It's not just about the harvest; it's about finishing up and then going to tend to the horses. But I can't complain when the people here do twice the work and, without realizing it, add to my workload so I can keep up with them. Since they're giving me shelter, I feel obligated to repay them.

I don't remember how long it's been, but the months have flown by. Seeing Uriah has become a routine for me; he's my motivation to keep going.

He's helped me a lot and managed to rally 165 Dauntless members willing to fight. It's not enough, but at least Four and I agree that involving Evelyn would be a problem if we win, because her people would seize control, which would be counterproductive. A leader with power and a thirst for revenge won't be a good leader; they won't look out for the collective good. So, they must not be given the chance to take control.

Just yesterday, I met with Uriah, and we compiled a list of names. As soon as I got back, I spoke with Norman to give him the information since he's the one I trust right now, and I can't risk giving valuable information to Four.

However, Norman told me to inform Four, and I trust him.

"Don't be foolish. It doesn't matter what you tell him; from what you've shared with me, most of them are following you anyway. That boy isn't waiting for orders from Four—he's waiting for orders from you."

In a way, he's right, so I'll do it today. However, my priority remains the harvest and the horses.

I can't contain my joy when I see Hall on the list—the one who decided to leave with them when he woke up. Raphael is also on the list, and I'm sure he'll say, "I told you so." And to my surprise, Jane is there too, and according to what Uriah told me, she's ready to fight. I have a lot of people on my side, and that comforts me.

I took a bucket of water from the well, and with sweat soaking my clothes, I sighed to catch my breath. Wiping the sweat from my forehead with my right arm, I lifted the bucket of water for the horses.

I can't say I haven't been getting exercise, because that would be a lie. My daily tasks are my training—more so than what I did in Dauntless. That's why I now carry the bucket with ease, feeling my biceps and triceps contract as I lift it.

When I arrived at the stable, I emptied some of the water into Blue and Grace's trough, the last fillies I had left to feed. I was ready to leave, but an unexpected visitor blocked my way.

It was Four, who was preparing to groom the horses.

"You're here early," I murmured.

Nothing has happened between Four and me since then. In fact, we've treated each other so indifferently that sometimes I forget how sweet his lips were. And I hate my mind at this moment, the tricks it plays on me, as it forces me to look away and forget what happened. I never saw him that way, and now that I feel the emptiness in my chest, I feel the need to be with him.

"Norman told me you have a message for me."

He shrugged. "By the way, wearing Dauntless clothes only makes it more obvious that you don't belong here."

I lowered my gaze, looking at the tank top I was wearing, and rolled my eyes. "It's comfortable; I can get things done faster."

"But you're a fugitive, Grace. Don't do things recklessly," he said, crossing his arms.

"Whatever," I murmured. "There are 165 Dauntless, including Raphael, Hall, and even Jane."

"That's not enough," he said, shaking his head.

"I know, but it's all we have," I shrugged, understanding his frustration. "There are no weapons either. Jack Hang has his armory, but the Dauntless aren't allowed to use them, and Uriah tried talking to them, but none of them want to join our cause."

I picked up the bucket of water while noticing that Four seemed indecisive, conflicted, and upset by the bad news. While he made a decision, I approached the exit, tossing out the remaining water.

"We're bound to lose," he murmured.

"Your six months in Amity didn't teach you anything," I scoffed. "Don't be so negative, Four. Have you already forgotten the heroic feat of three Dauntless, a backpack full of weapons, and a good plan?" I passed by him with a smile, recalling the time we fought Andrea's Dauntless.

"And where is that backpack now? It would be very useful at this moment."

"I gave them to Lynn and Marlene. Jack confiscated them," I said with a grimace.

I headed into the stable with the intention of putting the bucket away with the others. Four followed me as we both got lost in a sea of questions.

"Don't even dream that it will be with Evelyn," Four said.

