Four!" I Call Out. Why Am I

He Pushes His Hair, Soaked From The Snow, Out Of His Eyes. "so What Are We Going To Do, Break A Window? Look For A Back Door?" "i'm Just Going To Walk In," I Say. "i'm Her Son." "you Also Betrayed Her And Left The City When She Forbade Anyone From Doing That," He Says, "and She Sent People After You To Stop You. People With Guns." "you Can Stay Here If You Want," I Say. "where The Serum Goes, I Go," He Says. "but If You Get Shot At, I'm Going To Grab It And Run." "i Don't Expect Anything More." He Is A Strange Sort Of Person.

You're Not Very Nice," I Say, Grinning. "you're One To Talk." "hey, I Could Be Nice If I Tried." "hmm." He Taps His Chin. "say Something Nice, Then." "you're Very Good-looking." He Smiles, His Teeth A Flash In This Dark. "i Like This 'nice' Thing.

Caleb And Tris Exchange A Look. The Skin On His Face And On Her Knuckles Is Nearly The Same Colour, Purple-blue-green, As If Drawn With Ink. This Is What Happens When Siblings Collide - They Injure Each Other In The Same Way.

Beatrice. We Should Think Of Our Family. But. But We Must Also Think Of Ourselves.

Abnegation Produces Deeply Serious People. People Who Automatically See Things Like Need,” He Says. “i’ve Noticed That When People Switch To Dauntless, It Creates Some Of The Same Types. Erudite Who Switch To Dauntless Tend To Turn Cruel And Brutal. Candor Who Switch To Dauntless Tend To Become Boisterous, Fight-picking Adrenaline Junkies. And Abnegation Who Switch To Dauntless Become . . . I Don’t Know, Soldiers, I Guess. Revolutionaries.