with me, your brother will go with Four and see what can be done. If everything goes according to plan, the auctions end tonight and the girls in custody are safe.” Eric relaxes his grip. “It’s what we’ve been working towards.”

“What happens to the girls there?” I twist to face him.

He lets out a sharp exhale.

“They’ll be taken and evaluated in Dauntless. Until we’re sure the auctions are over, they’ll stay in Dauntless until their factions are deemed safe to return to. Jason has figured out that most of the girls there are factionless and have nowhere to return to. In that case…” he hesitates. “I don’t know. They’ll likely stay since we aren’t confident someone won’t try their luck at a copycat auction.”

“Right.” My answer is quiet. “And what about –”

“Will Everly come back here?” Forrest interrupts. “I know she picked Dauntless, but she could come back. We have a few empty houses…”

He trails off, looking at Eric optimistically.

“She might want to come home. I bet you guys could find her a house. Assign soldiers to act as security or something.”

“She has a home,” Eric answers, his tone sharp enough to make Forrest lean back. “Your sister chose another faction. She will not return to Amity under my watch.”

“So, you’re keeping her? Like a prisoner?” Forrest counters. “I know you guys own Amity now, but if the others go home –”

“I said, she has a home. None of you gave a shit when she vanished the first time, so why would I send her back to any of you?” Eric’s patience expires. “I’ve been very clear that she will not come back here. If you want to see your sister, then stop asking me when I’m bringing her back.”

“Ever?” Forrest tries one more time, but he knows he’s pushing his luck. “Fine. I get it. I…understand.”

“Good. Now go meet Harrison. He’ll brief you on how to act and what they expect from you. We’ll also make sure you’re capable of lying to their faces. If Shannon is there, she’ll likely ask you about Everly and you need to convince her you haven’t seen her since she left. Not even at the wedding.”

“Right.” Forrest stands, his stare now stoic. “I can do this. Swear.”

“I’m sure.” Eric doesn’t care.

He watches as Forrest walks away, then sighs. “I know this isn’t ideal, but I promise, this is our best chance so far. Once it’s done, things will be as normal as I can make them.”

He shifts so he’s facing me, and when Eric glances down, I feel the desperation radiating from him.

I can’t figure out where it’s from: a desire to right his past by solving this case and saving the day, the hopes of finding Shannon tonight and this being over, or the thought that I might ask to return to Amity, leaving him a married Leader with a wife nowhere to be found.

His hand grazes mine, the action far softer than anything so far, and I nod.

“I know you will.”

His fingers thread through mine, the action no longer foreign to him but second nature.

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, but he stares at me in a way that makes my heart skip a beat, both painfully and pleasantly.

“How many kids do you want? Five? Six? Seven?”

Courtney’s voice drifted along the clouds, lazy as we lay on a rock jutting over the lake. The sun warmed my skin, leaving a faint pink that would tan days later.

“Everly?”

“Zero.” My answer is laughed as I turn over, resting on my stomach. Six feet below us, our friends swam in the lake, shouting for us to come join them. “How many do you want? Ten?”

“Two or three. I don’t have any sisters, so I think it would be nice. Maybe I’ll have twins and get it over with.” She wrinkled her nose when I looked at her, and her eyes narrowed. “What about Jake? I heard he only wants one. You guys both have big families. I bet he’d be okay with a single kid.”

“I’m sixteen. The thought of a child makes me want to barf. And it should make you want to barf, too.” I pointed out. “If you want a baby, hang out with Zander. He screams half the night and cries when you don’t give him your dessert. Last week, he threw a truck at my head. Trust me, you don’t want any kids.”

“Well…that’s Zander.” Courtney considered my answer, sitting up when someone tried to splash us. “I bet Jake could convince you.”

“Ew.”

I sat up to glare at her, shielding my eyes from the sun. Amity was as lively as ever; the summers brought everyone out in droves, content to bask in the luxuriously warm weather. On the shoreline, my sisters sat with their friends, giggling over something. Beside them, a young family introduced their toddler to the water. The lake was full of people unwinding. There was no communal meeting scheduled tonight, but instead a bonfire. After an afternoon at the lake, everyone would meet for dinner and then finish by roasting marshmallows.

A baby would ruin all of that.

I knew firsthand that looking after Zander while everyone else had fun was a nightmare.

‘You’ll change your mind someday,” Courtney snickered, adjusting the top of her swimsuit. “I saw Landon earlier. He said you looked pretty.”

“I’m sure he did. He’s desperate for me to hang out with him.” I rested my head on my arms, hating the way my body tensed at the mention of his name. “Where was he going? He’s supposed to be at work.”

“Somewhere near the forest. I heard him talking about the price of sheep. Who do you think he’d sell them to? The factionless can’t buy them.”

“Beats me.”

Bliss washed over me at the thought of him being nowhere near us. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sounds of the water hitting the rocks, people laughing, and the faint, panicked shriek of someone yelling. I opened my eyes to see Courtney squinting toward the far end of the lake with a look of concern on her face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Dauntless is here.” She sat up straighter, rising to her knees. “They’re talking to Johanna.”

I sat up quickly.

When I rose to my knees, I saw what she was looking at. A row of soldiers dressed in black swarmed the area. Each one was a carbon copy of the others: young, with short, cropped hair, black uniforms, weapons, and militant-looking boots. A few glimmers of metal flickered beneath the sun, and the only person not identical was a guy with long hair. He kept bouncing around with his arms behind his back, surveying the area with a delighted look on his face. When he wandered too far, someone yanked him back with a scowl and reprimanded him to stay in line.

The grin never left his face.

“Do you know who they are?” Courtney, ever the romantic and opportunist, and especially a romantic opportunist, smiled as one turned his stare in our direction. “They look hot.”

“Well, it’s warm out,” I rolled my eyes, finding zero appeal about the soldiers. She threw me a dirty look, and I smirked when she fluffed her hair. “And they’re wearing uniforms. I bet they’re sweaty. And gross. They probably stink.”

“Everly, what the hell? Are you twelve? I meant they look hot, like they’re attractive. I wouldn’t mind seeing them out of uniform.” She laughed, rising to her feet. “Jump in after me.”

“Why?”

I wasn’t stupid, but I also wasn’t interested in drawing attention to myself. When I sat back on my heels, the oldest-looking one tilted his head. I couldn’t make out more than his shoulders rising and the air of annoyance when Johanna stepped in front of him and shook her head.

“One keeps looking over here. I bet you’d have six of his babies.” Courtney, apparently an unrelenting fortune teller, laughed as she skipped to the end of the rock. “Or maybe just one.”

“Courtney…” I said her name darkly, but she wasn’t listening.

The soldiers stared as she leapt from the rocks into the water.

I caught their envious expressions as she swam out a dozen feet before she disappeared beneath the water, only to remerge somewhere near the middle.

“Courtney!” I called her name, hoping she’d come back so I wouldn’t be up here alone. I felt exposed, especially when I saw Landon emerging from the woods to make a beeline toward me. “Shit.”

My life flashed before my eyes as I scrambled to my feet. I heard him call my name as I neared the edge, and for a half second, I wavered. The rock was hardly high; it wasn’t like I’d even fall to my death if I slipped, nor would anyone be shaking by standing up here.

But Landon looked at me fearfully, and I knew exactly what he saw: his future wife, precariously close to the edge, ignoring his demands to get down.

I was far from obedient when I turned away, ignoring his barked orders.

“Everly! Get down! You could fall! And the lake is freezing! You’ll get sick!”

I ignored him when he yelled again, this time louder, making my skin hurt. Every time I saw him, he was more and more insistent that I listen to him. He was hoping I’d fall in line and in love with his overbearing personality and mature into his wife, but I found myself reverting to an immature, rebellious teen who wanted to defy every word that slipped past his lips.

Sixteen was the freest I’d ever been, and I wasn’t going to waste it playing house with a guy who saw himself as an authority figure over me.

While Landon hurried, I reached the edge with ease, leapt without looking, and was beneath deep, dark waters as he told me to knock it off. I stayed beneath the water until I found Courtney and her laugh was pleased that I’d joined her.

“They watched you jump,” she insisted, treading water as Landon desperately tried to find a way to reach us without getting wet. “They’re cute. Well, the one I saw was cute. I bet you’d fall in love if you saw him.”

“I bet I wouldn’t. Besides, they hate us. Last week, one of them called us banjo trash.” I kept my head above water, knowing the middle of the lake was the deepest. Courtney and I were good swimmers, but we’d tire if we stayed here long enough. I also knew Landon was a shitty swimmer and wouldn’t dare jump in. “And they don’t look like anyone who goes home to a family.”

“True.”

Her despondent murmur made me turn my head to look at them.

We were far enough away that they really couldn’t see us, but I could tell they were young. Not much older than us and forced to patrol on the hottest day so far.

I swam back a few feet, then a few feet more, when Landon tried again. This time, his yell alerted my brother, who joined him and shook his head. They argued, and whatever Forrest said was enough to get Landon to leave with him.

Relieved, I ducked beneath the water to slick my hair back, and when I came up for air, the soldiers were gone.

“They waved goodbye,” Courtney announced, but her smirk told me otherwise. “One said he’d marry you tomorrow if you want him to.”

“How nice, but I’ll pass.”

I splashed her smirk away, but we both laughed. She suggested we race each other back to shore, and I agreed, pleased to be rid of the soldiers and Landon.

I glanced over to where the soldiers stood, but the only trace of them was a lone farmer, scowling and huffing as he waved his arms and loudly, and with a surprising amount of anger, told Johanna they had run over his fence.

Erudite is an entirely different world.

The buildings are shiny, the homes are larger than anything I’ve seen before, and the roads are well-paved. It’s everything the other factions are not: boastful where others are quiet, proud with its architecture, violent with its smugness, and cowardly with how hidden everything is. It’s like they’re trying to keep their intelligence to themselves, hidden behind tall gates and patrolled by a security team that is a weak parody of the Dauntless soldiers.

Dillon’s home is the peak example of an Erudite citizen.

It’s white. Marble. A dozen columns lining a porch, then a dozen more. The doorbell is the size of my head, and the door itself is large enough to fit an army through. I’m both impressed that Dillon has such a home but afraid of why he does. The house seems extravagant for a lab researcher in a faction of geniuses until Eric muttered that it was Dillon’s parents, and when they passed, it was left to him at the age of 22.

It explains why the inside is far too formal for someone the same age as Eric, and the waitstaff stiffly stands to the side, taking coats and murmuring which way to go. They look at me with pity, no doubt aware of why I am with Eric, but they remain dutifully quiet.

“Stay by me.”

Eric’s orders are spoken evenly.

His hand reaches for mine, threading his fingers through until his grip is tight enough that I can’t wiggle my hand away. He holds on even tighter as we are led through a dining room and then into a sitting room. His jacket is as dark as his mood, pressed and new-looking, and his smile is completely uninterested. He glances down at me as we near the crowd, but I can’t look at him.

The girls from the auction are everywhere.

My gasp is stuck in my throat as they glance in my direction. Much like the first time we met, no one says anything. A few blink, but most keep their heads down. I recognize several by their faces and several by their posture. Most share the same look of trepidation, while others stand with a blank expression on their faces.

Some look far better than they did at the auctions. Their hair is styled for the party, and their clothes are clean and tailored. Others are meek and silent, but none have visible bruising that I can see.

It’s far from reassuring.

One of the girls I sat beside meets my stare, so miserable that it makes it hard to breathe. Dozens stand by the men who purchased them, looking less at ease. I don’t see any marks, except for one girl. Clad in a grey dress, she bites her lips as she is handed a drink, and a man who is not Marcus tells her it’s fine and she can eat and drink whatever she wants. I watch her relax a fraction of an inch, but she stays on guard, her stare nervously on the entryway as Dillion and Amelia arrive.

They are exactly what I imagine Shannon thinks she is offering.

“Do you recognize anyone?” Eric asks, his voice low enough that only I can hear him.

“Yes.”

Like a coward, I hold onto him tighter with both of my hands. I cling to him as though they will yank us apart and send me back to the auctions. This is a mistake. My heart beats wildly as I see the girls, and I know I should look more confident. I should have my head held high. I should be happy alongside Eric, the perfect wife he’s always dreamt of having, chosen and paid for by him.

Instead, I feel like I am drowning.

“You’re fine. Dauntless has the street surrounded. No one is taking you anywhere.” As if Eric could read my mind, he reassures me that I am safe. “Everly…”

“I’m okay.”

I swallow down the fear, pushing it deep enough that it subsides. I straighten myself upright, and though my dress catches between my feet, I walk as though I am unafraid.

“I think everyone is here!”

A cheerful voice rings out.

Amelia is stunning yet silent as her husband greets everyone by waving around a short glass of something dark. Her hands are clasped in front of her hair, and her hair is pulled back into a tight knot. Her dress is blue, as crisp as her stare, and her posture is obedient. There is not a mark on her, a spec of hesitation when he grins at her, nor does she have the uneasy posture of someone uncertain of their future with a stranger.

Dillon is wiry. Tall and thin, with a hint of arrogance that matches the décor. He’s ecstatic when he looks around, completely missing the way the girl in grey looks down, and the man beside her shifts his weight. Thrilled to be the center of attention, Dillon breaks away from Amelia to greet a man his age, and when he sees Eric, his face lights up.

Amelia’s does not.

She searches the room with a pointed look. Her gaze lands on each girl, and when she’s satisfied, she moves to the next one.

It’s easy to see she’s accepted the role she’s been assigned. As his wife, she is elegantly poised when he clinks his glass against someone’s, but when her eyes find mine, her smile falters.

She is one of us.

She turns to Dillon, who looks at me. He nods, she nods, and his hand moves to her back, gently coaxing her down the stairs. She moves graciously like she’s been trained to perform until they reach the bottom step.

They are a perfect couple, warm in their greeting and even kinder as they encourage everyone to make themselves comfortable. A flock of waitstaff emerges to pass out small plates of something, quietly mumming as they offer each person an additional drink under the watchful eye of Dillon. The house is soon filled with a low murmur that eventually turns to lively conversation.

He and Amelia stay together until Dillon leans in, and his permission is clear as day.

Amelia leaves his side, temporarily free.

A man my brother’s age hands her a single cigarette and a lighter before turning to guard the door. After a moment, he offers me one. I politely decline, having no clue how to smoke or the desire to try. Amelia asks him to keep an eye out for Dillon, and when he smiles at her, it’s a little too comfortable.

He’s done this for her before.

With a nod, he leaves, closes the doors, then locks them behind him.

“How old are you?”

The cigarette between Amelia’s lips muffles her words as the ash dims. She lights it again, huffing as someone calls her name, but she doesn’t answer past glancing toward the doors and then back at me.

She eyes my dress warily, but I know why.

Eric insisted I look like I came from Amity. It was his only suggestion, but more of an order, and he vetoed the dark dresses I had until I chose one that was gold. I left my hair down, twisting only a few pieces out of my eyes, and the only makeup I had was the lip gloss.

Oddly enough, I felt pretty.

I didn’t need to be pretty for anyone here, but it felt good to have some agency over myself as we headed to the dinner.

“You’re younger than I would think Eric would be comfortable marrying. I heard about you the second it was a done deal. They finally got a Leader to buy in who wasn’t Marcus.” Amelia, dressed in elegant clothing suited for someone older than her, with long nails painted a shiny peach, clears her throat when I don’t answer. “You can talk to me. Eric isn’t going to come over here. Dillon is keeping him busy. Are you seventeen?”

“I’m eighteen.”

A few months ago, I would have stumbled over my age. My time in Dauntless has been hard to keep track of; days became weeks as I fitfully slept, and weeks turned into months with each graze of Eric’s hand. Time meant everything and nothing. With no real need to keep track, the only real sign that it had been months since I left Amity was the weather and Eric’s announcement that initiation would be done soon.

“Were you seventeen when they sold you?” She asks. “The youngest I’ve heard is sixteen. Someone claimed there was a fifteen-year-old, but…I couldn’t find anyone that age.”

“I was seventeen. But my birthday wasn’t much later,” I answer hesitantly, not sure I can trust her. “I didn’t see anyone there that looked fifteen.”

Our time together, a single minute walk, consisted of her ushering me outside for some fresh air while someone held the door open for her and murmured that it was getting chilly and asking if we needed jackets. Eric only agreed to me leaving with Amelia by nodding, and it was clear he had a part to play, and that part included showing everyone that he was confident I wouldn’t run.

She led me up a different staircase to a balcony off to the side of what appeared to be an office.

“How do you know the ages?” I take in the large terrace, and there isn’t a soul around us. A few men are outside, but they are several stories below us, laughing as they discuss something I can’t hear. “Is there an age they prefer?”

“The younger and naiver the better. From what I’ve gathered, Shannon is getting smarter. Taking you before you pick an official faction makes it easier to hide you. It’s a bigger deal to find a missing adult than a runway teen.” She pauses, and her eyes narrow. “Shannon said you were one of the fastest sales she’s had. Did they make you wait long? Was it hours?”

“I wasn’t there long at all,” I try not to wince as I think of the auction. “I saw the men, and then sat in the trailer until they told me someone had placed a winning bid. Then they walked me out to see Eric.”

“Well, that’s better than sitting around for days. Some girls are there for weeks.” Amelia reveals, taking a long drag off the cigarette. “Shannon mentioned wanting you back. It bothers her that she could have gotten more for you. She offered Eric someone else if he brought you back, but he declined.”

Though I have heard this before, it still makes me queasy.

“Do you talk to her regularly?” I manage to ask. “Is she here?”

“She’s not here. I see her occasionally, but only to make sure I know she ends up there. If it’s someone I know, I try to get them out.” She takes another drag of the cigarette, and her shoulders relax as she leans against the balcony railing.

Behind her, the night sky glitters with stars above the warm glow of Erudite.

“Dillon has made more than enough purchases that she trusts him. It’s how I know who is for sale. He’s offered first dibs on anyone she thinks he wants. There’s one tonight…but he won’t make it. The girls are young, though. The youngest she’s found.”

“How many has he bought?”

I look past her toward the city.

The streets are laid out in a grid. From Dillon’s house, one could easily walk a few blocks to the main neighborhood, then a few more miles until you reach the center of the faction. After that, it’s maybe a twenty-minute walk to the section of what looks like medical buildings. Behind that is a road running parallel along a section of forest, with a few lights leading the way to a walking trail.

I have no clue where we are in relation to Dauntless, but it doesn’t matter. The forest leads so deep into the distance that I can’t see where it ends. There are no security cameras or red blinking lights –just bitingly cold air and the taste of freedom.

“At least thirty, maybe more. I never know until he returns. It’s not always the girls that I’ve asked him to look for, but that doesn’t matter.” Amelia tilts her head. The sounds of the party filter behind us, the conversation lively as the men congratulate each other. “He doesn’t keep them here. Most are granted asylum so long as they work for us.”

The word us sends a shiver up my spine.

“Where do they live?” I glance around, trying to figure out how big the house really is. “With you?”

“Occasionally. There’s housing near the labs. Once we’re confident they’ll be alright, we offer to let them live there. Several were distraught enough that it took months to get them in decent shape. Most will try to run the second they can.” She pauses, and her eyes scan my neck. “Has he been violent towards you?”

“No.”

“Good.” Her answer is odd as she leans further against the balcony, smoothing a stray piece of her hair. “Most who have come our way have been hurt.”

“I’m sure.” My stomach turns over at the memory of Miranda, and it stays tense when Amelia smiles tightly. “He hasn’t done anything. He’s been…fine.”

“You go lucky.” She pauses, eyeing me intently. “He must really like you.”

“Did they hurt you when you were there?” I ask, struggling to figure out what she wants. I keep waiting for there to be some sort of connection between us, but there’s none. “Were you there long?”

“It was surreal,” she hesitates. “I didn’t realize what was happening until they told me I’d been sold. Up until then, it seemed like I was dreaming. I kept expecting to wake up in my own bed or for someone to pop out and announce it was a joke. When I was taken to Dillon, I knew it was real.”

“I understand that feeling.” My chest tightens, and her stare feels invasive. “It’s not normal, that’s for sure.”

“I heard Eric is particularly attached to you. Was the marriage something he pushed for?” Amelia’s tone sharpens, and then she catches herself when I don’t answer. “I apologize if it seems like I’m being forward. I don’t have very long with you, and I’ve found most of the girls who are bought are rather accepting of their fate. They just…let it happen once they’re officially married or integrated into a family.”

Her words strike a nerve.

“What do mean? Do you expect them to fight? Do you think I could take Eric down?” I mirror her posture, leaning against the balcony railing the same way she does. “Do you think you’d win?”

“Against him? No.” She admits. “But others? Perhaps.”

“Well, Eric isn’t just someone I could punch in the face and walk away from. They monitor everything. Eric told me if I tried to run, he’d find me.” I glance down at the outside of the backyard, surprise to see him walking with a blonde woman. “If I had fought him, I don’t think it would have done much.”

“Are you happy with him?” Her curiosity is impossible for her to hide. “He’s rather intense.”

I stall for time by watching Eric.

Whoever he’s speaking to isn’t keen on being with him. I recognize her from the wedding reception. She was there with Four, but also at the birthday dinner Eric held for me. She says something to him that makes him sneer, then points into the distance as frustration crosses her face.

“I’m…”

My answer, one I can’t quite admit, sticks in my throat.

It feels impossible to say I am happy, but I’m not unhappy. The emotions I feel are too complicated to be summed up in a single word.

I wonder if she’s happy.

“If you aren’t, I can help you.” Amelia offers, her voice low. “I’ve worked with Dillon long enough to know what they look for in the men they ask to attend. I know that Eric is far from the upstanding Leader they’re portraying him as. His death wouldn’t be mourned the way you think it would.”

She watches my face carefully, composing herself as she flicks the ash again.

“Like Dillon, there will come a day when the pressure gets to him. It wouldn’t come as a shock for one to find your husband slumped over his desk, dead from the stress of running Dauntless.” Amelia smiles. “You’d be the last person they’d suspect.”

“Are you telling me that I should kill Eric?” I blink in surprise.

“I’m not telling you to do anything. But think about it. Why would you stay with someone who purchased you?” Amelia asks. “How can you look at him, knowing he went to the auction with the intent to buy a person? You’ll never know what he’s capable of doing.”

A story below us, Eric hisses at the girl to shut the fuck up and mind her own business.

I shake my head, and my defense pours out before I can stop myself.

“He went with a different purpose. He hasn’t done anything to me –”

“Yet.” Amelia takes another drag of the cigarette. “I can only assume he’s convinced you that he’ll treat you right and one day, you’ll rule Dauntless alongside him. I predict he’ll convince you to have his child, only further entangling your connection. Imagine him as a father. Annoyed that his wife’s attention is elsewhere, when you aren’t even the wife he knows he should be with, and furious because there’s a whining child vying for you over him.”

Her words are like knives slicing my skin.

“He’s not very patient, is he?” She murmurs. “And he’s proven to be unpredictable. The longer it goes on, the less chance of escape you have. I’ve been with Dillon long enough to know what happens once the façade drops. If there is even so much as a spec of doubt in your mind, then I can help you. Let me help you before it’s too late.”

She cocks her head as Eric and the woman continue their argument.

“Do you recognize any of the other men here tonight?”

“Should I?” I step back slightly, crossing my arms. “I don’t think I saw any of them at the auction.”

“I was just curious,” she answers lightly. “I don’t know all of them, but I wouldn’t trust any of them.”

“Are you happy with Dillon? Has he hurt you?” I try to shift the conversation away from myself. “Who brought you to the auction?”

“My parents.” She answers sharply. “I was too rebellious for them. They took me thinking I was heading to some sort of boarding school. They told me they’d seen me in a few months, but I never saw them again.”

“Do you want to see them now?”

“No.” Amelia answers harshly. “I can understand they were trying to help, but they had no clue what they were doing. The only way I’ve survived is by making someone else happy.”

“Are you going to kill Dillon?” I cross my arms tighter when her face becomes blank. “Do you want to leave?”

“Someday. When this relationship runs its course. I obviously don’t condone killing one’s spouse, but these are unique circumstances.” She pauses. “Dillon isn’t violent. His needs are met, and he thinks I’m content, so he leaves me alone. I’ve managed to have my own life here, but it’ll eventually be my way out.”

“How?”

My curiosity is piqued.

“I’ve worked with the serums long enough to gain some knowledge about them. A year ago, I discovered a combination that will stop one’s heart. A few drops in a drink, into his coffee, or mixed into what you’re making him for dinner, is all it takes. The only thing that shows up is a mild increase in cortisol, leaving everyone to assume the stress got to them.” Amelia’s smile is quick and honest. “I didn’t think it would work, but it does. I give every girl who comes here a vial to use. There is no other way out, Everly. By now, I’m sure you’ve realized this.”

“Right.” I nod, my body tense as she watches me.

A look of uncertainty flashes across her face and her own arms cross. I get the feeling I’m the first girl she’s spoken with who didn’t immediately beg for the vial and ask Amelia how to get away with murder.

“Do you wish to stay with him?” She asks softly, but her eyes have hardened. “If so, I understand. I just ask that you keep this between us. You don’t have to do anything with it, but if the time ever comes and you want a way out, you’ll have it. I trust that you’ll keep this quiet.”

The silence between us is loud.

I don’t know her, but we have a shared experience that can be only understood by someone who has gone through the moments of being observed like a product and having a price placed upon your life. A tag pressed onto your back, and a bounty injected into your neck. Having your life taken from you and placed in the hands of someone you’ve never met before, hoping they aren’t a monster.

Below, Eric’s voice is carried by the slightest breeze. It’s angry, filled with rage at the woman.

“I told you no. She’s my business now.”

“How do I use it?” I unwind my arms to step closer to her. “Won’t he taste it?”

“No.” Amelia shakes her head. “It’s flavorless.”

A shiver runs up my spine as she reaches for my hand. She presses a small vial into it, one so tiny that I’m shocked it holds enough serum to drug a bug.

“A single drop will be enough to make him shut his eyes and drift off. It’s painless, too. Mostly.” Her hand curls to close over mine. “If he asks, tell him it’s something for you that’ll help you sleep. He won’t question it.”

“No, he won’t.”

He will.

I’ve slept just fine beside Eric for a while now. Telling him I can’t sleep is a lie he’ll see through in a second.

He’ll simply move closer to me.

“Good. I try to help everyone who went through the auctions. I can’t stop Shannon, but this is the closest I can get.” Amelia steps away from me, tossing the cigarette aside as the doors creak open. “It was wonderful to speak to you. If you need anything, find a way to reach out to me. I’ll help, no matter the time or day.”

“Thank you. It was lovely to meet you.” I answer quickly, moving back when Dillon strides through with a look of concern etched across his face.

He lingers by me a moment too long as he reaches for Amelia, and I can feel his perusal as he takes hold of her arm.

Tightly.

A little too tightly.

“Ladies, sorry to interrupt. We’re about to serve dinner, and I can’t have the guests of honor missing.” Charming, but impatient, he tugs Amelia away from the balcony. “And I do believe Eric is ready for his wife to return.”

“I’m sure he is.” Amelia agrees. “Everly, it was wonderful to speak with you.”

“You as well.”

I wrap my arms around myself like I am cold and follow the gesture of the waitstaff as they guide me inside. When I am confident Dillon has turned to Amelia, I slip the vial into the almost useless pocket of the dress.

Then I walk with them down a grand staircase, through an expansive foyer, and back to Eric.

Eric’s hand is warm on my thigh, but his expression is frosty.

He eats a single bite of the soup and then sets the spoon down as though the meal has wronged him.

He’s smart.

“Everly, Eric, do you like the winter? It’s supposed to snow early this year. Perhaps you and Eric can spend some time in Erudite once the blizzard hits. We have a guest house you’re welcome to use. Eric you could take some time off, right?”

Dillon’s voice is a note too high with forced enthusiasm as he tries to engage us in conversation. Displeased when Eric doesn’t immediately say yes, he frowns even further when Eric isn’t impressed by the vegetable soup, nor does he make any move to eat anything else.

“Or maybe you could come for the holiday? A weekend?”

“I doubt we’ll have time.” Eric answers sharply. “Thank you for the invitation.”

“Of course. Perhaps things will change soon…” Dillon trails off, glancing at Amelia with a frustrated grimace.

I shift in my seat, feeling almost everyone look at us.

The moment I returned to Eric, I knew something was off.

He took hold of me tightly, but not as desperately as Dillon had grabbed Amelia. He pulled me against his side, and when Dillon encouraged us to follow him, he hung back with a chilly glare until Dillon was wise enough to give him space.

“Are you alright? Did she do anything to you?” Eric murmured, dropping his head so only I could hear him. “Everly, did she –”

“I’m fine. She just told me they’ve purchased girls hoping to save them. They all work for Dillon.” I whispered. My head was close enough to rest on his chest, and to anyone watching, it would look like he was giving me orders on how to behave. “She talks to Shannon sometimes. That’s how she knows who is there.”

“Where are the girls he’s bought?”

Eric’s question joined his hand, moving upwards to touch my cheek. He held me against him while I listened to the thud of his heart.

“Everly?”

“They live near the labs. She said they work there. She oversees the serum production.” I paused, aware that another couple was walking past us. The girl glanced at us with a look of desperation, and the man she was with was much older than Eric. “She creates serums, too.”

“Okay. Okay, good to know.”

His response was rough, but our moment alone was over.

A waiter cleared his throat and announced dinner was ready, and he didn’t want us to miss the bread service. Eric dropped his hand and ,with a forced smile, followed him into the dining room, where we were seated by another couple. The girl never looked up. The guy shot Eric a few envious looks, but Eric ignored him.

“Everly, you’ll soon be announced to the factions as Eric’s wife. Are you excited?” Amelia breaks the silence. “I imagine it’ll be a huge moment for you. Where are you from again?”

Eric’s fingers tense.

They dig into my skin through the flimsy fabric of the dress.

“Amity.” I answer politely, struggling to pick up the spoon. Now that I know Amelia has access to a plethora of serums, I’m not sure I want to eat anything in her house. “How about you?”

I’m met with silence from the others.

A girl across the table smirks when Amelia doesn’t immediately answer, and another tries to catch my eye. When I look at her, she widens her eyes at me, and it dawns on me that I sat across from her in the trailer.

The guy she is with is young, given how much he would have paid. He keeps beaming at her, but she presses her hand over her stomach, grimacing. She waits until he takes a sip of his drink, then nods at me like she knows I have the vial.

One more week.

Her whisper confirms my theory. The man’s death sentence will occur before I am back in Dauntless, and the girl will be free from him.

“I’m from Abnegation.” Amelia eventually answers, but her fork hits her plate loudly. “I can’t say I miss it. And you know I would say if I did.”

“Of course, of course.” Dillon waves his hand dismissively. “Now, I heard lots about Abnegation and little about Amity. But I’d love to hear about Dauntless. It must be wild to have left a life of farming to live in one of the most exciting factions we have. Especially as a Leader’s wife. You really hit the jackpot with Eric, didn’t you?”

He finishes his sentence with a nervous laugh.

The room is quiet, aside from the sounds of spoons clinking against the bowls and one of the girls coughing.

Eric’s head tilts. His jaw tightens, and before he says something to Dillon, I answer.

“I did, didn’t I?” I smile at Eric, but his expression remains unreadable. His palm presses flat against my leg, and his posture is tense as I lean into him.

“I’m really lucky.” I find his stare, and the chill lessens a degree. “I think Eric is lucky, too. Any of the girls would have been happy with him.”

Eric moves his hand from my thigh to place his arm around my shoulders. He pulls me into him, and when someone mutters their approval, he bends his head down, and his mouth touches my temple.

“We’re almost done here. Promise.”

“Well, I guess…despite a rather unique way of meeting, we all have Shannon to thank for tonight. Things really have turned out quite uh… well for most of us. Other than Marcus.” Dillon pauses. “I know, I promised I wouldn’t talk about him, but I’d like to toast to his memory. This is a small club to be in, and we lost a good one.”

“What happened to Marcus?” Eric asks, pulling away enough that I feel the disconnect. I lean closer to him, and without breaking his stare, he pulls me toward him. “He was at the same auction I was. I didn’t think he left with anyone.”

“Oh, yes, uh…” Pleased that Eric is interacting now, Dillon flashes him a grin. “He got greedy. He’d been purchasing girls at an alarming rate by claiming that they were working in Abnegation. The last time he was there, Shannon was suspicious that he was starting something like her auction. She told us she’d been dropping by Abnegation to check on them, and we haven’t seen or heard from him since.”

“Has he been here?” Eric asks casually. “To one of these dinners?”

“A few times.” Amelia responds carefully. “Months ago, right darling?”

“Right,” Dillion answers, but he’s lost in thought. “You spoke with one of the girls he had bought. She was very skittish. It was off-putting. You couldn’t get a word out of her, right?”

“No, you couldn’t.” Amelia’s discomfort mirrors my own. “She was… fragile.”

She keeps looking at me, then Eric. Her lips press together, and when Eric’s fingers move to my neck, carefully grazing the skin below my ear, her eyes flash.

Not with anger, or annoyance, or hesitation.

With jealousy.

“It was weird. Anyway, there’s a rumor he’s fallen ill. So has, uh….the other guy.” Dillon fumbles for a moment. “Darling, what was his name?”

“I don’t know,” Amelia answers quickly but a little too sweetly. “Which one?”

“He came from Abnegation as well. Said he needed someone to keep him company,” Dillon responds. “He was here three or four times. The girls were so sweet, so happy to finally be safe.”

“I’m sure,” one of the other men agrees. It’s the first time he’s spoken, and the girl to his side looks green as he slams his arm around her. “Finding and saving Bethany was the best thing that’s happened to me. In fact, I just wanted to share…we’re having our first child. She’s due early spring.”

Red faced with joy, he keeps pulling Bethany close to him, oblivious to her discomfort. When my eyes find hers, she shakes her slightly, and her lips tremble.

“The auction truly changed my life…” he continues. “Eric, as the newest member of the group, you are a lucky bastard. I wish you and Everly all the best.”

“Thank you.”

Eric’s answer is spoken tightly but with just enough malice that I know he can sense my desire to run. His arm drops until his hand finds my waist, and his smile is as fake as Amelia’s was.

“I’d like to raise a toast to the auction, but also to Dillon, for hosting tonight.” Eric raises his glass to clink against the man’s sitting beside him. “And to what the future holds for these events.”

“Here, here!”

I sit as still as stone as the men around the table congratulate one another. Amelia watches with the same look on her face, occasionally dropping into grief as the girl who is pregnant struggles not to cry.

Eventually, the toast subsides, and I am left with the dull rage of pretending to eat soup while wondering how anyone is hungry right now.

Amelia must feel the same way.

When the girl excuses herself with the whisper that she’s not feeling well, Amelia looks at Dillon so viciously that I know he won’t be alive much longer.

“You’ll have to come back when you can stay longer. Maybe…you can find some time in your schedule. We could host a weekend thing. Amelia really likes Everly. She doesn’t really get along with a lot of the girls. The whole auction thing. Some of them are so quiet and nervous. It makes the whole thing weird, you know.”

Dillon is as persistent as ever.

“Did you drive here? I didn’t see your car.”

“We had someone drop us off. They’ll be here any minute,” Eric responds, ignoring Dillon in a way that makes Dillon even more desperate to speak to him. “Sorry to cut this short, but I have work in the morning.”

“I understand. Being a Leader in Dauntless… I’m sure you’re slammed.”

Dillon waits as Eric takes my coat from the man working and helps me put it on. He’s unhurried with each button; he makes Dillon wait as he fixes the collar, and then he smiles at me with as much patience as he can muster.

“You and Everly are quite the pair. It’s almost a shame that there are rumors the auctions are being shut down.” Dillon throws out. “It’s been life-changing.”

“Where’d you hear that?” Eric murmurs, fixing the collar a second time. His fingers linger on my neck, warm as they brush down to my collarbone. “I have friends who are interested. I think one got an invitation tonight.”

He looks only at me.

I keep my stare on him, reaching to take hold of his wrist.

“Listen, between you and me…” Dillon pauses, looking down at me with a hint of trepidation. “She won’t say anything, right?”

“No, she will not.” Eric’s smirk is only visible to me. “She knows when to be quiet.”

I smile back.

I have never wanted to leave a place so badly, but I know we’re almost done. Eric must have gotten some of the information he wanted, but it sounds like Dillon knows more than he’s letting on.

“She has the tracker, right?” Dillon is nervous now. “I don’t want to ruin this for you.”

“She’s fine,” Eric snaps, but his hands stay on me.

“Right… look, Marcus is dead. The last girl he bought… they think she stabbed him in the middle of the night. Shannon went to look for him and nothing. The girl from the auction wasn’t there, his house was empty, his wife has been missing for years… and the only person around was one of the original girls. She was too scared to do anything, so she kept working.” Dillon confesses. “Amelia thinks someone told the girl how to kill him.”

“Why does she think that?” Eric downplays his interest. “Wasn’t Marcus –”

“A piece of shit? Yeah. But… if someone is telling the girls how to get out…it has Shannon on edge. They could come for her. Ruin everything.” Dillon looks nervous as he rakes his fingers through his hair. “It’s unfair. Amelia is the only person who ever gave me the time of day. And yeah, I get it. She has no choice. But we’re past that now. Just like you two.”