"I don't want it to be with her either. It'll only cause problems, and if we win, they'll outnumber us, crush us, and take over, I know." I sighed, placing the bucket in its place, then turned to face him. "We can handle this. 168 Dauntless are enough. Our problem is the weapons—we need an armory to attack, and if it's not with Evelyn, then our only option is Dauntless."

"It would be suicide to steal an entire armory from the Dauntless faction for 168 people," he said, shaking his head.

"I know, but there are also weapons at the fence. If we manage to take them little by little, maybe we can fully equip ourselves."

"The fence is a fortress."

"I got through the fence to talk to Uriah. It's not easy, but it's not impossible either. How did you manage to get through?" I frowned.

"There's a hole underneath; no one notices it, and it's very well hidden. You're the only one risking your life foolishly," he shrugged nonchalantly.

I didn't plan to argue about that; it was clear I hadn't seen the whole picture, and Four's option seemed easier.

"And thanks to that, I can easily get into the fence. If I manage to get into the security system, block the cameras, and disable the alarms, we could buy enough time to get a few things out."

"And to do that, we need to distract the Dauntless in one sector to get in. Do you have any idea how difficult that would be?"

"Yes, I know. Maybe an explosion in a sector, a building, something to make them leave their hiding place, to make them think we're there."

"Yes, and for that, we need explosives. Do you get it now? We're just going in circles. We need explosives to distract the Dauntless and take weapons from the fence, but to get the explosives, we need to get into the fence and take some from there."

"I've always risked my life, going alone for a few grenades isn't the end of the world," I said, rolling my eyes.

"But it could be the end of you," Four said seriously. "Don't do anything rash and stupid."

"Oh, come on, Four. What's life without a little risk?" I laughed.

But my comment didn't amuse him. He approached me and gently took hold of my chin, lifting my gaze to meet his.

"You're not going. In that case, I'll go."

"You don't know how to get in," I murmured. "Remember, I'm the one who's foolish enough to pass through the fence."

However, he didn't respond. His hand moved from my chin to caress my cheek, and with his thumb, he brushed against my lower lip. I looked up, seeing those eyes again—the same ones that led me astray in the bathroom—and realized I was at a crossroads: continue or stop this.

He leaned in closer, and I could see he was lowering his face toward mine with the clear intention of bringing our lips together, as it was the only thing I could focus on. I was so confused, unsure of what to do, and grateful to be in a place away from prying eyes while I made my decision.

"Four?" Tris's voice called out from a distance, looking for him, making the decision for me.

He immediately stepped back, his alarmed eyes made me pull away as well. He cleared his throat and stepped out from behind the buckets to meet Tris, who walked toward us when she saw him.

I bet Four also felt the adrenaline, the trembling of our hands, and the cold sweat; however, guilt was eating him alive, and I could see it in his eyes.

I saw Tris for the first time in a long while, and my own conscience began to gnaw at me too. I kissed a man who is in a relationship. I am the woman I always hated. I used to despise all the girls who flirted with Eric, even though they knew we had something, and now, I am one of them.

Tris approached Four, gave him a smile, and squeezed his arm with her hand in a show of support.

"Is something wrong?" Tris asked, confused. She turned to look at me, and immediately her expression hardened. I don't blame her because, unconsciously, I did the same.

"Grace went out and contacted Uriah. We have a group of Dauntless, but they're not enough," Four murmured, lowering his gaze, not daring to look at me.

"Uriah?" Her eyes lit up, and she looked at me. "Is he okay?"

I discreetly rolled my eyes. "I forgot they were friends," I murmured, feeling the irritation in my throat. But I swallowed that knot and sighed—was I jealous? "He's fine," I replied.

"And what's missing?" Tris asked, looking back and forth between Four and me. "We can't waste more time, Four. We have to kill Jeanine."

Four glanced at me discreetly, overwhelmed with guilt, and I understood, but he was an idiot for not controlling himself and for not being able to answer such a simple question.

