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❝Our world doesn't play out like a fantasy. We aren't some carefree princesses getting handed happy endings on a silver platter-you make one wrong move, and it's game over.❞
...
In a world where all control over their lives is illusory, a grou...
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—Part 10.3—
Traitor
❝You want me to spy on my friends?❞
—Emiko—
No...
I denied it in my head again and again, waiting for the guard before me to turn around, yet he only continued to wordlessly guide me up the polished steps. Seconds ago, he'd pulled me away from training and began leading towards the upper levels of Dauntless. I knew that could only mean one thing—my Mother had called for me.
In all truthfulness, I feared her. No matter how well I concealed that fact, it was something I fought endlessly to hide, and her effect haunted me without resolution. We hadn't spoken in days. It wasn't a rare occurrence for us to go several days without speaking, but this was different.
These past few days had contained the aptitude test and ceremony day. And her brief appearance at the ceremony had left an uneasy feeling in my stomach. I knew her thoughts, so I thought.
It didn't matter when I was already at her office door. Just like I'd expected, the guard had led me to her quarters then left me alone in the long black hallway. I left a soft, hesitant knock on the metal frame. My breath hitched once I was answered with a quiet yet familiar "come in."
Stepping inside, I was met with the tall, coffered ceiling of my Mother's office. With its walls of polished black marble accents and expensive works of art, her personal room contrasted the compound as a whole.
She stood on the far side by the wide window, Seoul sitting just past the glass, in all its scattered glory. A cigarette sat between her acrylics, with smoke pooling at its tip as she gazed over the city. Even as the door clicked and I cleared my throat, her back remained turned to me.
She raspily spoke up, "Ah, the guard collected you, good. I have something I need to discuss with you."
"You are unbelievable," I scoffed, betraying my fear, "You haven't spoken to me in a week and now suddenly, you're interrupting my sparring with some spontaneous meeting? You didn't even bother talking to me on ceremony day.."
Indifferently, she turned on her heel and walked with a slow, clicky gait to her desk. "You're right," she tapped the burnt end of her cigar into a tray of old ashes, "I didn't talk to you on ceremony day because it was clear to me what your thoughts were–," her eyes met mine, "-you were going to leave."
I swallowed hard, "You don't know that."
"You're my daughter, Emiko; I know everything about you," she took one final puff, finally smothering the orange glow of the nub she held, "Don't worry, I had my suspicions long before the ceremony. Sit."
Her hand motioned to an elaborate leather chair before her desk, large enough to engulf me as I sat down reluctantly.
"I'm sure you've heard of the recent break-in?" she began.