Eri stiffens.

I see the exact moment Dillon’s words hit a nerve.

“Did they find who killed Marcus?” Eric forces himself to relax, moving his hand to pull mine along with his. “Did the girl see anything?”

“Nothing. They even dosed with her truth serum.” Dillon half whispers. “Do you think that –”

He’s interrupted by the sound of footsteps.

The noise makes him retreat, and his nod is jerky.

“Like I was saying, it was great to have you both here. Please come back when you can.” Dillon fixes his hair, then adjusts his sleeve. “Sooner than later.”

“Thank you for having us.” Eric doesn’t agree to the plans. He takes hold of my hand, and on his cue, we head toward the front door.

Dillon follows a few steps behind, but he stays to speak with someone in the waitstaff uniform. I faintly hear the woman tell him they’re out of mousse, and Dillon’s answer is unhappy.

“Why is there not enough?”

“Amelia made yours special. There should be enough if you only eat yours.”

“Fine.” Dillon’s answer is loudly unhappy. “But Eric didn’t have any!”

The front door closes behind us with a soft click despite the heaviness. I stand on the porch with Eric, surrounded by cold air and a night so dark that the stars must have fallen. I can still hear Dillon whining about the mousse until his voice fades into nothing.

“I’m sorry about all this. The car is almost here.” Eric cocks his head, then bends down. “Everly, I know –”

“There’s a camera above you.” My words are as quiet as I can make them. Above us, the lone camera I’ve seen blinks. The light is blue, not red, and the shiny orb is small enough that it would be hard to miss. “I bet he’s recording us.”

“Probably.” Eric closes the distance between us. He takes my face in both his hands, and his shrug would normally be funny. “I’m sure he’ll watch this over and over.”

His thumb touches my cheek, and the world grows warm when he bends his head down. I rise onto my tiptoes to meet him, but I know what he’s doing. Dillon will watch this. Or Amelia will. Maybe they’ll watch it together.

“How long do we have?” I ask, seconds before his nose touches mine.

I’m consumed by how good he smells. By how warm his skin is and how careful he isn’t when he smiles and admits the car is not far.

“Seconds.”

His lips touch mine slowly, then firmly. I know it’s all for show, but Eric’s kiss feels real. One of his hands finds my back, pulling me closer, and the other grasps onto the back of my hair. His fingers dig in possessively, tangling as my lips part.

“Or less.”

He mumbles the words against my mouth, and I hear the truck approaching. The breaks screech as someone careens up the driveway, and even though my eyes have closed, I can feel the headlights cutting through the ornate decorations and twinkling trees.

My hands touch his face.

He deepens the kiss as I slide my fingers across his cheeks into the shortest part of his hair.

The faint sounds of Erudite spiral around us; a few must have left the party to step out back, and their conversation consists of murmured delight as they wait for dessert. In the distance, an alarm chirps as the wind picks up.

My breathing hitches as Eric mumbles my name, and I’m left wishing he hasn’t stopped when he pulls away.

“We should go.”

“We should.” I agree.

The truck comes to an abrupt stop as the driver slams on the brakes. I turn to see Jason grinning wildly, waving his hands as we leave the porch. The walk feels like it takes hours, and my heart pounds as I think of what’s behind the front doors of the house. Eric ushers me into the backseat before climbing in. Jason waits a second, then takes off as though he’s in a race.

“Well…” he asks, glancing at us in the mirror. “You learn anything good?”

“I did.” Eric moves closer. His arm slides behind me, and he wiggles me toward his chest until I’m against him. I feel his fingers touch my hair, toying with the ends. “How about you?”

“Yeah…a lot. Four and Forrest each brought someone back. Tris is having a hard time with it. She’s gonna stay in Amity for a bit. She knows the girl,” Jason throws out. “I guess… they grew up together. She almost lost it when she learned who Four picked out.”

“That’s why she was out of her mind at the dinner. She showed up at the beginning, insisting I speak with her. She wanted me to call Four’s assignment off. But I didn’t order him to go, so it’s not my call.” Eric shrugs. “How did she know so early?”

“He was messaging her while there. He said the girl’s name and where she was from. Guess there are only so many Daisy’s who live in Abnegation.” Jason snickers at the thought then stops suddenly. “Everly, are you okay?’

“Yeah, I’m alright.” I tell him, leaning into Eric. “It was… weird to see everyone.”

“Were they okay?” Jason asks. “Did you know them?”

“I recognized a few. One is pregnant and she looked upset.” I rest my head on Eric’s chest, overwhelmed at the very idea. “Amelia was strange, but she’s trying to help the girls get away.”

“How?” Both Jason and Eric turn to look at me.

“Just… giving them advice and trying to tell them it’s okay to leave. She said most of them are too afraid, and they should fight to get away.”

I hesitate to tell them anything else.

Not out of any sort of defense for Amelia, but rather that I don’t want to ruin the girls' chances of leaving.

“That sounds dangerous,” Jason meets my stare in the mirror. I nod, and Eric’s hand moves to rest on my cheek. “They’re definitely odd. Dillon purchased Amelia, but he acts like she’s always lived in Erudite. At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”

“She said he leaves her alone, so she’s okay with it,” I tell him, yawning now that the heat has come on. “She said he’s fine.”

The truck is warm, and the drive is soothing as we leave the neighborhood. The houses blur as Jason drives toward the end of Erudite, taking a sharp left. I find myself drowsy –for a half second, I worry Amelia has drugged me, but I don’t see why she would.

“Is she going to kill him?” Eric asks quietly.

He’s even warmer than the truck, and when I look up, he’s glancing down at me with a funny look on his face.

“Everly?”

“Someday.”

I shut my eyes for just a moment, thinking how nice it is to be away from them. I hear Eric mutter something, and the next time I open my eyes, we are back in Amity.

He is silent.

I would assume he’s lost in his own thoughts, but Eric’s expression is trained on me. His focus is clear as I climb into bed, having showered the second we returned to Amity. I slept the entire way back, waking up once Jason swore as a woodland creature skittered across the road in front of him. I sat up groggily and felt a lingering wave of ick as I climbed out of the truck.

The dinner had left me uneasy.

A wave of guilt ran through me as I thought of Amelia back at Dillon’s house.

I should have liked her.

She stayed with him to help the others, and yet I didn’t like the way she looked at me or Eric, and I didn’t like the way she assumed I was defeated and beaten down because I hadn’t tried to get away. I didn’t like the way she’d appeared irritated the second she realized Eric wasn’t hurting me or the way she assumed my experience was just like hers.

I should have been grateful to meet her.

Relieved at being hand-picked to receive a way out of a marriage and life I never expected. I should have been giddy at the thought of being free, knowing Eric could sip a serum-laden coffee before falling asleep at his desk and not waking up. I should have been smug that I had some freedom back, that Eric couldn’t control me or my actions. Amelia was offering me a freedom that she herself did not have, and yet, I found myself recoiling at the thought of her offer.

I was left wondering how much of Amelia’s plans were out of guilt. She had a life unlike anyone else, and though her intentions were good, she was putting most at risk. Even if the serum didn’t show up on some sort of test, that didn’t mean any of us would be declared innocent. Her offering the vial opened a can of worms I don’t think Amelia planned for. She was leaving girls at risk of being picked up by the auction again or scrambling to return to a home where they’d have to explain their absence.

And if their families believed them, that still meant they had to acclimate back to normal, pretending none of this had happened.

I tried to imagine poisoning Eric, then sitting in front of Harrison, Rylan, and Jason and politely telling them I didn’t have anything to do with it. Pretending to be horrified by his death while simultaneously rejoicing that I would… what? Continue to live in his apartment? Sleep in his bed? Receive some sort of compensation from the faction? Return to my parents, where my brother would know where I’d been, and his friend was still free to tell everyone I was lying purely to ruin his reputation?

The worst part of disliking Amelia was the guilt of admitting that she was correct: despite what had happened, I’d rather stay with Eric. I didn’t want to try to sleep by myself or attempt to date someone, warily explaining where I had been and what had happened to me. Life wouldn’t turn normal just because Eric wasn’t around, and even if I could feign normalcy, how long would it last before I cracked under the pressure and whatever fledgling new friendship I formed was ruined by the trauma of the auction?

In Amelia’s mind, I should have been like the girls staring with horrified expressions, desperate to return to their former lives.

But I wasn’t.

I was the one leaning into Eric, having silently promised to allow myself to live now that I was safe.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Irony slaps me in the face when I look up to see Eric staring at me. His mouth is pressed into a thin line, and his eyes narrow when I don’t answer.

“What did she give you? What’s in the vial?”

“How do you know…” I pause as he climbs into bed, and his expression is forcefully unbothered. “Eric, did she –”

“It fell out of your pocket while you were sleeping.” Eric sits against the bedframe to pull his shirt over his head. “You… sort of slumped over, and it rolled onto the floor. I grabbed it, thinking it was perfume. It’s not, is it?”

From a foot away, he tosses his shirt aside, and I know he’s not afraid of me.

If he were, he’d have left his clothes on.

“Everly, if you’re going to try to kill me –"

“I’m not!” I blurt out, forcing myself not to cave under his stare.

He’s intimidating when he continues to stare, his breathing far too even to be worried that I might smother him in his sleep.

“Amelia gave it to me at the party. I think she gives it to every girl she meets from the auction. She said she figured out that it kills people by stopping their heart. According to her, it doesn’t leave any telltale signs behind.” I explain. “She was in the middle of telling me about it when Dillon showed up.”

He barely moves past exhaling heavily.

“Eric, I swear I wasn't going to use it. Why would I kill you?” I almost collapse out of the fear of him not believing me. “I don’t have any reason to do something like that.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to try.” He rubs his eyes, and when he looks down, there’s some regret in his stare. “I know that you aren’t here by your own choice, and when all is said and done, I told you that it’s unlikely you’ll return to Amity. But I’d like to think…”

He pauses, wetting his lips as I wait.

“I would like to think you trust me. And I can trust you.”

For a second, my heart ceases to beat. I’ve never once considered that Eric might not trust me. I’ve spent all my time with him, but in every way, I’m just as much a stranger to him as he is to me.

“She gave it to me on the balcony. She said…” I move toward him, kicking the sheets and blanket out of my way until I’m by his side. “…it’s her way of helping the girls. She knows that there’s no way out, so she created one.”

“And what does she think will happen when everyone begins to drop dead? And the only thing they have in common is they’ve been to her house?” Eric cocks his head at me. “Does she realize that if enough people begin dying, they’ll investigate who is with them, and where those people have been?”

“I don’t think she’s thought of that,” I admit. “She asked if you had been violent, and she didn’t seem to like that I said no. She says most who have been through the auctions have been hurt. That’s why she lets them stay there, and when they’re alright, they move on.”

I stop talking when he nods, and I don’t like this version of him. My chest tightens as I try to rectify a mistake I never meant to make; I never once planned on doing anything with the serum except eventually showing it to Eric.

But now, he has a reason to think I might want him dead.

For a dizzying moment, I wonder if I’m the only one Amelia has given the serum to.

Maybe she knew Eric would find it.

“Do you think…she’s really giving it out to everyone? Or just me? Maybe she wants you to think I want you dead.” I sink away from him when he doesn’t reach for me, and the reality of what’s happened hits me like a punch to the stomach. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t have time. I put it in my pocket when Dillon showed up and forgot about it.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Eric murmurs.

He moves to turn the light off beside the bed, and the glow of the fire wanes.

“I didn’t think you’d try anything, but…”

He stares at me.

His grey eyes are lighter than normal but heavy with something I don’t recognize.

“I promise. I only took it because Dillon showed up and told Amelia it was time for dinner.” I still when he finally nods.

He moves the sheets to lie down, and I stay frozen in place, fearful, when he finally looks up.

“Everly, are you –”

“Do you not trust me now?” I ask, my voice wavering unpleasantly. “Eric… I wasn’t going to do anything to you. I wouldn’t do that…”

He yanks me toward him.

It’s an awkward tangle as I’m pulled downwards, but it only takes a second for me to adjust. My head rests against his chest, and his arm and leg are over me before I can finish my sentence. For a moment, we stay like this. He is familiar this way; his body is warm, and his limbs are reassuring in their heaviness. My eyes burn as I feel him breathe in and out, purposefully slow, and the terror inside me tries to restart itself.

“I do trust you,” he says, too quietly for my liking. “I don’t have a reason not to. You looked upset when you came back from talking to her. I figured… she told you some bullshit about how great your life is and how thankful you should be. I wasn’t aware she’s out there helping commit murder.”

“She’s doing what she thinks is right,” I whisper as his hand moves to cup the back of my head. “It’s how she feels less guilty about living in Erudite, while others are showing up bruised or… or….”

My mind flashes to the girl at the table, clutching her stomach as the man announced her pregnancy.

“I know.”

Eric doesn’t let go.

He holds on until my breathing matches his, then bends his head until it rests atop of mine.

“Go to sleep. I’ll look at it in the morning.” He yawns. “Her little scheme might hinder Harrison’s investigation, but I’ll run it by him and see what he wants to do.”

“What about going in Erudite? Aren’t we supposed to go back there?” I curl my hands against him, relieved when he shakes his head. “No?”

“Maybe later. You’re on her radar, and the last thing I want is to run into them if I don’t have to. We’ll go when things calm down.” Eric’s voice is rough as he sighs. “Goodnight, Everly.”

“Goodnight, Eric.”

The exhaustion wins out.

Still nervous but slightly relieved, I fall asleep for a second time, once again warmed by Eric.

In the morning, I find him making coffee.

His t-shirt is worn, as black as the night sky and as warm as he is. His hair is rumpled from sleep, the perfectly slicked-back pieces falling into his eyes as he scowls at the stove. His posture is easy, especially when he turns to look at me, and the look on his face makes me relax.

His scorn towards Amity is reassuring that he’s fine.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

My heart beats wildly.

Last night affected me in a way I wasn’t prepared for. Amelia’s actions had left Eric suspicious that I might attempt to kill him, and surprisingly, it left him looking upset. Even now, when his eyes find mine, he looks more human than he has.

“I’m making breakfast. But this stove is powered by something other than electricity, so it took me a second to turn it on.” His scowl lessens a degree as he hands me the mug, and our fingers touch. “Did you sleep well?”

I crane my head up, and his lips quirk just enough to know he trusts me.

“Is that a yes?”

“I did sleep well. How about you?” I hold onto the mug tightly, keeping my fingers against his. “Did you… find anything else out?”

“I met your brother’s new wife,” Eric shrugs casually. “She’s rather interesting.”

“What?” I startle. “His new wife?”

“He moves quickly. I think he married her before she knew what was happening.” Eric towers over me, smirking as I pull the cup from him. “I was upfront that I was marrying you. Willow had no clue what was happening.”

“Willow,” I repeat her name, torn between being horrified someone else has been purchased and relieved that she’s safe with my brother. “When did you meet her?”

“This morning. I woke up early and couldn’t go back to sleep.” His words sound like a confession, especially when he shrugs. “Jason took the serum back to Dauntless. We’re going to have someone look at it and tell us what’s in it. If you want it back, they’ll return it once they’re done.”

“Why would I want it back?” I ask. “What do you think I would do with it?”

“You could give it to Landon,” Eric throws out, pausing as our eyes meet.

His stare is heavy with affection but mixed with possessiveness. If he thought I was going to kill him, the idea is long gone. Eric steps forward until there is no space between us. He takes my face in his hands, craning my head to look at him.

“I want you to know that I never thought you’d try to kill me. But if you did, out of everyone who has attempted to end my life, I would understand why.” Eric pauses. “If it had to be someone, I would be fine if it was you. Maybe a little bit impressed.”

“Eric…”

He smirks. “Not that I think you’d get away with it… but still.”

Oh, he thinks he’s funny.

In our time together, I’ve never really seen him joke about anything. He’s made a few dry comments, but not like this. It makes me nervous, especially when he bends his head down.

“You’d have to stay up later than normal and wake up before me. Given your track record, I don’t think that’ll happen.” His nose touches mine, and my heart constricts so painfully I fear it might explode. “But I don’t mind. I’m glad you’re sleeping better.”

His lips touch mine slowly, not at all tentative, but in no rush.

He is purposeful and careful as he kisses me, and his fingers slide into my hair.

“You know Amelia is jealous of you? And that’s why she gave you the vial?” He mumbles, dragging his lips to my cheek. “She sat through multiple rounds of the auction. Dillon was frantic to find someone, and she was half off. He was an absolute monster to her for the first few months.”

“What?” I blurt out, nearly dropping my drink. I fumble to place it anywhere –a counter, the table, whatever I can find around Eric. “How do you know –”

“He hates how cold she is.” Eric’s mouth finds my neck, and without thinking, I loop my arms around his neck to keep him close. “He thinks she’s miserable, and she is. It doesn’t negate what he did and how she got there, but I kept thinking of you, and how I don’t want you to feel like that.”

“I don’t,” I hold on tighter as he pulls away, and his smile is smug. “I’m not miserable with you. You’re the only one who hasn’t treated me like a moron.”

“Because you aren’t one.”

Eric pulls me backward, turning us until I hit the counter. His hands move to my waist, and before I realize what he’s doing, I’m atop the counter. I’m shoved back as he steps forward, and his hands find my thighs. His palms are warm through the nightgown and even warmer as they inch up higher than ever.

I can’t think straight.

His mouth finds mine again, this time with even more intention. He’s everywhere as he leans into me, his body pressing firmly against mine. The counter is a cold contrast to the heat radiating from him. His kiss deepens, sending a wave of shivers down my spine like I’ve never felt before.

“Eric,” I manage to whisper against his lips, my hands tangling in his hair, and it dawns on me that this is what it’s like to be his wife. To be the center of his attention, his sole focus, the person who matters to him.
His fingers skim to my upper thigh, and the nightgown bunches beneath his grip.

His response is a low hum, vibrating through me as his lips trail back to my jaw, then lower to the curve of my neck.

“I won’t let you be miserable,” he mutters. “I promise. I’ll—” He pauses, his head dropping forward as if he’s trying to rein himself in.

“You’ll what?” I ask, my fingers still in his hair.

“Keep you safe. Keep you away from them. Not let you be another girl, sitting at the table, about to vomit…” he says, his voice raw now. “Let you think that I don’t want you around. That I don’t—” He stops again, pulling back just enough to meet my gaze. His eyes are dark, intense, but there’s a vulnerability in them I’ve never seen before. “You mean too much.”

The weight of his words hits me harder than his kisses ever could. My chest tightens as I process what he’s just said. I start to think maybe there was something in the food Harrison dropped off, but Eric shakes his head, and his lips turn up.
“I meant what I said. You’ll stay with me. You won’t go back to your family.”

For a moment, his expression is unreadable, like he’s forcing himself to calm down. Then, without another word, his lips are on mine again, sloppy and hurried, as if he’s letting go of everything he’s been holding back.

His hands slide higher, and I feel his fingers press into my skin.

The world around us fades away. It’s just him—his warmth, his strength, his unwavering presence.

And for the first time since the auction, my father’s voice demanding to see me.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirteen: Se Rendre

His voice is familiar.

Imploring and desperate, but familiar.

“Please. I need to see my daughter. I know she’s here.”

My father’s words are quite the contrast to Eric’s hands on my thighs. When my father begs again, Eric stills. He exhales heavily as the argument grows louder, and my father refuses to give up.

“I have every right to see her! I know he brought her here.”

I feel the familiar pull of obedience at his insistence, followed by an ache of despair as someone tells him to get lost. I had long wished that someone from my family would take notice of my absence. I had spent a week wishing they’d shown up for Visitor’s Day, even if it was only to see how I was. I had spent months homesick for a family that no longer existed, unfairly forced to adapt to life where my parents were aware of what had been done and were okay with it.

After all, they were the ones who called off the search for me.

My head says to let it go, but the unrelenting desire to know they care demands I walk outside and face my father.

“Do you want to see him?” Eric asks, his question murmured against my cheek. He pulls away to look at me, and his expression is momentarily and temporarily understanding. “I told you they wouldn’t come by, and he knows he shouldn’t be here, but if you want to talk to him…”

His pause is pointed.

“I won’t stop you.”

“Are you sure?” I sit up straighter.

He swallows his own answer.

His jaw tenses, and I know he doesn’t want me to go.

But he’s making this right.

To Eric, this is a way of making sure I’m not miserable. It’s another bargain. An offering to keep me happy, even though we both know speaking to my father is a terrible idea. Eric’s promise rings in my ears, and we both know he won’t tell me no if this is what I want.

“If you want to, then you can." Eric hesitates. “For a few minutes. He really shouldn’t be here.”

“I do want to see him,” I admit, hating the confession. “I feel like if I don’t, I’ll regret it.”

“Right.” Eric’s answer is sharp. “I understand.”

He backs away as though his hands weren’t inches away from my underwear, and his stare lands on the cabinets beside me.

“You should get dressed then.” He watches me stare back at him. “I’ll tell him you’re on your way. The soldiers will be nearby in case you need anything.”

“Thank you.” My heart rate picks up, but it’s not for the reasons I want it to.

It’s because I have a feeling this won’t go well.

I slip off the counter, suddenly not sure this is the right decision after all.

Eric doesn’t think so, either.

His stare sticks to me, riddled with unhappiness over his decision.

I expect my father to reach for me.

I expect an apology, an explanation, or some sort of rationalization as to why he didn’t look for me. I expect to be enveloped in the warmth of the man who raised me and to feel the dulling of every second of fear I have experienced.

I’m met with nothing.

It might be the soldiers.

They stand off to the side, pretending they aren’t fixed on his every move.

“Everly…” My father says my name gently, hesitating as the soldiers move to give him some privacy. “Hi.”

“Hi, dad.”

We stand a careful distance apart. Even after months away from Amity, he looks the same. His long hair is pulled back, his flannel shirt is one I have washed and dried, and his pants are clean but worn.

He eyes me curiously.

“How are you?” He asks, skimming my limbs for bruising. When he finds none, he looks relieved. “You look different than I remember.”

“Yeah, well…I am different.”

Harsh doesn’t even begin to describe my answer. I haven’t been gone that long, but I left home as his daughter and now stand before him as someone’s wife. Someone’s partner. Someone who doesn’t live in Amity and someone who will never be able to justify returning here.

My tone doesn’t go unnoticed.

“It’s good to see that you’re alright. I hear Eric is taking good care of you.” My father answers a little too forcefully. “That’s good to hear.”

My eyes burn.

“I know this wasn’t the easiest thing to go through…but I’m glad it’s ended well.” My father fumbles over his words. “Landon assured me you’d be taken care of.”

“Is that what he told you?” I ask tightly. “Did you know what he was doing?”

“Not… quite.” My father shifts his weight. “He told me that you’d be better off than you were in Amity. He mentioned knowing people who could help and that the opportunity was one we shouldn’t pass on.”

Help.

I meet his stare, struggling to remain neutral at the thought that an auction would be considered helpful.

“Did he tell you what they did?” I ask. “Or what happens at the auctions?”

“He said it was a place where men found their wives. He made it sound like a good choice for you.” He looks to the side with a huff, disliking the soldiers by him. “He never called it an auction. He said you’d meet plenty of men your own age, and it was safe. Not an auction so much as a group of people who need help finding one another.”

“An auction is exactly what it is.” I bristle at his words. “I’m not sure why you’d think otherwise.”

“Landon said –"

“I don’t want to hear what he said. I would like to hear how you let him take me there. How you let him sell me to a man I didn’t know.” The anger in my voice is impossible to miss. “How you let me be taken from my family and pretended not to know where I was.”

“He said it was guaranteed you’d end up with someone who had enough to care of you. And aside from his past mistakes, Eric is well respected.” My father’s tone sharpens to match mine. “I agreed because I knew nothing would happen between you and Landon. He pushed for years for you to marry him. He was relentless, but I knew better. Jerry knew better, too.”

I say nothing.

I cross my arms as the temperature drops, and my skin hurts when the wind blows.

“Landon asked about marrying you several times, and I finally had to say you weren’t interested. We both agreed it would cause issues if you stayed here. He brought up this proposition, saying it would give the best shot at life. There isn’t a soul here who would tolerate you not living the Amity way of life.” He shakes his head. “Landon helped find someone who would accept you. It’s unconventional, I agree. But you have a new life now. The wife of a Leader. You should be accepting and gracious of what’s happened. There are plenty who would love to be in your shoes.”

“Right.” I answer hoarsely. “It is unconventional.”

The wind is knocked out of me at such an easy dismissal of what I’ve been through. I know he’s been fed line after line of bullshit, but my father is a smart man. To hear him talk about gratitude when it could have been my head that was found near the gates, makes my chest hurt.

“You really think it’s fine because I didn’t want to marry Landon?” I manage to ask, but it’s quieter than I’d like. “And you didn’t think I’d marry anyone else here, so you let him sell me? Am I hearing this right?”

“It’s not a sale. It’s an exchange –”

“I went to the highest bidder and whoever could secure their payment,” I correct him. “It’s an auction. I could have ended up anywhere.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No, I didn’t.” Nausea rushes up my spine as something pricks at the back of my neck. “What about Paisley and Holly? What if they don’t want to marry someone? Will you send them there?”

His silence tells me everything I need to know.

“Can I ask what I did to deserve this?” I struggle to stay calm, though it’s a losing battle when he looks irritated that I’m arguing with him. “If this was really about Landon…I was seventeen. Why on Earth would I have wanted to marry someone?”

“You were rebellious. Disinterested in our way of life, causing havoc by disobeying your mother and me. It was our only option.”

“I hadn’t even picked a faction. I might not have stayed here,” I counter, trying to keep my voice strong. “You didn’t even give me a chance.”

“Everly…”

“You sent me away because it would have looked bad for you.” A familiar weariness returns, worsening when he shakes his head. “But you don’t realize that Landon lied to you. I could be dead. I could have been killed months ago.”

“You aren’t dead,” he protests. “Far from it. I fail to see –”

“What do you want?” I cut him off. “Why are you here? If you don’t care what’s happened to me, past knowing that I’m alive…then why did you come by?”

My rudeness is foreign but necessary.

My father’s familiar look of disappointment returns. I’ve seen this look plenty of times, almost always after I tried to stand up for myself.

“I’m here to ask that you call off the hunt for Landon. Dauntless has made it very clear they believe he’s involved in running the… auction. He’s not. Landon’s actions are his own, but you will implicate the entire family if you have Eric prosecute him.” My father’s tone turns authoritative. “As your father, I ask that you respect my wishes and tell Eric to stop. There is nothing good that will come from you destroying Landon’s life.”

The ground moves beneath my feet.

I am stunned by his demands, even more so when he stares at me with disbelief that I haven’t agreed.

“You have no idea what you are doing. The mess you are creating by acting so childish, so determined to get revenge on a man who helped you.” He continues. “Landon and Jerry were distraught that you were upset once you were there. Jerry has always loved you like a daughter. They were trying to find a way to make sure you were cared for.”

“Do they know what happens there?” I fix my stare to his. “Do any of you know what happens if no one bids on you? If you aren’t purchased?”

“You are fine, Everly. You have been married in another faction, and your life is one that is far better than had you chosen to stay here.” My father’s patience reaches its limits. “Had you stayed…”

“Did Landon tell you that if no one wants you, and you aren’t sold after so many rounds, they just…get rid of you. A girl in my group was murdered not that long ago. Is that what you wished for me?” I ask sharply enough that he looks uncomfortable. “Do you really think Landon shouldn’t be held accountable for any of this?”

My own desperation is lost in the fury of knowing my father is bothered, not by the thought that I could have been killed, but that his friend’s son is at the heart of this investigation.

“Do you?” I ask again, this time harsher. “Or is that a fine punishment for not wanting to marry your friend’s son?”

“You have always been difficult. You never fell in line when asked, and you were never happy. Your new husband is the only person who has control over you.” He glances away to frown even further. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear –”

“Is this really why you wanted to see me?” I ask, hating the way my voice shakes. “I thought you were sorry. You knew I’d been sold to someone, yet now you’re here, insisting I just…be good with it? So your friend doesn’t get in trouble?”

“I have nothing to apologize for. Had you chosen to stay in Amity, you would not have lasted. How that would have looked for the family?” He crosses his arms, staring at me like he’s never met me before. “In the long run, you are exactly where you need to be.”

A deep, disconcerting ache settles into my chest.

If I had longed for acceptance from anyone, it would have been my father. I’d always dismissed his indifference as him simply having too many children, and one had to be the one he didn’t always enjoy being around or have time for.

But hearing that this stems from the fear that he’d be embarrassed if I didn’t make it through the Amity initiation hurts in a way I have never felt before.

“What does mom think?” I try once more, but my voice wavers. “Where is she?”

“She’s working. She knows you’re safe, and that’s all that matters to her. She has asked that you not come by.”

He looks away as he hesitates.

“If you want to keep the family together, tell your husband to end his investigation of Landon. Landon being arrested will ruin everything, and not just for him. For you, too.”

“I’m sure it will.”

I feel numb as I look at him, frozen until the soldier returns to his side and clears his throat. He looks at me with sympathy on his face, having listened to every word. When he nods, I know he’s not at all impressed by my father’s admission.

“Mrs. Coulter… if you want me to find Eric…” He pauses as his eyes search mine. “I think that might be wise.”

“Please.” I answer, still too thrown off to realize what he’s called me.

“Of course. I’ll be back.” He leaves, but not before throwing my father a dirty look.

My father’s annoyance merely increases.

“Everly, stop this right now.” My father’s words are the darkest I have ever heard him speak. “Unless you want him to tire of you, I suggest you suck it up and convince Eric to leave Landon alone.”

This time, I do not try to stop the burning.

The past few months hit me like a slap to the face; I waver between bursting into tears and punching my father as hard as I can.

In the end, I do neither.

“Thank you for coming by.” I answer stiffly, stepping back even though he makes no move toward me. “I’ll speak with Eric.”

“I can come back again. I’ll check on you in a few days. I can –”

“I will respectfully decline. If you need anything else, you can ask the soldiers.”

I turn before he can say another word. I head inside, hoping Eric finds Landon and slams his head into the ground hard enough that it splits open while my father watches. I hope my father is forced to suffer from the karma that will eventually head his way. I hope my family forgets about me, if they already haven’t, and none of them ever utter my name again.

My hands shake with each step until I reach the bedroom and collapse onto the bed.

If grief were tangible, it would be gnawing at my veins like a rodent.

I lie in bed with the covers pulled up and my head against Eric’s chest. His heart beats steadily but angrily. Each thud is a reminder that he is pissed off on my behalf and quite possibly the first person in my existence to feel such a way. He is steady behind me, careful in how we are positioned, and warm as my head drops.

Outside, a storm threatens to unleash itself.

The wind howls, and thunder cracks, though the rainfall is light. It won’t be much longer before it is pouring, but the gloom matches my mood.

It's barely past lunchtime, and the sky is as dark and heavy as my thoughts.

“What did he say?”

Eric’s hand is on the side of my head. His fingers are on my temple, rhythmically pushing the hair back before dragging his fingers back to my skin. His t-shirt is soft, his boots are kicked to the side of the bed, and his size is impressive. I lie against him, as close as I can, trying to keep it together.

Unfortunately, it’s proving impossible for me to remain unaffected.

Eric returned home not long after my father left. When he found me, I was staring blankly at the wall, trying to make sense of the conversation I just had. I knew there was no sense to be had, but I felt the ache of defeat in my bones, especially when I saw the look on Eric’s face.

He wasn’t one for obvious sympathy, but he looked like he’d never felt sorrier for someone other than me.

“Everly, what did he say? If you want me to bring him in for questioning or have him arrested, I will. But I need to know… did he threaten you? Did he tell you something about Landon? Did he hurt you?”

Eric’s voice is dangerously quiet. I know the anger inside his veins matches mine, but when he shifts, I think he might be even more upset than I am.

“Did he admit that he knew where you were?” Eric asks, pulling me closer and turning so he can look at me. “Or that he did it under the guise of making sure you were alright?”

“How did you…” I sit slightly until I meet his stare. “Were you listening?”

“The soldier told me. He said rather than have a factionless daughter or bear the shame of you picking another faction and failing, your father chose to let you leave with Landon, knowing you’d be sold to someone. If it makes you feel better, he’ll be found guilty, just like Landon will.” Eric pushes the hair off my face, pausing to sigh. “Everly…”

“I know…” I shrug. “Hearing him say those things was… hard. I had no idea he was convinced I’d fail here.”

“I don’t see any reason why you wouldn’t have passed the Amity initiation.” Eric shrugs. “I don’t know much about it, but I can’t imagine it’s hard.”

I stare at him.

The metal above his eyebrow, the way his brow furrows when I don’t answer, and the way his eyes narrow as he thinks of something. I make the guess he’s never once thought about the initiation here, and if he ever did, it was purely to laugh at it.

“What happens during this initiation?” He questions, his palm now cupping my cheek. I tilt my head to rest it there, and my eyes close. “Is it to feed chickens and hang out in the woods?”

“There’s more than that…” I mutter, opening my eyes to see him smirking as he tries to make me feel better.

His smirk falters when I don’t smile back.

“There’s a lot to it. I wouldn’t have failed, though. Almost everyone passes.” I admit. “It’s nothing like Dauntless.”

“Everly…” He says my name tightly, and when I look away, his hands slide into my hair. “I know you’re upset that he doesn’t care, but –”

“Is Daniel proud of you? You don’t talk about him very much, but… your father must be proud that you’re a Leader, right?” I hold his stare until he slowly nods. “And your mother?”

“Blythe cares only how my actions reflect upon her. Her biggest fear isn’t that I’d wind up dead, but that my reputation would destroy hers.” He shrugs. “When I was arrested, she had a nervous breakdown. I imagine the rumors ruined her façade, and she couldn’t recover. Daniel has never cared what I did until he thought I might die, but Blythe has never spoken to me since my arrest.”

“Do you want her to?” I ask.

“No,” he answers with disgust. “I have nothing to say to her. Just like you should have nothing to say to your father. Let him think the worst of you. Let him think you wouldn’t have cut it in Amity. Let him think that you are only alive because I paid for you. The only person you need to be concerned with is you and me.”

I am still taken aback by his honesty.

“I’m proud of you. I know it’s not the same, but I believe you would have excelled in Amity. I imagine you would have been at the top of your class.” He pauses, and I wait for a witty barb about watching the clouds or counting sheep, but it never comes. “I think you would have excelled wherever you had gone.”

“Do you really?”

For a moment, I’m not even sure why I’m asking.

Eric’s opinion does matter, but there’s something unbearably kind in his words that makes me want to make him proud. I had promised myself at the wedding that I would live for me; I would allow myself happiness and contentment with him. But hearing him say such things makes me wonder at what point he stopped seeing this as a transactional arrangement and perhaps as something more.

“Yes, I do.” He leans in and, to my surprise, presses his lips to my forehead.

The action is foreign to the both of us.

Eric pulls away, looking confused and amusingly repulsed by what he’s just done. I stare at him, fervently wishing I knew him before all this. Had I met him any other way, this would be different. Perhaps I could have been someone he chose, not out of duty, but out of his carefully guarded emotions.

“He said you are the only person I listen to,” I announce, earning a wry smile. “He made it sound like I’m some terrible person who couldn’t be controlled.”

“You’re hardly terrible,” Eric rolls his eyes. “Given the gravity of the situation, an outburst or two back in Dauntless would have been well deserved given what you’ve been through.”

I watch him carefully, waiting for the mask to slip.

It doesn’t.

“If you want, you can always punch Four in the face…” Eric offers, feigning innocence when I raise my eyebrows. “He’ll be around in a few days. He won’t mind.”

“It sounds like Tris is going to end up punching him,” I smile back, not quite as honest, but I feel a little better. “Eric, can I ask you for a favor? Just…one thing.”

He looks at me, and his jaw tenses.

I can see his brain whirling, and when he finally decides, his nod is sharp.

“Can you not investigate Amelia?” I ask, inching closer to him. “Just… let her do whatever it is she’s doing. If it comes back to her, I understand. But don’t let Jason tell anyone, or don’t send Harrison her way. Let her help the girls however she can. Please.”

The air stills.

What I’m asking is something important, but he might not agree.

When Eric tilts his head to the side, and I know he’s about to tell me he can’t do that.

“Everly…”

“I know she’s going to kill Dillon, and I know that’s wrong, but…” I hesitate. “I think… if you’ve never been in the auction, you can’t understand. I am very lucky that you haven’t been like the others… but Amelia… she’s not that lucky. She looks fine, but she’s not.”

Eric’s lips press together.

“Please, let her finish what she’s doing. I don’t want her serum, but for someone else, it’s their only way out. For some of the girls we had dinner with, there is no one looking out for them except for Amelia. Please. Let her help them. She’s not poisoning everyone.”

I hate the way my voice shakes, but I can’t help it.

There’s a great chance he’ll say no.

“I’ll do anything you want…” I offer. “Just please say yes.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “You don’t have to offer me anything. If you want me to leave Amelia alone… then…. I will. But only if you are aware that if this ends up in Jack’s court, or it somehow gets out that I knew about the serum, you and I will both be in trouble. And my defense of you might not be enough to clear you from being an accomplice to murder. Though I doubt it would come to that.”