"Weapons, we need a lot of weapons," I replied. "I'll probably go to the fence in the coming days. We'll form a plan, but at the very least, I'm not doing anything without Norman's authorization."

And as if that wasn't enough, Four turned around and left, walking out of the place, leaving both of us confused. Or at least Tris, who didn't know how to react to her partner's behavior.

I hate that woman. When I see her, I really want to hit her, but I can't do it for two reasons: Joana would be mad at me, and the guilt of having slept with her boyfriend is overwhelming.

"Hey, Tris," I was the first to dare break the ice, stopping her before she could go after him. "I hate you, and I doubt that will ever change. Joana tells me to forgive, but I doubt I can do it. You killed Hill, and I'll never forget that." I sighed, and Tris looked away. "But we have to unite and work as a team. We have something in common, and that should be our source of communication."

"What is it?" she asked with difficulty, her resentment toward me evident in her voice. She was trying hard not to ignite a war, and I understand that.

"The death of Jeanine. I want her dead, and I want to see the light leave her eyes. I don't know what the future holds, but if we win, we both know that instead of killing her, Four will lock her up in some damn cell," I said with a smile, catching her attention with my comment. "One of us has to do the dirty work. Do you agree?" I raised my hand, offering her a truce.

"Deal." She took my hand.

We both knew that Four was the good guy in this story, and I know that Tris was too, but there was an indescribable darkness in her eyes, an insatiable thirst for revenge. So I intend to take advantage of that. I want her to trust me, and if promising her the death of that blonde woman will get her to follow me, then I'll do it.

*****

The only thing I knew was that Tris started with the task of caring for the horses, and an hour later, Four arrived to help her. Of course, by then, I had already left, and I learned all of this from the meddlesome Peter, who manages to be both friendly and irritating at the same time.

I hadn't seen Molly since the harvest, so after finishing with the horses, I went to her cabin. But before I could reach it, Joana stopped me, informing me that Molly was sick—smallpox, to be exact. And since I've never had smallpox, even at almost 19 years old, I decided to stay as far away from her house as possible.

So, I preferred to sit on the porch of the house and enjoy the sunset, savoring the solitude and the cool breeze that ruffled my hair.

"Grace, hello!" Aixa called out from a distance as she approached me. The woman with the beautiful eyes, holding a clipboard in her left arm, wore a beige hat this time and had an apple in her other hand as she walked towards me.

"Aixa, hello."

"How have you been? Have you had any symptoms of smallpox? Joana told me you need to stay away from Molly. It's terrible that a disease can separate people."

"I'm fine, and no, no symptoms," I smiled.

"Excellent! I thought you might be sick. You worried me, and since I didn't see you at the bonfire last night, I feared for your health. But then I saw you at the harvest today."

Her smile chilled my blood, and that comment made me wonder if I was really being careful with my movements.

"I don't like bonfires," I lied. "I prefer to rest and be ready for the next day."

"Really?" She narrowed her eyes slightly. "Then why do I see you running into the woods at night?"

I raised my eyebrows, opened my mouth, trying to explain. How is it that a Amity asks so many questions? How was I so stupid not to notice my surroundings? I trusted the faction that gave me refuge. Everyone knows what happened and why I'm here, but apparently, not everyone is okay with it.

"Grace, I know why you're here, and it's fine, it doesn't matter. But I don't want your nighttime excursions to compromise the faction. Jeanine already places a heavy burden on us. If she finds out you're here, I don't even want to think about what could happen to us." She made a grimace, her smile fading, showing me the seriousness of her words.

I still didn't know what to say. She left me speechless, unable to speak or argue. It was obvious she had a point, and I agreed. I'm no longer a Cordial; I'm the fugitive my former faction is protecting. But everything could go very wrong if they discover they're giving me asylum.

"Aixa, finally, I've found you." Norman arrived, turning the corner toward the house and approaching us. "Joe is looking for you. He wants a break but is too shy to ask you directly."

