Page 162 of The Sixth Fraction

Marcus stands at the top of the stairs with his hands up, Andrew Prior at his back, his hands empty—he must have lost his gun at some point. Holding them both at gunpoint are two factionless, I assume the ones who were guarding the door of the simulation room—one is a tall, slim man in a well-tailored jacket, and the other is younger, slim and mean-looking, with dark circles under his eyes.

And across the room, with two other factionless lackeys at her back, is my mother. Armed with both a gun and a smile.

I don’t want to leave Tris’s side after what just happened—

After the thing I can’t even think about right now—

But I have to make this stop. So I draw my weapon and cross the room in a few long strides and plant myself in front of Marcus, facing my mother.

“Tobias,” Evelyn says.

“Evelyn,” I say.

“Step aside, please.”

“No.”

Her eyes are fixed, not on me but on the man she can see over my shoulder. There’s a hungry gleam in them.

“We both know you’re not going to shoot me,” she says.

“And you’re not going to shoot me, either. So here we are.” I lower my gun, but don’t move.

Finally, she looks at me.

“I don’t understand you,” she says. “I know you want this as much as I do.”

“I’m not sure what you think you’ll accomplish as a goddamn puppet of Jeanine Matthews,” I say. “But what you’re not going to do is kill my father right in front of me. So stop pretending that’s what’s going to happen.”

Evelyn’s face contorts. She doesn’t move, but I can tell she’s wavering. I still know her, I think. I know her like I know myself. Years of absence may separate us, but we were one entity for so long, stealing moments of respite wherever we could get them, sharing dread and pain and rage every day that we lived together in that house.

All my good memories from before I chose are of her. If I know how to love anyone, it’s because of her.

“Mom,” I say, and it’s the first time I’ve called her that since she came back from the dead. It seems to startle her; I know it startles me. The sound of it and the feeling of it, so much bigger and heavier than it’s supposed to be. Mom.

My throat tight, I go on: “If you let us go now, I promise I’ll help you find what you’re looking for. Just not today. Okay?”

I think she might have tears in her eyes. But it could just be a trick of the light. She lowers her gun and gestures to the others to do the same.

I cross the lobby to Tris’s side. She’s standing right where I left her, empty-eyed, hands limp at her side. I take her hand, and she looks up at me, her eyes glassy. I think of the dark hallway we just left, where she screamed like nothing I’d ever heard. Like a wild animal with its leg in a trap. Like she had turned agony into a sound.

She follows me across the lobby with Andrew and Marcus. I breathe in the moist air just as it starts to rain. Before we start walking, though, I look back to meet my mother’s eyes.

She nods, and I know this isn’t over, not by a long shot.

“Caleb?” Andrew Prior asks me, once we’re a few yards away from Dauntless headquarters.

I turn to face him. I don’t know how to give voice to what happened. I’m certainly not going to describe it for him now, with Tris at my side. But Andrew’s face falls as soon as I hesitate. He already knows. He likely knew the moment we stepped out of that doorway without his son.

“We ran into trouble,” I say. “I’m sorry.”

Andrew presses a hand to his stomach and turns away from me. He hunches over, his body caving in like he was just punched in the gut. I feel the sudden urge to drag Tris away from here as he makes a horrible, twisted sound.

I close my eyes. I don’t want to watch the aftermath. I don’t want to think about the way it felt—to hear the gun go off and to not know if it was Caleb shooting me, or Tris shooting him. To feel the sudden absence of that metal against my scalp. The pressure of a still-warm body against my leg. The blood pooling on the floor. Caleb’s disfigured face against the stone.

I don’t want to think about how she did that to save my life.

Marcus puts an arm around Andrew, speaking softly to him. I know we can’t linger here. Whatever truce I just arranged with Evelyn, she might go back on it any second.