“Court?” I tilt my head.

“Yeah, ultimately, Shannon and the others will go before Jack Kang in his court and plead their case. They’ll likely end up sentenced to death, but that doesn’t mean I can allow Amelia to kill whoever she pleases.”

“Oh.”

“It probably won’t get out,” he mutters, weighing his options. “But if it does, you’ll have to be ready to explain to Jack why you asked.”

“I can do that,” I lean in, relief rushing through me until it stops. “But why would you get in trouble?”

“Because it would be frowned upon were everyone to discover I allowed Amelia to hand out her own version of the Death serum.” He sounds so petulant that I almost smile. “Every other Leader would be in agreement: if you told me about her plans, then I should investigate her.”

“Do you think it’ll end up before Jack?” I ask. “What if I told you this off the record? Or while we were doing something else? Something that’s not… Leader related?”

“That’s not how that works…” he trails off, then his expression changes. “Either way, I’ll pretend I have no idea that she’s out there playing mad scientist. Jason won’t say anything, either. I’ll tell him not to mention it.”

“Thank you,” I gasp, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders.

Amelia has nothing to do with my father, but knowing she’ll be alright makes me feel better.

“You’re welcome.”

His answer comes as we both lean in. I have never once thought about what it would be like for someone to look at me the way Eric currently is. He stares with an expression that hints he’d bring me the head of my enemies if I ask nicely, but also one that holds some amusement over my request.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” I whisper, and he nods.

“I think she’ll be fine. Dillon… not so much,” Eric murmurs, bending his head down.

The room warms as the storm picks up, and his lips touch mine.

He is careful.

Too slow, too patient as he presses firmly, until he can grasp my face with his hands and slide them into my hair. Until he can pull me forward, sheets tangling as the air leaves my lungs, and the heat of hands spreads through my body. Until he is all I can think of, and when he pulls away, quietly reminding me that he has to call Harrison, I am left desperate for him to stay beside me.

My heart beats wildly, but not like before. Like there is life returning to me, and for once, I am free to indulge in the absolute glee of it all.

My skin feels like it’s on fire, the heat spreading through my veins until the ache from earlier is gone.

I spend the next three days with Eric, mostly alone.

I observe him the way I think he would have observed me had I chosen Dauntless on my own: vigilantly, carefully, and quietly.

I notice a lot of things about him, and it’s easy to pick up mannerisms I didn’t back in Dauntless. He sighs every time Harrison calls him, but he always sits up straighter to speak with him. He is pleased when Rylan calls. Rylan’s mischievous plans make Eric rub his face in exasperation, but they also make his lips turn up into something rather close to a smile. He speaks with Jason longer than Rylan, and very rarely does he speak to Max.

They have one rather tense conversation where Max informs him that Four and Daisy are in Dauntless, but Four has caught wind of something brewing in Abnegation. Marcus’ death hasn’t been announced, but his absence is noticeable, and it’s reached Four.

It is then that I learn that the man who slapped me is Four’s father.

Confused doesn’t even begin to explain how I feel. I know of Four only from our few minor interactions; I don’t like nor dislike him, but he’s kept Sophia safe from harm and that makes him alright. I wonder if he knows what his father has done or if he’s heard the rumors, but something tells me he’s been long aware of the man’s abuse.

I feel a wave of surprising sympathy when he calls Eric to ask for a day off.

Eric doesn’t seem to like Four or Max very much, and on a particularly tense end to the call, he snaps that Max is not to call back unless he’s actually going to be helpful and tells Four he doesn’t care how long he’s gone and he’ll put someone else in his place for now.

When he notices I’m watching, he quickly spits that Four can take whatever time he needs before immediately assigning someone else to oversee the initiation class.

I notice other things about Eric, things that his wife should know. He drinks plain black coffee while he sits beside me, and he’s great at lighting the fire. He cooks without any stress, his skills far surpassing what I could make him. He is content to sit next to me, even more content to let me examine his hand, where the bruising has long vanished and only the faintest hint of green remains. He is less content when I skim my fingers higher, like the action is forbidden.

Ironic, given how we met.

He eventually relaxes enough to let me examine the tattoo on his arm, and the pattern makes no sense. I can’t figure out what it is, but he doesn’t explain it, either.

I notice other things, like the faint lines that crinkle around his eyes when he narrows them in displeasure and the way his hair does not stay combed back without gel. On the coldest night so far, he reclines back on the couch, flopping down with less grace than I’ve seen from him. He turns to look at me, and he’s wildly handsome. A white t-shirt that isn’t his, an unbothered look on his face, and a pair of dark pants that he brought. His foot bumps mine on purpose, and when his smile doesn’t immediately drop away, I notice he looks almost happy.

Selfishly, I’ve never given much thought to his happiness.

I’ve been too concerned about staying alive.

I stared back until he reached for my hand, the warmth of his palm pressing against mine, and I realized his happiness came from this –us, together, with no one around to demand anything. There was no proper way to behave, no eagle-eyed soldiers following me, and no one begging for a second of his time. No report to fill out, no visits to the infirmary, and no one staring in awe as he walked by. No judgment from anyone who might know who I am, and no judgment from anyone who knows who he is.

He was free to exist as himself, with me.

Which also led him to lower his guard the slightest.

By the third night, he was the one to reach for me in bed, and he was the one to pull the covers over us and toss his leg over mine. His body warmed my own, and when the storm reached its peak, his frustration followed. A healthy, hearty soldier, buried beneath the covers in a shared bed, would not be content with merely sleeping, not for long.

I felt him swallow thickly when I turned to face him, and when I settled against his chest, the safety I felt from him shifted to something else.

Want.

Pure, unadulterated want.

I wanted to be the person who won when it came to him. I wanted his hands slipping a little lower and his fingers to graze more than my lower back. Delusion was at its finest as I imagined that he could be happy with us and that out of everyone in Dauntless, the only person who really knew him was me. I had beaten out every other girl, ranking first to him and only him, and he had chosen this.

The delusion grows even stronger as he mumbles my name into the top of my hair, stuck in a place between being awake and sleep.

“Eric?” I wait for him to answer, but his breathing slows.

I make the guess that he’s fingertips away from being asleep, and my whispering isn’t going to wake him up.

I don’t mind.

I relish in the silence of the house, the cracking of the fire, and Eric’s slow, even breathing. This is the closest I have ever been to him while he is the most vulnerable. I rarely see the version of him that isn’t in control.

Until now.

Maybe I have won.

Shannon never could have predicted this: us, hidden away in Amity while a snowstorm rages on. Eric’s hands curled into my skin and a quiet understanding that our lives would never be the same, no matter how this ends.

I bet anything she’d have predicted my death –easy, quick, but profitable, lacking any real importance.

I close my eyes, and with the thought of her carried away by the storm, I fall asleep.

His children are blond.

They have very few of my characteristics, like even Eric’s most basic biology is far more dominant. They are an army of their own as they vie for his attention, their tiny outfits mirror his uniform.

In a dreamland of sleep, a warm, safe feeling spreads through me as I cradle our youngest son. The baby is small, wrapped in tiny, dark clothes, and making the soft snuffling sounds that are now familiar. There are more children than I would picture myself ever having, though it feels right. The distress of such a family is gone, leaving behind the stark realization that my deepest and wildest fear was abandonment.

Eric is not one for abandonment.

Even my subconscious points out that he’s never once left me, though he could have. Easily, since not a single person would have noticed. He has remained by my side, steadfast as he tries to dismantle the auction, persistent in making sure I am alright, and cautious in how things unfolded.

When I look at him, pulling the baby closer to me, I feel not the sick sensation of being saddled with a responsibility I didn’t ask for but something that has healed what once ached for acceptance. I feel a comfort I never knew could exist. A sense of permanence. The feeling of completion as he joins me, his thick uniform jacket bearing no blue stripe, or any stripe at all, and his hair combed back instead of to the side. The ends curl near his collar, for his free time is less than ever, but he doesn’t care.

His arm moves behind my shoulder, and gone is the hesitation on how I will react. He pulls me against his side, murmuring a warm hello, followed by a smug grin when I lean into him.

“What do you want for dinner?”

His question is easy; he has acclimated well to a life that I wouldn’t imagine suits him. Cooking for me has never been an issue, and he excels at cooking for his family. They tumble after him, toddler after toddler, attempting to climb their father’s limbs so he will hold them.

He does.

“Would you like spaghetti? Or chicken? You want to go to Clyde’s? Harrison said he’s considering a new promotion that kids eat free if you have more than two.”

His eyes find mine, grey and amused. With one arm, he pulls up the oldest, and though he must let go of me, he picks up the middle child to face me. They giggle as he heaves them over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow when one asks if he will arrest them.

They adore him.

Eric is the father he never had.

Even in my dreams, I imagine his own father to be stiffly busy, always practical and precise but cautious. I don’t even know the man, but I do know Eric was joyless when I met him, mostly out of necessity.

In this moment, he is far from joyless. He grins, pleased to have miniature versions of himself who will likely follow in his footsteps and content to have a wife waiting for him who will sit beside him, taking his hand when our children are busy coloring on whatever Rylan has left for them.

“Everly?”

I hold onto the baby tighter, only a single month old and far too little to be swung around like the others, and tilt my head up at him. His gaze softens –he knows he was gone too long, and while his duty is to the faction, he has always made me a priority. Our time apart is marked by how much his absence was felt; each hour felt like a stab through the heart, and though I knew I was being dramatic, it was the truth.

“I missed you, Eric.”

My confession is equal to his. It’s not the answer to his question but another unspoken one. In my dream, he nods his understanding and drops his head down. His smile is genuine, and his nose brushes mine.

“It’s almost over. It won’t be much longer.”

With a gasp, I open my eyes to darkness.

To the feeling of him beside me, his arm draped over my stomach and his breathing deep and unbothered. The storm grows loud, having finally hit full force. After months of living inside Dauntless, the noise is far from soothing. I lie still as the wind picks up, the tree branches rattle, and the house creaks.

Before the auction, I would lie in bed during the storms, wondering what would happen if the roof split apart. If the windows shattered or the house flooded. It was a rare moment where no one was around, perhaps only Zander would have stayed if he hadn’t scampered away to find our parents.

Now, I push myself over until my back hits Eric’s chest. I move until I feel him sleepily reach for my hand, his arm covering my side and his cheek touching the top of my head. He holds on even in his sleep, waking slightly when the next bang hints the storm will continue all night.

“Are you alright?”

His question is spoken roughly as he tries to wake up. I nod, and when the tension in his arm lessens, I know he’s about to fall back asleep.

“Yeah… the storm woke me up.”

“Harrison said it’s a bad one,” Eric mumbles. “Can you go back to sleep?”

“I’m sure.” I close my eyes, guiltily hopeful that I’ll fall back into the same dream again. “Goodnight, Eric.”

“Night.”

He’s asleep within seconds. It takes a few minutes before I feel myself relax; my brain fixates on the dream, and the feeling makes it hard to sleep. I want to see the family again. I want to see Eric peering down at me, the boys he was holding, and relish in the feeling of completeness the dream had brought.

Never once would I have considered having anything more than a single child, and certainly not with someone like Eric. But tonight, the idea softens until I find myself returning to the safest place I know.

Him.

Xxxxx

Courtney’s face is as pale as the fresh snow.

Dressed warmly, she stares at me from the patio of Forrest’s bar. Much like everyone who sees me, she is appropriately horrified. Her blonde hair is braided down both sides, and from a distance, she is angelic-looking –even with her wide-eyed stare.

She composes herself quickly.

Courtney forces a smile and grips the wooden railing tightly. My brother appears behind her with a very forced, neutral expression. He hurriedly whispers something to her, and my guess is it’s a gentle reminder to be careful or not bring up the most obvious reason why I’m back. After a pause, she nods, but neither of them moves past, staring at me.

I head right toward them.

I reach her in record time and say her name brightly.

“Courtney!”

“Everly…”

My name seems to be all people can utter these days.

She lunges for me, and for a second, it’s like I never left. I can feel the warmth of her jacket the same way I felt the sun on my skin last summer. She even smells like Amity: some floral scent I can’t place anymore and a hint of whatever she was baking this morning. She holds on as firmly as she can until she lets go to examine me.

I suddenly realize why Shannon warned Eric how to keep me out of sight.

My return to Amity is a spectacle and a rather uncomfortable one.

“Holy fuck, you really are here.” Courtney blurts out. “I thought everyone was lying.”

Her sentiment mirrors Sophia’s when I first saw her. Disbelief paired with relief and a healthy dose of trepidation.

“I am. How are you?” I adjust the coat Eric made me put on. He’d grouchily pointed out a sweater wasn’t warm enough, but the coat felt suffocating when I buttoned it up. “I was hoping I’d see you. I’m not really supposed to be walking around but…”

“Eric said you could leave, right?” She looks over my head, and her lips twitch into a frown. “I’ve heard he hasn’t let you out of his sight.”

My chest tightens.

Rather than explain the lengthy list of reasons why I have stayed with Eric, I smile at her. I ignore the pulse pounding defense that I know will have her shaking her head in doubt.

“I’ve missed you so much,” I tell her, watching her grimace. She tries to downplay it, but it’s hard to miss the way her lips turn down and her eyes tense. “What’s wrong? Is it… I’m sure you heard about the auction. I’m fine, I swear.”

“I did hear about them,” she pauses, and her stare flits to the side, where my brother is hovering like a rabid raccoon. “It’s all I’ve heard about lately.”

“I’m…sure.” A weird feeling washes over me as I try to answer her. “I um, I didn’t know what was happening until…I was brought out to meet everyone.” I continue, sounding like I’m speaking way too loudly. “It was crazy.”

Her face tightens.

“But… it’s alright. I’m safe, and… Eric brought me here for the week, and I’m glad I get to see you.”

“But you’re fine now, right?” She crosses her arms, and her stare stays on Forrest. He glares at her, and her sigh is impossible to miss. “I just… I’m sorry it happened to you. I heard about it, then I heard Landon’s version, then your brother’s…. then Sophia left to find you. How is she? Do you guys… hang out in Dauntless?”

Her words are pointed enough that I know what she’s hinting at.

She’s been left behind.

Courtney is the ideal Amity member, but that doesn’t mean she wants to be here by herself.

“She’s good. She’s doing really well. Eric…. he knows she came to find me, so he’s making sure she stays. Not everyone passes their initiation…” I trail off when she looks at me like I’m speaking another language. “She’s good, though. They’re making sure she’s safe.”

Courtney’s expression turns curious.

“What happens if you don’t pass? Would she come back here? Will you come back here? I heard you got married, but obviously, he bought you, so it’s not legit.” She stops, and her hand flies to her mouth. “I’m sorry. I know… you didn’t… I know this isn’t…what you wanted and…”

She stumbles as she tries to apologize, and her face turns bright red.

“Everly, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean that and –"

“If you fail, you get kicked out. She’ll make it. Eric gave me his word,” I answer evenly, ignoring my brother, looking like he’s about to strangle her. “Eric promised she’d stay. I’m staying, as well.”

“And you trust him?” Courtney asks skeptically.

I understand.

To anyone else, this whole situation looks insane. I have no reason to ever trust someone who went through the auction as a buyer, yet here I am, telling her he’s the reason Sophia will be fine.

“You’re coming back once this is over, right? Forrest said Dauntless is investigating the auctions and trying to stop them.” Courtney says. “I’m sure they’ll give you whatever you want when it’s done. There are plenty of houses here. I heard you might get your own when you’re back.”

“Why would I come back?” My confusion must be all over my face because her stare turns irritated. “I can’t come back so long as Landon is here. I’d never be able to let my guard down. And… I didn’t pick Amity. I picked Dauntless.”

“No, you didn’t. We all know he made you pick his faction. I saw you with him. You didn’t look happy then, and you don’t look happy now.” Courtney counters. “He did it so we’d see you.”

“I didn’t know him then,” I answer quietly. “He was trying to keep me safe.”

“You really think he’s keeping you safe? If it were me, I’d be screaming to get back to Amity. Not playing house with him.” The words slip past her lips a little too easily. “Something is weird. You went through this traumatic… auction… and now you’re in front of me, acting like someone else. You claim Sophia is fine, there are people helping her…and you’re okay with Eric.”

Her words slap me in the face, almost as if she’s physically hit me.

I step back, averting my stare, until I feel ready to answer her.

“I didn’t tell Sophia to pick Dauntless. When I learned she left Amity, I was shocked. I wouldn’t want to go through the Dauntless initiation, but I’d rather go through that than the auction.” I pause, trying to gather my thoughts. “The other Leaders are watching to make sure she’s alright.”

“What does she have to do?” Courtney’s attitude vanishes. She inches closer, and her expression is now full of anxiety. “What if you both die?”

“Neither of us will die. They don’t want that.” I say tightly. “Their initiation is hard. It’s a lot of fighting and learning how to be a soldier. I don’t think she knew that, but she’s been able to hold her own. Jake is there, too.”

“I knew he’d pick Dauntless. He wouldn’t shut up about it.” She smiles, but it quickly falls. “Everly, I’m really sorry. I’m making this about me. I just miss you guys, and I’m stuck here with the initiation class and everyone acting like a weirdo. The soldiers showed up, and everyone is on their best behavior or trying to trick them into doing something stupid.”

“I don’t know many of them aside from Jason and Rylan.” I glance around, noticing there are soldiers here, but they are busy with their drinks. “Most have been welcoming in Dauntless.”

“They take themselves very seriously,” Courtney smiles again, but it’s still forced. “Remember when we saw them at the lake? I said you’d marry one, and you did. You swore you wouldn’t.”

“Who would have thought you’d be able to see the future? I just wish you’d have warned me how I’d meet Eric.” I answer wryly. “I remember that day. Landon came running at me, and I jumped in after you.”

“He’s such a loser,” Courtney laughs. “He really thought you’d marry him before you turned eighteen.”

“He’s definitely…something.” My answer is softer as Forrest looks away, mumbling he needs to grab a broom. “Have you seen him lately?”

“No, he’s been laying low. They announced that Dauntless is overseeing the faction and he freaked out. He’s been a recluse ever since. My parents think it’s weird that he’s hiding, especially if he didn’t do anything. Since he was the last person you were with, some people are suspicious. Especially when we heard you were Eric’s wife.”

She emphasizes the word wife, and I know what she wants to know.

Just exactly how much of a wife I am.

“Yeah, I bet people were surprised.” I’m tempted to tell her everything, but for some reason, I don’t. “I heard he told everyone I left him in the woods.”

“I figured he did something.” Determined to mend our slight misstep, she joins my side and links her arm through mine. “Enough about him. Let’s go inside. We can sit by the fire and you can tell me all about… Dauntless. And I’ll tell you all about Amity. I’m sure our initiation has been equally as thrilling.”

She laughs, and just like that, it’s like I never left.

The anger at her attitude towards being the only one in Amity fizzles, as does my defense over my relationship with Eric. The awkwardness lessens, and I’m left feeling optimistic.

She pulls me into Forrest’s bar. Past the soldiers who have no doubt been told to keep an eye on me, and past the members of Amity celebrating an early storm and warming up from the snow.

She leads me to the fireplace, and there, surrounded by people I once knew, I learn just how she really feels.

“What did the blonde one say?”

Eric’s patience is as thin as the sweater I’ve found. He quirks an eyebrow at me when I don’t answer, and his next question is sharp.

“Did she upset you?” He cocks his head to the side, and his eyes are wider than normal.

He’s returned home from a meeting with Jason. I assume he was interrupted by the soldier because he appeared irritated. Dressed in his full Dauntless uniform, I was reminded of how powerful he looked and how intimidating he could be.

Especially when I don’t answer him.

“Everly , what did she say to you?”

My chest tightens at how annoyed he is. With rumpled hair, a scowl crossing his lips, and an air of disdain, Eric finally exhales heavily when I don’t answer him.

I found him after my talk with Courtney went south.

Turns out, despite her being relieved I was alive and unscathed, there was no amount of convincing her that would make her believe Eric wasn’t entirely the bad guy. She’d been fed an earful from Landon, Landon’s friends, my brother, and anyone who thought they knew Eric, about what he had done. The rumors of an auction didn’t quite pale in comparison to his hunt for whoever Jeanine had sent him looking for, but they also made for a compelling case as to why they didn’t trust him.

I learned he’d been to Amity.

Lots of times.

Chasing members through the woods, arresting those who failed a test that they weren’t aware they’d been taking, and ultimately doing someone else’s dirty work.

By the time Forrest brought us our drinks, Courtney let it slip that there were rumors that Eric’s real mission was to right his wrongdoings by taking over a faction and starting a legacy as the sole dictator over every faction. He would need an army, which he had, a solid chance at taking over, which he also had, and someone to help continue the Coulter name.

Which he also had.

As she sipped whatever hot chocolate abomination Forrest made, she told me she was impressed I had married him but that our marriage was obviously for Eric’s sole benefit. He needed a compliant wife in a different way than I had once thought: he needed someone who trusted him, someone who felt like they were safe with him, someone who couldn’t say no to him.

Courtney didn’t exactly say it out loud, but I realized she thought I was completely naïve to what could happen and that I was blindly believing every word he told me. With her stare to the side, she hinted I was stupid to think he’d ever really like me for me, and it was in my best interest to wake up and see who he really was.

I set my own drink down without taking a sip and politely told her to fuck off.

It was the first time I’d ever uttered such a phrase, especially to one of my best friends. I knew that her heart was in the right place; Courtney was trying to prove Eric wasn’t as benevolent as I thought he was, and as my friend, it was her job to save me.

I didn’t know how to tell I didn’t need to be saved.

Not in the way she thought.

Months ago? When I was dragged to the auction and told to hand over my shoes? Sure. When I first met Eric and was taken to Arlene to have a chip taken out of my neck? Maybe. When I realized I was trapped in Dauntless with Eric, and only he knew where I was? Yes. When I was left with orders not to run or he’d find me? One hundred percent yes.

But when I sat wrapped in a jacket, Eric had buttoned with a grimace and a huff about how I was going to freeze in a dress and how I probably should have mittens, too, and I felt like she was kicking me at my lowest.

No.

She didn’t know him past his name.

I was the one who had slept beside him for months. I was the one who had held his hand in Clyde’s, and I was the one who had fallen asleep only because he was next to me. I was the one he purchased clothes for, and I was the one he spent all his time with. He was the only person to ever celebrate me on my birthday, and his cautious admission that he believed I could have passed the Dauntless initiation meant more to me than anything.

Eric had done more than was asked; his mission was to stop the auctions, but he had made several promises like I wasn’t someone he’d bought, and he’d kept them all.

Every last one.

“Are you serious? Everly, what has gotten into you? Really? Fuck me?”

Courtney had gone slack-jawed. The look was strange on her, as was my abrupt and rude reply.

I nodded, told her it was good to see her, and walked out. I didn’t say goodbye to my brother’s staff, didn’t look at anyone, and kept walking until I ran into Forrest and his wife on the patio. I stopped dead in my tracks, ignoring the neighing of horses, the squealing of a pig who had broken free from his pen, and the chickens squawking.

His wife smiled at me, and it was like I was right back at the auction.

The ground beneath my feet felt soft, like the dead grass I’d stood upon. She had the same look on her face, one of both embarrassment at having been placed for sale, dread at knowing that I knew who she was, and relief at being safe. I saw it in the way she grabbed onto my brother. Her fingers clawed at his jacket the way mine had held onto Eric’s at the market, and she turned toward him, half hiding behind the very brother who used to make fun of me for being able to not reach the top shelf in the kitchen.

Forrest was safe to her.

He was good.

A decent man.

He was clean, kind, and peaceful. He wouldn’t slap her in the face or push her around, nor would he expect her to work endlessly for him. If her clean hair and brand-new clothes were any hint of her future, it would be a good one. She’d sleep easy in Amity, guarded by both the man who had saved her and an army in black. Forrest had gone with noble ambitions, and he’d done just that –he’d saved someone like he’d hoped he would.

Before I could utter a single word to them, Rylan sprinted by, his hair trailed behind him as he cradled something in his arms, shouting that he had found him fair and square, and he was not giving him back. My brother’s protest was loud, but it did little to help.

Rylan ran past us, slowing only to hold up the small, presumably factionless child for us to see, then he sped up and disappeared into the busiest part of the faction.

Forrest and his new wife took off after him, and I headed home, less angry but still upset that someone felt the need to tell me what I should be doing. Courtney might have meant well, and maybe I was being a little stupid when it came to Eric, but I couldn’t help it.

Even when this was over, he said I wouldn’t leave.

“Everly,” Eric says my name harsher than he means to, but it gets my attention. “I’ll ask one more time: what did she say to you?”

I turn, and his expression is violent.

“If she said something that has you worried –”

“She doesn’t trust you. She’s heard about you, and thinks you have some goal to rule every faction. And that you know I’ll do whatever you ask and I’m too blind to realize who you are and what you’re doing,” I interrupt with my own violence. “Everyone here is acting like I’m a moron, but none of them know what it feels like to be brought out, told to be quiet, to have something stabbed in your neck…and ordered to perform in hopes of someone liking you enough to buy you.”

His lips press tighter.

“Had it not been you…” my voice cracks unpleasantly. I chew on my lip, trying to compose myself. “I might even be alive. I wouldn’t be in Amity right now.”

“Everly –”

“I’m not an idiot.” I interrupt, but my anger isn’t at him. “I know you were sent to find someone and stop Shannon and put an end to all this. But I just… maybe I am stupid. Maybe I am an idiot for wishing I had met you some other way.”

The words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them.

I stare up at Eric in horror, like I’ve confessed the deepest, darkest secret one could possibly have.

I step back, and he raises both eyebrows at me.

“I didn’t mean…” I fumble for an excuse, but he shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” He looks confused. “I told you I don’t think you’re stupid. I think had we met another way… this would have been much different. Maybe you’d have picked Dauntless. Maybe I’d have met you here. Maybe… the world would have ended, and I’d have found you in the woods.”

He steps closer, disarming my defensive posture when he reaches for my arms. He pulls me toward him until there are mere inches between us.

“It doesn’t matter how it happened, but I promised I’d make it right. If Courtney wants you to think I’m going to snap your head off, then she’s the idiot.”

“I don’t think you’re going to snap my head off.” I shake my head. “I just… if I had met you not at the auction, maybe you wouldn’t…”

“I wouldn’t what?” He murmurs, somewhat distracted now. His eyes soften as they find mine. “It doesn’t matter how I met you. Let her be mad or tell you whatever she wants. I’ll tell you whatever you want answered. You want to hear about what I’ve done? I’ll tell you. If you want to hear about my work, or the people I’ve killed, or the demands placed upon me, I’ll tell you. I can’t guarantee your opinion will stay the same, but you’ll know the truth. I’ve always told you the truth. I haven’t lied to you about anything…”

He trails off as his voice rises.

“Except…” I question, tilting my head. “Is it Rachel? Did you sleep with her?”

His eyes widen.

His amusement is zero as he inhales slowly, exaggerating his displeasure.

“You said you’d tell me,” I point out. “It would explain –”

“No, it’s not Rachel,” he interrupts. “It’s Amelia.”

“You slept with Amelia?” I blink in horror, trying to imagine this. Amelia seems way too uptight and closed off, although perhaps he found that appealing. “When?”

“Everly,” Eric says my name exasperatedly. “No, I didn’t sleep with Amelia. She asked me…”

He hesitates, and I try very, very hard to remember when he was alone with her.

“It’s not a lie. I just didn’t tell you that she sent me a message from a burner phone. She asked if I had been honest with you about….how I…how I….”

He stops talking, and for once, he can’t get the words out.

“How you what?” I ask. “Eric?”

I rise onto my tiptoes when he bends his head down. His arms slip around my waist, and my own move around his neck.

“How I feel about having you as my wife.”

His answer comes, rather reluctantly, as he leans in to kiss me. His lips touch mine, but he’s frantic this time, a little more forceful and a little desperate after his confession. I’m pulled closer and closer until there is no space between us, and his hands move to my hair. He yanks and pulls the hair out of his way, tugging impatiently when his fingers tangle. A second later, he gets what he wants. He undoes a single button on my sweater and helps me pull it off.

“She said our relationship appears a little too genuine. It bothered her, but now I know why.” He pulls back an inch, shaking his head. “She sounded rather jealous that you weren’t miserable and that I enjoyed having you around.”

Eric leans in again, grazing his lips against my own. He's not reluctant to kiss me, just to admit that someone figured out his feelings long before he did.

“So, no, I didn’t sleep with her. I only spoke to her about how I promised to make you happy. How I told you that I would make you happy,” he reminds me, his mouth leaving mine only to return a second later. “Very happy.”

“How?”

I don’t care how.

My thoughts are a whirl of lovesick, skin-tingling lust as Eric nudges his nose along my cheek, then down my neck. Any mention of Amelia leaves my mind as his teeth sink into my skin, nipping as I struggle to unbutton his jacket before I lose my nerve. I have no real clue what I’m doing; I’m not naïve enough to pretend I don’t know where this could go, I just didn’t expect it with him like this.

I gasp as he bites down hard enough to leave a mark, and then he sighs as I manage to free a single button.

“I’ll show you,” he offers again, this time rearing back to look at me. His eyes are wild with delight, and his cheeks hold the faintest flush to them. “I’ll prove it.”

Any doubts I had about him are gone as he undoes his jacket. He tosses it aside without looking, and in the warmth of the bedroom we’ve shared for the past few nights, he inches me backward. My legs hit the edge of the bed, and when I’ve decided he must really like me, he pulls his shirt over his head with one hand.

Then he stops.

He hesitates as I sit down, glancing to look up at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“If this comes up with Jack… if I have to explain what happened with you…” He stops with his hand on the button of his pants. “If they ask if I ever made you do anything… you realize how this will look, don’t you?”

His words make little sense until I remember him talking about some court.

“If they ask you if I forced you to do anything…”

“You aren’t making me do anything,” I interrupt. He glances down at me, and his expression tenses as my dress sticks between my legs. “I promise.”

“Have you done this before?” He asks, and his pants are gone. Clad only in his boxers, he stands before me with a concerned look on his face. “I don’t have anything with me. I didn’t expect…”

His thoughts are as jumbled as his words. I have no clue what he doesn’t have, but I don’t care. I reach for him until I can pull him towards me. Eric is over me in a second. Pressed into the mattress, the weight of him is both crushing and reassuring. He reaches to grab the hem of my dress, and this time, there is no hesitation on his face.

My dress joins his pants.

Out of all my time with Eric, I wonder if this is where I panic.

I wonder if this is the moment that breaks me –leaving me a shell of who I once was.

I wait for the fear and anguish to come, the self-pity or embarrassment over only knowing him through the auction, but it doesn’t. Only relief when his hands find my thighs, relief when his eyes find mine, and joy when he leans down to brush his lips against mine.

There is no regret, only the realization that I want this. I have the upper hand right now, and if I tell him to stop, he will.

But I don’t want him to.

I want his hands carefully skimming my sides, slowly coaxing their way toward my ribcage. My breathing is painful as his stare skates over my skin, but his stare is greedy. It’s patient as he very slowly glides his hand up my stomach, over my ribs, all the way to my breasts. His stare is gluttonous as both hands are suddenly everywhere: my skin aches when he moves them away, then burns when he returns. He is slow as he kisses me, squeezing and pinching the bare skin until I wiggle closer to him, seeking out more.

After the last few days, all I want is to feel good.

“I can stop if you want. It doesn’t have to be now,” he says, his mouth leaving mine to trail down my throat. My hips meet his –seeking a friction I have never known before –and he grunts in approval when I raise my legs to press inwards. “We have plenty of time.”

I try not to smile. My hands touch the back of his hair, staying there as he works his way down my skin. His mouth finds my breast, and he has my nipple between his teeth. When he when he sucks hard enough that I can’t help but groan, he does it again. One of his hands moves down my stomach, then to the waistband of my underwear, as he focuses on me.

He takes his time, memorizing my reaction to everything he does.

“How long?” I ask, barely able to form a coherent thought when I can feel him. All of him. The length of his cock against my thigh, hard as he pushes forward. “You mean all of tonight?”

“Yes.”

His answer is grunted as he returns to kissing me. For what feels like hours, I am held in place by him as his tongue slips past my lips. When he deepens the kiss, it’s like stepping off the ledge and finding solid ground when I’m expecting to fall. The sensation roars through my body, igniting when his fingers touch my inner thigh. His graze is practiced; easy as he strokes up and down and torturous when I squirm in hopes that he’ll move his fingers.

I have never felt like this.

It’s like my entire body comes alive, begging him to keep going.

There’s only a small part of my brain that points out how dangerous this is, but it shuts itself off when he pulls my underwear down.

“Tomorrow. The next day. So long as you’re married to me,” he confesses, moving his mouth to my jaw. His fingers skim lower, and when my heart beats so fast I think it might burst through my chest, he touches me. “Close your eyes. It’ll be easier.”

I obediently shut them, and he’s right.

Without looking at Eric, I give into the feeling of him stroking his fingers until they’re right where I want them. The pressure is almost too much as he rhythmically moves them over and over, teasingly pulling them away when the whimper leaves my throat. I blink

“Eric, I…”

“I said close your eyes,” he snickers. “You are a terrible listener. But a pretty one.”

I smile so hard my face hurts.

It hurts even more when Eric’s mouth follows his fingers.

For a solid minute, I see nothing but feel everything. He is even more skilled than before, licking and sucking in ways I didn’t think were humanly possible. I’ve only ever thought about sex in a way that gave me a feeling of complete and utter repulsion; I knew how people had children, but the thought of sleeping with Landon to have a child, or anyone in Amity, made me nauseous. It made me feel like I would be used purely so my husband could get what he wanted, and there would be nothing but pain and fear for me.

But this is different.

I grasp onto the back of Eric’s head, holding him in place as a warm feeling builds in my stomach. I can feel him smirking when my fingers dig into his scalp, and one of his hands pushes my legs open wider. He’s much more enthusiastic than I would picture him being, and it sends a wave of want through me when he shifts to a better angle. I should be mortified to be in such a vulnerable position, but all I can think is that I want to see him, and I want him to keep going.

My head falls as the feeling builds, and my back arches. My breathing is now uneven, almost impossible to control. A wave of euphoria washes over me, so delightful that I don’t even realize I am mumbling his name as my hips push forward, refusing to let him move until I have experienced every second of this.

“Don’t stop.”

If the agony I felt from earlier was enough to make me curl up against his chest and nearly cry, what I feel now is enough to make me pledge my allegiance to the Dauntless faction until the day I die. I feel nothing but white hot joy as I teeter on an invisible edge, so close yet just far enough that I can ride out the feeling for a few seconds more. I open my eyes to his head between my legs, his back tense and every muscle defined as he makes good on his promise.

He slows just enough that I groan his name, ready to be furious that he’s about to ruin everything when he doesn’t. He resumes his new mission, and when his tongue runs the length of my clit, I come against his face.

My soul practically leaves my body, allowing me to enjoy the feeling without worrying about what he’s thinking. His hands grasp my legs hard enough to bruise, and he patiently waits until my thighs are still shaking, but my eyes are open, and the sight of his smug expression is all I can see.

He smirks as he moves higher until the length of him is right there, sliding up and down as my brain melts.

“Was that the first time –”

“Yes.” I admit, sighing when I feel the head of him about to slide into me. My thoughts are as fuzzy as when I had the peace serum, making it hard to think straight. “I never found anyone to do that between…watching chickens.”

He snorts.

His bark of laughter accompanies the feeling as he pushes inside me. It’s sharp and fast, a little rougher than I’m prepared for, but good. When he moves his hips to thrust deeper into me, it’s a connection I’m unprepared for. He’s sloppy and less controlled than normal, grunting in both frustration and relief as he seeks out the same friction I did.

I watch him unravel before my very eyes until he leans over me, and I’m crushed beneath him.

It's a death I welcome.

The months I’ve spent with him become seconds as I loop my arms around his neck. I’m pushed deeper into the bed with each of his thrusts, and while it doesn’t feel as good as it did before, I don’t want him to stop.

Physical want radiates from him, and each moment brands itself into my brain. The relief as he gives in, the heat from his body, the pressure of his legs tangled with mine, and the way I am particularly vulnerable but never more powerful. The way he manages to say my name between gritted teeth and the way he shuts his eyes, desperate to keep going.

I understand why Amy was nervous about the wedding, but she was worried about the wrong person.

I tighten my grip as Eric’s pace becomes focused. He’s hot beneath my fingers, his skin sweaty and his throat tightening, he drops his head and inhales tightly. His control slips –and it’s the best thing I’ve ever seen. For someone so guarded, it’s quite the spectacle when his hair is a mess, his lips are wet, and his arms are shaking. He doesn’t hold back as his hips slam towards mine, and I feel every single shudder when he finally groans my name.

“Everly…”

Ever the soldier, Eric loses the battle to keep going. I feel every twitch, every final, frantic thrust, every attempt to keep himself from coming. He eventually lets his own gratification win out; he comes by thrusting hard enough that I swear my organs have been rearranged, followed by collapsing onto me to catch his breath. The air leaves my lungs as his face rests in the crook of my neck, and his breathing slows enough that he asks me if I’m alright.