"Alright," she laughed. "Grace, think about what I said, okay? See you later."

Aixa left with the cheerfulness that distinguished the Amity, as if she hadn't just told me something completely serious and true a few moments ago. Norman took her place, standing in front of me, and exhaled. "Strange, isn't it?" He let out a short laugh, walked past me, and climbed the stairs.

"Yes, very strange. Explain it to me; it seems like you understand," I said as I got up from the steps and trotted toward the door. My father opened it and walked in, followed by me as I closed it behind us.

"Aixa is very curious. When she was promoted, she didn't take long to come to me and find out why there's no record of my birth or transfer when I made my choice. That alerted her, but when Joana intervened and I somehow proved that I wasn't a danger, she calmed down," he explained, then smiled without showing his teeth. "You're welcome; I saved you from the worst lecture filled with the cruel and unpleasant truth, but not because she wanted to give it, but because it's the truth, and it hurts to hear it."

"Is she Divergent?"

"No, not everyone is Divergent, Grace," Norman frowned at my comment as he sat on his favorite couch, letting out a sigh. "After she left me alone, it was my turn to figure out why she behaved that way. Her aptitude test results showed Erudite. That's how she is; it's her nature, but she chose her faction of origin."

"And why?"

"Because she loves her faction, because at a young age, she understood that outside, it's horrible, and Amity is affected by the decisions of those in power. The defenseless are here, and she decided to stay to protect them," he smiled. "She didn't run off like someone else I know," he muttered bitterly.

I rolled my eyes. "It worked out for both of us, so just forget it," I crossed my arms. "So, what do I do with her? She's right after all; if I stay here, it's going to harm Amity."

"It's a risk Joana is willing to take." He shrugged. "The least you can do is avoid being seen leaving here, and when you do leave, come back through a different place, not from the Amity side. And please, take off that shirt; you're just upsetting the faction."

"I hate that you're right," I huffed, turned around, and walked to my room.

"I'm your damn conscience, Grace. You're welcome," he said just before I closed the door, ready to change.

*******

There's no bonfire tonight; the rain has everyone holed up in their homes. Joana decided that each person should make their own fire in the chimney at their place. So here I am, stuck inside, staring out the window with a frown, wishing I was anywhere but here with Norman. He refuses to light the fire because he prefers to sleep, claiming it always fills the place with soot.

And I can't even discuss the plan to take the weapons from the fence because Norman refuses to do anything without Four being present. I tried to convince him, but he won't budge on not letting me or Four go out.

"Are you going to sleep?" my father asked from behind me.

"No, I'll stay here a little longer," I muttered.

"Then light the fire yourself."

"I don't know how, remember? You always forbade me from getting close to it," I said, rolling my eyes as I turned to look at him.

"Poor traumatized child," he scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I'll teach you tomorrow. But for now, I suggest you get some sleep. Whatever's going to happen tomorrow, it's not going to happen tonight, so just rest."

"I can't," I grimaced, moving toward the door. "I need to get out. This is suffocating," I growled.

"Don't go out; it's raining. There's nothing out there for you," he said, taking a step forward.

I could see him: gray-haired, with a beard at least two centimeters long, dark circles under his green eyes. He looked at me with suspicion, knowing I was standing too close to the door, reading my intentions.

It's one of those moments when you feel a spark ignite in your chest, adrenaline rushing through your veins, and a poorly concealed smile spreading across your face. I wanted to get out, to get soaked and escape, to have no one tell me what to do because I wasn't in the mood to be told. I wanted to feel that freedom again, like when I rode full speed toward the stream, and my conscience told me it was an excellent idea to do so in the middle of a rainstorm. Despite the reminder of what Aixa had said just a few hours earlier, I could only think about the look Norman was giving me.

"I'll be back, I promise. I won't get into any trouble."

