Page 149 of The Sixth Fraction

Eric’s eyes shift to me and then narrow.

“I brought her as insurance,” Evelyn replies. “Just in case we ran into you. And since you sent her to me as a spy . . .” Evelyn shrugs. “I thought that was more likely than not.”

My stomach lurches. I try not to react.

My mother says, “I did no such thing.”

“Oh, so you never encouraged it? Never used the death of her friend to inspire her to action? Never manipulated her?” Evelyn’s tone is that bitter, dry one I recognize from talking to Tobias. Like coffee grounds, or citrus peel.

I want to protest. My mother never told me to do anything. She only presented me with options: Stay or go. Forget or find the truth.

But she knew what you would do, a little voice in my head reminds me. She told you who to talk to, where to start looking.

Evelyn says, “Next time, teach her not to go so hard so fast. It’s what gave her away.”

I should have known last night, when she commented on me being manipulative. I should have known I couldn’t outsmart Evelyn.

Evelyn turns to Sly and jerks her chin toward the door to Marcus’s bedroom. “Look for any sign of where the council leader went. And you—” She gives Eric a pointed look. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m ensuring that you keep your word,” Eric says. “Marcus Eaton’s death is critical to our mutual success.” His eyes narrow as he looks at me. “I thought this one was your spy.”

“Our exchange was weapons and trains for Marcus Eaton,” Evelyn says. “So where’s Marcus Eaton?”

A boy with light brown hair emerges from Marcus’s bedroom. He’s wearing Dauntless black, just like Eric. There’s a gun tucked under the waistband of his pants.

“No sign of him on the fire escape. Bed’s made, so he didn’t leave in a hurry,” the boy reports. “Someone must have warned him.”

“I bet I know who it was,” Eric says, his gun still trained on my mother.

Despite the knot of suspicion deep in my gut, I feel the pull toward my mother like I’m a fish on a line, reeled in by the loyalty in my blood. I want to plant myself right between her and Eric’s gun; I want to let her throw her arms around me and hide my face in her shoulder, the way she did when I was a child. Instead I stay still, aware of Sly standing behind me, armed; aware of Evelyn’s fingers tightening around the grip of her weapon.

“Let Beatrice leave,” my mother says. “She’s a child.”

“That’s convenient. She’s old enough to defect from her faction to do your bidding, but now that she’s no longer useful to you, she’s a child?” Evelyn gives a short laugh. “I brought her here for a reason. Gretchen?”

Behind me, I hear the click of a bullet sliding into place. I flinch. I’m aware of the gun close to my ear, though Gretchen isn’t touching me.

Suddenly I’m back in my fear simulation, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it behind my eyes. Do it, Weaver says, pressing the cold barrel to my head. All I felt then was fear. And fear is all I feel now, my thoughts scattered, my body frozen.

“Tell me where Marcus is, Natalie,” Evelyn says. “Or I’ll tell my associate to shoot.”

There’s a sneer in Eric’s voice. “Seems rumors of your ruthlessness were not exaggerated.”

I try to slow my breathing. To be present, the way I am at target practice, staring down the barrel of a gun. I’ve felt this fear before, in the simulation room. Gun to my head, my father’s life at risk, the way my mother’s is now. This is just a mirror image of what I encountered in my own mind.

I can think my way through this. I have to.

“I don’t know where Marcus is.” My mother’s voice is calm and level. Her eyes are locked on me. “If I did, I would tell you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You’ve ensured my cooperation by threatening my daughter,” my mother replies. “You should check Abnegation headquarters. Maybe he was working late.”

“Already did that. No sign of him,” Eric’s voice is oddly musical. “If you didn’t come here for the council leader, how do you explain your presence here?”

I can’t think about my mother. I have to think about the gun pointed at my head. I remember Tobias grabbing the weapon right out of Jove’s hands at the Rookery. I remember Gretchen refusing to teach me how to throw a punch. I remember Christina offering to teach me instead. If someone tries to hurt you, they’re not going to be expecting someone like you to fight back. Especially not Gretchen, who saw me as a waste of time.

If I’m going to do something, I’m only going to have one shot at it.