“I’m…”

Better than alright.

“I’m good. Are you?” I shut my eyes, relishing in the weight of him over me. “Eric?”

“Yeah.” His response is mumbled into my skin. “I enjoyed myself.”

“Why did you make me wait?” I touch the back of his head, slipping my fingers through his hair and resting them there. “I thought it would hurt. I didn’t know it would feel like that.”

He’s silent.

His back tenses when my hand skims across it.

“I told you I wouldn’t hurt you,” he answers tightly.

My heart clenches at the oddness of his tone, but the feeling is gone when he reaches up to fumble for my face.

He’s far from clumsy, but it’s like he’s too exhausted to move.

“I told you I would make it good for you. I just…needed to know it was real. Because if it wasn’t, and you looked like that girl at dinner…I couldn’t do it.” Eric swallows thickly. “Not like that. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Thank you.”

I lie in bed still as his hand eventually finds my cheek, and he leaves it there while his heart rate slows. Neither of us says anything else –but we don’t need to.

Out of all the firsts Eric has given me, this one might be the best.

I eventually shut my eyes. My breathing matches his, slowing enough that I keep my eyes closed. I leave them shut until the world slowly and gently falls away, and the only thing I hear is the sound of Eric quietly pulling the blanket over me.

I open my eyes to waning sunlight, the feeling of having slept much longer than expected, and Eric sitting beside me.

His fingers rake through my hair while he sits against the headboard. His shirt is still gone, but his boxers are back on. He glances at me out of the corner of his eye, but his attention is on his phone.

He frowns as he reads something, and his sigh makes me sit up.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He looks down, pulling his hand away slowly. “You were asleep for a while, but I figured you’d be up all night if I didn’t wake you.”

“How long did I sleep for?” I sit up straighter, pulling the blanket with me.

“A couple of hours. You’re good, right?” He looks into my eyes, and his concern is quick but noticeable. “I assume you hadn’t done that before.”

I make him wait.

I watch him cock his head at an angle, and his eyes narrow.

“Everly –”

“No, I haven’t done that. Amy gave me a lecture about sleeping with you at the wedding, but I told her I didn’t think you were interested.” I remind him. “But that was…it was something else.”

“You seemed to enjoy yourself.” Relieved, he stares at me intently until I smile. “When we get back, you should get checked out in the infirmary. They can give you a few things to keep you from getting pregnant. You can see anyone there.”

“I will.” The relief I feel is astronomical.

“Good.” He nods, and the awkwardness vanishes when his hand touches mine. “I thought I would make you something to eat, and then we can decide how long you want to stay here. I’d like to take you back sooner than later. There are some developments that lower the security risk if you’d like to go home.”

“What is it?” I ask. “Is it Landon?”

He shakes his head.

“Not quite. Shannon was arrested an hour ago. She was found setting up for an auction. The girls were with her, the trailers were there, and we were able to intercept almost everyone. A few fled into the woods, but Harrison has a team looking for them,” Eric informs me. “She’ll be dosed with Truth Serum to make sure we got everyone, and she’ll be brought before Jack once we’ve finished our investigation.”

“Then what?”

This relief is different.

It's like ripping off a band-aid, though it doesn’t feel as good as I once thought.

“She’ll plead her case, though there isn’t much to be said. Jack will decide what he thinks or if she should be allowed a trial. There’s a chance you’ll be asked to speak, possibly your family, as well. Once she’s sentenced, you’ll receive…something. Whatever points she has, or material items that can be divided up, will be split between those she’s wronged. It’ll take a while. Harrison predicts it’ll be months.”

Eric looks at me before reaching out to touch my lip. It feels swollen, and he carefully pulls his hand back with a slight grimace.

“You’ll stay with me. It’s not an order, but I think there will be a few security issues for a while. You can’t return to your family, and you’ll be factionless otherwise, so….” He trails off, but his pause is poignant. “You’ll remain as my wife in Dauntless until this is over. Once we’re confident it’s safe, we’ll go from there.”

“I don’t want to come back to Amity,” I say softly. “There’s nothing here for me.”

“I know.” His gaze softens, but he sits up as his phone rings. The tone is loud and shrill, and he frowns even further. “Sorry, let me take this.”

“Sure.”

I lean back, pulling my feet beside me as I look for my clothes. There’s a pleasant ache in my thighs that reminds me of him and the sensation that my hair is tangled in the back. Before I can get up and look for my dress, I hear Eric swear loudly.

“Fuck. When? How?”

He slams something shut, and I glance at the bedroom door to see him standing beside it.

“Who sent it to me?” Eric’s jaw goes slack. “Who the fuck found him? Where is he?”

He turns, a stunning sight of muscle, dark ink on pale skin, and fury as he cocks his head. His questions come in rapid fire, one after the other, until he is facing me.

Something is wrong.

Very wrong.

“How long ago? Why… why did….?” His question makes him pause. His voice falters, and he shakes his head as he steels himself. “Okay, okay. Yeah, thank you.”

He strides toward the bed. Before I can move, he hands me my dress and his lips press together. He is antsy now, and the nerves are so strong I can feel them.

“We’ll head there now. Thank you.”

Eric ends the call, and when I reach for his hand, his expression is grim.

“Eric…”

“It’s Jason. There was a package that arrived for me, and it was delivered to Jason. He opened it, took out the vial and left it in his desk so he could hand it over to Harrison. Someone took it and the assumption is that they put it in his drink. They found him in his office an hour ago with the empty vial in his desk.” Eric pauses, and his shoulders rise. “They tried to make it look like he drank it on his own.”

“Oh no….” I wrap my hand around his wrist, and his nod is curt.

“They called to tell me he was declared dead a half hour ago.”

My lips part in horror.

Nothing comes out, not even the gasp that is stuck in my throat.

“We’re heading to Erudite to ID the body. Unfortunately, I can’t leave you here.” Eric licks his lips, and our afternoon together turns as somber as Miranda’s memorial. “I’m sorry. Everly…”

“I understand. I’ll get ready.”

I pull him closer, an impossible feat, but he lets me.

Eric leans into me. My head is in the middle of his chest, and he cradles it with his free hand.

We stay there silently, grief returning like I’ve never felt before until Eric’s phone lights up and a name flashes across the screen.

Ashley.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen: The Final Girl

Erudite is covered in snow.

The city is buried beneath a thick layer of ice, leaving the streets frozen and the homes dark. We arrive as the sun has almost set; the weak light casts a pale glow over the faction, illuminating the snow. The truck we have taken drives carefully. Several cars are off to the sides, having slid off the street. Our driver is a soldier I don’t know, selected to drive so Eric could speak with Harrison.

I sit beside him, dressed in black.

It felt fitting when he handed me the dress. I had gone to take a shower, and though it was oddly emotional washing off the memory of our afternoon together, it became necessary.

Once done, I caught a glimpse of myself in a fogged-up mirror. Like the first time I saw myself after the auction, I found that I looked different. No longer the naïve girl who had walked with Landon into a slaughterhouse, and more like the girl who had willingly chosen to marry Eric. I stared longer, half expecting to see someone else, before realizing I needed to get ready.

I brushed my teeth, combed my hair, and met Eric who was appropriately distraught.

I knew little of his friendship with Jason, but I did know Eric trusted him, and his trust meant everything. In the short time between the phone call and my shower, Eric had paled to the color of nothing. He had showered elsewhere, leaving his hair damp and slicked back. He looked ill –less like the flu and more like someone had sucked the soul right out of him –and he stayed that way as he buttoned his uniform jacket up to his throat.

For a second, I thought his eyes looked wet.

His lips pressed together tightly, and he looked up and to the side, keeping his eyes open until they became dry.

He was no stranger to death. I had learned that Eric had met it at every turn in his career. He had slowly introduced me like it would become part of our routine, but to hear his friend was gone was different. He was silent. Noticeably upset, as though the emotion he felt couldn’t be contained by his normal discipline, but as controlled as he could be. He stifled the agony of Jason’s death the best he could, but it was useless.

I dressed while he stood to the side, staring blanky at me. There was nothing behind his stare except everything: horror, regret, anger, and fear. I had never seen him look like this, until he crossed the room, reached for me, and crushed me against him so hard that I couldn’t breathe.

For what felt like hours but couldn’t have been more than a minute, Eric held onto me as though I were the only person left in the world. He held on stiffly; so tightly that my ribs hurt, but when I hugged him back, his inhale shook. I felt every beat of his heart, every swallow he took, and every breath as he steadied himself. He forced himself to return to Eric, one our Leaders, or possibly the Leader if Courtney was correct, and stood straight as his arms fell away.

“We should go before it’s too late.”

It was too late, but I knew what he meant.

I grabbed a pair of shoes and followed him downstairs to a truck waiting for us. We were met by a crowd of soldiers also heading to Erudite; Harrison must have sent half of the ones in Amity to accompany us, and once I was inside the truck, I knew why.

The security threat returned to the highest level. Any reprieve from Shannon was met with a new threat: someone out to kill Eric, or maybe every Leader in Dauntless. It might not even matter who drank the serum, because it was one less person they’d have to deal with.

Our drive was tense and uneasy. The driver followed a parade of trucks, driving as carefully as they could. I listened to Eric speak to Max, and every question and answer was void of emotion.

“And you’re telling me no one saw the package get dropped off? Every camera we have was down?” Eric’s lips press together as he rubs the bridge of his nose. “Did everyone in the control room quit and you failed to notice?”

His malice was hard to miss.

“Where were you when it was delivered?” Eric’s next question is pointed. “Nothing is to be brought in without it being logged. Those were your orders. Can you explain why those orders were ignored? Where is Kacie? Was she working?”

Max’s answer, lost and tinny in the echo of the truck, didn’t matter to Eric.

The driver interrupted to announce we are parking, followed by a warning that it’s begun to snow again.

“Great.” Eric answers flatly. “Send me the footage.”

With a sharp exhale, Eric shoves the phone in his jacket and looks at me.

“This will be quick. No one should bother you, but stay by my side and don’t wander off. If someone invites you somewhere, don’t go.” He wets his lips, and the black of his uniform jacket makes him look like he did the day I met him. “Everly…”

“I’m sorry about Jason.” I reach for his hand as the truck slows. On the edge of the curb stands a row of doctors, a group in scrubs, and their imitation security team. Cara waits off to the side, her blue jacket dusted in white, shivering as the snow fall resumes. “I liked him. He was a good guy.”

“He was.” Eric nods, his posture so stiff he could shatter. “He was an excellent soldier and Leader. He’ll be greatly missed.”

“He will.” I nod, knowing that’s not why Eric is upset.

“When we get out...” He pauses. “They’ll address you as my wife. They should be respectful, but if any of them do anything stupid…”

He stops speaking, and his stare moves to the girl beside Cara. Tall, blonde, and just as cold looking, her stare is fixed on the truck. She is impassive as the driver hops out to open the doors, and unmoving when Cara whispers something to her.

“Let me know.” Eric’s stare pierces mine, his gray eyes unblinking until I nod.

“I will.”

Still holding onto him, I slide over when he moves.

A greeting is murmured at him before he’s out of the truck. The soldiers stand at attention, and when he turns, they fall silent. He looks at me, and though I know he is far from happy, he smiles.

“Come here.”

I smile back. He reaches to help me down from the truck, and when I can reach the running board, I realize why he handed me the dress he did.

This is my first official moment before Erudite, and he wasn’t going to chance it going wrong. I look the part of his wife; dressed in something impressive and stiff to match his uniform, the dress is severe enough that no one should doubt my place with him. When I am steady, he makes sure I am standing tall before reaching for my hand. I slide it into his, and when his grip is tight, we head towards Cara.

The soldiers salute him but greet me with a polite hello. Only the girl beside Cara stays silent. Her blonde hair is long and pretty, but her stare is unimpressed. Her posture is so straight that I wonder how she’s balancing in her heels, yet she appears effortless.

“Welcome to Erudite,” Cara greets us courteously. “I’m sorry to have you here under such unfortunate circumstances, but it’s good to see you again.”

She looks at Eric, then me.

“Mrs.…Coulter.”

“Hello.” I answer, trying not to look at the girl beside her. I can feel her examining me from head to toe. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Where is he?” Eric is less patient. His tone is threatening, like Cara was the one who sent Jason the serum. “I was told to hurry.”

“I’ll let Dr. Mentis show you where to go.” She doesn’t move, and it’s clear she’s nervous. “I had like to introduce you to a few who have been assisting him: Dr. Neilson and Dr. Meadows. And I believe you know Ashley. She’s here on behalf of our Ambassador.”

Eric says nothing.

I look at Ashley out of the corner of my eye and think of her note I had found in the box in Eric’s closet. It’s easy to see why Eric would have been interested in her; she’s tall and slim, just unapproachable as he was when I met him. She forces a bland smile, then tucks her hair behind her ear.

“Welcome. Like Cara, I offer my utmost sympathy at this time.” Ashley’s tone is rehearsed. “If I may speak with Mrs. Coulter for a moment, I had like to –”

“No.” Eric cuts her off abruptly. “We aren’t here to speak with you.”

“Right.” She nods, but she doesn’t look insulted. She stares at me, then steps back with Cara. “Whenever you are ready, Dr. Mentis will take you to the morgue.”

A man my father’s age flashes a grim look of acknowledgement. His name is embroidered on his jacket, and his hair is dusted with snowflakes. After some fumbling to leave the group, he instructs us to follow him inside. I can feel him trying not to look at me, but he fails as we are led into a marbled foyer.

“I’m very sorry about the loss of your friend.” He offers his condolences as he takes us past the reception desk and toward an elevator. The Dauntless soldiers follow, staying close by. “I know this was quite unexpected. I had hopes that we could counteract the serum, but it was too late.”

Eric nods.

We step inside the silver elevator, and I’m guided toward the side. Pressed into Eric, I listen as Dr. Mentis keeps talking like he’s trying to fill the silence.

“As much as we work with the serums, there’s only so much we can do. The reversal is quite impossible unless it’s done within minutes. Even then, it’s not a guarantee.” He says, pushing a button for a lower level. “Your infirmary had a limited supply of serums on hand that we could try. They did their best with what they had.”

“I’m sure.” Eric barely blinks. “Was there anything else found in his system? Or just the Death Serum?”

“We haven’t done an autopsy yet. If you’d like, I can order one. His parents were notified, but…obviously, they have no say in the matter. His status as a Leader means the decisions fall to whomever he had as his emergency contact. Which is you and uh, Rylan, who we could not get a hold of.”

“I’ll inform him,” Eric answers off handedly.

“Your authority on this is enough.” The doctor shifts his weight when the elevator dings. The doors open to reveal a brightly lit hallway, lined with doors. “May I suggest your wife wait with the soldiers. I don’t want to be presumptuous in this statement, but I’m not sure you want her to see this.”

Eric glances down at me.

His shoulders rise, and his nod is curt. “That’s fine. She can wait.”

He stays back until Dr. Mentis walks into the hallway, then pulls me along with him. I keep my arms in close, disliking the chill in the air. Everyone is silent until we reach a door marked morgue. The doctor waits until everyone has caught up, and his stare shifts to the numerous soldiers.

“Once you identify the body, we can proceed accordingly. If you wish for an autopsy, it’ll take a day or two, then he will return to Dauntless for the burial.” Dr. Mentis announces. “The rest of you will wait here. No one should come this way.”

“I’ll be right back,” Eric drops his head toward mine, and his jaw tightens. “This shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

“Take as long as you need.” I nod. “I’m sorry about Jason.”

“Thank you.” Eric looks right at me before he leaves with Dr. Mentis.

He follows him through the door. I can’t see very far into the morgue, but I don’t want to. I stand by a soldier I don’t know and when the door shuts, the man clears his throat.

“It’s nice to officially meet you, Mrs. Coulter. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.”

“Thank you. It’s nice to meet you, too. What’s your name?” I turn to look at his jacket, and out of the corner of my eye, I see her exit the elevator. She looks right at me, and her gaze is as sharp as her nails.

“Everly,” Ashley says my name loud enough that the soldier turns. He immediately steps towards her, and she holds her palms up in amusement. “Calm down, I’m not here to do anything. I need to speak to her.”

“We have orders that she’s not to be bothered.” The soldier shakes his head. “You’ll have to wait until Eric is back.”

“This won’t take long.” She presses her lips together and cocks her head. “You can listen if you want.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He speaks with enough authority that even I feel compelled to listen to him. “In fact –”

“One minute. It’s important.”

“Ma’am, if you don’t turn around and leave, I’ll make you leave.” He glares at her, but she looks at me, and her expression turns panicked. “Listen, I said –"

“It’s okay. I’ll talk to her,” I interrupt. “She said she only needs a minute. I’m okay with it if you are. We won’t go far. I’m sure Eric won’t mind if it’s important.”

The soldier weighs his options. He ultimately agrees that I am not to leave his sight. There really isn’t anywhere to go in this hallway; he can see each direction, and the rest of the rooms are presumably accessible only if you work here.

Which I don’t believe Ashley does.

“Fine. You have one minute.”

“Thank you.” Ashley smiles brightly, then reaches for my arm. She quickly pulls her hand away and motions for me to follow her. “Sorry, I know I shouldn’t touch you. I don’t need Eric thinking I’m up to something.”

“Are you?” I have to tilt my head to look up at her. I didn’t realize she was so tall, or that she’s just as intense as Eric. “I know who you are.”

“I bet you do.” She answers testily, stopping suddenly. “I am sure he’s told you quite the story about me. But let me first congratulate you on your wedding. I never thought he’d marry anyone.”

“Thank you.” I answer tightly. “And I understand. He’s very…busy.”

“Busy.” She repeats with a smirk. “That’s certainly one way to describe him.”

“What do you want to talk about?” I hold her stare, trying to stay a step ahead. “Is it t Eric?”

“I….” She hesitates, looking suddenly uneasy. “This is going to sound strange, but I need to explain something first. As hard as I’ve tried, I have been unable to scrub my connection to Eric from existence. I would love to forget my time with him.”

“I saw your note.” I tell her, watching her fight to keep looking pleasant. “Was it hard for you when he was arrested? You said not to bother contacting you.”

Ashley inhales slowly before her stare flits above my head to the soldier watching us.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

“It’s fine.” She waits until the soldier speaks to another soldier. “When Eric was arrested, I thought my life was over. I thought that my reputation was the one that was destroyed because of how close I thought I was to him. I quickly figured out that I wasn’t close to him at all. I tried to get to know him, but it was impossible. There was one time where he started to tell me something about Jeanine, then he changed his mind. I knew then that he didn’t trust me.”

“I heard about Jeanine’s plans,” I answer her carefully, not willing to reveal anything I know. “Did you agree with what she was doing?”

Ashley presses her lips together. "At the time, I considered her to be someone to listen to, whether I agreed or not."

“Did you think you’d marry him?” I ask. “Is that why you want to talk to me?”

“Look,I didn’t…disagree with Jeanine. I found a few of the things she spoke about to be worrisome. Eric reassured me that I was safe, but there were names on the list that I knew. I never breathed a word to Jeanine about knowing these people out of fear that I had be dragged in with them. In the end, I was wrong. The list was pointless, the people were dead, and had I not quit long before her trial, I would have been executed along with her.” Ashley stops, but her next sentence is spoken very condescendingly. “Now, did I think I had marry him? No. He didn’t give me the time of day once I was of no use to him. Once he decided Jeanine was the enemy, and anyone associated with her was the same, he was done with me.”

“But your note –”

“You’ve never fought for his attention, have you?” She crosses her arms, and her perfect posture slips. “Back then, I wanted him to come back. I hoped he’d reach out or try to see me. I knew he wouldn’t, but I wanted him to read my words and feel something.”

“And he didn’t?” I guess.

“No, he didn’t. He returned to Dauntless and stayed there until Cara was put into power. Our paths occasionally cross now, but only because I took a job as the assistant to our Ambassador, and every so often, we’re in the same meetings. I caught wind of his last mission, and I wanted to know….”

She hesitates until I raise my eyebrows.

“Is it true?” Ashley asks, lowering her voice. “Is it…real?”

“Is what real?” I tilt my head. “The auction?”

Her stare is everywhere but on me. “Yes.”

“It’s real.”

She blanches. “How?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “I guess…at some point, someone figured out a way to sell others for profit and…it worked so they began recruiting people to help. Eric said it’s been going on for a while.”

“And you were there?” She keeps looking over my head, aware that Eric will be livid at her asking these questions. “Who is in charge? Has Eric figured it out yet?”

“They have someone in custody. He’s been working on it for a while. How do you know this? Is Erudite helping?”

“There’s been talk of using our surveillance to help find some of the girls who have gone missing, but nothing has been made official. The arrest report came through, along with a security notice, and then…the news about Jason. But no one has outright admitted what’s been going on. Cara doesn’t want people panicking.” She looks uneasy as she leans back. “I expected him to tell me about it because…”

She trails off, and for a moment, I think she might cry.

Her breathing becomes shaky, and she blinks hard.

“There’s a girl who went missing from here. We worked together, and one day she didn’t show up. No one seemed to notice. She was… a friend of mine.” Ashley pauses, her voice less even than before. “I hoped I had see you so I could ask you myself. I thought maybe… maybe you saw her when you were there. Perhaps someone took her the way they took you.”

Oh.

Oh.

Shit.

I stare back at the woman who I thought had followed me down here to insult me but I certainly didn’t expect this.

“She’s about your height, maybe a little taller. Um, brown hair, she had on blue when I last saw her.” Ashley offers a few more details. “She’s really quiet. Do you think… maybe you were with her?”

Hope is scrawled across her face until I don’t answer fast enough.

“I know it’s a long shot, but I can’t think of where else she’d have gone.” Ashley keeps talking as her face falls. “I hope I’m wrong, but I feel like I’m right.”

“I didn’t see everyone they had. I only saw the group I was with,” I answer softly. “I don’t know if your friend was there. What’s her name?”

“I see.” Ashley nods miserably.

I know what she’s feeling, and just exactly how terrible the lack of hope is.

“Her name is Abigail.” She almost whispers the name. “We had drinks with a few guys one night, and I never saw her again. I reported it, but I haven’t heard anything.”

“Does Eric know this?” I ask, nearly choking on my own horror.

The name is vaguely familiar, like I should know it, but I don’t.

“I reached out once. I got a very professional reply that he was assigned the project and would get back to me with any future developments. I never heard from him, and when I heard about how he found you… I thought maybe you were with her.” Her voice cracks. “I don’t want to bring it up in front of him because…he’s very…defensive about you. We were told he’d married the woman he saved, and that anyone caught discussing your situation would be punished to the furthest extent.”

My cheeks burn.

Not out of embarrassment, but out of anger that Shannon has once again allowed others to judge me before they even met me.

“I didn’t choose to go to the auction, so I don’t care if anyone knows how I met Eric.” I tell her. “I don’t know if your friend was there, but if she was, then she was likely sold. They looked for girls who are quiet. It’s easier to sell someone who doesn’t fight back.” I pause when her face drops. “Shannon is in custody, and some of the girls have been found. I imagine it won’t be long before Dauntless undoes every transaction. Maybe they can find her.”

“Yours won’t be undone.” Ashley says, a little harsher than I’m expecting. “From what I’ve heard, he’s going to refuse and claim you chose Dauntless on your own. They usually let him get his way, so I imagine you’ll stay with him unless you force his hand to leave. You won. You got him to feel something.”

The bitterness in her tone is impossible to miss.

“At the very least, help me find her.” Ashley drops her stare to the side. “Please. That’s all I’m asking.”

“I’m…sorry….”

I don’t know what to say to her.

She stands before me looking like the most pristine, put together member of Erudite. She could be printed in schoolbooks as a model citizen, the prime candidate for those who belong here. But with every passing second, the facade splinters apart just a little more.

“Do you think there’s a chance Abigail is alive?” Ashley asks. “Is there any chance that she’s okay?”

I startle when I hear Eric thank Dr. Mentis. He says my name sharply as his boots echo down the hallway.

“Everly.”

“Yes, if she was quiet and she listened…she could be alive.” I answer hastily. “Is there a way to reach you if I find out more? I assume Eric will get the paperwork from the sales. I can look through them if he lets me.”

“Thank you.” She composes herself, sucking in a breath to steady herself. “Does he let you use his phone? My number is in there. I had to call him about Jason.”

“Yes. I’ll call you if I find anything.”

I turn to find Eric behind me. His stare is annoyed when Ashley smiles, but there’s zero emotion behind it. She meets his glare with the same amount of dislike, and inhales slowly.

“Sorry to bother you. I was just telling Everly all the good things I’ve heard about her.” Polite as ever, she waves her hand dismissively, attempting to compose herself. “You’ve looked better, but your wife is very pretty.”

“Fuck off,” Eric answers less enthusiasm than normal. “What bullshit did you tell her?”

“I didn’t tell her anything.” Ashley looks insulted, and I almost laugh at her expression. “Good to see you, Sir. I’ll get you two get back to work. I know you’re both busy.”

“How generous of you.” Eric must be out of patience. “Don’t speak to my wife again.”

He doesn’t wait for her answer, or the soldiers to shoo her away. He takes hold of my hand, laces his fingers through mine, and pulls me toward the elevators. The doors open as if on cue, and he strides through them before jabbing the close button repeatedly.

“Are you alright?” I ask, craning my head up when he sighs. “Did you…”

I don’t know what to ask him.

How was your friend’s dead body?

Did Jason look like Jason?

Are you okay?

What happened to him?

They are all pointless questions to ask someone who just lost one their closest friends.

“Everly…” Eric turns, and his eyes lock on mine.

The elevator rises a little too quickly, then stops just as suddenly. The doors part open as a wave of doctors and nurses file in, but Eric doesn’t move.

He shakes his head, and his grip tightens until I can’t feel my fingers.

“It’s not him.”

Jason’s picture is everywhere in Dauntless.

We return to find the faction in limbo; while I tried to figure out if I remembered anyone named Abigail, Eric spent most of the drive on the phone with Rylan, arguing that he must leave the child he found in Amity, before trying to help Jeremy calm down the riot of people demanding Jason’s death be both avenged and explained. Turns out the faction didn’t take kindly to one of their leaders being poisoned; Jason was well liked in Dauntless, and people were demanding someone be at fault.

I sat beside Eric as he drove, and his anger was enough that anyone would fear him: at one point, he bit down so hard that I would his jaw might dislocate. He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, and when he temporarily shut them, I saw the weight of the world press down just a little harder.

Dauntless came into view and it was clear things were out of control. A solider frantically waves us through the gates, a dozen soldiers stand in the docking bay waiting for Eric, and another dozen are busy arguing over where to place the next poster as another group tries to stop them.

There are hundreds of them.

Jason’s face is plastered all over the docking bay, a serious portrait above bright red lettering. His full name is written below his picture, with a loud proclamation that read Jason Lives.

There are others, too. Some claim his death should be honored, while others claim he isn’t dead. Some are a warning. Written in what is meant to look like blood, a dozen suggest the Leaders are in on it. A handful blame Eric, hinting that Jason’s death is due to him not doing his job, while one blames Rylan.

A particularly large one of Eric almost makes me laugh. His malicious expression is familiar, but the comically large horns someone has drawn atop his head are impossible to miss. The tail is a nice touch, as is the misspelling of his name.

He stops to look at that one.

His eyebrows practically disappear into his hair and his head cocks to the side.

“Sorry, Sir. We’ve been taking them down as soon as we see them. People are panicking. Someone ran through the Pit yelling that you had Jason killed so he couldn’t vote against you. Obviously, we know…that’s not…true.” A tall soldier rips down the poster with a frustrated look on his face. “He’s not…really dead, is he? I swore I saw him in the cafeteria earlier.”

Eric’s stare is as icy as the weather outside. “Who did this?”

“I don’t know yet, but I’m having Kacie pull the security footage!” The solider practically sprints away, blinking in full blown terror. “Hey, someone get that one, too!”

He grabs another poster, this one of both Eric and myself, with less horns and a call to save both Jason and me. I appreciate their offer to include me, but the photo makes me pause.

It’s a grainy shot taken from what I can only assume is someone’s phone, a quick picture of us standing at the altar. Eric looks smug, while I look determined. The officiant looks pleased, as does Rylan, grinning like a maniac beside Eric. It’s not the worst that could be hung around Dauntless, though my name is misspelled and my last name isn’t even on there.

On the bright side, there is no tail or horns on either of us.

“So, you didn’t tell me what…you meant,” I say quietly, so close to Eric that my arm is touching his. He glances down, and his expression is hard to read as a soldier pulls the poster down and crumples it up. “You just said it wasn’t him.”

“I don’t know who it was,” Eric admits, moving his hand to my lower back. He guides us away from the wall, where an even larger poster proclaims that Erik Kolter should be executed. “However, I can’t get a hold of him. I tried to call, and so did Rylan. And Max, and Peter, and Jeremy. The only thing I can think of is that he did drink something, and he’s unconscious somewhere.”

“Oh.” Hope rushes through me. “Do you think he’s alright?”

“No.”

Eric’s answer is sharp as he pushes me forward. We leave the docking bay as more trucks pulls in. Eric wastes no time in leading us into the darkness of the hallway.

“So, it was just…someone else?” I pause when his hand reaches for mine, and the feeling is illicit when his fingers fumble against my own. “Why did they think it was Jason?”

“It looked…sort of like him. Tall, red hair, pale. But Jason has tattoos that this person didn’t. I think someone wants us to think he’s dead or needed me in Erudite.” He hesitates, and his stare flicks upwards. “I think someone is trying to frame the Leaders for his death. Someone on the inside. Someone who doesn’t like what’s going on.”

“Who do you think that is?”

My question comes as he laces his fingers through mine. His other hand fumbles for his phone, and a second later, I hear the voice of Rachel.

“Eric, please tell me it wasn’t him. Eric, please. It can’t be Jason.”

“No, it wasn’t him.” Eric’s answer is quiet. “Hey, do you still have remote access to the control room?”

“I do. Why? Do you need something? Aren’t I supposed to be at my post?” The pleading tone is replaced by annoyance. “It’s been a week. Now you want to talk to me?”

“Sure. What do you want to talk about?” Eric’s eyes flit to the security light above us. He watches it turn from red to blue, and his jaw tenses. “Everly?”

“YES!” Rachel’s voice explodes through the speaker. “Have you lost your mind? You took her out of the faction knowing full well that we were days away from finding Shannon. Knowing that when this is over, Everly will be brought to the courts as part of our defense. She’ll put given Truth Serum. She’ll have to talk to Jack with everyone watching. You know that they’ll ask her if you–”

“Turn the cameras off. All of them.” Eric interrupts. “Except the ones in the Leader’s offices. Send me the link to Max’s as soon as you can.”

“Wait, what?” Rachel sounds just as confused as I am. “Eric, why are you –”

“Just his. Have they spoken to Shannon yet?” He keeps his stare trained on the camera until the light powers off. A mechanical whine follows, then a beep on his phone. He pulls it away to read the alert that several systems are now offline, and a warning for all Leaders to check in. “Is Harrison with her?”

“Yes.” Rachel answers tightly. “They’re keeping her secluded. There are thirty-six others who were arrested. Harrison has the lead on the investigation since you left on your…vacation. There are hundreds of girls here from the auctions.”

“Good,” Eric nods like she can see him. “I look forward to his report. All the reports.”

“Eric, the cameras…” Rachel trails off. “How long do you want them down for?”

“I need two hours. Maybe three if I run into any problems.” He glances down at me, and when I look at him, his smile is forced. “I’m hoping it won’t take me that long.”

“Fine. I’ll message you before I turn them back on. If Max or Kacie reaches out, I’ll have to think of something. I can override any attempts to turn them on.” Rachel’s answer comes as he pushes us forward. “Eric, you really need to think about how this looks. If Jack questions her…”

She trails off, and Eric’s fingers press firmly into my back.

“They’ll consider you just like the others. Your orders were to bring her back to Dauntless. Use her to find out the information we couldn’t possibly know without being on the inside. Not…marry her and take her on a honeymoon to Amity. She’s the one of Shannon’s victims and you seem to have forgotten that. You were supposed to keep her safe.”

Rachel’s words make my teeth hurt.

She feels like a splinter in my skin as Eric walks faster, and his posture shifts into something mildly defensive.

“I am keeping her safe. What is safer than being married to me?” His tone is dry, and when I look up at him, he smiles snarkily. “I can take her wherever I want. She enjoyed her time in Amity, and I’ll continue to make sure she enjoys her time with me.”

“Eric, you’re missing the point –”

“No, I’m not.” He interrupts. “I don’t give a fuck about Jack. If he asks to speak to Everly, then Everly can tell him what happened at the auction. Her time with me is her business, not his. I have fulfilled my obligations to the mission. I have followed my orders. Shannon is in custody, and until I find out who is trying to kill Jason, then Everly will remain with me. I made promises to her that I intend to keep. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes.” Rachel answers immediately. “And the cameras? Can I ask why you want them off?”

“I think I know who tried to kill Jason,” Eric responds. “But I need to make sure absolutely no one has access to the cameras except us. Tell the control room it’s an unplanned update from Erudite. If they push it, tell them Ashley sent the orders to me.”

“And what about Max?” Rachel questions. “If he finds out this is you, he’s not going to approve you turning off everything just because you have a theory.”

“Do me a favor and call him,” Eric leads me to an elevator, and I’m relieved to know that I recognize the area. “Ask him just exactly how he well he knows Shannon.”

My lips part, but there is no time for me to say anything else.

The elevator doors open to reveal Jason standing inside, looking wildly confused.

“Should I give a speech? Something like, to my friend and fellow enemies, I, Jason am alive, and will be actively seeking vengeance on those who have tried to kill me. But those who wanted justice on my behalf, I will see to it that you lead long and prosperous lives in the Dauntless faction!”

With a grin, he leans back in his chair and pretends to bow.

“Maybe I’ll throw in a little reward if anyone who can tell me who started the rumor that I was dead.”

Still pale, but definitely alive, Jason stares at both Eric and me.

“Or not. Wow, you two are tough crowd. Did you uh, have fun in Amity?” He side eyes the both of us before shrugging. “You know, I had a bet going with Rylan that you’d come back incredibly happy. So far, Everly looks confused and Eric looks pissed off.”

“I thought you were dead.” Eric answers flatly. “I was called in to ID your body. Then I find you wandering around an elevator, oblivious to the rumors.”

“I was going to get a drink! I got an alert saying all Leaders were to check in because the cameras were down.” Jason’s eyes widen. “Wait, did you turn them off? Max is losing his mind. I just left the office.”

“Yes.” Eric answers, sounding oddly sulky. “For the next few hours.”

“Why?” Jason and I ask at the same time.

“I think Max tried to kill you,” Eric sighs. He rubs his face with his hands, then leans back to look at me. “He knew Everly and I were gone. He knew Rylan was Amity. He knew Harrison was busy with Shannon. Jeremy was assigned elsewhere. Four is…. wherever he went. I think he knows Shannon or knows what she’s been doing and figured I had to be distracted and you’d be caught off guard.”

“He did seem a little nervous when I saw him a few days ago. He told me there was a package on my desk and told me to open it before I left.” Jason pauses. “But I assumed it was sent to the wrong person. It didn’t have my name on it. It looked like it originally had your name on it, but someone tried to rip the label off.”

“So, do you think someone sent Eric the serum?” I ask.

“What serum?” Jason asks. “You think someone sent a serum to kill me?”

“I think someone sent you the Death Serum.” Eric nods. “There’s someone who has another version of something similar. I think Max knows this, knows we were close to finding Shannon, and has known about the auction for a long time.”

“Why would he send you to investigate?” Jason looks puzzled. “He asked you, thinking you’d take it seriously, and when you married Everly, he got what he wanted. But why would he try to kill any of us? Does he want the Amity faction? Does he want to rule Dauntless? Is he going to just…poison every Leader and hope it looks like an accident? Who wants that workload?”

“I think he believes he can pin this on Amelia,” Eric mutters. “He has an out since she’s been making her own serum. He must have caught wind of what she's been doing.”

“Eric…” I sit up straighter, widening my eyes in horror at Amelia’s name. “Will they believe Max over you guys?”

“Not if I find out what killed the guy in Jason’s office.” Eric leans back in his chair. He looks relieved to see Jason alive and well, but tired at the thought of this new problem. “I’ll order an autopsy and see what comes back. But they said it will be a few days.”

“You don’t know who the guy was?” Jason blinks.

“Where were you?” I ask. “Have you been here this whole time?”

“No,” Jason shakes his head. “I went to visit my mom, then I took some sick days because I didn’t feel like working. I only went upstairs to meet Harrison. That’s when I saw Max.”

He pauses, then tilts his head.

“Maybe he’s pissed that you came back as a Leader. We all voted for your return. There was only one no out of everyone. Maybe it was his.”

“Maybe.” Eric shrugs, pausing to glance at his phone. He types quickly, then sends the message with a sigh. “I don’t give a fuck if he’s happy or not. He was just as guilty as any of us.”

“Yeah…” Jason shoots me a nervous look. “Hey, can I stay here tonight? I feel like maybe we should stick together. Is Rylan back? We should find him, too.”