And as soon as I said it, I was running out into the rain, successfully escaping Norman's grasp as he shouted furiously after me. But his yelling wasn't going to stop me, nor was the rain that had already drenched me as I sprinted toward the stables and got Grace out of her stall.

I don't know how I did it—maybe it was the adrenaline that made me so quick—but I was already on top of the mare, the saddle secured for riding. I'll probably be severely punished, not just by Norman but by Joana too, since the mare will come back dirty, and Four and Tris will have no choice but to do double the work. If I'm not punished by being made to clean her myself. But that wasn't my priority right now. Even the mare seemed full of energy as she trotted through the rain, it was part of her instinct, her nature as a wild horse, and we both enjoyed running through the storm.

We reached the stream without anyone witnessing us since everyone was inside their homes. I approached the large tree where the rain was less intense due to its size. However, just as I was about to dismount, my clumsiness got the better of me, and the saddle shifted, throwing me to the ground. I rolled on the ground to get away from the mare to avoid being stepped on. I let out a groan as I lifted the hem of my soaked dress, revealing my knee scraped and starting to bleed, the drops of blood turning into streaks running down my leg.

That's what happens when you secure a saddle hastily and without care.

With a grimace on my face, I had to endure the pain as I stood up from the ground, limping as I adjusted the mare's saddle and tied her to the tree. Then, I walked over to the stream; I needed to clean my wound, so I made my way to the rock with all the effort I could muster.

"Come on, Grace," I whispered to myself. "You've endured stab wounds all over your body, had your nose broken more times than I can remember, and been tortured—a damn scrape can't be that bad," I grunted.

The stinging in my knee intensified with each movement, and the cold water from the stream only made the discomfort worse. I cursed myself for not thinking to bring at least a knife—something to defend myself with. As I cleaned the wound, I felt the rain and mud seeping into my dress, one of my favorites, which I would now probably have to tear to make a makeshift bandage.

That's when a flickering light illuminated the stream, and although the sound of the rain was deafening, I managed to catch the distant hum of a motorcycle. Fear gripped me. My mind screamed that this had been a terrible idea, especially going out without protection. I froze, watching the direction from which the light came, the trees and bushes obscuring my view. Anxiety tightened in my chest until I finally made out the figure approaching.

"Idiot!" I yelled when I recognized Four, anger momentarily replacing my fear. "You scared me," I growled, placing a hand on my chest to calm the frantic beating of my heart. I tried to regulate my breathing, still in shock.

Four approached, his gaze sweeping over the surroundings with curiosity. "I saw you running from the window. I thought you were in danger and followed you... or, well, followed the horse's trail," he explained, his eyes still marveling at the landscape. "How is it that I never knew about this place?" he murmured.

"Sometimes I like doing stupid, reckless things, but I've got it all under control," I replied, trying to sound confident, though the pain in my knee betrayed me.

"Clearly," Four said, raising an eyebrow as he looked at my wound. "What happened?"

"I fell off the horse."

"It wasn't a question," Four said with determination, pulling a small knife from his pocket.

I thought he was going to cut my dress, but instead, he took his own shirt, made a small cut at the edge, and tore off a piece of fabric to make a makeshift bandage for my knee. His gesture was unexpected, and though I felt a bit embarrassed about the situation, his calm and efficiency reassured me.

"Thanks," I muttered as he carefully wrapped the wound, his hands firm but gentle. I felt a mix of gratitude and frustration for putting him in this situation, but above all, I felt a strange relief at not being alone in the middle of the storm.

"Didn't Tris say anything to you?" I murmured. "I mean," I raised my eyebrows, "you ran out to help me."

"We're not in the same cabin," Four replied, continuing to tend to my wound. "We're with the initiates."

I nodded, recalling the organization of Amity, where men and women are separated into different cabins. They are large, with various rooms, and at the beginning of initiation, initiates must stay there until they achieve a certain rank. Depending on their status, they are assigned a place until they find a partner and decide to start a family.

