Chapter 44: Peter's Price
Peter's bed was empty at 3 AM.
I stood in the darkened dormitory, counting the sleeping forms, and felt the absence before the DPA confirmed it. The particular stillness of a space that should have contained one more body. The betrayal that had been mathematically certain from the beginning, arriving twelve hours earlier than I'd predicted.
[DPA ACTIVE SCAN — SUBJECT: PETER HAYES]
[LOCATION: COMPOUND PERIMETER (NORTHWEST FENCE LINE)]
[ACTIVITY: COMMUNICATION TRANSMISSION — DETECTED]
[SIGNAL RECIPIENT: DAUNTLESS PATROL FREQUENCY]
[CONTENT: COORDINATES, GROUP COMPOSITION, ESCAPE ROUTE INTELLIGENCE]
[ASSESSMENT: BETRAYAL — EXECUTED]
The withdrawal volatility flared—anger hot and sharp, the urge to find Peter and make him pay for selling us out. I pushed it down. Anger was a luxury I couldn't afford when the timeline had just collapsed.
"Four." My voice was quiet enough not to wake the others. "We need to move."
Four was awake in seconds—combat training making the transition from sleep to alertness nearly instantaneous. His eyes found Peter's empty bed and his expression hardened.
"Peter?"
"Broadcasting from the perimeter. Eric's forces will be here within the hour."
"Shit." Four was already moving, pulling on boots, checking weapons that Johanna had reluctantly returned for the evacuation. "Wake the others. Silent protocol."
I moved through the dormitory with efficient urgency—Tris first, then Christina, then Uriah and Caleb. Each person woke to my hand on their shoulder and my finger against my lips. The message was clear without words: danger, silence, move.
Natalie was already awake when I reached her—sitting beside Andrew's bed, watching the door with eyes that had probably never fully closed. She'd survived twenty years of secrets by never letting her guard down completely.
"Peter?" she asked quietly.
"Broadcasting to Eric. Tunnel evacuation, now."
She nodded and began the careful process of waking Andrew without making noise. His leg wound was healing but he couldn't move quickly. That was going to be a problem.
We assembled at the tunnel entrance in the agricultural wing—nine people carrying whatever supplies they could grab in three minutes of silent packing. Christina clutched Will's jacket against her chest. Caleb's medical pack was strapped across his back. Four had acquired enough weapons to arm the front line.
"Go." Johanna appeared from the shadows of the agricultural building, her face composed despite what was coming. "I'll delay them as long as I can."
"Johanna—"
"Go, Logan." Her voice was firm. "This is my choice. Don't make it meaningless by getting captured."
I met her eyes and saw the same resolve I'd noticed in her office—the deliberate acceptance of a cost she understood completely. She was going to face Eric alone, unarmed, trusting in principles that might get her killed.
"Thank you."
"Peace is not the absence of violence. It's the refusal to create it." She touched her scar one final time. "Now run."
We ran.
The tunnels were darker than I'd expected.
My scouting had been during daylight, mapping routes with exits clearly marked by agricultural ventilation. Now, in the predawn blackness, every shadow looked like a threat and every sound echoed with impossible amplification.
Natalie took point—moving with the practiced efficiency of someone who'd trained in Dauntless before choosing grey clothes and quiet service. I'd known she was former Dauntless, but watching her move through hostile terrain revealed exactly how much skill she'd been hiding for two decades.
Four covered the middle of the group, keeping Andrew moving despite the leg wound. Tris brought up the rear with Uriah, both of them checking constantly for pursuit.
I moved beside Christina.
Her breathing was ragged—not from exertion but from the particular strain of grief layered over fear layered over exhaustion. She'd barely recovered from Will's death and now she was running for her life through agricultural tunnels while the only sanctuary they'd found burned behind them.
The gunfire started as we reached the first junction.
Distant but distinct—the particular rhythm of Dauntless rifles encountering resistance. Amity's wooden buildings would be splintering under the assault, peaceful people cowering while soldiers searched for Divergents who weren't there anymore.
[DPA REMOTE ANALYSIS — AMITY COMPOUND]
[DISTANCE: 0.7 MILES]
[ENGAGEMENT: ACTIVE — DAUNTLESS FORCES VS MINIMAL RESISTANCE]
[JOHANNA REYES — PROBABILITY OF PHYSICAL HARM: 62%]
[NOTE: SCAN QUALITY DEGRADING WITH DISTANCE]
Sixty-two percent chance that Johanna was being hurt right now. For buying us time. For believing in peace strongly enough to let violence happen to her rather than create it.
I kept moving. I couldn't save everyone.
Christina's hand found mine in the darkness—a brief, instinctive contact that neither of us acknowledged. Three seconds of warmth in the cold tunnel, her fingers gripping tight before letting go.
The gunfire faded as we moved deeper underground.
"How much further?" Four's voice was strained. Andrew was slowing, his leg wound protesting the pace.
"Eight miles. We exit near the rail yard."
"Andrew can't maintain this speed for eight miles."
"Then we carry him." I didn't break stride. "We stop moving, we die."
The tunnel stretched ahead—twelve miles of agricultural infrastructure between us and Factionless territory. Behind us, Amity burned while Johanna faced Eric alone.
Ahead was Evelyn's domain. And whatever came after.