“He’s still in Amity. He found a child that he’s decided to keep,” Eric answers with zero enthusiasm. “I told him he needed to leave it there, but he’s convinced he’s well within his rights to bring it back here.”

“Where did he find this…child?” I ask, wondering if it’s the one I saw him running with.

“Who knows? He probably plucked it off someone’s porch and declared himself the new father.” Eric rolls his eyes. “I’m going to make Everly dinner after I run a quick errand. Why don’t you come with me and we’ll prove to the faction you’re alive while I try to see what’s going on?”

“Yeah, that’s good. Are you sure she’s okay here by herself?” Jason looks at me. “Should she come with us?”

“No, I need her away from anyone who might be trying to put a stop to the investigation. Which includes anyone working for or with Max.” Eric stands, and his weariness is bone deep. “We’ll head there first.”

“You don’t want to see Shannon?” I look up at him, and when he shakes his head, my stomach twists. “Why?”

“Harrison has that covered. Give me a half hour. This won’t take long.” Eric pauses, and his next words are sharp. “I’ll make you something to eat and we can go to bed. You’ll stay out of sight until I’m confident no one will try to poison you, either.”

“Oh…yeah.”

The afternoon presses down upon me.

He and Jason stand, leaving me sitting by myself. When Eric turns back towards the dining room, our eyes meet. I’m hopeful he’ll say this will be just fine. That I shouldn’t worry. That I just need to wait for him to come home, then we can fall asleep and wake up in a world where everything has righted itself.

He doesn’t.

He nods, and without saying anything else, leaves as his phone rings and Jason cheerfully tells him that Rylan is calling. The door shuts behind them, and the click is loud in the apartment.

I stay at the table until I am confident they have reached the elevators, then I stand to find my keycard.

She shows up with a stack of files in her hand, and a pair of crutches.

Rachel knocks loudly until I answer the door. She doesn’t appear surprised to see me, nor does she ask for Eric. She hobbles her away inside after handing me the papers, and something tells me she’s been here before.

She doesn’t look around like I would assume she would. She doesn’t stare into Eric’s apartment, glance at his kitchen, or blink in surprise at the large couch or tv. She’s familiar with the space, a little too comfortable for my liking.

Or maybe I’m just on edge.

“I’m here to drop these off. They needed Eric’s signature days ago, but he was in Amity. I told Harrison I had find him.” She winces as she puts weight on her injured leg, then smiles at me. “How are you? Are you happy to be back?”

“Yeah, I am. I just wish it was under better circumstances. I was shocked to hear about Jason…” I trail off as I glance down at the first folder. “What are these?”

“They’re files on every girl that’s been rescued.” Rachel says. “There’s one on you in there.”

Her tone shifts enough that I look up.

“It’s not anything bad. Mostly basic information. How old you are, when you were sold, where you ended up. They have one for everyone. When Shannon goes to trial, you’ll be interviewed, too. They’re having Eric confirm the information on everyone.”

“Does he know everyone? How would he know if this is right?” Confused, I open the folder to see a paper with my name on it.

It lists the information she just said, but there are additional notes. Arlene has a detailed summary about removing the tracker in my neck, there are notes on my decision at the Choosing Ceremony, confirmation of where I live, a list of the doctors I’ve seen and what I was supposed to be taking, ending with a note about my marriage to Eric.

There’s an asterisk besides the date, followed by a notation that the marriage is legally binding according to the Candor courts and can only be dissolved if we both go before Jack to state our case.

Other than that, I am listed as being from Amity, having black hair, and being unable to defend myself.

“He knows of them. It doesn’t have to be completely accurate for Jack to rule in favor of the victims.” Rachel pauses. “Hey, do you mind if I sit down? My leg is killing me. I’ve been tapering off the pain meds, but I need to take one now.”

“No, not at all. Can I get you something to drink?” I gesture at the dining table before heading into the kitchen. “Would you like water?”

“Whatever is fine. Thank you.” She moves past me, slightly easier than before. “Eric must be relieved Jason is alive.”

“Yeah, that was…weird. He’s very happy he’s fine.” I head into the kitchen, grabbing two cups with ease. Months ago, Eric had moved everything so I could reach it. It was a surprising gesture coming from him, or maybe he didn’t feel like grabbing me a glass every night. “Were you…did you hear about it while you were here? How do you know he’s alright?”

“While you were gone, we got the alert that a Leader had been found dead. It’s a big deal. The whole faction shuts down, everyone has to report where they are, and they lock the gates so no one can leave. I wasn’t entirely convinced it was Jason, but no one could find him.” Her voice reminds me of Eric’s as she types on her phone. “I saw him before I headed here. He looks fine. Definitely not dead.’

When I look over, she’s frowning.

“I’m glad he’s alive,” I say. “Eric thinks someone tried to kill him that knows him.”

“Maybe.”

Rachel’s answer is distracted. She taps the screen a few times, then looks up when I walk over to hand her the water. I sit beside her, sliding her one of the glasses. Eric has nice things –much nicer than I had expect for a Leader who lived alone. I wait until she takes a sip of the water, then ask what I think she’ll answer.

“Have you seen Shannon?”

“Were you gonna go down there?” Rachel takes another sip of water, then shakes her head. “I haven’t seen her. I do have clearance to go down there, though. She’s in a secure area that only a few have access too. You’d need Eric’s ID to get anywhere near her.”

“Oh.” Defeat rushes through me, but I know going to see Shannon is probably the dumbest thing I could do. I doubt Eric would be impressed if I wandered down there, especially after telling me to stay put. “I would like to see her, but I don’t think she’ll talk to me. Or if she did, it wouldn’t be the truth.”

“No, it wouldn’t.” Rachel agrees. “They haven’t given her truth serum yet, but she knows it’s coming. They’ll get all the answers out of her, but I doubt you’ll want to hear them.”

“Why?”

“You really want to hear why Shannon only sold certain girls? Or how she picked the victims? Or how she found the men to buy them?” Rachel tilts her head. “You’re a smart girl, but there are somethings you don’t need to be involved in.”

“But I was involved. I was with Shannon. I was part of the auction.” I sit up straight as a rush of defensiveness runs through me. “Out of anyone, I know more about what happened than they ever will. Did you go there?”

Rachel pauses.

The first time I met her, I really liked her. She was concerned on my behalf. She was kind. She offered to let me stay with her, as though Eric might willingly go along with whatever the auction was offering. She sent Amy to help me get ready for the wedding and tried to prepare me for what was to come. She seemed genuine in her worry, like an older sister looking out for a younger sibling.

But today, she’s looking at me at me strangely. As if my time here has meant nothing. As if I am blind to something obvious, oh so stupid, and she pities me.

“You aren’t the only girl Shannon sold. We’ve spoken to others who were able to tell us more.” Rachel answers slowly, and the tension in the air increases. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be rude. It’s the pain. It’s making me cranky. It’s just…you won’t get anything out of Shannon that you already know. She’s been interrogated dozens of times now, with the chance of being forthcoming before she’s given the serum. She has nothing of value to say. She sold you because she could, and she’d continue to do it if we hadn’t stopped her. You don’t need to see her.”

“I understand.”

My skin itches.

It feels like something is crawling up my back. It makes me feel off balance, like everything is sliding sideways. Something is wrong, but the last thing I want to do is make her think I’m suspicious.

“Um, would you like me to walk you back to your office? I have some time. I'd like to say hello to Eric if he’s there.” I offer. “Otherwise, I really should unpack our bags.”

Her gaze finally slinks down the hallway.

It ends on Eric’s bedroom door, then back to me.

“Actually, yes. I would.”

The chasm is violent.

It’s loud and wet, spraying a freezing mist over me as I stop with Rachel. She groans as she shifts her weight, desperate to ease the ache in her leg.

“Sorry, this way is faster, but the ground is slippery. No one ever comes this way except for maintenance. They have a base not far from here.” She apologizes as she inches closer to the railing. She leans against it, and I’m relieved to see it’s sturdy. “The higher level is even worse. They keep reinforcing the railing because a few initiates have gone right over it.”

“Did they live?”

I wrap my arms around myself, regretting coming this way.

I haven’t even heard of the chasm. Eric had never brought me there, nor had he spoken about it. I suppose some things in Dauntless weren’t for me, and this area was one of them. Several stories high, cutting a sharp gorge through the faction, we are above a massive river. A quick glimpse over the railing, as close as I dare to go, shows a vicious pool of slick rocks and jagged alcoves. The sides of the river are steep and slick with mist from the churning water. The bottom is invisible, but I get the feeling it’s deep.

Very deep.

“The fall alone would kill you. Someone might survive this drop, but the current is strong. You’d have to be a skilled swimmer to survive and Dauntless doesn’t offer swimming lessons.” Rachel laughs as she leans back. “Can you swim? I know Amity has a lake.”

“We do. It’s not as deep as this looks.” I step closer to help her, distracted as my brain reminds me of the files I had skimmed before we left.

The pile was thick. There were too many names to look at it, so I peeked at the first few and immediately wished I had a phone.

Abigail’s name was first.

She was sold to a man in Abnegation, kind and soft spoken according to his notes, who simply wanted someone to be home with him. He was close to her age, chosen because he was neighbors with Marcus, who had proven to be a reputable buyer. As far as Arlene’s notes said, Abigail was fine. Not a scratch on her, no injuries, bruising, or trauma except a visibly shaken demeanor when she realized the Dauntless soldiers were taking her from Andy. She’d asked to go back to him, and the soldier assigned to save her notated a rather difficult struggle removing her from the home.

Her notes went on to stay she’d prefer to stay in Abnegation, and she didn’t want to be separated.

Ali was fine.

Sold to a man in Candor who needed to someone to watch his kids after his wife died. She liked Hector enough to offer to return once the trial was over, and Hector liked her enough to give her whatever she asked for. She had nice clothes, her own room in their high-rise apartment, and a bond with the two young children. She spoke highly of him, saying she’d like to stay in contact with the family, but she was relieved the auction had been shut down.

Others weren’t so great.

Kensleigh was taken from John, a stern man from Erudite. He used her as his assistant, secretary, maid, and eventual scapegoat when anything went wrong. Her broken bones were numerous, as were the bruises and burns. She was silent until she was seen in the Dauntless infirmary, where she became so distraught that Arlene chose to sedate her until the chemical burns on her arms could be treated.

Mackenzie faired a little better.

Her hand had been broken in what was said to be a farming accident, but the nurses thought otherwise. I was horrified to learn she’d been in Amity, hidden away on the very outskirts where the farmers stayed, rotating by season. Casen found her to be an adequate partner, though she did most of the housework and almost all the chores on the farm. Her only bruising was near her temple, where she claimed to have tripped over a rake. She asked to return to Candor, and though vocal about Casen treating her fair, she was relieved when she realized she’d return home, and she never had to feed chickens again.

Most of the files contained reports of malicious, repeated abuse. Some were punished harshly, while most were subject to lack of proper nutrition, dehydration, or physical harm. Some had old injuries that had healed over time, others had received no medical care. Every single one, except for me, had some sort of tracker implanted in them. A half dozen were currently pregnant, while a shocking amount had children. One clutched her newborn tightly, so afraid of the staff that she cried until they called Harrison down to hold the baby so she could be given a postnatal exam. She would go home the second she could, and in a surprising move, would be allowed to return to her parents.

Others were not lucky at all.

One page was a list of what looked like a hundred deaths, then a few more, where the girls were replaced by the buyer. Shannon would note which buyers harmed the girls, and her lone act of kindness was a warning to the new ones about how to survive. She was honest that they could be harmed, which is why she insisted they be quiet and compliant.

A few men were banned completely, and only Amelia’s husband was given the opportunity to purchase girls as employees.

I read the notes until my stomach burned. I couldn’t fathom half of what they had been through, or how they were still functioning. I closed the files with a heavy heart, choking on shared grief, and took a second to appreciate that Eric had done nothing to me. If anything, he’d forced to me to come into my own as a person and had given me just enough freedom to figure out who I was. He hadn’t held the auction against me, nor had he done anything but keep his word.

The other men, given the freedom to act however they wanted, had chosen to act like vicious, violent creatures.

“Will you take this? I need a minute.” Rachel holds her crutch towards me. “I’m not enjoying how slow this is healing. Arlene had something sent from Erudite to speed it up, but it’s not working the way they claimed.”

“What was it?” I stand next to her, closing my eyes as the spray roars over us.

“Some serum. I didn’t ask too many questions because she was in a hurry.” Rachel shrugs. “Did you take anything from her?”

“Uh, no. I took some vitamins a few times but they made me kind of sick, so I stopped.” I answer tightly. I can’t tell if it’s the sound of the water, how high we are, or the fact that there is no one around that’s making me feel uneasy. Maybe it’s the files I read. My head spins as I think of the girls here, recovering in the faction, while Shannon awaits another interrogation. “She was fine. Pushy, but fine.”

“Yeah, she’s alright.” Rachel closes her eyes.

She inhales slowly, then opens them to look at me.

“Hey, I was thinking about you while you were gone. I know Eric got a lot of shit for taking you out of Dauntless on your…honeymoon.” She pauses, then tilts his head. “You slept with him, didn’t you? There’s no way you guys spent all that time in Amity staring at each other.”

My throat tightens.

Her question –invasive and rude –strikes a nerve.

A million nerves.

Every nerve.

“I’m just looking out for you,” she continues. “Eric is unpredictable.”

“He was working while we were there. The investigation never stopped,” I deflect her question. “He was busy.”

“That’s not what I asked,” she stares. “You know what his assignment was, right? You aren’t his real wife. You might have paperwork, but there isn’t any reason for him to stay married. By now, you must know that he’s next in line to take over for Max. The Leaders work as a team, but Max oversees them, and Eric is next in line for the job. He’s been gunning for it since he came back. He can’t be distracted by a girl from Amity. This was never permanent.”

“I think we should head upstairs,” I answer firmly, stepping back when she reaches for my wrist “Rachel…”

“He doesn’t love you. He’s incapable of loving anyone. The man is a solider. A Leader. His work is the only thing he cares about. You’ll be a great success story for him, yes, but you’ll be in the way. He can’t go before Jack and admit he fucked up by screwing you in a barn. He wasn’t supposed to do anything physical with you.”

“We should go.” I wrench my hand away from her, and she’s surprisingly strong for being off balance. “Rachel, I know you’re his friend and I get it. I don’t think he’s in love with me. I think if anything, he felt like he could help me, and he did.”

“He’s up for a promotion in a month. When this goes to trial, he’ll be forced to admit he didn’t keep to his orders. He was assigned to buy you and keep you alive. He did you a favor, and…I’m going to do him a favor. I owe him.” Her stare moves upwards, to the dull orb that isn’t flashing. “By the time the cameras come back on, it’ll be too late. But don’t worry. Someone will find your body. The river goes through the woods, were the initiation class runs. When Four comes back, maybe in a month of two, someone will see you. I’ll tell Eric you walked me to my office, then back home by yourself. There won’t be any evidence, but he’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

She moves too quickly, or maybe I’m just as defenseless as the paperwork said. She throws her other crutch to the side, and her hands push me backwards, into the railing. It holds, but creaks as she shoves me against it. The bar presses into my back, and my feet slip as I try to keep myself steady.

“Stop it! Rachel! STOP!”

“Stop moving,” she says in a voice that’s terrifyingly calm. “He’ll be okay. You aren’t important enough for him to care about. He’ll be mad for a minute but he’ll move on.”

Before I can call for help, the railing bends beneath our combined weight, and the sensation makes me lose my footing. Rachel jumps back, screaming as her leg twists as she slips, but she lands on the ground.

I do not.

I fall backwards.

Just like the initiates, I fall into the nothing. The dark welcomes me with open arms, pulling me down so harshly that my stomach drops. After what feels like ages but could only be mere seconds, I hit the water, feet first. The jolt forces the air out of my lungs, and I choke as I am pulled beneath freezing black water. For a second, I think I am dreaming. The water is so cold that it burns, and my body tenses. I see nothing but blackness, until my eyes adjust, and I realize I am drowning.

The water is everywhere.

In my nose, my mouth, my throat, right until it reaches my lungs.

I claw my way through the water, realizing why Rachel asked if I could swim. She’d done her research but not quite well enough. I grew up spending every summer at the lake and happen to be an excellent swimmer. I can easily swim the entire lake, and though it’s still and much calmer, it’s challenging where it’s deepest.

This water is different.

The current is merciless as it pulls me downward, but also to the side. The cold makes me sluggish, and the lack of light is disorientating. For a moment, it’s hard to tell up from down, and the noise of the water is so loud that I cannot hear anything but it’s scream.

I force myself upwards.

I am pushed further to the side, but I manage to spot the surface. Barely visible above the bubbling water, I swim as hard as I can. My dress tangles between my legs, and the heavy boots weigh me down. I take precious seconds to untie them, but it’s nearly impossible. Numb from the cold, my fingers fumble when the knots stick. It takes longer than I have, but once they are free, my boots sink to the bottom in seconds.

Lighter, and still alive, I force myself towards the surface. My lungs begin to ache, though had I not spent my summers seeing how far I could swim underwater, I had have certainly drowned by now. I break through the surface with a gasp, then another as I am slammed sideways. The water roars through the gorge, causing waves and whirlpools. The wall I hit is too slippery to climb, and there’s nothing to hold onto. Up ahead are rocks and the occasional alcove, but nothing that won’t kill me.

“Fuck!”

I bob beneath the surface, then emerge as the water moves in swift, choppy surges. This area of Dauntless is unfamiliar, and unused. A glance upwards reveals a catwalk with soldiers crossing it. Their boots thud over the metal grates, and though bleary eyes and dirty water, they are too small to really see. I am stories below them, being swept away as the water moves.

Realizing I have little chance of surviving unless I try, I decide to give in. My arms relax as I lean back just enough to give myself a break, but my legs keep moving. I kick the dress out of my way as I am pushed along, doing my best to avoid the rocks.

Luckily for me, they are mostly along the edges. With all the energy I have, I push myself into the middle of the river. I allow myself to be dragged along, while I try to make out the sounds around me: the very faintest echo of someone talking, the water rushing south, the way it’s slapping the walls and hitting the sides, and the thud of my heartbeat. I close my eyes briefly, hoping to make it out of this alive.

I will.

I’ll pull myself onto the riverbank wherever this ends up. I’ll climb out carefully, wringing out my dress and pulling myself to my feet, and I’ll find Eric. I’ll tell him everything. What Rachel said, what she did, and how I just want to go home. His home doesn’t even have to be my home. If he doesn’t want me around, if there’s some truth to her words and his work is the only thing that matters, I will leave him alone. I will seek refuge amongst the dark, until I can decide where I belong. I will let him become the supreme leader of every faction, perhaps occasionally seeing him at the Market or around the faction. I will walk away, as proud as I can, knowing that I saved myself.

I will close the chapter in both our lives; he will get over this, and maybe Rachel is right. This might not even be more than an inconvenience to him. Paperwork to justify our separation, and a few notes about why I am leaving.

The thought stings, almost as much as my eyes. My skin. My back. It hurts as much as my entire body, and the dull constant ache intensified when my leg hits a rock with startling force. I feel the cut immediately, but at least it’s not broken.

“I think…I think there’s someone in the water! Hey! Michael! Come here!”

I open my eyes slowly, now exhausted. I can’t see anyone, but the darkness is lessening. Pale light filters toward me in rays, and when my vision focuses, another part of the factions comes into view. This area has more walkways along the sides, where soldiers and members of Dauntless are working. There appear to be doors leading into the faction, but no way up to them. My body floats in the water, slowing as the voices wane in and out.

“There’s no one. You’re seeing things.”

“I swear! I saw a girl…just…right there.”

“That’s a rock.”

“Why would anyone be in the water?”

“Radio control. See if anyone fell in.”

“Cameras are down, man. Kacie told everyone someone knocked them offline, but they should be back up soon.”

Their voices drift over me as the water gurgles, pushing me further to the middle. I realize my eyes have closed; the coldness has seeped into my bones and is slowly overtaking me. If I do survive, maybe Arlene can help me. She’ll give me something to make me feel better, and I’ll take it. I drink whatever she prescribes, swallow whatever she hands me, and relax when she gives me a warm blanket. I’ll find a new home, maybe she’ll have some idea of where to go, and no one will ever try to kill me again.

Comforted by the thought, I shut my eyes.

This time, I don’t open them again.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fifteen: Eric

"Now tell me, before you clock out one final time, are you sorry for what you did? Really sorry?"

Beneath the dull glow of a flickering light, her sing songey voice, as grating as my time in a shitty Candor jail, rings in my ears.

When I don't answer, Rachel mockingly grins at me.

"Aren't going to stand before the Dauntless faction and admit you were…abrasive in your methods? A little too aggressive? Rather unjust in your hunt for–"

"Are you done?" I interrupt flatly. "Unless you want to finish this for me, then you need to shut up. You know I'm not apologizing to anyone."

"I'm sure someone out there finds that admirable. Harrison did mention stubbornness as one of your better traits."

Rachel's smile is sly.

She rolls her eyes when I don't smile back, and her tone lightens.

"I'm just giving you shit. It's your last day working with me. I couldn't let you leave without a little Dauntless hazing. Someone has to toughen you up before tomorrow." She tries again, reclining in her chair. "You have your new assignment, right? You know what to do?"

I press my fingers to my temples, only for a second. I have no intention of revealing that she's bugging the shit out of me because she's done me a favor I can't repay.

I've spent the past year working with her, actually under her, to prove that I was rehabilitated. Rachel Mcallister, a few years younger than me and several shades blonder this week, held my future in her hands. One wrong move could mean another week, month, or year spent in this office. A lifetime of initialing patrol routes and time cards. An eternity of counting how many knives we had, or how many soldiers were showing interest in other areas of Dauntless besides the patrols.

It had gone on for a solid year, and I was too smart to ruin this.

Especially now.

Tomorrow, my status as a Leader would be reinstated. I would return to the position I held before taking the fall for the others, and it would be well earned.

A little over a year ago, I had spent a month in Candor, awaiting a trial.

Sitting in a jail cell while everyone tried to get a rise out of me. They knew why I was there. They knew I was the face of a plan that wasn't actually mine, but had dutifully carried out. Drunk on power, high on rage, and bathing in glory as I gleefully turned over divergent after divergent, I was only stopped when Jeanine's plans exploded in her face. I was arrested by the very men I'd once smirked at while leaving Erudite. I was forced to stand before members of the court, including Four who looked righteous but hesitant, and I was given no choice but admit what I had done.

Even without Truth serum, there was no sugarcoating how I'd acted.

I wasn't trying to justify what I'd been ordered to do, nor did I think I should. I had accepted the job, fulfilled it, and I was good at it.

Really good.

I enjoyed every moment of the blind rage I felt when I found someone who I knew was a threat. The surge of power when I slammed them into the ground or forced them into a truck. The triumph of knowing I'd won, the rush of hunting them down to the very last second, the highest of highs when Jeanine's praise reached my ears, and the final moments when someone pleaded for me to leave the alone, offering anything they had.

It was all mine. I poured everything into my work and was rewarded with applause and a payment so high the number of points no longer meant anything.

Until the game was over.

Turns out, taking the lead on Jeanine's plans was a bold yet idiotic move.

Everything came to a halt when I was the only one blamed for her plans. Stripped of everything I knew, I sat on a mattress so thin it might as well have been a blanket, and was told I would be forced to speak to the court. If Jack was kind, I'd be sentenced to death by a firing squid. If Jack wasn't kind, I'd still be sentenced to death, but only after I'd served enough time that they felt my life should end. The guard laughed when repeated his words to make sure I heard him.

I blinked, then asked if that was supposed to scare me.

It didn't.

I wasn't apologetic or remorseful, nor did I give a shit. I had absolutely nothing awaiting me in Dauntless. No family, no friends other than Jason and Rylan, no one sitting in my apartment, not a soul weeping over my arrest, absolutely no one who cared past knowing they'd have to fill my position and train them to oversee the faction.

I was prepared to be executed, and the days leading up to the trial gave me plenty of times to weigh if I was truly sorry for what I had done, or just sorry I that I had been caught.

To my surprise, the trial was a mess. It wasn't Jack's finest work, and it felt like someone was pulling some strings behind the scenes. There were too many people watching, too many people speaking, and too many experts who took the time to rip apart my existence. After a few weak arguments from every and any person they could find to be a witness, rather than being told I'd be shot before the Leaders of the factions, I was offered the chance to return to Dauntless.

But only if the vote in Dauntless went in my favor.

I assumed it would.

Max and I had worked together for years, and he'd willingly helped Jeanine, though not in the way I had. Jason and Rylan would vouch for me, especially since they had helped, but so would Tori. We didn't interact much, but I'd never done anything to her, or given her a reason to think I'd kill her. I was torn on Harrison. He was the wild card of the group, a Leader who had a little too much power, but was rarely around. I didn't know him as well as Max, though he would occasionally try to goad something out of me or get a reaction from me.

Either way, they owed me.

All of them.

I was the sole person held accountable for assisting Jeanine. It didn't matter whose hands the blood was on, because the only one held responsible was me.

Guilty.

But dismissible. Lack of evidence, they said. A technicality dressed up like justice.

Dauntless voted 4-1.

They were already unlocking the cuffs before Jack finished reading. I flexed my hands—felt the weight of every choice I’d made settling in my joints. They wanted to curl into fists. Instead, I smiled. Cold. Condescending. A threat wrapped in faux gratitude.

I left the courtroom alone, the whispers rising behind me like smoke .I was taken to Dauntless alone, forced to see Arlene, forcibly searched, forced to take a photo for my temporary ID, forced to allow her to inject me with whatever the fuck Erudite was demanding.

Her muttered announcement made me feel better.

"It's an antibiotic. The jail you were in has something going through it. It's preventative. Jack admitted the conditions there aren't great and he understand that Dauntless needs you. It's been…interesting while you were gone. I hope you enjoyed the break."

I didn't.

The cell I had been in had one other guy, and he was only there half the time. I worked out in the confided space, kept my face and hair clean, and showered with a group who looked nervous to be near me. I wasn't the least bit concerned with who saw me undressed. Dauntless had long stripped away any sense of shame I might have, giving me an advantage over the others. I ate two bland meals a day, drank lukewarm coffee, sipped water that I was certain was tainted with something, and did my best to stay sane.

I read the letters sent to me, then handed them back to a guard. I slept as much as I could, keeping track of the days in my head. I killed time by trying to remember every person Jeanine had asked me to find and allowed myself to rest only right before I fell asleep.

The only thing that kept me going was Rylan and Jason.

Guilty as fuck, and horrified that they had been cleared of all charges, they did their best to give me an ounce of hope.

They wrote as many letters as they could, but visited only once. It was all they were allowed. They snuck in some regular coffee, a piece of cake, a book for me to read, and my phone.

My apartment was cleaned out, presumably for the next Leader but they missed the second phone I had. It barely worked in Candor, but it lasted long enough for me to scroll through the messages. The photos. The notes from Jeanine. The emails from Max, the warnings from Harrison, and the lengthy lectures from Blythe. The demands and explanations on just how dangerous the divergents were, and how long Jeanine had studied them.

I felt like it prepared me enough that when I was given Truth Serum, the evidence was right there. It poured out of me in a way I hated: an honesty that wasn't mine, spilling past my lips uncontrollably. I felt exposed, but it worked in my favor.

Once I was back in Dauntless, with only a meager tracking device that I quickly took off and left on the shelf, I was given a moronic assignment of working beneath Rachel. She would monitor my progress until I was deemed safe. If I fucked up, the Leadership position would be yanked away from me, and I'd be forced to find something else or even leave the faction.

I wasn't surprised to find that Rachel was fine.

Boring, cheerful, and smart. She was witty and sharp tongued, but absolutely aware of who I was. She wasn't afraid of me, and there were a few moments where her stare stayed on me a little too long. Where she was a little too kind as we spoke, and a little too hopeful on my behalf.

I knew what she was doing.

If she could rehabilitate me, become my friend, my confidant, or someone I trusted, she'd had accomplished something no one else had. She'd have an insight that would blow people's minds. She'd have done more than just oversee my work or mentor the man who'd gone on a killing spree on someone else's behalf.

She'd have gotten close, maybe a little too close.

Even now, in this moment, I should smile back. I didn't exactly dislike her, but I knew how easily things became twisted. If I suddenly found her tolerable, she might think I've let my guard down. That I actually like her, but would never admit my feelings for someone, because I'm too closed off and scared of such petty emotions to let her in.

Except I feel nothing for her.

Contempt, perhaps.

Annoyance, that a mediocre soldier is initialing how many hours I've clocked in for.

Disappointment that she'd be foolish enough to think I'd ever fucking want to spend an hour outside this office with her.

But again, like most of my life, I was lying to myself.

Rachel had shown me more compassion than was required of her. She had vouched for work I hadn't done, given me a break when I simply couldn't bring myself to head into the control room with her while my friends left on a patrol, or when Max asked that I track how many weights the initiation class went through. I was appreciative of the friendship she offered, because I had never experienced anything like that. No one in Dauntless was volunteering to be my friend, except for her, and her position gave her enough basic authority that people respected both her and me.

I had grown to appreciate how routine she was. How boring. How simple working for her had become. Out of everyone who could have been assigned to oversee me, I was lucky it was her and not someone like Four.

Still, she'd chosen today to irritate the fuck out of me.

"Eric, did Max send you the orders? He mentioned to everyone that he thought you'd excel at this one," Rachel continues. "I get why."

I look up to see her staring intensely.

"I have to make sure you know your orders before today is over and hear you confirm them. You know it's protocol." She shrugs. "If you want me to read them…"

"I understand them. Go to this…auction thing, find a girl, pay for her, and bring her back here. Grill her until I figure out who is running the show, then release her into the wild or Arlene's waiting room. Whichever I'm closer to." I lean back in my own chair, noticing Rachel relaxes. "Why? You wanna go? Make sure I pick the right one?"

"Have you seen the girls? Harrison said they're young. Too young if you ask me." Rachel slides me a folder. I open it to reveal a slew of photographs, and when I flip through them, Rachel plucks one out. "She's pretty."

"Where do they get them?"

Out of all the assignments I have been given, this one felt the most off. It felt wrong, even for me. There wasn't much that bothered me, but this left a bad taste in my mouth.

Last week, Harrison swung by Rachel's office to discuss the case he was working on. I was told someone had been hosting an auction where women were sold to the highest bidder. The bidders were men who had been vetted. Men who would keep quiet. Men who were either too admirable, there to save a woman from a life if indentured servitude, or men who knew this vulnerable state of the women meant they could do as they pleased.

Rachel wasn't lying when she said the women were young.

Most were listed as eighteen, a few were listed as seventeen. Some were as old as twenty, which was barely old enough to live in their chosen faction for more than a few years. There pictures were in front of an application, my application, and I had been approved to come by.

I was the perfect buyer.

I had the points, a shady reputation, and enough remaining power behind my name that someone didn't think twice about accepting me. Max had decided the best way for me to come back was by handling this case. If I could find who had started the auction, I'd prove I wasn't still plotting to murder everyone.

Ironic given his participation in Jeanine's orders.

"Beats me. I assume they're factionless. Girls no one wants or notices are missing. Some of them look…" Rachel hesitates until I raise an eyebrow. "Normal. Like they were kidnapped."

"Have they been run through the database? Candor tracks who chooses what faction. They must have names and photos that match." Already feeling rather put off by this assignment, I squint at the photo of a blonde girl who looks afraid. "Why hasn't this been shut down yet?"

"We're trying to find Miranda. Nelson thinks she got picked up by this group. If you see her, they're hoping you'll pick her and bring her back."

A rush of irritation sparks through me.

"No." I push the folder back, shaking my head. "I'm done with Miranda. I've found her countless times. I've wasted hours tracking her, only for her to run away. I'm –"

"You don't have to tell anyone if you see her," Rachel lowers her voice, glancing around like Nelson is hiding in the walls. "I read your file. You saved her nineteen times, and the twentieth is when we lost her. Nelson is aware of that. He did vote against you, you know."

She laughs, like the poll that Dauntless ran meant anything.

"He said he hopes you find his daughter then choke on a –"

"Hey, sorry to interrupt, but I need to take Eric's official photo. Once he's off probation, he has to have a Leader's ID." A woman interrupts with a knock and a grin. "Welcome back, Sir."

"Thanks."

I stand, flashing Rachel a smile that almost feels real. I don't want to be her friend, but it can't hurt to have an ally on my side.

"I'll text you when I get there. You can help pick someone out," I offer, knowing full well I won't. "Since you seemed to have a hand in this new assignment."

"I'm not supposed to tell you, but Harrison is going to turn it over to you as a welcome back gift. It's a big case, but if you crack it…redemption arc activated." Rachel bows dramatically, then smiles. "And I'll only take half the credit. Maybe three fourths, depending on how long it takes you to solve this one."

"Generous."

My snort of laughter is real as it could possibly be.

I leave her with a quick salute, and when the door shuts behind me, it feels symbolic in more ways than one.

The picture takes seconds.

In a small yet brightly lit room, I can't bring myself to grin at the woman cooing like a child in hopes of coaxing a smile out of me. I do muster the barest hint of what isn't a scowl, mostly because I am relieved to have a new jacket.

She handed it to me with the instructions to put it on so I looked official.

"It must feel good to have your jacket back." She pressed a button to test the camera, patiently waiting while I examined the fabric. "It's not the exact same one, but you know. It's not just a regular jacket."

It wasn't.

Not by far.

It was more rigid and unyielding, with a stripe of darker black that hinted I was above the common soldiers. There was ache of something I couldn't quite put my finger on as I pushed my arms through the sleeves. The coat is heavier than I remember, thicker and resilient, especially when I button it.

One click later, I had a new ID, a new position, and a disturbing assignment to deal with.

"Good. It turned out nice. One second while I print you a backup." She disappears from the camera, and I hear her smack the printer. "Stupid…machine."

It starts to beep as my phone rings, and Harrison's message is only three words:

Hope you're ready.

The briefing is quick.

Max and I stand face to face, some distance apart, while he looks to the side of me. For a moment, I think he's going to apologize. It was a running theme now; those who had been spared were incapable of moving on, and announcing how much they appreciated me taking the fall for them made everyone feel better.

Max doesn't appear anything except mildly bothered that he had to interrupt his end of day meeting.

"Eric."

"Max."

I watch his face carefully. He nods, and when I don't fill the silence, he looks to the side of me.

"I know this is an unusual assignment, but if anyone can pull it off, it's you. It'll be a challenge, but I'm confident in your abilities."

I raise my eyebrow. "It's not exactly what I imagined coming back to."

"I need intel on this that we can't get. Harrison has been working for months, but we realized we need someone on the inside. It should be easy enough: you'll go, buy whoever you want, and bring them back for interrogation. Make her think it's legit for a while, then we'll explain what we're doing. It's the only thing we haven't tried." His explanation is thin. "It shouldn't be more than a few weeks before we have answers."

"Right." With little emotion, I stare him down. "And what do I do with the girl?"

"She'll be examined then interrogated. I assume they'll return to their factions at some point. It's not my place to say, because Jack will likely be involved since this spans every faction. It's…complicated."

I nod, but my interest just isn't there. "Got it."

"Listen, I need the old Eric back. I know you've been cooped up in Rachel's office for a year, and I know you're supposed to emerge with a new outlook on life, but I need you to be Eric. I need you to solve this so we can move on." Max finally drags his stare to me. "I owe you, and you know that, so when it's done, I'll make sure you're rewarded for it."

"I don't need the points," I answer coolly.

"It's not just the points. We've worked hard to make sure people understood why you are back. All that can be gone in a second." Max pauses, but it's a daring move. "I won't pretend I'm innocent in what happened with Jeanine, but let's not pretend you are, either."

"Understood."

I'll kill him.

At some point, this will come to a head. The underlying disagreement of who is more at fault, wrapped up in the guilty of him pretending he wasn't actively answering Jeanine's demands, will eventually culminate in a battle he can't win.

But for now, he's right.

I might be back in Dauntless, but I'm not stupid enough to believe anyone thinks I'm rehabilitated.

"Pick a good one." Max ends the meeting with a grimace. "Someone who has been there for a minute or two. We need information, and we need it fast. IIf you need me, reach out."

"Will do."

I take his nod as the end of this discussion. I leave this office with a final glance back at his desk, a mess of laptops, folders, papers, and a stack of very familiar memos. The Erudite logo is on top, stark and bossy, and the font is hard to read.

The ink as black as the night, shimmering beneath the fluorescent lighting.

The only thing missing is Jeannine's signature.

"Pick a girl from Abnegation. I bet she'll be the most scared but also the nicest. The quietest, too. We don't need any more yappers here."

From the side of the truck, Jason leans back with concerned look on his face.

"Plus, she'll likely tell you everything."

"No, pick someone from Amity. Not only can she tell us all their secrets, but she'll be hot. They're always half-dressed and fully drunk." Rylan joins him, questionably thrilled by the thought that I was about to go purchase someone for fun. "I wish I was from Amity."

"We could send you there. You'd fit in." Jason eyes him. "Or not. They might get sick of you after a few hours."