I should have been with them, but Joana kept me with Norman because she considered me potentially violent and didn't want Tris getting hurt.

"Will you teach me to ride a motorcycle?" I murmured.

Four kept tending to my injury, so insignificant yet with careful, gentle touches as he wrapped my knee.

"Sure, it's not that hard," he shrugged.

We were both getting wet from the light drizzle, as the trees shielded us from the full force of the storm outside. I let Four continue his work while I looked away. His arrival and my fall had ruined my night of freedom in the midst of the storm. I had wanted to lie on the grass without worrying about getting sick tomorrow, but I had to abandon that idea as Four showed no intention of leaving.

Especially when I noticed his hand moving up my thigh, so soft and slow, slipping under my dress, making my skin prickle. His index finger sent shivers down my spine. I looked up at him, questioning but too weak to stop him as it felt too good. When his gaze met mine, I realized we were just going in circles again.

"No," I said firmly, pushing him away. I got off the rock with a limp. "I'm very confused, and it seems like you're taking every opportunity to avoid answering my questions. So you sit down, and you answer me," I demanded, pointing to the rock where I had been sitting moments ago.

He complied, sitting on the rock with a sigh of resignation. I put my hands on my hips.

"I admit I started this," I said. "I kissed you in a moment of vulnerability, almost like the one you had when Andrea died. I hated myself for following through with the kiss when I had Eric waiting for me in my room, but it only happened once. I didn't let it continue. And you, you act like a shameless person. What happened in the bathroom, I allowed because I'm weak. For God's sake, Four, Eric threw me out, he wants me dead. The man I love hates me because I betrayed him, so I have this void. I want warmth, and you're willing to give it to me, which is why I allowed this. But neither you nor I can handle the guilt when Tris shows up."

"Do you think I don't understand?" Four grumbled. "Do you think it doesn't hurt me to see Tris?"

"No, it doesn't seem like you care because you keep doing it. So answer me: why? Do you want to play with me? Is that it?"

"No, of course not," Four shook his head, looking away.

"Then explain it to me," I pleaded desperately. "Did you get bored with Tris? Has the love run out?"

"I love her."

"And why the hell are you still clinging to me and Tris at the same time?"

"Because I like you, Grace," he raised his voice. "I love Tris, she is my world." He stood up from the rock. "But you," he pointed at me, letting out a nasal laugh, "You've been on my mind since you arrived in Dauntless. But of course, Eric came and your world revolved around him, so I forgot you. I pretended to, because I loved Andrea and didn't even try anything because it was a waste of time."

That confession left me speechless, stumbling over my words as I reevaluated everything that had happened in Dauntless. Norman was right after all; even Eric's jealousy made sense now. Everyone seemed to know something I was completely oblivious to. Four was right about my world revolving around Eric.

"I know it's wrong. I can't see Tris without hating myself. She doesn't deserve what I've done to you. But every time I see you, I realize that I can touch you now without you stopping me. I feel such a strong attraction to you that I can't just hide it," he cupped my cheek. "I don't love you, I don't want anything with you, it's just sexual attraction."

"I don't know what to say," I murmured.

"Reject me and I'll leave you alone. Just say you want me to stay away and it will all end. Tell me to get lost like you have before, and I won't lay a finger on you again."

Rejecting him—did he really want me to push him away? I had said it before: I was weak and craved warmth. I had never felt this attraction toward him until now, until I realized that his touch provided warmth and made me sigh.

And now, Tris wasn't here, he had no idea what was happening in the stream, and I couldn't think clearly if this was right because I needed it.

I suppose if I consent, I have the power to stop it. This had become my decision, and one last time wouldn't hurt.

So, this time, with intensity and casting aside all guilt, I took his face in my hands and kissed him.

This would be a secret, a meeting where no one would ever know that we had sex on the rock beside the stream. This place might be the only one where we could forget everything and fulfill our physical needs, even if the guilt would consume us once we returned home.