"You are not special," I say. "I like to hurt people too. I can make the cruelest choice. The difference is, sometimes I don't, and you always do,
and that makes you evil."
I step over him and start down Michigan Avenue again. But before I take more than a few steps, I hear his voice.
"That's why I want it," he says, his voice shaking.
I stop. I don't turn around. I don't want to see his face right now.
"I want the serum because I'm sick of being this way," he says. "I'm sick of doing bad things and liking it and then wondering what's wrong with me. I want it to be over. I want to start again."
"And you don't think that's the coward's way out?" I say over my shoulder.
"I think I don't care if it is or not,"
Peter says.
I feel the anger that was swelling within me deflate as I turn the vial over in my fingers, inside my pocket. I hear him get to his feet and brush the snow from his clothes.
"Don't try to mess with me again," I say, "and I promise I'll let you reset yourself, when all this is said and done. I have no reason not to."
He nods, and we continue through the unmarked snow to the building where I last saw my mother.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
TRIS
THERE IS A nervous kind of quiet in the hallway, though there are people everywhere. One woman bumps me with her shoulder and then mutters an apology, and I move closer to Caleb so I don't lose sight of him. Sometimes all I want is to be a few inches taller so the world does not look like a dense collection of torsos.
We move quickly, but not too quickly. The more security guards I see, the more pressure I feel building inside me. Caleb's backpack, with the clean suit and explosives inside it, bounces against his lower back as we walk. People are moving in all different directions, but soon, we will reach a hallway that no one has any reason to walk down.
"I think something must have happened to Cara," Matthew says. "The lights were supposed to be off by now."
I nod. I feel the gun digging into my back, disguised by my baggy shirt. I had hoped that I wouldn't have to use it, but it seems that I will, and even then it might not be enough to get us to the Weapons Lab.
I touch Caleb's arm, and Matthew's, stopping all three of us in the middle of the hallway.
"I have an idea," I say. "We split up. Caleb and I will run to the lab, and Matthew, cause some kind of diversion."
"A diversion?"
"You have a gun, don't you?" I say. "Fire into the air."
He hesitates.
"Do it," I say through gritted teeth.
Matthew takes his gun out. I grab Caleb's elbow and steer him down the hallway. Over my shoulder I watch Matthew lift the gun over his head and fire straight up, at one of the glass panels above him. At the sharp bang, I burst into a run, dragging Caleb with me. Screams and shattering glass fill the air, and security guards run past us without noticing that we are running away from the dormitories, running toward a place we should not be.
It's a strange thing to feel my instincts and Dauntless training kick in. My breathing becomes deeper, more even, as we follow the route we determined this morning. My mind feels sharper, clearer. I look at Caleb, expecting to see the same thing happening to him, but all the blood seems to have drained from his face, and he is gasping. I keep my hand firm on his
elbow to steady him.
We round a corner, shoes squeaking on the tile, and an empty hallway with a mirrored ceiling stretches out in front of us. I feel a surge of triumph. I know this place. We aren't far now. We're going to make it.
"Stop!" a voice shouts from behind me.
The security guards. They found us.
"Stop or we'll shoot!"
Caleb shudders and lifts his hands. I lift mine, too, and look at him.
I feel everything slowing down inside me, my racing thoughts and the pounding of my heart.
When I look at him, I don't see the cowardly young man who sold me out to Jeanine Matthews, and I don't hear the excuses he gave afterward.
When I look at him, I see the boy who held my hand in the hospital when our mother broke her