"Doubtful. No has ever gotten sick of me in the history of the world." Rylan elbows him, then tilts his head comically far to the side. "Hey, are you good?"

"What?" I stare at him, feeling the dull throb of a familiar headache blooming.

I've been back in my job for less than an hour. I was given my old office back, paperwork to fill out, a nod of acknowledgment from Max, a stern warning from Linda, and a few mumbled, fearful hellos from the people working in the offices beside mine. Tori came by to apologize, multiple times. She was angrier at herself that me; while she didn't hunt anyone for Jeanine, she wasn't as innocent as everyone thought. I finally snapped that she could knock it off, because I didn't care. Her apology wouldn't undo my time in Candor, nor would it change anything between us.

Before I even sat down, Harrison arrived with a paper, a cup of coffee, and a sense of doom that I couldn't shake.

"Yes?"

"Welcome back. Thought I'd come by and go over a few things. I know you didn't ask for this, but…too late now. Now, I'm not here to tell you who to pick, but I am here to tell you not to listen to Jason or Rylan. You choose whoever you feel called to save." He leaned against the doorway and crossed his arms. "They're all afraid, but some have been there longer than others. Someone with intel is who I need."

"And what am I supposed to do with this person?" I asked. "Max said there's an exam and an interview but not much else."

"Keep her alive until it's over. Hang out with her. Perhaps you'll make a new friend." He looked like he might laugh, but it was gone in a second. "You're saving a life, so you'll need to act like this is real. I told them you were lonely and desperate for company, and willing to pay whatever price is necessary. I linked my account to yours, temporarily. If you need more points, let me know."

"I doubt I'll need that." I shut my eyes, trying to imagine how the fuck this would work. "You don't think someone else should go? Someone…nicer?"

"Nah, they want someone like you. Someone important. Someone willing to pay to get what they want. Make sure you take note who is in line with you." He shrugged, like this would be easy. "If you run into any trouble, you'll have backup. We'll be close by unless something changes."

"And how haven't you shut this down by now?"

The question was one that earned me a blank stare. Harrison's methods, though always unpredictable, were always successful. They were strange and often made little sense, but he rarely failed.

His track record was impressive, if not terrifying.

"Other than Nelson screaming in my ear that his daughter might be there, there's too many going missing in large numbers. We've found too many bodies, we have too many missing persons cases open, and too many people with eyes on it. I've been following this for a year. The workers rotate, the auction moves, it's not always the same time or number of people…there are too many factors to simply shut it down. It's going to take someone on the inside to stop it."

His words ring in my ears now, as Rylan smiles in a way that hints he thinks this assignment will be great.

"Is this girl going to live with you? Where will she sleep? What if…" he pauses. "You fall for her? What if she falls in love with you?"

"Who on Earth would fall in love with Eric?" A snicker of amusement echoes past me. I turn to see Rachel walking toward us. "But to answer your question, the girl can't just live with anywhere. She needs to be safe and we need to keep tabs on her. We can't risk them leaving Dauntless."

"I don't know, Eric is pretty handsome. She might be wowed by his enthusiasm for wearing the ol' uniform again." Rylan slaps my arm, and the gesture sets my teeth on edge.

As badly as I want to roll my eyes at this assignment, I have the uneasy feeling that there is more to this than meets the eye.

Which I don't like.

"Fuck off. No one is falling in love with anyone. And if you don't get out of the way, I'll pick someone from Erudite and have them stay with you." I threaten. "Maybe they'll know your mom."

"Okay, well that's a buzzkill. What about –"

I don't listen.

I climb into the truck I've been assigned with a weary sigh. I wait for the adrenaline to return. The jolt of excitement over a brand-new assignment that doesn't involve Jeanine or serums or the factionless attempting to burn down a building. I wait for the rush of glee at investigating something that shouldn't be happening, and the triumph I will feel when the case is closed. The taste of a second chance, even if I'm not entirely sure I want one.

It never comes.

But a text from an unknown number does.

The event starts in fifty minutes. Anyone who has not received their clearance please call immediately. If we cannot verify your identity, you may not proceed. Please reach out if you need to cancel your reservation, as we can only take on a certain number of buyers at a time. We appreciate your patience and your silence.

Respond with a 1 if you are a fully vetted, appointment confirmed buyer.

Respond with a 2 if you need to verify your ID.

Respond with a 3 if you are unable to make today's event.

Respond with a 4 if you have changed your mind and would like to be removed from any and all future events.

As a reminder, any sharing of the location is punishable as we see fit, up to revoking future access. There are no exceptions. For your own safety, we recommend that you do not come dressed in anything that reveals your faction.

As Rylan yells from outside the truck –something about bringing her to dinner, and Rachel stares worriedly through the window, I respond with a 1.

In the middle of the woods sits a tent.

Multiple tents, actually.

Beside them are large trailers with windows so high you can't look in them. The trucks at the front are old and rusted, presumably once from Amity. Men mill around, waving traffic through and toward an empty clearing. The wait to turn in is longer than expected. I end up parking in the middle, then killed the engine as I watched the line forming.

It's all men, spanning a variety of ages. Some are dressed in plain clothes, plenty have on colors that reveal their faction, while others have tried to obscure their identity. I smirk at Marcus heading to find his place, his grey shirt and pants sticking out like a sore thumb. He glances around to observe the line, but he's not nervous, no. He's been here before. He greets another man, and the two of them point to the larger tent.

I wonder if he's in on it.

As the line grows, I watch as dozen be directed into shorter lines. There must be levels to this, as some are diverted toward a smaller tent. Before I can see where Marcus ends up someone raps on the window. I unroll it, recoiling when he flicks his cigarette toward the truck.

"Do you have a code?" The guy, dirty and sweaty looking, knocks again. "You need a code to be here. This is a private event."

"I have one." I shove the phone toward him, and his eyes find mine. "How long until it starts?"

"You been here before?" He reaches for the door and opens it like he's going to personally escort me inside. "No. Well, good for you, you picked the highest tier. That one has better girls. Go see Mike. He'll give you your spot. You're at the end, but if you bid high enough, you'll get who you want."

"Where do you find them?" I downplay the thousand questions I have as jump out of the truck. "How many are waiting –"

"Dunno. Not my area of expertise." He points toward a tall man with a large sunhat. "Check in with him. You got a wife at home? Kids? You here for a nanny or something?"

"No."

I answer sharply, disliking how nosey he is.

"Right. Not my business anyway. Just some advice –if you want someone who can clean up after you, pick a young one. The older ones are harder to break in. You want someone easy in bed, pick the older ones. They're willing to do anything to stay alive. Don't tell em' your name until you buy one."

A feeling settles in my stomach, unlike anything I've felt before. I decide I'm impatient to get this over with. Though I have zero plans for whoever I bring back, this feels like a trap.

"Don't let em' know you haven't been here before. Don't listen to their cries, either. Some are manipulative as shit." He rambles. "Don't look em' in the eye if you can help it and stay behind the circle at all times. If you cross it, they'll toss you out."

"Got it."

I leave the truck and head towards the line. Once I show another greasy looking man the code, I'm sent to the back. I ignore the look Marcus throws me, because in this moment, I'm no better than him. With a measured exhale, I'm soon behind someone from Candor, then joined by a few of the workers.

Tall, thin, and as factionless as they come, he chews on a piece of grass while he stares at me.

"First time?" He asks.

"Yes."

"I figured. You look new." He slams a paper in my hand. "Here's how this works: When it's your turn, you'll hand this to the guy at the door. You'll have fifteen minutes with each girl. You can look all you want, but don't touch them. Don't try and get close to them, either. They shouldn't run but occasionally someone tries. We have every exit covered, but if we lose a girl on your time because of you, you'll be charged. If you hurt them on our watch, you can't come back." He licks his cracked lips. "The older ones are cheaper. Highest age we got is twenty-four. Nothing over that ever sells. The youngest we have right now is seventeen. The younger ones listen better but sometimes fight back. You'll be given a packet of sedatives to take home. If you need us to administer it before you leave, we can. It'll buy you up to twelve hours before it wears off. We recommend only using them if you have issues. Most of the girls go quietly."

"Why wouldn't they?" I ask, my tone arrogant and smug as the persona returns.

I feel Eric Coulter, Leader of Dauntless, executor of divergents, and all around asshole slip back into his uniform. Filling every inch of my skin, every fiber of my being.

"Right?" He laughs at my question like we're old friends. "You'll see them all, then bid on the ones you like. If someone outbids you, you'll have one chance to bid again because of your status as Leader. Highest amount or most valuable bid wins. If you don't like it, it doesn't matter. You can bid on as many as you want, but you'll only take one girl home from this group. If you win multiple bids, you pick the girl you want to take, and the rest go back into the auction."

"How many girls do you have?" I ask.

"Hundreds. You'll find one you like. Everyone does. There's no judgement here. I've seen guys from Abnegation taking home girls from Dauntless, and girls from Candor go to Amity. It's your call. The group you selected has fifty for today."

"I see." I pause so he looks at me. "Who would you pick?"

"Well…" He glances around, then lowers his voice. "If I had to, I'd get one from Abnegation. The ones from Candor complain the most and the ones from Erudite think they're too smart to be here. The ones from your faction are assholes."

"Who are they?"

"Runaways, mostly. Lots of factionless. We clean them up, though." He waves me off with a huff before calling out to someone leaving the tent. "Are we good?"

"Starting now!"

I glance over toward the voice, where a girl is being escorted into the tent. She looks at the line, and even from a distance, I can see the horror on her face. Her black hair is a harsh contrast to her yellow dress, and the man walking her inside is a solid foot taller than her. She disappears through the tent flaps, and when the man returns to stand guard, he is alone.

"You'll be up before you know it. Best of luck, to ya." He walks to the very end of the line, where he stops a few men from joining.

They are disappointed that the auction has reached its limit. It's interesting that they only allow so many in line, but I soon realize why.

From one of the trailers, a line of girls trails out. They are split into groups before they are led to different tents.

A sharp whistle pierces the air as the last girl vanishes, and the auction begins.

By time I reach the front of the line, I am over this.

My phone has vibrated nonstop with messages from everyone and anyone. Jason asks how it's going. Rylan reminds me that if I do fall in love with whatever unlucky soul is here, I might have a family. He sends me a row of emojis that I suppose could be a family, though I'm not sure who the fuck wants eight children. Harrison reminds me to act unbothered while I am here; he doesn't want to raise their suspicion that I am here to find out who is running this shit, nor does he want to draw attention to the Dauntless faction.

He doesn't need to worry.

I saw plenty from Dauntless, but once they saw me, they ducked out of sight.

Only Rachel's message was reassuring: Whoever you pick will be fine, and you'll be done with the assignment. Think how good it'll feel to get back to normal. Also, just a head's up, we haven't had any confirmation that Miranda is there. Let me know if you see her.

"You're up next. You listed your preferences as…obedient. That's it?" The guy glances at me with a funny look on his face. "You want a blonde? Red head? Brunette?"

"Dark hair," I answer, glancing at my phone.

Jason's text asks if I've seen anyone yet, and I type back no.

I've been in this line for a few hours now, and it moved at an excruciating pace. The other line moved faster; groups went in with up to five guys, and they emerged either jovial or pissed off.

This tent only allows one person in at time, making it take longer. They pacified us with drinks, snacks, a few workers mingling as they showed off pictures of the girls and took preliminary bids. Numbers floated in the air, but also bargains, pleas, and a few desperate offers to bring someone else in exchange for a bid. It gave me plenty of time to notice a woman walking between the tents, ushering girls in and out. She seems to be running the show, and almost everyone defaults to her when they have a question.

Aside from her, there were at least twenty men weaving through the lines. They didn't speak to anyone, instead they observed as though they were security.

"Age preference?" He drags his fingers across a tablet, frowning when I don't answer. "How old you want?"

"How old was the last girl they brought inside?" I glance up from Rylan's third round of begging that I please please please please please please please please please to the power of six hundred bring back someone from Amity. "She had dark hair."

"Was she short?" He types something, and a second later, shakes his head. "I think I know who you mean. They don't have a picture yet because she was brought in today. I can tell you that she's from Amity. Her dad's a farmer, her mom is…some sort of nurse. I dunno. Either way, she's got zero life experience, zero work experience, very easy to control. I'd imagine she'd be a good wife or maid."

I meet his stare, and he taps the tablet.

"Every person who saw her has had bid on her so far."

"I figured." I shove my phone in my pocket. "I think she'd fit in well for what I need. If I like her, maybe you could make sure she goes home with the right person. I'd remember you for next time."

"I'll make a note of that." He winks, and I struggle not to sneer at him.

Though my past has left me with a warped perception of how I view people's lives, I can't help but feel apprehensive at the way they speak so about the women. You'd think they were trading goods for a few coins rather than human beings.

Not that I knew this girl, nor would I care what happened to her once I got her back to Dauntless.

"You're gonna head inside now. First up, is Tabby!"

The man returns with a grin. He ushers me into a hot, humid tent, where a brown-haired woman vomits the second I near her.

I lose track of how many I see before I take a break.

We only stop because they need to rotate the girls, and a few have collapsed from the heat.

I use the time to answer Rachel's text first, informing her I haven't seen Miranda, but I leave out the fact that I'm not looking for her, nor do I have any real intention of asking about her. I tell Rylan to calm down, I tell Jason that I don't have a great feeling about this, and I text Harrison and ask him what the actual fuck this place is.

Before he can respond, I'm called back inside and told to put my phone away.

"She's bleeding."

My tone is sharply unconcerned, almost repulsed.

The girl before me is terrified.

I'm not surprised to see the state of her. Sweaty black hair, shaking hands, skin as pale as the tent we are in, and eyes too large for her face. She wavers on bare feet; her dress is now dirty, and her cheeks are stained with blood where she's tried to wipe it from her face. She's young looking, and I know why everyone bid on her.

She's startlingly pretty.

Even with wet eyes and a print upon her face where someone has struck her, she's hard to look away from. I can't quite imagine why anyone would have a reason to hit her. I do know that Marcus saw her before me. He left the tent look irritated and I knew something had happened during his visit. There was a yell that flitted through the air seconds before he was escorted out by someone acting as security.

He must have hit her.

When I glance down at her, she swallows and looks to the side.

"Shit. She's not hurt… someone bumped her." The man from the line returns. He roughly wipes her face, oblivious to the way she winces. "I'll give you a little off if you want. If you like her."

"I don't."

She'll be dead soon.

In Dauntless, in Erudite, Candor, wherever she ends up. She's too small to be a soldier, too weak to fight off anyone in line, and too meek to escape. Her dress is juvenile, a common Amity trait, and her hair hangs down so long I doubt it's ever been cut. She has no jewelry, no makeup, and not a mark other than what Marcus did.

Her stare falls to my boots. A bleak expression crosses her face as she realizes who I am. I grow irritated by her attitude, then I remind myself where I am.

Why I am here.

Why she is here.

I stare as the low conversation outside the tent drifts in with the hot breeze.

"You really think he's here for someone? Wasn't he the one who was on trial?"

"Yeah, he's a murderous dick. It's why he's here."

"He was fine when I spoke to him," a third voice chimes in. "He's legit. Don't worry. Confirmed buyer with a billion points to spend. Literally."

"No wonder he can't get a girlfriend."

"Look up." I command the girl, stepping forward. With some effort, her stare finds mine. "What's your name?"

She doesn't answer.

Her eyes linger on my throat before they slip over my face to above my head. The hot air worsens as the second drag by, making the temperature in the tent unbearable. Flecks of dust rise, along with the smell of something metallic.

The heat makes it worse.

"I said, what is your name?"

"Everly." She finally answers as confidently as she can. Her eyes focus on my face, and her gaze softens in defeat. "Who are you?"

My eyes narrow.

"I'm sorry. I mean, um, what should I call you?" She apologizes quicky, even more afraid. "I don't know your name."

"Eric."

I wonder if they told her my name. Did they announce who she was meeting, or simply shove her inside and hope she'd perform to their liking? The other women I've seen were similar: most looked like they were utterly lost, a few offered to do whatever I asked if I bid on them, and every single one was barefoot.

The one before me hasn't offered anything. She looks near tears, something that irks me, but for reasons I can't explain.

"How old are you?" I grit out.

"I'll be eighteen next month."

Oh goodie.

She's far too young for me to be around, and way too soft spoken. She keeps looking at me, her green eyes searching mine for a possible connection, but I know she sees none.

"What can you do?" I ask, shifting my weight, trying to remember what I would ask if I was truly here to buy someone. "What are you offering?"

"I can…" She pauses to wipe her nose, and the tissue quickly turns bright red with blood. "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." Her voice breaks as she lists a meager amount of qualities I should like.

I bet they've coached her.

"I'll stay out of your way," she says, so faintly that I almost miss it. "I'll make your dinners. I know how to –"

I try to imagine her in my apartment, doing anything of the sort.

"What's your last name?" I step forward, closer than I'm supposed to be. "They said your father is a farmer."

"Carlen."

The last name makes me frown, but I don't know who she is. I've possibly seen it somewhere, maybe during one of Jeanine's raids, or maybe her dad was on a list I'd looked at.

Outside, the guy who brought her the tissue hisses for someone to get lost. Marcus asks to see her again, and my anger returns just like before. My blood feels hot, and it's hard not to storm outside and punch him on her behalf.

He deserves it.

"Why did he hit you?" I step even closer, unafraid of defying their rules. "Did you say something to him?"

"I didn't greet him fast enough." She answers, but her voice shakes. "Do you know him?"

"I do."

I cross the line, still irritated. She hasn't moved from the circle she's standing in. I assume they told her to stay inside it, that she'd be safe there. None of the other women left it, either. They simply stood where they were told and parroted what someone had told them.

Her eyes widen when I near her, and I'm thrown off by how short she is.

By how fragile she is, mostly because of the disadvantage she has here.

Whoever takes her home will not keep her safe.

Not by a long shot.

I'm not any safer.

"I'm not surprised he's here," I mutter, raising my hand. She flinches but immediately corrects herself. "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."

She stops talking when my hand touches her face. Like someone is possessing me, I skim her cheeks and pretend I am examining her to see if she's damaged. I turn her head from side to side, then move her hair back to see if Marcus did anything else.

When I find nothing, I realize I'm holding her face in both my hands. Her skin is hot beneath my fingers, a tad too warm.

"Are you hurt?" I ask only to be met with silence. "I said, are you hurt?

"No." She shakes her head, and my eyes lock onto hers. "I'm fine."

"Good."

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

My inspection is interrupted by the man from earlier returning with a vengeance. He storms over but stops a careful distance away. I know he's angry, but when I look at him, his expression drops.

"You can't touch them until you buy them." He reminds me. He glances down at Everly, and he looks oddly sorry. "She's from Amity, you know."

"I'm aware of where she's from." I answer tightly. "How many have put in their bids?"

He looks at her, then me.

"All of them."

"Right." My hands drop. I step back with a curt nod and pulls my arms behind my back. Straighten my spine and make myself even taller. "Is there anyone after me?"

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

He steps between us and moves her away from me, so she's hidden behind him. He doesn't trust me, but the way he's nodding hints he thinks I'm one of the safer options.

He might not care about these girls, but he knows what happens once they leave.

"You said you'd take something off of her?" I ask, cocking my head to the side. When I look past him, she's staring at me. "Is that offer for everyone?"

"No, just you, Sir. She might not do well in Dauntless. Just… keep that in mind." He reaches for her, but he's rough. "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."

Miranda.

"I'll keep that in mind." I break my stare from Everly's, glance her up and down, before heading outside.

My time is over, and so is the auction. The fresh air is glorious after seeing a parade of girls, but the reprieve is short lived.

Marcus tries again to get back inside, but he's pushed back and told if he asks again, he'll be forced to leave. "I didn't do anything. She wasn't listening. You promise they're obedient, and I was merely –"

"Do we have an issue here?"

A voice breaks through the guards, and when the woman stops him, I recognize her from earlier.

"Marcus, you've been warned numerous times now…" She pauses when her stare finds mine, and her smile is quick. "Get back in line and place your bid. I'll see you after. Not another word about the girl. We have plenty to chose from if you can keep your hands to yourself."

Still angry, he protests again, but she shakes her head and heads toward me.

"Eric Coulter. This way, please."

I follow her silently, while Marcus demands to see another girl.

"Of course, you can have her. The top bid is high, but we offered you a discount. What was her name again?"

"Everly." I answer without looking away.

The name is hard to say: strange, like it's too gentle to be spoken by me.

"Oh yes, Everly. She's very pretty, high demand, but very skittish. Usually, the ones from Amity are given peace serum before they're shown, but this one wasn't. I apologize if she was reactive."

The woman washes her hands in a makeshift sink. The water turns pink, and the blood that was on them came from someone else. This tent is less hot, but small. A table sits to the side, next to a large pile of papers, shoes, and what looks like a stack of packets containing medicine.

"It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Shannon. I was the one who approved your application." She wipes them off with a grin. "When I saw your name, I thought, now there's a serious buyer. I've been dying to ask what finally brought you here."

"I'm looking for someone," I answer honestly, smirking when she grins. "I wasn't sure who, but I think I found her."

My stare stays on Shannon like she's been brought in for questioning: her blonde hair is cut to her shoulders, and her shirt and pants are plain. She doesn't look like she belongs anywhere. I would peg her as being from Abnegation, or maybe Amity. Maybe one of the members who never really fit into the faction, leaving them longing for a way out. Payback. Maybe this is how she gets her revenge.

When she turns, I know she's factionless.

I can feel it.

"Well, good. That's the whole point of this event." Pleased as ever, she walks over and shakes my hand.

Her grip is soft, but she tightens it at the last second.

"Your references spoke highly of you. I heard about the stint in jail, no judgement there. I know you were found guilty but not totally guilty. I take it you're ready to settle down now." She stares into my eyes, unblinking.

Familiar with the very tactic I've used myself, I smile tightly.

"Dozens from Dauntless have been here. Most come in search of a spouse. Same with you, I assume?" Shannon continues. "Are there girls there not up to your standards? If not, we have another auction tonight. You could bring your friends."

"I need some help around the faction. I could use an assistant, but this seems more efficient." I stare back at her until she grows uneasy. "How old is she really? The girl I chose?"

"Everly is seventeen." Shannon answers casually. "The only reason we allow that age is because she hasn't picked a faction yet. It'll be assumed she ran away before the choosing ceremony. I will be up front that we're up to sixty thousand points."

"Is that how you get away with this?" I glance around, and when her smile slips, and I force one back at her. "Just curious. Dauntless could never pull off something like this. Too many cameras, too many nosy soldiers, too many eyes everywhere you go. This is rather ambitious. You came highly recommended. I was told this was a solid business model."

She relaxes.

A fraction of an inch, but it's enough that I know she trusts me.

"I admit it is quite a process. I got involved years ago, mostly helping find girls who were lost. So many of them just need a chance." She pauses. "The one you are interested in is one of those people. She needs someone to keep her in line. She'll do fine as your assistant. Are you sure you don't want her your wife? According to her notes, she'll have no issues having children. Landon promised she's in good health."

My lungs flatten.

I should be no one's father.

Ever.

But this must be one of the reasons people come here.

"Is that who brought her here?" I ask.

"Yes. He spoke very highly of her. Promised she'd be profitable, and she was." Shannon explains. "I assume she'll be fantastic for you."

"Do you think she'd make a good wife?" I wait while she steps away to grab papers. "Seventeen is barely old enough to choose a faction, let alone get married."

"She'll be eighteen soon. Now, I'm going to go over some paperwork with you. You only placed one bid. You're sure you don't want to see anyone else? We have hundreds of others. I'm can show you a few that weren't available to everyone. Otherwise…yes, she'll make a fine wife. She's been raised to be nothing more. Her father is a farmer who believes in very rigid rules. She knows only how to take care of someone."

My eyes flash to the stack of pages in her hands. It appears to be a contract, though an unenforceable one at best.

"I want her." I clear my throat. "Is there an issue with that? I assumed I'd get who I want. If more points are needed –"

"No, you have the winning bid. I thought you'd want to hear all your options before I get started. It takes a minute to get them ready to leave." She hands me the first page, and the girl's name is written on it. "She's the fastest sale we've had. I think you'll be pleased."

"I hope so."

Arrogant and smug, I step back, pretending to examine the papers.

"Did anyone else bid on her that I should be concerned about?" I flip through the papers, noticing there is a lot of information for someone who was brought in last minute.

According to this paperwork, Everly has never left Amity, has a few friends, a large family, and is not important enough that anyone will notice if she's missing. Her birthdate is listed, as is her height, hair color, and eye color.

As far as interests, they've written none.

"If you mean Marcus, no. We've handled him. He likes the option to shop as he pleases, but he's used to getting his way. I'm always surprised at how pushy he can be, but he's a reputable customer. At least a dozen girls have gone on to lead happy lives in Abnegation." Shannon stops talking when I get to the last page. "You're familiar with him?"

"Somewhat."

My uniform feels heavy as I read the final page. I read the words carefully, trying to figure out how she enforces this.

According to the contract, I am agreeing to keeping Everly alive and in reasonable health, refrain from physical harm unless absolutely necessary or my life is at risk, give Shannon permission to retain my phone number, and agree that I have a clean bill of health and will not transmit or purposefully infect Everly with anything. I am agreeing to their tracking software, am aware and give permission that they can track her freely to make sure she is alive, and the general consent that if she runs, they will find her first and hold her until I can be contacted.

If I do not collect her within seven days, she will be sold again.

"While they get her ready, I'll give you the hard facts about this sale. You need to be fully aware that she will likely be very afraid of you, especially if she knows who you are. Give her time. If you want us to give her something to relax her, I can do that. If you think she'll trust you, or she's intimidated enough, then I will release her without a sedative." Shannon's voice sharpens. "They all leave in the same state. Terrified, but hopeful. Hope is the most powerful thing we give them. Everly will be hopeful that you like her, and that hope often translates to helpfulness. Give her things to do. Make her feel useful. Once she trusts you, the world is yours. In the event of an emergency, you'll reach out to me directly."

I look back at her, unmoving as she nods.

"Most new buyers want to know at what point you're able to be physical with them. You said you need an assistant, but maybe you also want your assistant to sleep in your bed. Maybe you want her ready and willing when you come home from work. Maybe you want her to have no experience, and plan on showing her everything. That will be on you. I do not advocate any sort of assault or violence. I can only offer the same advice as before, that if she trusts you, she will do anything to stay alive. Do with that what you will."

"I see."

"I can promise that you will be very satisfied by her. If not, I will find someone else for you. I want to make sure you are happy with your purchase, Eric." She says my name, and when I look up, her stare is tense. She has shoes in her hand, and more papers in the other. "You'll let me know, won't you?"

I stall for time when she walks over to me, and hands me a pen. I sign the bottom line without looking, then hand it back to her. "I will."

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

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Everly marched inside. Her stare flies to Shannon, who hands me another set of papers.

"Sir?" Shannon's tone drips with professionalism.

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

I smirk at Shannon, but my stare drifts overly to Everly .

Her lips are pressed tightly together, and she doesn't move. Her head is down, and she only looks up when Shannon speaks.

"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 Everly. "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." I watch Everly struggle to keep her expression neutral. "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."

Everly's skin pales.

"And if she runs?" I ask, signing another page beneath a wall of text. "Then what?"

"We can find her." Shannon reassures 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." I narrow my eyes at the last page, noticing a slew of notes. One suggests a permanent form of birth control for the first six months, another has a list of doctors who won't ask many questions. "What's this?"

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

"It won't be an issue." My answer is slick. I have no intention of sleeping with this girl, and every intention of dumping her with Harrison the second I get back. "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." I point out. I take a second to cross out the paragraph stating that I have been here before or am a repeat customer. "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 cheerfully. "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."

I shove the papers at her, smirking when Shannon flips through them. For the moment, this feels manageable. My concern lessens at the thought that I have some information to bring back, and the girl likely has more.
The concern rises again when I look at Everly. She is silent and steady, but miserable looking. Her expression tightens when she looks at me, and I know what she sees.

Someone who has stormed through her faction on a manhunt.

Someone wearing a uniform that means I have power over her.

Someone who has just bought her.

Shannon gets to the last page, and a pleased grin crosses her face.

"Great. She's all yours. Good luck to the both of you." Shannon stamps the papers, then shakes my hand. "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." My jaw tightens before I nod at Everly. There's no point in sticking around. The longer I spend here, the longer I'm responsible for her. "Come on. We're walking to the truck."

She doesn't answer.

Everly waits while Shannon hands me her shoes. She still doesn't move, not even when Shannon nods, or the guy from earlier ducks his head inside to make sure everything is okay. I finally reach for her arm, wrapping my fingers around her and tightening them when she struggles to move.

She can barely keep up.

She stumbles as she tries to glance backwards.

"You'll have to move faster than that," I tell her, annoyed that she takes three steps for my one. "Have you ever left Amity?"

"No."
I pull her along with me, silently demanding she hurry. The faster we get out of here, the faster I can figure this out and close the investigation. She manages to keep up somewhat, but she keeps looking back. When we stop at the truck, the clearing quieter than earlier, Everly freezes.

"Here." I open the door with one hand, then pulls her toward it. I know she doesn't know how to get in the truck, but she makes no move to try. "Put your foot on the running board and step up. It's easier than it looks."

"Can I have my shoes?" She tilts her head up at me, and the sun catches her eyes.

They're green.

Very green.

"You don't need them."

She doesn't move, so I find her waist, pick her up, and push her into the truck. She startles when I slam the door shut, but I don't want to spend another second here. My phone is beeping nonstop, and the messages are endless. I storm around the back, and head to the driver's side. Someone yells a goodbye, but I ignore them.

I slide into the driver's seat to see her pressed against the passenger door like she's about to jump out.

She won't get far.

I can catch her in seconds.

"The seatbelts don't work but you'll be fine. It's a quick drive." I tell her, turning the map back on. I don't need it, but it'll tell the control room my location. "Who is Landon?"

"He's my…" She pauses until I turn my head. "He was my boyfriend."

"I see."

I glance down at her while putting the truck in drive.

Her boyfriend.

I wonder if he's here now.

I wonder how and when he decided selling her was something he was interested in.

I dislike him based off his name alone. I decide he sounds like an idiot, and I'll look him up the second I can. I want to ask her more, purely out of my own curiosity, but I don't.

Everly watches as I put the truck in drive and take off, but not before looking toward the tent. The line is just as long as it was earlier, but it's now men waiting to pay. Others are done. A man from Erudite walks his purchase to a shiny car, and another man stops to admire the Dauntless truck as we drive by. Others walk into the woods, dragged along as they try to break free.

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

She shifts to look at me. In the confines of the truck, she's much smaller than I remember. Her stare moves to the steering wheel, where I decline an alert to return the truck for service. The radio beeps, commands from the control room pouring in, and I turn that off as well. I wait for her answer, but Rylan calls, then calls again when I don't pick up.

"Did you hear me? Did you ever think he'd do that?" I ask, my tone far more exasperated than intended.

"Do you know who Landon is?" She pulls her feet to the side of her, and her voice is soft. "Have you met him?"

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

"As far as I know, he's never been there." She answers, defeat all over her face.

"Right."

Our conversation ends there.

I drive without really seeing where I'm going, but it's a familiar route. I know she's staring out the window, trying to figure out where we are. I would bet she's thinking if she could run, she'd need to know where to go.

Unfortunately for her, we're quickly far enough away that she'd be lost in the woods. Even if she could run, it would take days to find her way to another faction. The forest thickens before it gives way to the Dauntless compound. I slow down to stop at the gates, but I'm quickly waved through. The faction is busy, especially as I near the docking bay. Soldiers weave in and out of the buildings, and a row of trucks pulls out as we arrive.

I steer into the last building, parking the truck amongst a row of others. A line of soldiers are waiting for us, while others are working on the trucks. Members from the next patrol group join the waiting soldiers, the disappear to find their lead patrolmen.

"We're here. Don't move." I turn off the truck, and my head throbs.

A crew descend upon the truck, but not because she's in it. They begin inspecting it, while others wash off the windshield and side mirrors. One peers through the windshield, and his eyes widen. I should bark at him to keep working, but I don't. I yank the passenger door open, step onto the running board and reach for her.

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

I know she can climb out on her own, but she's easy to move. I pull her out of the truck with a huff, far less carefully than I should. Her feet hit my boots as I shut the door around her, and she fall but wrenches herself away from me.

"Wait…"

"Holy fucking shit."

Fate chooses that moment to screw me over. Chaos emerges as Rylan shows up. He jogs toward us, and it's impossible to miss his excitement. Before I can warn him not to say anything, or to make a production out of this, he is in front of her. He tilts his head to the side, comically far, and his hair is almost as long as hers.

"Are you serious? You really got one."

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

"No way." Rylan stares like Everly he's never seen someone from another faction before. "She's from Amity. You went with my suggestion."

"She is from Amity, isn't she?" I flash her a mocking smile, but she doesn't move from my side. "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." Rylan blinks, his own green eyes flashing with interest. "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." I answer. I'm handed a tablet to sign the truck back in, and I confirm it's in working order. "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 tells Everly. His expression falls when she doesn't smile at him. "I'm one of the Leaders here. I think you'll like it."

She wraps her arms around herself, and her gaze is unreadable.

"You might really like it. We have parties." He offers, glancing at me when she doesn't say anything. His expression becomes frantic as he tries to get her to like him. "And there's a salon upstairs. Oh, and a bakery."

She glances around.

In comparison to the tents, Dauntless is dark and cold. The soldiers are still inspecting the truck, while others are staring at her with 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.

From the top of the stairs, Rachel waits with Tori. Both are unmoving, until Tori nods and sends her away. When Tori looks at me, her stare is wrought with sympathy, and what looks like nausea.

"We also have… um, we have balconies." Rylan tries again, confused when Everly isn't wowed this announcement. "Benches? There's lots of benches to sit on. You can watch the fights, too."

He's met with silence.

"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."

I look at her, and her eyes widen.

She is afraid.

And rightfully so.

Her boyfriend dropped her off at an auction. She was prepped for sale, forced to meet the men who were willing to buy her, and then told she'd been sold to a stranger. Tracked. Held hostage, somewhere behind the tents, and told not to run.
I can't blame her for being terrified.

Fortunately for her, this will all be over soon.

Chapter Text

Chapter Sixteen: The Girl in Dauntless

The faction grows even noisier as my phone vibrates.

A quick glance confirms that Arlene is waiting for me. Her name sparks a wave of familiar annoyance; as the person who runs the infirmary, she is fine. Mean enough to best any soldier, but willing to do anything to save those in Dauntless. I’d all but forgotten I have to take whoever I bought for an exam, but the visit is to cover my own ass.

This way, if the girl I picked showed any signs of being harmed, it wouldn’t be on me.

Unfortunately, Max decided that Arlene was the nurse they saw.

I would normally laugh at the thought of a random person being forced to visit Arlene, but not today. There’s not a chance in hell this girl has had any medical care, and she’s about to get the most intense exam of her life. Which hinders my investigation. If the girl is too freaked out to speak, this will get me nowhere.

I hope that, for once, Arlene is normal.

"Here. We're walking to the infirmary. You'll need these." I hold her shoes out at her, then tilt my head when she fumbles to put them on. A shadow falls across her face, and I can’t tell if it’s the lighting or leftover blood. "Are you still bleeding?"

"No." She shakes her head. "I don't think so."

"Are you sure?" I step in front of her. "It looks like it's started up again."

"It's fine." She insists, stepping away from me.

My jaw shifts to the side.

If she’s actively bleeding, I don’t want Arlene thinking I did it.

I reach for her. My hands hold her in place as I move her hair back, stopping when I spot the mark on her neck. It’s noticeable if you’re close enough. I return to her face, and for a second, I imagine Marcus broke her nose. There are rumors of his violence, so it wouldn’t shock me if he really hurt and she’s not saying anything.

I pinch the bridge of her nose, fully expecting to feel…something. I’m not sure what, maybe a broken bone or piece that feels off. But she seems fine to me.

"It's not broken." I announce. "Alright. It's about a ten-minute walk. Once I'm sure they weren't lying about anything, we'll go from there."

"I can go with you," Rylan offers. "She might run."

"She won't." I glance down, noticing her inhaling sharply. "If she's smart, she'll stay close by and be quiet."

"For now, right?" Rylan looks at Everly, still hoping that she’ll like him. "Everly?"

"I won't run."

Her answer is heavy, but it’s the right one.

"Is there anything I should know before we get there?" I stare at her intently as Rylan greets Tris. She looks upset, but she hands him another tablet and says something I can’t hear. "Anything they didn't reveal?"

"I don't think so."

She stares back at me, blinking like I’m going to ask her something else.

I’m not.

"Watch your step. The railings aren't secure." I take off, and when I glance back, she’s following me.

The relief is immediate. I have zero concern that she’s going to run, but if she does, she’ll likely fall to her death. Or get lost. Or fall into the chasm. I need her to be evaluated by Arlene as fast as possible so I can hand her over and call it a day.

I don’t expect a lot of questions from her, but I can see her trying to learn the layout as we walk. The route I take is quick, but dark. She’d have to live here for a while to figure out how to get around, but she likely won’t stay long enough.

