Pyre

Chapter 7

TRIS POV

She inhabits my mind.

Her cruel tactics, her inhumane experiments. They were not something I came to terms with, since so much of my energy this last year was spent on mourning my friends and my relationship, and resenting Caleb and dreaming of war. But now she is in my faction, in my presence on a daily basis, and I cannot deny what she did to me.

My nightmares mix into a sinister blend of grief and hate. Jeanine stands above me with a syringe, and the straps that bind me to my execution table restrict my movements. With a cold smile, she jabs the needle into my waist where I was shot, and I scream out the fiery pain it causes.

I am disoriented, but not enough to realize what is coming. My eyes glide to where Tobias stands, and I watch him push a knife into his stomach like the fear serum made me hallucinate so long ago. And I sob, knowing that at least his death is real even if he didn't do it to himself.

Or maybe he did, by not listening to my concerns.

When I wake up, my cheeks are coated in salt. Sweat lines my body, and I shove the blanket off of me, gasping at the fierce ache in my side. Instead of sadness though, fury lingers, misdirected at Jeanine for causing Tobias's death in my dream.

I wipe away my dry tears and sit up. It is not even morning yet, but I push myself off of the couch and pad into the kitchen for my healing medicine anyway. It would be better to give it time to work before the Abnegation invasion today.

The sight of the syringe makes me pause, and suddenly I am in a world of bright lights and shiny tiles that confuse my breathing.

I shake my head and grip the edge of the counter. Stupid.

After grasping the nerve to inject myself, there is a knock on the door. Already in a state of slight panic, I freeze. It comes again, harsher this time, and I cross the room to pick up Tobias's gun from the space on the floor next to the couch.

Then I stand beside the door and open it barely, just enough to see who is on the other side.

I was not expecting Peter Hayes.

"What do you want?" I demand, rubbing my eyes. "Especially at this time of day."

"To speak to you," he says, annoyed. "This is the only time you don't have guards following you around."

I tighten my grip on the gun. "I think we can have whatever conversation we need to have from right here," I tell him coldly.

He glares his green eyes at me harshly. "I can't say this out here. Are you gonna let me in or not, Stiff?"

I weigh my options. I could slam the door in his face, but I am interested to see what he wants. Whatever it is, it probably cannot be said in front of random people in the hallway, like he claimed. I still don't trust him, but last time we interacted, he did not turn me into the authorities when I had my fugitive status. While that does not count for much, it is something.

And besides, last time we fought I won. I certainly could do that again with the advantage of having a gun if he tries anything.

If he is here for a favor though, he won't.

"Fine."

I step aside and let him in. He strolls in without preamble, inspecting the apartment with an unimpressed expression.

"I knew Four's apartment would be as boring and Stiff as him," he snarks.

"If you're going to be an asshole," I say, "then get out."