“Be brave, Beatrice. I love you.”

“Did you just call me BEATRICE?”

“He hooks a thumb in one of his belt loops and says, “How are you, Beatrice?” “Did you just call me Beatrice?” “Thought I would give it a try.” He smiles. “Not good?” “Maybe on special occasions only. Initiation days, Choosing Days …”

“Tris," Tobias says, crouching next to me. His face is pale, almost yellow.There is too much I want to say. The first thing that comes out is, "Beatrice."He laughs weakly."Beatrice," he amends, and touches his lips to mine. I curl my fingers into his shirt.”

“Tobias," I say anyway. My hands shake, but not from fear this time– from anger. "Where is he? What are you doing to him?""I see no reason to provide that information," says Jeanine...I make my voice flat and factual, like hers. "I see no reason to provide that information."I hear a faint snort. Peter is covering his mouth. Jeanine glares at him, and his laughter effortlessly transforms into a coughing fit."Mockery is childish, Beatrice," she says. "It does not become you.""Mockery is childish, Beatrice," I repeat in my best imitation of her voice. "It does not become you."”

“Beatrice. We should think of our family. But. But we must also think of ourselves.”

“feel Tobias brushing my hair back before the first simulation. I hear him telling me to be brave. I hear my mother telling me to be brave(...) I am brave.”