As we near the middle of the faction, leaving a few twisting hallways and tunnels, we reach a group dangling from ropes. Her stare follows one man as he scales the wall to the second story to fix a senser. He adjusts the camera, repels down easily, the ascends to replace another.

"What is he doing?" Her voice breaks the silence. "Are those cameras?"

"He's replacing them," I answer tightly. "Are you familiar with the cameras?"

"No, I'm not."

I doubt she is. Amity has a handful that we have access to. Johanna declined most of our request and only approved a few in the trees. She generously agreed to two near the entrance that were pointed at the lake.

They were useless to us and she knew it.

"This way. You'll see Arlene. She's expecting you." I announce, turning a sharp corner. In the distance, large doors appear, with a blinking sign above that reads Emergency. "Not you, particularly."

"Why were you there?" She asks, then immediately apologizes when I glance down. "Sorry, I mean…"

She hangs back as the doors to the infirmary open automatically. The inside is crowded, maybe a little quieter than normal.

Her question is innocent, reasonable even, but it hits a nerve.

"Why was anyone there?" I snap.

I take hold of her arm, ignoring her wince as I pull her along. I try to remind myself that she has no reason to trust me. She has every right to assume I was there for the same reasons as the others. And while I could tell her I was sent here on a mission, I need her to tell us the facts. I don’t need her head clouded with the thought that I was sent to save her, or that she’s here on vacation and can return home the second I figure everything out.

I make sure she stays with me as we head inside. Arlene appears like she’s been waiting in the hallway, descending upon us like an animal waiting for its prey. She stares at Everly, then me, and her smile brightens in a way that hints she was sent from hell to make my life miserable.

"Arlene." I greet her cooly.

"You're later than expected, Coulter."

"My deepest apologies." I retort, my tone dripping with sarcasm. "It took longer than I planned. Either way, I'm here, and she needs an exam. Now."

"I see."

Arlene clutches the clipboard to her chest and sighs. She keeps looking at Everly with pity, having been briefed on way she’s here. When Everly stares back, Arlene’s attitude lessens, a gift to everyone in the infirmary. She debates something by stalling, a tactic I’m familiar with, then clears her throat and points down the hallway.

Her stare sharpens, and I know this means Amity is in for the longest exam of her life.

"Take her to room four."

Turns out, my theory is correct.

Shannon wasn’t lying; Everly has seen a grand total of zero doctors. She’s had zero medical care. She is overwhelmed not only by the cramped room filled with medical equipment, but by Arlene. Seated upon an exam table, she keeps looking at me out of the corner of her eye while Arlene moves around her.

"Swallow for me."

She prods Everly’s throat while I sit in the visitor’s chair. I fill out some generic paperwork for her, realizing this reads like I’m responsible for her. I put my own name as her emergency contact, and my phone number for hers. I have no clue how long she’ll be here, so I put my apartment number down, and then I start on what Harrison has sent down for me to fill out.

I stepped out when someone arrived with it. The soldier was new, and he kept trying to look past me into the room.

The paperwork was what I expected, but it also came with some information I wasn’t.

Little Amity here is seventeen, but not for long. She’s also supposed to be at the upcoming Choosing Ceremony, and after a quick glimpse through Erudite’s database, I learned that she’d taken her aptitude test, and is predicted to pick Amity.

I idly wonder if Jack runs a gambling ring with these prophesied results.

"Is there any chance you are pregnant?" Arlene continues her exam by staring Everly down like she’s about to run. "Did any of them do anything to you while you were waiting?"

"No." Everly does her best to look only at Arlene. "Why?"

"Did they hurt you while you were there? Other than slapping you?" Arlene marks something down, and I can see her shoulders rise. "Eric…"

"What?" I barely glance up.

I sign the form that says I’m responsible for any follow up care, then another that says I understand that Everly may return at any time, to any nurse, for any reason but I will be alerted. When I look directly at Arlene, she’s suspicious.

"She said they didn't do anything other than hit her in the face. It was Marcus, by the way." I throw out, knowing that’ll get her attention.

Maybe it’ll distract her enough to hurry up.

"Marcus?" Arlene startles, but quickly recovers. "Interesting."

"Very." I answer dully. Arlene is well aware of Marcus and his work, but there’s little we can do about him. "Are you almost done?"

"How old is she?" Arlene steps away to grab something off the counter. "I know you said she's almost –"

"Her paperwork said she'll be eighteen in a month. They're telling the truth. I looked her up. She already had her aptitude test. She's scheduled to be at the upcoming Choosing Ceremony." I glance over at her, and her eyes find mine for a second. "They told me it's easier this way, since they aren't recorded choosing a faction."

"And what are you planning on doing with her?" Arlene snaps on a pair of gloves. "Is she going to stay with you?"

"I can't exactly have her wandering around the faction, can I?" I narrow my eyes at her, because I assumed she’d stay with Harrison, but it was obvious I’d have to keep her with me until he met with her. I make the snap decision to help her out; this will be easier if she sleeps this off and wakes up less terrified. "Give her something to help her sleep."

"That's unnecessary, Eric." Arlene glares at me, but she busies herself picking out a set of syringes.

"Relax. I am going to give you something to make sure you don't get sick here. I'll also give you something to keep you calm, and something to prevent an infection on whatever they did to your neck." Arlene pauses, then lowers her voice. "Do you know? Was it a shot?"

"I don't. They did it when I got there." Everly pulls her feet onto the table, making herself even smaller. "Does it look bad?"

I cock my head to the side, signing another paper while I listen to Arlene’s answer.

"It looks like someone stabbed you in the neck. If it doesn't feel better by tomorrow, come back and I'll give you something else." She pauses, and her next question is louder. "Are you hungry?"

"No."

I look up to see Everly’s eyes closing. When she opens them, she’s more relaxed than she was. The tension leaves her shoulders, and her hands unclench.

"All done. I highly suggest you are careful with what you're doing." Arlene turns, and her expression is displeased. "She's a real person, Eric. You have the ability to do irreparable damage to her if you aren't careful."

She looks at me pointedly, like Everly suddenly can’t hear her.

"And what exactly do you think I'm going to do? You know damn well I have orders to keep her alive until this over." I stand, insulted that she thinks I want this. I didn’t ask for this assignment, nor did I volunteer for it. "Then, she can do whatever she wants."

"That's not what I meant." Arlene takes hold of my arm. "She's not a soldier. She didn't choose to come here. If I find out you've done anything like before…"

I jerk away from her.

Arlene has never trusted me.

"We both know I paid for what I did. Out of everyone here, I have the most on the line." I stalk over to the table, and with more force than necessary, yank Everly off it. She crashes into me, warm and uneasy. "And I told you, I'll make sure Amity here has the time of her life."

"Eric…"

I ignore her.

With a sneer, I push Everly out of the room and into the hallway. She stumbles over her feet, and looks up woozily. I’m reminded of everyone I’ve ever found, every person who ever begged for their life before me, and everyone who ever feared me. I hate the sick feeling that settles in my bones. The familiarity of this moment, right before Jeanine would start their testing.

Not a single one survived.

"I guess I should welcome you to Dauntless, Everly."

I stare at her, silent and disoriented, before I take her back to the lobby.

Arlene’s messages are predictable.

They start seconds after I leave the infirmary. They are mildly apologetic, but curt enough that I know she doesn’t feel that bad. She says she’s aware that I won’t hurt the girl, and she’s sorry if she overstepped her bounds, but she’s concerned and not just about Everly.

Eric, she’s the fifth one I’ve seen. If this is too much…or this assignment isn’t something you want…

I delete them without responding.

I take her to my apartment.

Our walk is painfully uncoordinated; Arlene didn’t give her something to help her sleep, but she gave her something to keep her from panicking, which left Everly unsteady on her feet.

After an agonizingly slow trek home, I fling the door open and realized my normal routine will be on hold until Harrison takes the girl off my hands. I figure I’ll let her hang out for a bit, encourage her to wash off the blood, then find something for dinner.

Harrison has other plans.

As if he’s watching from somewhere, he shoots me a text that makes my teeth hurt.

She needs to stay with you. I’ll be by soon, but I’m tied up for another hour or so. I was thinking she’ll spend a few days in your apartment, maybe longer. I don’t want her with the other girls.

Before I could ask what other girls, he sends another text.

Have her take a shower. I’ll have a few things sent up and come by for dinner. And before you say no, remember, orders are not optional here. Welcome back, Coulter. Let me know if she needs anything.

While I’d normally feel enraged by his demands, today I am impatient. I don’t particularly want this girl in my apartment, but there isn’t anyone I can pass her off to.

While Everly stares at the living room, I contemplate calling Rachel and asking if Everly can stay with her. Rachel is much less threatening, and her apartment isn’t far from here. I could still keep tabs on Everly but not have to be around her.

The idea feels brilliant, until I turn to look at her.

Everly stands in my apartment looking so downtrodden that I feel a flash of very fleeting, microscopic sympathy.

I ignore it.

I leave her to take off my jacket, and while in my room, wrack my brain for someone who she might feel safer with. While Rachel will likely do whatever to help, I can’t help but feel like she’s too invested in how my assignment turns out. There’s Christina, Rylan’s off again, on again girlfriend, but that will be painful. Christina is just as enthusiastic as Rylan, maybe more so. Her friend Tris might help, but that would involve Four, and I’d rather go back to jail before I ask Four to help with anything. Rylan and Jason are fine, but I doubt she’ll feel safe with them. Tori is a decent option, but I don’t trust her not to rat me out to Harrison. And though I could call Arlene, I doubt Everly wants to sleep in the infirmary.

That leaves her here with me.

With a sigh, I rub my hands over my face and decide I need to figure some shit out and fast.

I return to the living room to see her looking at the bookshelf.

It’s easy to see why everyone bid on her. She’s small and slender, very pretty in a startling way. Her skin is awfully pale for someone who lived in the woods, but her hair is shiny and wavy. The dress she has on is nothing special; the yellow would be considered cheerful if it wasn’t dirty and bloody. Her shoes are meant wandering around a garden in, and there is absolutely nothing threatening about her.

She’s an easy target for anyone.

Her fingers skim the books cautiously, and I half wonder if she can read.

"This way. You can wash the blood off while I grab dinner." I announce, knowing I sound far from cordial .

Everly turns. Her perusal of me is quick and purposeful: she’s been coached how to act around me, and she’s sizing me up to see if I’ll hurt her if she doesn’t listen.

"Shouldn't I make you dinner?" She touches several more of the books before fully facing me. "I can make…whatever you want…"

She’s lying.

I can see it in her posture. Her shoulders rise, and I get the feeling she’s more likely to burn down my kitchen than make me anything edible.

"No." I cock my head, deciding I’ll listen Harrison’s orders for now. "Go shower. Everything you need is in there. It's the last door."

I head into the kitchen, not bothering to see if she’ll listen.

I know she will.

I open the fridge as my phone rings, and my guess is it’s Rylan. I answer on the second ring, and I’m wrong.

Arlene’s voice fills my ear, just as curt as before.

“I’m at your front door. I have something for her.”

She hangs up before I can respond. I head to the door before she can start banging on it, and when I open it, she looks distraught.

“Here. Have her take a bath and put this in it. It’ll help keep her relaxed without any further medication.” She hands me a bottle of something blue. “It smells strong, but it’ll disappear after a few minutes.”

“What did you give her?” Curious as ever, I take the bottle. “How long will it last?”

“I gave her something like peace serum, but much less intense. Erudite uses it before surgery.” Arlene nods, but her stare moves past me. “Where is she?”

“I sent her to take a shower. I figured I’d make dinner and then Harrison will be here.”

“Do you think she’s alright?” Arlene asks.

“Define alright.” I counter.

“Eric…” she exhales sharply. “Is she –”

“I doubt she’ll be fine. Her boyfriend dumped her at an auction to be sold.” I cut her off sharply. “I don’t expect her to be jumping for joy.”

Arlene nods.

Her gaze sharpens as she steels herself. “You’ll keep her safe?”

“I have orders to follow. Until Harrison says otherwise, she has to stay with me.” My answer scrapes its way up my throat, unwilling to admit that I still have to listen to someone else’s demands. “She’s safer here than at the auction.”

“Does she know who you are?”

“How the fuck would I know that? I can only assume she’s heard of me,” I hiss. “But I didn’t personally ask her.”

“Right, well…keep me posted. If you need anything, I’m a call away,” Arlene offers. “I don’t want you to think I don’t believe you can handle this. You know I do.”

“Thanks.”

Her generosity is suspicious. I shut the door before she can push her way inside. The bottle she’s give me is cold and heavy, filled with a clear liquid. The scent is strong enough that I can smell it without opening the bottle.

I walk to my bedroom, and the dull ache of today settles behind my eyes. When I notice the bathroom door isn’t shut all the way, I head inside to find Everly standing at the mirror, a forlorn expression on her face. She jumps when I appear behind her, and I have to admit, it’s going to be a rough few hours dealing with her.

"Shit." She startles like I’m about to rip her head off.

"Here. I figured you might not know how to turn it on." I walk past and turn the knobs to fill the bathtub. I dump the bottle into it, then the bubble bath that’s been sitting here for ages. Ashley left it behind, and it only sat on the tub because I couldn’t be bothered to move it. "Arlene sent this up. She said it'll help. If the water is too hot, turn it to the right."

I glance back at her, and she’s staring at the tub like she’s never seen one before.

Pity rushes through me.

Life in Amity must be primeval.

"Do you need anything else?" I stare at her, and her posture tenses. "Did you hear me?"

"Can I ask …how much you paid?" She asks, stepping back until she is against the cabinets. "How much did they want?"

"You want to know how much I paid?" I leave the tub and walk toward her, trapping her near the sink. "Turn around."

"Why?"

On the back of her dress is a small tag. It has numbers on it, along with her starting bid. I pull it off carefully, knowing Harrison will want to examine it.

"Seventy thousand points." I stare at the small numbers until they blur. "I got ten thousand off since you were bleeding. I offered more than the others, but I was told what they were bidding in advance. Most bid the top of their budget."

She blanches.

"Why would you do that?" She asks. Through the mirror, our eyes meet. I set the sticker down, and she blinks. "Do you know what happens to the other girls?"

"Why?" I ask, wondering if something happened while she was there. "Did you know them?"

"No, but…not everyone went home." Her answer is so quiet I almost don’t hear it. "Some had been there for a while."

"I assume anyone purchased will be taken home and told their expectations. What they want them to do and what they aren't allowed to do." I wet my lips, and my throat feels dry. "I'm sure some have settled in well, while others have not."

"Have you been there before?" She looks at me again, and I’m struck by how small she is compared to me.

Ashley is nearly my height.

"No, I haven't."

I shake my head, ignoring the comparison. I have no reason to think of Ashley, and every reason to make sure Everly is clean by the time Harrison shows up.

"I wouldn't worry about the other girls. Not tonight. Turn the knob all the way to the right to stop the water." I find her stare once more before I leave. "If you need anything else, just yell."

She doesn’t move.

Ashley would have stripped her clothes off, tossed them aside, and smirked.

Everly stands at the bathroom counter with her head down. Her shoulders slumped, and her hands gripping the edge like she might pass out.

I ignore the prick of realization that I had really purchased her as a wife, I could have ripped the dress off her or shoved her into the shower myself. I imagine someone else would have taken advantage of the softness about her, destroying it the very same way I destroyed several people’s lives purely because of a test result.

Not wanting to think about any of that, I head back to the kitchen and relish in the silence.

By the time I almost done cooking, Rylan and Christina show up.

Their presence is jarring. Alone once Everly was presumably in the bath, I read a few emails before deciding on dinner. Cooking is an easy distraction; the actions are repetitive enough that I don't need to think, and that means I don't have to worry where Everly will be sleeping.

I had the sinking feeling she wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

Harrison’s only call was to tell me he was still running late and that I should plan on Everly sticking around. His connection was spotty, hinting that he wasn’t in Dauntless. Through the terrible connection, he mentioned that she was likely stuck here for a bit, and I should do my best to be accommodating.

I blandly agreed, having no other option.

“Where is she? We brought what you asked for.” Subdued now that the novelty of Everly has worn off, Rylan joins me in the kitchen while Christina sets down a few bags on the counter. “If you need more, we can come back.”

“Is she okay?” Christina asks, her tone daringly accusatory. “Rylan told me what happened. I can’t wrap my head around this whole thing.”

“She’s fine. She’s taking a bath, then she’ll eat dinner and go to sleep.” I wave my hand dismissively. “This isn’t my idea. I’m following Harrison’s orders.”

“Rylan told me.” She meets my stare, defiant as the day I almost shoved her to her death. “I think someone else might have been a better choice to go. She must be terrified.”

“No shit.” I glare at her, until Rylan shrugs.

“She seems nice. I bet it won’t be long before she warms up to you.”

“There’s no reason for that. Once Harrison gets what he wants, I’m assuming she’ll stay with the others. He said there are more girls.” I pause to turn the burner down. “She’s not staying here any longer than she needs to.”

I’m met with silence.

Rylan and Christina glance at each other, and my stare makes them look guilty.

“What?” I demand.

“Nothing. I…I don’t think this is going to be a quick win for you. You said there are hundreds of girls. There’s no way this is getting shut down in two days.” Rylan says. “I thought everyone was joking until you showed up with her. Even the control room was betting to see if you’d return with someone.”

“I’ve heard rumors of this auction. Tris mentioned it a while ago.” Christina crosses her arms over her chest. “I assume Everly will stay with you until you find out who’s in charge?”

“She can’t stay here. I don’t need a wife, nor do I need some girl who isn’t even old enough to pick Dauntless. Once I know who is behind the auction, and who finds the girls, I’m done.” I smile as politely as I can, which isn’t polite at all. “Thank for the clothes. They didn’t give me anything for her.”

“If she doesn’t like them, I can swing by with more. I don’t mind.” Christina offers. “Should we stick around and meet her? Or…”

She trails off with a glance down the hallway. I realize I have no idea how long Everly has been in there, but I should probably check on her.

“Later.”

I answer dismissively.

I already know how this will go.

If they meet her, and get attached, this will be over for me. I will never hear the end of how this poor girl could have a better life in Dauntless, and how she could live here until it’s over. How nice she is. How quiet. How utterly wonderful and kind and impossibly sweet someone from Amity is and how I’d be doing her a disservice by letting her leave.

I thank them, then grit out a goodbye as I realize I have no idea what Everly is doing.

I find her in the tub.

A dull hum rushes through my veins –but it’s not fear. No, it’s the disappointment of knowing that if she’s drowned, or they did something to her at the auction and it just kicked in, I’ll be at fault. No one will believe I didn’t do this, especially now.

“Open your eyes.”

Her head lolls back against the rim of the tub, and her damp hair is even blacker against the stark white. I can see she’s breathing, but my relief is fleeting. She doesn’t move, not even when I kneel beside the tub, ignoring the way if she opens her eyes, she’ll find me hovering over her.

Undressed and submerged beneath the water, the vulnerability is impossible to downplay. Her shoulders are slight, as is the curve of her collarbone. It would be easy snap, right along with her neck. If she were an initiate here, someone would stab her in her sleep to make sure they ranked above her. I close my eyes, and my jaw tightens.

I wasn’t responsible for the last initiate who did get stabbed, but that didn’t stop anyone from assuming I was okay with it.

“Fuck.”

I touch her cheek firmly enough to wake her, and insistent enough that she should open her eyes, but she doesn’t.

I move her hair off her face, wet and slippery, then stop when she still doesn’t move. For a half second, I wonder if Shannon did give her something, or maybe this is Arlene’s doing. Either way, I’m screwed if she doesn’t wake up.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I know it’s Harrison.

"Come on. If you drown, I'm on the line, Amity."

Luckily for me, she opens her eyes and begins to panic.

The water sloshes around her as she moves, and though she’s hidden beneath an excessive number of bubbles, she shrinks back. Horror must be rushing through her veins right now, especially when I look down at her.

"I didn't think you'd fall asleep. I called your name for twenty minutes and you never answered." I pull my head away, and her eyes stay as wide as saucers. "Don't worry. I had to make sure you were alive. Christina brought some clothes for you."

"Who?"

She sits up, then quickly moves back down as her stare finds mine.

Hers is unpleasantly groggy. I imagine it’s the serum Arlene gave her, but it makes her look like she’s woken up from a deep sleep. She blinks several times, but remains quiet as she waits for my answer.

"Christina is Rylan's girlfriend. She's about your size. They didn't give me anything else for you to wear." I stand, glancing down at her. "I left everything on the counter. When you're done, we'll eat."

"Then what?"

She finally sits up further, pulling her knees against her chest. Her posture is defensive, leaving my nerves feeling sharp.

"You'll find out."

I leave her to get dressed, figuring this is going as well as expected. I shut the bathroom door, then head back to the kitchen.

Harrison arrives with a scowl and a desert.

He sets the plate on my counter then crosses his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes.

“Amity.”

His tone is flat with every accusation in the world.

“Interesting that, when left to your own devices, you pick the weakest faction we have.” He holds my stare, unblinking. “Or are you trying to make up for what you did there?”

“Don’t you want to know how she is?” I ignore the dig at me. “Or where she is?”

“How was her exam?” He ignores my question. “Arlene called twice. She seems oddly concerned about this one.”

“It’s because she’s young.” I shut my eyes, thinking of how short the girl was when I pulled the tag off her. “That’s it.”

“I know she’s young. I heard from Arlene that this has gone too far. She’s not happy that this is being handed to you. She thinks you’ll destroy the girl before we can get anything out of her.”

“And why would anyone think that?” I flash him a sarcastic sneer. “Are you saying Arlene doesn’t think this is a good idea?”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Harrison throws back. “Tell me about the others. Who did you see there? Anyone we know?”

“Marcus was the only one I recognized. He saw her before me. He hit her, made her bleed.” I hesitate, feeling like I’ve said too much. “They discounted her for that.”

“Did you see Miranda?” Harrison asks, but his stare tells me he knows there’s little we can do about her. “Or hear her name?”

“No. I saw a few from Candor, some from Erudite, a girl from Abnegation. No one that stuck out.” I reach for the pepper, then change the subject. “They seem to have quite the supply of girls, but they only let you take one. I was told I could bid on as many as I wanted, but I’d only win one. I assume you can go back as many times as you can afford.”

“Who helped when you paid?” He questions.

“A woman named Shannon. I originally thought she might be from Amity, but everyone around her appeared factionless.”

“No sign of Evelyn?” Harrison asks a name that makes me roll my eyes. “I believe I’ve seen the blonde woman hanging around Erudite, but I’ve also seen her in Amity. Makes sense that she’d be everywhere. What about the people working? Anyone you knew?”

“No. There are guys working where you park, a few guys who monitor the line, and some acting as security. I didn’t get any names other than Shannon’s. Why was she in Erudite?”

“She was near the labs. I’m guessing she was looking for some way to monitor them. Maybe keep an eye on them while she’s not around.” He shrugs, then his stare slips over me. "Well, it sounds like I'm not familiar with any of them. You're sure it was her and not Evelyn hosting this thing? You think Shannon is running it all?"

"No." I answer tightly. "She was overly helpful, though. She was determined to make sure I left with someone."

"I see." Harrison answers, but his expression changes. I glance over to see Everly standing near the kitchen, watching intently. "Eric…what did they tell you about her?"

"She's almost eighteen, she can cook and clean, and she'll get taller at some point." I plate salad for her, wondering if she’ll eat it. "She's from Amity, and according to the guy who dropped her off, no one will look for her."

Her face falls.

"Harrison, this is Everly. Everly, this is Harrison. He's another Leader here." I hand Harrison a plate, figuring he’ll stay, then gesture at Everly. "You can sit at the table."

She forces a smile. Dressed in my shirt and boxers, she heads to the table. Giving her my clothes was a bold move, but Christina had shown up with things meant for someone else. They were revealing, tight and short and nothing like anyone in Amity would pick out. I didn’t give a shit what Everly wore, but I didn’t think she’d be comfortable in a tank top and short shorts.

Harrison sits down first. For a second, I wonder if I should explain who he is and why he’s dressed so casually, but I figure she won’t be here long enough to care.

"Hi, Everly. It's nice to meet you. Do you mind if I ask what faction you got on your aptitude test?" Harrison asks like Arlene hasn’t told him this. "Did you get Amity?"

She stares at him.

Much like the initiates, she looks hesitant to speak to him.

To be fair, Harrison can make anyone nervous. He’s not around as much as the other Leaders, but he gives off an aura of knowing far more than he should. It would be admirable, if he wasn’t so strange.

"Everly?" He says her name softly, and he’s much better at this than I am. "Did they tell you what faction they got?"

"I did get Amity." She takes a plate from me, and her answer is terse as I sit beside her.

She eyes the food warily.

"Can I ask you something else?" Harrison picks up his fork, but he doesn't start eating. "If you're alright with that?"

"She'll answer whatever you ask her." I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. "Right?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me how many girls were with you? At this…auction?" Harrison keeps his expression neutral. "A guess is fine. It doesn't have to be an exact number."

"Maybe fifty or sixty?" She answers slowly, likely still feeling the effects of the serum. "I didn't get there until right before it started. I was taken to speak to someone, so I didn't see much after that. I don't even know how many were brought out."

"Got it." Harrison nods. "What about after the auction?" He takes a bite of his chicken, and so does she. "Did they take you somewhere else?"

I watch her, curious as to what they did with her once I saw her.

"We sat in a trailer. I was with maybe twenty girls then. They gave us something to eat and told us to wait while the bidding was going on. I wasn't in there very long." She stabs her food but makes no move to eat it. "There was a girl from Dauntless there. She told me that if you don't get picked, they only show you so many rounds."

"The woman said there's a second round tonight, and after that, the next round is in a month. Told me to tell my friends," I shrug, blinking when she doesn’t eat. "What did they feed you?"

"They gave us crackers. Some water. They had fruit. They said they don't give them much." She pushes the salad around her plate, and my shirt slips from her shoulder to reveal a hint of the bruise spreading down her neck. "Do you know what happens if they don't get picked?"

"They didn't say." I answer. "The girls you were with, do you know where they were from?"

"I don't. No one said anything except the girl from Dauntless." Everly says. "She said her name was Miranda."

Harrison looks at me, and I look at him.

I silently remind him I didn’t see Miranda, nor am I going back to look for her.

The confirmation she’s there is good news for him, though.

"And the one who hit you? Do you know his name?" Harrison pushes a glass toward her. "Eric mentioned you were bleeding when he saw you."

"He never told me his name. Just that he was a Leader, and he would teach me respect." Everly drinks the smallest sip of water, like she’s afraid it’s poisoned. "Eric told the nurse he knew his name."

"It was Marcus. Ironic that he'd be there when he's got an entire faction to do his bidding," I confirm her story, hoping to speed this up. "Did they say anything to you about staying with them?"

"No. Just that I had people interested and I'd likely leave with one today. You were the last person I met." She looks me in the eye, unblinking when I look right back at her. There’s some mild defiance behind her stare, though it quickly dims. "I was taken right to you and the others stayed in the trailer."

"Were there many trailers?" Harrison asks. "Jason said he saw two on the camera, but he couldn't see past that."

"Three. But only two were near the front." I answer quickly. "The trucks they used for towing them are from Amity. I think. I didn't get that close."

"They're smart. They aren't keeping them in one spot, and they aren't keeping them very long. But the girls who don't get picked must go somewhere." Harrison thinks aloud. "That or they're killing them and dumping them along the way."

"They were near a river. Maybe they get rid of them that way. I didn't see much after the purchase went through." I try to remember the area, but it was as nondescript as they could make it. Woods, a river in the distance, and an open field.

Something nags at me about it.

It was far from anywhere, including where the factionless normally hang out.

"What did the payment show up as?" I ask Harrison.

"Miscellaneous Merchandise. It's a code used at the Market. They've got some knowledge of how to do business, enough to keep it from being noticeable. Though a transaction that size might get flagged if someone were really looking. Most don't spend that much at once." Harrison leans back in his chair. "Or ever."

"They have other ways of paying," I throw out. "Not just by points. The points are the fastest and cleanest way to pay, but there were others. When I was in line, a few mentioned setting up a payment plan. Some were trading, others were willing to give them whatever they wanted. One from Erudite was supplying them with medications and a dozen cases of syringes if he found the girl of his dreams."

"Interesting." Harrison turns to face me. “Have you heard from Max yet?”

“Not yet. Have you?” I watch Everly out of the corner of my eye, noticing she’s doing a lot of moving the food around without actually eating it.

I don’t like this.

She’s smaller than the smallest initiate I’ve seen. Her head appears too large, but it might be the way my shirt is too big for her that makes everything look small. She appears to be listening, but when Harrison asks if I saw the footage Jason recorded her head tilts. She puts her fork down, and my blood pressure rises.

“Keep eating. I’m not making you anything else.” I bark at her, annoyed that her plate is mostly full.

“You should eat. I know today was a lot, but you’ll feel better in the morning.” Surprisingly, Harrison takes me side. “I doubt they fed you anything substantial.”

“Not really.” She admits.

She continues to stab the lettuce, but somehow eats half of the dinner. Harrison makes a few more comments about Max, and it’s clear he’s bothered he hasn’t called me yet.

"Where is she sleeping?" Harrison pushes his chair back and reaches for Everly’s plate once it’s clear she’s done eating. "I trust you're going to keep her in your apartment?"

"She sleeps here."

My answer is pointed, given he’d told me she couldn’t leave. He’s making it clear I can’t send her elsewhere now. A spark of familiar irritation runs through me; I might have my old job back but I’m not in charge.

"Good. Well, keep me posted. Everly, I hope you sleep well." Harrison throws out.

"Thank you." She glances at me, then back at her dinner.

She looks miserable but I can’t blame her.

"If she needs anything, call me. I'll keep an eye on the faction tonight." Harrison takes the plates to the kitchen, then places them in the sink. "Eric, do you need anything else for her?"

I glance back at her, silent and pale, and I know Rylan was right.

This won’t be over anytime soon.

"No."

Everly sits unmoving until I tell her she can go to my room.

He makes me join him in the hallway.

I exhale sharply as I step outside only to be met by three soldiers standing guard. They nod their greeting, but none speak.

“Obviously, there is some concern she might try to run. Not just from you, but from the situation. It’s imperative she does not return to Amity. If she blows your cover or gives Shannon a reason to think you didn’t really go there to buy a wife, it’s over. They’ll likely halt the auction before I can get Miranda out.” He rocks back on his heels. “This is only until you’re certain she won’t run.”

“How the fuck will I know that? I met her hours ago,” I snap. “That could take –”

“A while yes.” He eyes me intently. “I know we never discussed a time frame, but I need some leeway here. You understand, don’t you? I know you’re willing to do whatever you can to help.”

I stare back at him.

His eyes are green, almost the same color as Everly’s.

I don’t care.

I don’t like that I know her eye color, or can make any sort of connection to her.

“Fine. A few weeks, at most. You know she shouldn’t be here.” I answer sharply. “There’s no way she feels safe with me.”

“Neither of you have a choice. Her leaving her will end in her death,” he says patiently. “You want her blood on your hands?”

I chew on my cheek.

His words are a low blow, and he knows it.

He’s manipulating me, the same way I’d have manipulated anyone else.

“No.”

“Good. Then keep her happy. Let her realize you’re helping her and she's okay here. By the time this is over, you’ll have done something to feel proud of.” Harrison rocks back on his heels. “Unless you don’t want that.”

I chew on my cheek.

I have no choice but to agree with him, and he knows it.

“Eric?”

“Fine.”

I turn on my heel, reach for the door, and don’t look back. It slams shut, and the only thing that runs through my mind is how utterly fucked I am if this goes wrong.

The top of her head nears my chest.

I make a mental note of this as I walk past her to pull the covers back. I only have one bed in this apartment, and as exhausted as I am, I have no option but to let her sleep in it. I can’t risk her trying to leave in the middle of the night, nor will Harrison be happy if she sleeps on the couch.

I decide this is the only option for both of us.

Hardly wowed by my gestures, she looks like she might throw up. I shove the pillows at her, loathing the idea of this sleepover.

"I'll have to order another bed," I girt out. "I wasn't expecting to pick anyone tonight."

"Where will you sleep?" She asks.

Her gaze flits around the room as if she’ll find a way out.

"I have work to do, so I'll be up late regardless." I answer slickly as she climbs into the bed. She’s swallowed by the dark comforter as she pulls it over herself. "If you need something, I'll be in the living room. And while I doubt you will, don't do anything stupid. You won't get far. We aren't near an exit."

"I won't."

She glances down at her hands.

The defeat is easy to see, but so is the helplessness she must be feeling. My disdain over such a weakness would normally make me snap at her to perk the fuck up. She’s away from the auction, and no one will touch her. I’ve given her the most private space I have, made her dinner, and done my job to keep her alive. The least she could do is not look like she’s seconds away from being murdered.

I slowly realize I can’t control how she feels, even if Arlene has given her something to relax.

"Do you need anything?" I grit out. "Water?"

"Aren't I supposed to be getting you things?" She asks, and the comment makes me smirk. "Should I get you some water?"

"No. You can do that tomorrow."

I linger for a moment, making sure she’s really in bed. When I’m confident she’ll likely crash the second the lights are out, I flick the switch to turn them off. The room dims long enough for me to see her lie back, then the light on the nightstand turns off.

I give her a second, then leave the room and head straight for the front door.

“Tell me everything. I looked up the coordinates the control room has. They’re smart. You were in the middle of nowhere.”

Rachel’s voice is low on volume, but high on excitement. In the crowd of Clyde’s, she’s pressed toward me by a wave of soldiers trying to get to the bar. Her arm hits mine, then again when someone stumbles into her. She keeps talking but it’s now a little too crowded to be discussing this now.

“I heard she’s pretty. You did good, Coulter. Picked a girl from a faction we need an alliance with. Smart man.”

My answer is a noncommittal grunt. I supposed, in some way, the girl is pretty. Despite having barely spoken and looking like she knew I’d been put on trial for murder, she wasn’t horrible to look at. Not at all my type, nor would I ever find myself interested in someone so…. soft, but she was far from hideous. I imagine she had plenty of guys interested her back in Amity, and I know she had plenty who had bid on her at the auction.

The thought makes my stomach tense in an unfamiliar way.

“Well, they want them to sell. I can’t picture them making money off someone who looked like Four,” I throw out, snickering when Rachel’s eyes light up in amusement. “She’s fine. Predictably scared shitless, but she’ll be elsewhere soon.”

“Do I get to meet her?” Rachel’s eagerness is at an all-time high. “Eric, I can help you. I could –”

She’s cut off by the arrival of Jason and Rylan. Both shove past her with a look of irritation, but I welcome their distraction. Friendly or not, Rachel’s involvement in my life needs to stay professional. Though she could be helpful, it was mere days ago that she was in charge of what time I ate my lunch. I’m not about to let her feel that authority again.

“No, I’m good. Enjoy your night.” I wave her off as I join my friends in finding a table.

“Fuck, she’s annoying.” Jason glances over at Rachel, then huffs when she looks confused. “I get that you had to report to her, but man, I’d lose my mind if she thought she was gonna hang out with us. Why does she think she gets all the inside information first?”

“Yeah, we want to know before anyone. Your closest friends deserve the real tea.” Rylan flops into a worn booth and rolls his head from side to side. “Is Everly settled in yet?”

“She’s sleeping.”

I join him in the booth. I’m immediately handed a beer, and when Jason slides in next to me, the server hands him one, too. The crowd is lively tonight; the air is celebratory as a patrol triumphantly clinks their classes together, while another group is here for a birthday.

“That’s disappointing. I was hoping you’d bring her,” Rylan answers, oddly glumly. “She might like it here.”

I tilt my head at him, raising an eyebrow, and even Jason rolls his eyes.

“She just got here. Let her adjust before you try to be her best friend.” He laughs. “Did she tell you what you were hoping to hear?”

“Not really. I don’t think she was there long enough. I should have found someone who had been there for a few rounds.” I admit. “She was only there a couple of hours.”

“Did you see Miranda?” Jason wrinkles his nose. “Nelson was fucking livid you came back with someone else. They had to drag him out of the docking bay.”

“I didn’t. I saw whoever they deemed to be their top tier girls. I guess Miranda wasn’t one of them.” I shrug. “He can go fuck himself. If he wants his daughter back so badly, he can go find her.”

“I bet Miranda wouldn’t have gone with you anyway. She’s unhinged,” Rylan adds. “The last time I saw her, she was screaming about the price of boots and how Dauntless has become a capitalist hellscape. I think Christian was insulted.”

“I’m sure,” I snort. “Miranda wouldn’t have lasted more than a minute in the truck. Once she could get away, she would. Then I’d have been chewed out for letting her get run over.”

“So, was she there?” Jason leans in.

“Everly said her name at dinner, but beyond that, beats me.” I should feel some guilt over not trying to find the girl from Dauntless, but Miranda is a nightmare of a member, and her father’s threats are still fresh in my mind. “She didn’t seem to really know her or where she went.”

“I wonder if Miranda will ever return. She’s entertaining,” Jason sips his beer. “So, does Everly just stay with you until they go to trial? Will she go somewhere else?”

“Beats me. Harrison asked that she stay until he has more information. I guess if she goes back to Amity, or wanders away, they’ll know I wasn’t a serious buyer.” I sip my beer, and the cold liquid numbs the unease about this situation. “He seems worried.”

“I bet.” Jason leans over the table, and his eyes narrow. “Can I tell you what I think?”

“No,” Rylan answers, now typing on his phone. “Please don’t ever tell us about your inner thoughts.”

“I think,” Jason ignores Rylan. “you’ll be sent back there. I was downstairs earlier and Arlene is freaking the fuck out. Everly isn’t the first girl from the auction. Harrison found a few in the woods, and brought them here. He told her there are hundreds. I bet they’ll ask you to return to buy another.”

“No thanks,” I shake my head. “One is enough. I don’t want to spend my first assignment babysitting. One girl is fine, but a second will push me over the edge.”

“I could go. I could hide out and watch from afar.” Jason offers. “Maybe in the trees.”

“Yeah, that’ll totally work. Hey, where is she sleeping?” Rylan, still texting with a terrifying speed, looks up. “You only have one bed.”

“In the bed. You want me to make her sleep on the floor?” I snicker. “Harrison is way too involved. If I treat her like shit, he’ll know. I didn’t have many options.”

“Interesting,” Rylan says. “Will you order another bed?”

“Yeah, I will. Where the fuck do you think I’ll be sleeping?” I down half the beer, feeling better about this now.

Away from Everly, this feels normal.

Like old times.

Like Jason is about to laugh and show me Jeanine’s latest text, or Rylan will fall out of the booth over some ridiculous order Max has sent him. Like Four will come slinking into the bar, brooding as he takes the worst seat in hopes of seeing Tris. The natural order of Dauntless resumes as the soldiers spill into every free inch of Clyde’s; most nod hello or glance our way, and a few dare smile.

I settle back against the worn leather, and for the first time since this morning, I relax. The tenseness in my back undoes itself. My shoulders lower, my jaw unclenches as a smirk crosses my lips, and my head tilts as Kendall, the very same Kendall from the Tipsy Chicken who was so determined to get close to me, stumbles by with a guy who most definitely knows she’s not that into him. The bar grows loud –almost ear piercingly so. The air is warm but not unpleasant, and the scent of tobacco waifs through the room as Paul leaps across the bar to tell someone they can’t smoke in here.

Aside from the girl upstairs, asleep in my bed while soldiers guard the door, my life feels almost boringly normal.

He calls near two am.

I would assume he’s drunk, but Daniel rarely drinks. My guess is he’s finished a surgery that couldn’t wait, and he either assumes I don’t sleep or thinks I’ll be drunk enough to answer his call.

He’s not entirely wrong.

I’d normally decline his call. He was oddly supportive when I was arrested, especially given his position in Erudite. A prominent surgeon with a criminal son was hardly the look the Coulter family was going for, but he didn’t care. He thought he could use the time to reconnect. He thought that because I was locked in a jail cell, I’d want to speak to him.

I didn’t then, and I don’t now.

But I answer his call, buzzed off my last beer, and grit out an impolite hello.

“What?”

“Oh! I didn’t think you’d be up!” My father’s voice is too awake for such a late hour. “I just got done at the hospital and I wanted to call. I had a question but I figured I’d leave a message.”

“What is it?” I rub my hand over my face. “Is it urgent?”

“Maybe,” he answers, while also saying goodnight to someone at the hospital. “Have you heard anything about girls going missing? There’s a rumor from the security team that we’ve had a few patients vanish in the middle of the night. They didn’t find anything, but I was thinking maybe you’d be working on it.”

“I haven’t heard anything,” I answer flatly. “Nothing has been brought to my attention.”

“But you’re back as a Leader now, correct? I got the email from the Ambassador saying you’d been reinstated as one.” He continues down some hallway, telling a nurse her patient’s light is on. “Blythe sent it to me, too. I told her –”

“Yes, I’m back as a Leader.”

I wouldn’t normally entertain him this long, but I don’t have much else to do. I arrive at my apartment to the soldiers waiting. A quick nod confirms Everly didn’t try to leave, and when I open the door, it’s dark.

“The security team said a girl showed up begging for help. Her husband came to get and her and claimed it was a misunderstanding, but they thought it seemed off. Perhaps you heard about this?” Daniel continues. “It was last week.”

“There are some…concerns that I’ve heard. Something about…a group taking women. It could be related. I’ll let you know if I hear anything else.” I walk past the kitchen and flop down onto the couch.

I turn the TV on, and beneath the white glow, sit back with a sigh.

“If you hear or see anything strange, will you call?” I ask, knowing he’ll jump at the chance. “I’ll keep an eye out. Just…watch your patients, I guess.”

“Yes.” Surprised, he takes a second to answer. “Eric, are you –”

“I’m fine.” I cut him off, pulling the phone away from my ear, and listen to what sounds like footsteps.

I don’t hear it again, and I decide I’m over tired.

“I gotta go. Let me know if the security team says anything else.” I fight back a yawn. “Or not.”

“I will.”

He starts to speak, but the phone disconnects. He must be deep in the hospital, because when I try to call back –a strange move on my part –he doesn’t answer.

I toss the phone aside, and rest my head against the cushion.

I don’t miss him.

I don’t like him.

I don’t care if he has missing patients or not.

But for once, it’s almost nice to hear his voice.

Almost.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seventeen: Silent Orders and Silent Wars

She’s dead asleep.

I stop by the bed for just a moment –long enough to make sure she’s breathing and not a second more. Buried beneath my comforter and clutching my pillow, she sleeps as though she doesn’t have a care in the world.

She does, I’m sure.

I imagine the night was uncomfortable before she fell asleep, but my room is quiet. It’s dark. Away from the main faction, and nowhere near anyone who made a lot of noise. It’s not the Leader’s apartment I’m supposed to have, but the housing administration generously gave me one that wasn’t terrible. I could push the issue and demand to move, but I haven’t given it much thought. For now, it's fine.

With a sigh, I leave Everly asleep, trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do with her.

The shower does little to pacify my thoughts.

Harrison calls the second I grab a towel, and his voice is loud in my ear. There’s a mechanical whirl behind him, and when someone yells in the background, it sounds like he’s on a farm. I swear someone calls him dad, but I might be more tired than I thought.

“Where the fuck are you?” I rub my face with my hand, trying to wake up from sleeping a few scant hours on the couch. “And what is that noise?”

“I’m outside. Listen, I need a favor. Call Rylan and see if he’ll meet me in an hour. He didn’t answer, but I need someone else to head here. I want to see if they left anything behind. We should be there by –”

His phone drops the call.

I would call him back, but my email beeps, and I discover Arlene has spent all night drafting her most inner thoughts on the situation. They range from telling me this is great opportunity, to admitting Everly might never adjust to being here, to begging me not to mention the tracker they likely placed on her. She confesses to knowing each girl has one, and to leave it alone until they are confident my purchase is real. Once I’m sure things are on track, I can reveal my true motives. Her last message notates a bruise she saw that she’d like me to check out, and I know why. She wants to make sure I’m not hurting Everly, and she has every reason to think I might.

I shut my eyes when I read her final one asking that I bring Everly by weekly to get checked out.

Weekly.

Fuck.

Before I can throw my phone at the wall, Four calls me.

I debate not answering, but there are very few reasons he’d ever call, and I should probably answer.

“What the fuck do you want?” I answer as cordially as I can. “Why are you –”

“Is the girl okay?” He cuts me off with a curt tone. “I was assigned to help with this. Harrison has been roping in anyone who has a free hour or two. He told me you have a girl named Everly living with you, and I’m supposed to check in. I’m also check in with whoever goes with him or the auction.”

My vision blurs.

A world where Four oversees my work is one I have don’t want to be in.

“You’re supposed to check in?” I ask mockingly. “You must feel like a real man being ordered to see what I’m doing.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He responds flatly. “I don’t give a shit what you’re doing. My job is to make sure you don’t find the girl a threat. Isn’t that what you’re best at? Thinking people are out to get you?”

“Oh, come on Four. Are you telling me you don’t trust me?” I wrap the towel around my waist, and head toward my dresser. “Why not?”

He ignores what I just said. “Is the girl alright or not? Is she adjusting well?”

"Yeah, it's going swimmingly. Do you know if Harrison sent anyone yet? I know Jason said he'd go. He was optimistic he'll find his soulmate by hiding in the trees."

My tone drips with sarcasm. I have no clue how much he knows about this mission, but him prying into anything I’m doing pisses me off.

“Eric, does she know what you’re doing?” Four asks. “Have you explained your assignment to her, or does she think you bought her to live with you?”

I glance at the bed, but it’s hard to see Everly beneath my sheets.

"She's… yeah. I haven't told her. I don't think she'd be any happier to hear that. Arlene said it'll take a few days for her to acclimate, and I should wait until then. I got thirty emails from her this morning." I grab a shirt, then crush it in my hand, feeling like I’ve said way too much. "And that was all before six."

“I don’t care what time people are emailing you,” Four answers tightly. “Harrison wants confirmation she’s slept, is eating, and is alive. I’m not calling because I want to hang out with you nor do I want to be assigned anything you’re involved in. Ever.”

I stretch my head from side to side, trying to shove down the realization that I will have to deal with Four now, too.

"She slept. I don't know how well, but I didn't hear anything. As far as I know, she didn't get up."

I head back to the bathroom, ignoring the way Everly has pulled all the covers over her.

“Let’s not forget she’s the victim here. Not you,” Four snaps. He must be on one today, because he’s usually reserved, as if being moody and silent proved he was superior. “And the way this is shaping up, someone close to her knows what’s going on.”

“You think this is an inside job?” Surprised by his comment, I pause near the vanity. “And I don’t disagree. They’re all victims. Every girl there. They were told how to act or threatened to be disciplined by any means necessary. Have you been there, Four?”

I’m met with silence.

It drags on until he clears his throat.

“No, I have not.”

“Then don’t act like you have.”

I hang up on him, then send Harrison a message informing him that Four is never to call me again.

"Do you want something to eat?"

She jumps at the sound of my voice. I’m used to people being afraid of me, but it’s odd to see her startle like she’s about to be slammed into the wall. She stands with her hand on the refrigerator, unmoving. I don’t know if she’s still out of it from the serum, but when she turns, her eyes are clear.

They lock on mine, unblinking.

"Um, yes. I can make you something if you want," she offers. "Do you like… toast?"

"No."

I eye her up and down before out of the way to open the refrigerator door. There are a few visible bruises on her, but nothing new. She’s easy to push aside as I rifle through the fridge, yet she stays nearby, watching me like she’ll be quizzed on this.

"I have a few questions for you, and then you can go… do something." I wrack my brain, trying to make this easy for the both of us. "Do you like coffee?"

"I've never had it." She answers. She looks odd in my kitchen: too small, bare legs, and bare feet. Her head near barely reaches the bottom of cabinets, and her stare is curious when I pull out a pitcher Rylan left. "What is that?"

"Coffee."

"Is it good?" She steps back, away from me until she’s against the counter. I glance down, and something catches my eye. "Do you drink a lot of it?"

"I do." I turn, and my lungs flatten. "Hop up there. I have to look at something."

"What?" She freezes. "What are you looking at?"

"Your leg." I answer sharply. "Arlene sent a message and I'm supposed to look at some bruise. If I don't, she'll come up here herself and neither of us want that."

"I'm not hurt."

Her answer is understandably defensive. She makes no move to show me her leg, so I reach for her, pick her up, and set her on the counter. I’d do the same to any initiate that didn’t immediately listen to my orders, but she’s not an initiate. She looks horrified when I grab her leg and pull it toward me. Her skin is cold, and there’s a huge bruise that Shannon didn’t mention.

"Did you do this in Amity?" I press down firmly to make sure it’s real. "They said you had no bruising. I'm supposed to make sure you still don't."

"I probably hit it when I was home. They didn't look under my dress," She answers tightly. "They only cared what was visible."

"I see."

My hands stay on her leg, below her knee.

She’s a major risk.

Not only do I have Arlene worried that I’ll hurt her, but she’s also clumsy enough to confirm that theory.

"Did you often get hurt in Amity?" I straighten up, and seated on the counter, she’s almost tall enough to be eye to eye. "They assured me you were coordinated."

"No," she hesitates. "I probably hit it on the stairs or something."

I drop her leg and the pressure in my chest lessens.

The bruise is nothing major, but I’ll have to keep an eye on her if she leaves the apartment. I don’t need her falling down the stairs to hitting her shin on anything else.

"Stay there. I'll make you something to drink." I leave her on the counter to grab a few glasses. I pour myself a drink first, then hers. I add the syrup Rylan left behind. He claimed it was amazing and saved him points from buying it downstairs, but I thought it tasted like shit.

I hand her the cup, and she looks at it suspiciously.

"The syrup is Rylan's. He left it here. I don't normally use it, but I thought you might like it."

She takes a sip, and some of the color returns to her face. "I do."

Content with her drink, she leans back against the cabinet and watches me. I throw together an omelet, thinking some protein will be best. I idly wonder if she’s a vegetarian, but she ate chicken last night and didn’t say anything. As the eggs heat up, I decide to use my time wisely.

"When you were in Amity, did your father ever talk about you choosing another faction?" I ask, opening the cabinet beneath her. "Or did he say anything about the Choosing Ceremony?"

"No. I know what it is, but he didn't mention it. My mom told me picking Amity would be the easiest and would help them, but she never brought it up again." She answers as I stand, and we lock eyes. She’s still afraid of me, but less so now that she has something to distract her. "They talked a lot about my brother's Choosing Ceremony, but not mine."

"Would you have picked Amity?"

"Yes." Her response is quick, but thick with dismay.

"Is your brother older?" I scramble the eggs in the pan, waiting for her to answer. "Did you hear me, Everly?"

Her fingers tighten on the cup. “Forrest is five years older than me."

"And the others?"

I looked them up.

She has a large family, with way too many brothers and sisters. Having grown up with zero siblings, I find her family suffocating. There’s no way she got any real attention from either parent, but there’s also no way she wasn’t forced to help raise her siblings. Her brother is close to my age, but her sisters are young enough to be lured into the woods by someone.

"The rest are younger."

"Are you close with your sisters?" I ask. "I saw you had a few."

"I am. Do you…. do you think the same thing will happen to them?" Everly looks at me, now panic stricken. "Will they get taken, too?"

"They might." I shrug. "How much younger are they?"

"They're three years younger. Their names are Paisley and Holly," she answers quickly. "What if… what if Landon brings them to the same place that he brought me?"

"Then I guess someone will bid on them." I answer tightly, as a dull headache starts. "Or not."

"Maybe your friends can bring them here. What about the other soldiers? Or you? Maybe you can get them?" She looks at me, hope blossoming on her face, but I shake my head.

"I think I'm good."

"Oh." She leans back in defeat.

"I wouldn't worry about that now," I tell her. I hand her plate, and she looks surprised "Here. We can eat at the table."

"Okay."

She hops down off the counter, displaying some minor athletic ability, and joins me at the table. She heads toward the same seat as last night, and I can feel her staring at me intently. The air is the room is thick with tension, almost stifling.

"What are you going to do with me?" She asks. "What do I have to do to –"

"Everly," I interrupt with a scowl. "Eat your breakfast. I have to be at work in an hour. I'm not doing anything to you that you need to worry about."

The headache worsens.

I don’t know why, but her lack of trust bugs the shit out of me. I don’t need her to like me, but I do need her to trust what I’m saying and listen to my instructions.

"Do you promise?" Her voice shakes. “Really?”

I nod. "Yeah, I do. Now sit and eat before it gets cold."

She finally sits down. The apartment is quiet aside from my phone beeping. I check it to see Rylan’s message, then one from Arlene informing me she’s sent over a prescription for both Everly and me. Determined to make this right, she wants Everly to take…vitamins.

That’ll surely fix her.

"Does anyone else live here?" Everly asks.

I glance up, and her eyes fall to my phone.

“Is it just you?"

"It's just me. And now you." I smirk, but it’s because of Rylan’s text. Apparently, someone is crying in the cafeteria, and he heard a rumor it was Four. "Did you have friends in Amity? Anyone you were especially close to?"

"Yeah, Sophia and Courtney." She informs me. "There were others. But they were my best friends."

"Anyone you think might pick Dauntless?" I look right at her, imagining her friends look just like her: small, defenseless, and naive. "Either of them? Maybe someone else?"

"I don't think they'd pick Dauntless. They really like Amity. Maybe…" She takes a bite of her eggs before she nods. "Maybe Jake. He wants to leave. Um, he has some friends who'd go with him."

"Okay." I lean back in my chair, debating if I should look the kid up.

The Choosing Ceremony isn’t that far away, and there’s a small chance someone will recognize her if they pick Dauntless. There’s a chance they’ll ask questions, too.

Not that I’d answer them.

My phone rings again, presumably Rylan to confirm it was Four, but I ignore it.

"What's your middle name?" I ask her, unable to stop my curiosity. I don’t know anyone from Amity, so I guessed she was named after a flower or cloud or something fragile. My search came up with nothing, which pissed me off. "I couldn't find one."

"I don't have one."

Her answer surprises me. She’s much more relaxed now. I wouldn’t call her enjoyable to talk to her, but it’s she’s not the worst person I’ve eaten breakfast with.

"Me, either."

We resume eating in easy silence. She doesn’t seem to mind the quiet. It takes her forever to eat her breakfast, but I’m in no hurry. Despite this assignment, I’m scheduled to be in my office for a few hours. I decide I’ll leave her here, then take her on a short tour of Dauntless. Not that I want her knowing where she’s going, but it might make her feel at ease if she sees the faction.

I take her plate to put in the sink, then grab my jacket.

"I'll be back by eleven. There are clothes on the dresser. If you need anything, it'll have to wait until I'm back. Do not try to leave. There are soldiers expecting you to run. They'll take you down by any force necessary." I glance at her while I button the jacket. "Do you understand?"

"Yes."

Satisfied with her answer, I leave. I nod at the guards, make sure the door is locked, then head to the elevator. By the time I reach my office, a call comes through that leaves me rethinking my entire life.

“What did she say?”

With the grace of a collapsing bookshelf, Rylan drops into the chair opposite my desk. He flicks his hair out of his eyes, then settles into the worn leather.

“Eric?”

“It was Shannon. She said she my satisfaction is her highest priority, and she was giving me a courtesy call to ensure everything is to my liking.” I rub my temples, knowing it’s the lack of sleep that’s hurting my head. “They can see that Everly is in Dauntless, and so far, things have been uneventful. So, either they’re tracking her and watching her vitals, or they have a spy here.”

“It’s the tracker. Each girl is implanted with something to monitor them. It’s how they know if they’re alive or dead. I can only assume it shows her heart rate and since you haven’t dangled her off the chasm, they’re concerned. I would bet most of the girl’s stats are off the charts.” Four, daringly brave as he steps into my office, crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m here to tell you that you’ll have to scare her enough to raise her heart rate.”

“Scare her?” I lean back to stare down my nose at him. “Oh, isn’t that funny? You come in here and suggest that I’m the one who has to scare her?”

He stares back at me.

Since I’ve been gone, he looks...healthier. Less mopey, like he’s spent some time in the gym working out his angst.

“I’m not condoning it. I simply repeating what Harrison said.” He glances down at Rylan, disapproval all over his face. “Unless you don’t care what happens to her.”

His words are taunting.

“I don’t even care what happens to you,” I point out. “Why would I care about some girl?”

“Maybe take her to the Pit. The fighting might freak her out,’” Rylan suggests.

“It might. And personally, I don’t give a shit if you care or not. Isn’t this your assignment?” Four asks. “I can’t imagine this will go well if you don’t make it look real.”

“Fine. I’ll scare her. Then I’ll go pick up my tuxedo for the wedding you’ll insist I have.” With an eye roll, I click on my laptop, only to be met with ten emails from Arlene and two from my father. “How do you know she has a real tracker?”

“Harrison told me.”

Four tenses when I look up and tilt my head. His uniform jacket is faded and worn, but at least it fits. For the first few years, he was drowning in the black fabric. I found it amusing that he demanded respect yet looked as sloppy as he could.

“What kind of tracker?” Rylan sounds intrigued. “Like the ones we use?”

“I don’t know, just that they think it’s implanted on her. Isn’t this on her paperwork?” Four sounds suspicious. “I would think they’d let you know they’re watching her.”

“I’m sure.” I answer dismissively.

It was on the papework.

I’d read about it when I signed for her, but I assumed it was for show. Unless this lady had access to a lab, I have no clue where she’d be able to get her hands on hundreds of implantable tracking devices. Regardless, it must be in Everly’s neck. It’s where the bruise is, and the only place other than her leg or face that has a mark.

“Anything else?” I respond to Arlene, okaying the vitamins and a few other things, then Daniel. He mentions a girl showing up screaming about her arm being broken, yet they couldn’t find her name in any system. She left without treatment, and security showed her vanishing into the faction before disappearing out of sight. “Or can I get to work?”

“Good luck.” Four leaves with a dark look on his face.

Rylan watches him, then shakes his head. “How thrilled are you that you get to work with him again?”

“I wouldn’t call Four being assigned to help Harrison working together, but I’m sure he’s having the time of his life.” My tone is dry as ever. I type a quick response to Daniel, asking for more information. “You really think the pit will freak her out?”

“That or the roof.” He shrugs.

“Maybe.”

I close my eyes, the open them to Harrison wandering into my office like he’s teleported in. The influx of visitors is annoying. Expected, but still annoying.

“The roof might be too much. If you want this to be legit, she’ll need to know how to get inside in case someone asks.” Like Four, he walks right in and crosses his arms. Unlike Four, he sits beside Rylan. “The fights will work. I doubt she’s ever seen someone get punched in the face.”

“Can I ask what your thought process is on this? Why you are so confident that I am the person she should stay with? Especially when we have people like Four living here?” I hit send on the email, and Harrison laughs. “Or Rylan.”

“I’m practically engaged, but thanks for thinking of me,” Rylan snickers.

“You’re single. Bored. A handsome mother fucker looking to redeem himself. Other than that, you were available. I know you want your old life back, and helping me is a way to get that.”

Harrison’s answer hangs in the air.

“Take her around this afternoon. Let her panic on her own. She was never going to pick Dauntless, so being here should be enough of a shock for her. I think you’ll find her freaked out no matter what. Just make sure it’s enough to keep this Shannon off your ass.” He pauses. “It’ll buy me some time.”

“Right.”

I shut my eyes again, and Harrison kicks Rylan’s boot as hard as he can.

“What the fu –”

“Does he have a headache? He looks ill.” Harrisons speaks to Rylan like I’m not here. “Who are you texting?”

“Ow, that hurt. And I have no clue if Eric has a headache. Maybe he didn’t sleep well or maybe it’s because Four was just here.” Rylan scowls. “I’m texting Quinten to see what’s for lunch.”

“Quit bothering the staff,” Harrison mildly reprimands him. “And let me know what Max says when you see him.”

“About what?” Confused as ever, Rylan pauses his mid-morning harassment of the lead cook to stare at Harrison.

“The plan.”

“What plan?”

“You know what plan.”

They argue back and forth, until Harrison announces he has to go, and I realize I’m not going to get anything done. They argue louder but agree to meet later on as I slam the laptop shut, rub my temples, and figure I can swing by the infirmary before I grab Everly.

A tour of Dauntless is low on my list of priorities, but I might as well get started.

Of course, she is overwhelmed by the faction.

Not just the violence, the crowd, or the swell of soldiers returning from their patrols, but the way Dauntless exists itself.

In the middle of the Pit, two men fight each other for points. They aren’t friends or enemies, but merely looking to win not the only fight, but the points people have bet them. Both are decent fighters, maybe a year or two older than me and in prime shape. I watch with little interest as one punches the other in the face, and though his nose bleeds, the man doesn't stop. He knocks the other man into the ropes, then slams his fist right in the guy's mouth. One spits blood on the floor, and Everly’s eyes widen in horror.

She's close to me. Her arm hits mine as she is pushed inwards by the crowd.

"This the Pit. Every week, we have fights for members to bet on. These two are fighting for points. The winner gets enough to be off work for a few months. If you've bet on the fight, and you win, you get whatever points you've wagered."

I reach down to take hold of her elbow as another group joins us. I tighten my grip as we joined by a rowdy group, keeping my hand on her as she leans into me to avoid being touched by those moving past us.

"What if they get really hurt? Will they die?"

Her question is genuine, as is the way her eyes search for a way out of here.

There is none.

In a borrowed black dress and boots, she could pass as someone from Dauntless. A quick scan of the crowd wouldn’t have anyone staring suspiciously, unless they looked too hard. Her hair hangs loosely, long enough that someone could grab it and yank her backwards. Her skin holds a hint of color now but she still appears ill. When I glance down at her, her posture is tense.

I have the feeling she wandered through the apartment, looking for something to figure out who I was.

Anyone would.

I scan the crowd as another group joins the sides, and to my displeasure, there appear to be more people here than patrolling.

"Most of these people should be at work. I wonder if Harrison knows –"

"Hey! Eric! Everly!"

I hear his voice as Rylan makes his way through the crowd as dramatically as possible. His expression is unfortunately wild and he slaps me on the arm as hard as he can. As though he wasn’t just in my office, and we hadn’t parted ways after I promised to call him once I went back home.

"You ass! You said you'd call me back and you didn't." His grin widens when he looks at Amity. "Hi, Everly. How are you enjoying Dauntless?"

"Um… it's…" She looks up at me, and I know she’s afraid to say the wrong thing. "It's… good so far. What I've seen, at least."

"Did Eric take you to the jails?!" Rylan asks, ignoring the way I turn to glare at him. "Or the underground tunnels?"

"Why would I take her to the jails?" I stare at him like he’s lost his mind. "And no. She's seen very little of the faction, but she's been here a day. I'm sure she'll see more over the next week."

"Oh, so she can't go with me to the basement? Or the –"

"No." I shake my head.

He and Jason love going into the deepest layers of Dauntless, but I don’t think Everly will.

Though it might scare her enough to register on the tracker.

"Why not!?"

"I don't want to go the basement." She shakes her head. "Are you here to fight?"

"Me?" Rylan blinks, and I can see the wheels in his head turning. "No. I'm banned from fighting. I'm too powerful for anyone to fight against. We need soldiers, and if I fight everyone, we'll have no one left."

"Oh." She looks confused, but I make no move to explain Rylan. "It sounds… like you're very strong."

"I am."

"Everly and I have to get going. Are you sticking around?" My fingers tighten on her when the crowd steps backwards as one of the men is thrown over the ropes. "Harrison wants to meet at five if you're free."

"No, I'm meeting Tori. She wants to go to Erudite and I told her I'd drive. I already talked to Harrison. He said…" Rylan pauses, and he’s oddly frustrated. "He said we need to be careful. If they don't think she's being used for what you bought her for, they'll figure something is up. He wants me to put my name in for the next time. Jason might be a better choice, but Jason wasn't sure he could go through with it."

He stares at me, silently begging me to just tell Everly she’s safe here. That she can be his friend and nothing bad will happen.

"Right. I'll have her run some laps or something." I shrug, and his expression darkens. "What?"

"I think this would be easier if she knew." He clamps his mouth shut when my lips press together. "It's your call, though."

"I already spoke to Harrison about it. The less she knows, the better."

I’m not entirely lying. I have my orders. For the first few days, I’m supposed to get her to trust me, ask her what I need to hear, then I can tell her what’s going on. Rylan knows this, which is why his sudden change of heart is frustrating.

I curtly tell him that I’ll see him later. I pull Everly through the crowd, and find myself oddly angry. The whiplash of Rylan’s plea to tell Everly the truth makes me see red. I know he doesn’t want me to fuck this up, but it feels like everyone and everything is working against me. Being overly sympathetic towards a girl he just met is going to land me in hot water.

I know what I need to do.

I walk her into the dark hallway, then shove her into the shadows. I stop her before she can hit the wall and grasp her by the arms. Then I bend down until my face is inches away from hers.

"Listen to me, because I'm only going to tell you this once: you are to do as I say, and only what I say. Not just because I bought you," I pause. "But because it'll keep you alive."

She swallows.

"If you don't, and you try to run or you think you're going to get out of here, you won't stay alive for long. If I don't find you, they will. Do you promise that you'll do as I say?"

"I will." Her stare drops, and her whole body is as tense as the wall behind her. "I said I'd listen. Just tell me what you want me to do."

"Good." I loosen my grip, leaning in further. "You need to trust me. If you can get through the next few months, you'll be fine."

Months.

The slip up is too large for me to comprehend right now, so I don’t correct myself.

"What happens then?" She cranes her head up to look at me, and her eyes appear wet. "Will you let me go?"

"No."

I drop my hands away, and my shoulders rise.

"No more questions, Everly. And don't go anywhere with Rylan."

I wave for her to follow me, and I don’t look back.

The first text comes right before noon.

Just checking in. We noticed some movement, so perhaps she’s getting used to Dauntless after all! Let me know if I can help in any way. –S

My stomach burns with discomfort as I glance at Everly out of the corner of my eye.

We’re standing on the edge of the rooftop, along a narrow ledge. I nudge her forward, toward the opening where the initiates jump. I bump her arm on purpose; if she were coming here as an initiate, I’d sneer and shove her off the roof. I could do that now, but I doubt she’d trust me after.

The sunlight beats down us, making my neck hot as she wavers with a funny look on her face.

"Are you afraid?" I ask, noticing the way she’s staring down.

"What's at the bottom?" She sways on her feet, and I grab her arm. "Is there water?"

"There's a net. This is where the initiates jump." I step down from the ledge, leaving her there. "If they don't, they're out."

"Why?" She looks right at me. Beneath the sunlight, she’s as pale as a ghost. "What happens then?"

"They become factionless." I shrug. "We usually don't see them again. At least, not for a while."

"That's…"

She loses her balance, but before she can fall into the abyss, I pull her forward, right off the ledge. She hits my chest as she stumbles, and I can feel the panic radiating off her.

"You're fine." I throw out. "I've got you. You wouldn't die, even if you fell. Everyone who chooses Dauntless jumps down there. It's safe."

The heat sears around us.

My phone vibrates, and I half wonder if Shannon caught this blip on the radar. I assume Amity isn’t afraid of heights, but doesn’t enjoy them. It was a wild guess, and I was right. Her breathing is erratic, and she hasn’t looked up. Her hands clutch my jacket, and I’m surprised I didn’t notice.

"Everly." I say her name so loudly she jumps. "Are you alright? I asked if you need to sit down."

"I didn't hear you." Her hands shake, but she doesn’t let go. "I don't know what's wrong. I'm not scared of heights, but I don't want to be up here."

"You're fine." I answer evenly. "I needed you to see this."

It takes her a second, but her breathing slows. She eventually pulls her hands back, and I tell her to sit down while I answer the phone.

"What?" I snarl when I see Max’s name.

“I got word you brought Everly outside. Are you aware of your orders, Eric?” His tone is wildly condescending. “The control room is reporting she looks terrified.”

"Yeah, I'm aware. I brought her to roof where the initiates jump. That's it. She's good now." I pause to glance at her out of the corner of my eye.

She’s sitting with her knees to her chest and her head down.

“Do you need a medic? Is she going to pass out?”

"No." I answer nastily. “She’s fine.”

“Listen, I had an idea. What if we have her join the initiation class? It’s been discussed that keeping her with you might not be the most believable move. If you want, we can have her join them when it's time. Four can keep an eye on her, she’ll learn to fight, there will be others her age…” He trails off.

I shake my head. "She wouldn't survive the initiation. Not without my help. It runs two months. I don't have that time –"

“Think about it. She might make an excellent soldier when this is over.”

"It would be incredibly suspicious for her to rank high enough to stay. Four will have an absolute fit over skewing the rankings. Not to mention we'd be kicking out an actual viable solider so she could take their place."

Max is silent.

He exhales slowly, knowing I’m right.

“He’s willing to help. I spoke with him earlier. She can attend the Choosing Ceremony so it looks official. The Amity faction will be there. Perhaps we’ll get some answers out of them. She might surprise you. Perhaps the Amity faction is stronger than you think.”

"That would be laughable." I snap, oddly defensive over her being in the next initiation. "Look, it's rumored that Amity will be providing the catering for the Choosing Ceremony. Harrison mentioned it's their turn, and they'll be in attendance, presumably those who deal with the food orders. I don't see how it's relevant past that's where she's from."

I head toward her, and she keeps her head down.

“We can use her. She’s young enough to make it through and return to the auction as soldier. She’ll know her way around better than any of us. Think about it. It’s an idea I’ve been tossing around with Tori.”

"That would make her a pawn in our game. Not theirs." I pull the phone from my ear and the end the call.

Everly doesn’t move.

The words sting my brain as I think of her returning to the auction, soldier or not. There’s no way they wouldn’t find it weird to see her back, especially after a few months. It’s not possible she’d even make it through the training. The initiates who show up have been blood thirsty and violent, thinking it’ll prove how brave they are.

My hand drops to touch her hair.

It’s silky beneath my fingers, so I pull my hand away and tap her arm.

"Come on. We're done for the day. You can go home and take a nap or something. Whatever you want. We'll grab lunch on the way." I scowl at the thought, but she looks exhausted. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

She sits up straight, and she looks anything but fine.

"Let's go."

Knowing the Control Room is watching, I leave without helping her up and head into the stairwell.

"What did you do to her? She looks ill."

Outside of Clyde’s, Rylan lounges against a giant, fake bear.

He chews on a straw while frantically typing on his phone. His smile drops when he looks at her, and his sympathy is like nails on a chalkboard; he shouldn’t feel bad that I’m keeping her alive, and if he’s so invested, he can watch her.

"I took her to the roof. Harrison requested she know how to get into Dauntless." I explain mockingly. My palm finds her lower back, as I push her toward the restaurant. "Now we're here with you."

"Only the initiates enter Dauntless that way. We have a front door," Rylan rolls his eyes, but his mood immediately resumes being as cheerful as ever. "Hey, they have tacos right now."

"Oh good."

I humorlessly walk with him into the restaurant. Clyde’s is crowded and noisy, but it’s the perfect way to kill some time. Every table and booth is full, and when we walk by, everyone looks at her. Their stares are exactly I expect from those who know what’s going on; some stare in a way that hint they'd consider going to the auction if it meant they got a wife who looks like her, while others look worried.

Especially Rachel.

Seated a table with friends, her eyes are glued to us. When Everly is close enough, Rachel grabs her wrist.

"Is she alright? "Rachel stands, and her stare flies to mine.

"Eric? Is she alright?" She demands. "Harrison told me –"

"She's fine. Everly, this is Rachel. She oversees one of the better patrols." I smirk, but I keep my hand on Everly. I push her away from Rachel, disliking the way Rachel is holding onto Everly like she’s afraid I’ll do something stupid. "Don't touch her."

"Why?" Rachel cocks her head me. Her eyes flash with hurt, but she backs down. "Fine. If you need anything, let me know. I'll help you however I can."

"That won't be necessary," My fingers dig into Everly’s back. I step close enough that her head hits my chest. "She's good."

"Is she?" Rachel questions, dropping her stare to Everly. "I certainly hope so. Is she staying with you?"

Her voice is full of concern. When I nod, her eyes tighten, and I know she assumed I’d ask her for help with this case. The idea is laughable; I don’t need anyone's help.

"Okay." Rachel relents. "I didn't think…" She pauses, and her next words are spoken directly to Everly. "Welcome to Dauntless. You can always come find me if you need any help."

"Thanks. It's nice to meet you," Everly answers politely as my fingers press harder, urging her to keep walking. "Thank you for the offer, but I'm alright." Everly looks up at me, and I nod my approval. "I promise."

"Of course." Rachel sits down, but her stare stays on Everly. "Enjoy your lunch."

"We will." I flash her a condensing grin. "Keep going. We're sitting in the booth on the left, where the guy with the red hair is."

"Okay."

She doesn’t move. She looks at Rachel, hesitating as someone laughs at the next table. For a second, she waits as loud conversation fills the air, and I hear her name whispered a few times. She keeps looking toward the back, where a group of girls are giggling.

"Any day now, Everly."

I lean down, murmuring her name. My hand stays on her back, even when she keeps walking. For some reason, I don’t pull it away from her. I should. She’s fine, she reaches the table, and no one is grabbing at her. But I leave it there for everyone to see, then I slide into the booth beside her, just a little too close.

The report arrives as we eat.

I read it while Rylan tries to convince everyone that he potentially has a long lost sister, and nearly roll my eyes at the text.

Everly’s friend has reported her missing.

Not her parents.

Not her brother.

Not Johanna, the Leader of Amity, or Jerry, the representative they picked to attend the Leader’s meetings.

But a girl named Sophia.

The report is sparse with details but plentiful with statements. Sophia claims there is no reason Everly would willingly walk away from Amity, and no reason for her to go missing. She claims she has no enemies. No foes. No one out for revenge or hoping to get back at the Carlen family. She states that Everly is a good person, and asks could we please look into where Landon took her for lunch because maybe she’s in the woods, lost or hurt.

I respond to Harrison, asking who Sophia is, and his answer is immediate.