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Four: The Son: A Divergent Story-5
An hour after daybreak, I walk to the tattoo parlor. Tori is already there—well, “there” might be too strong a word, because her eyes are swollen from sleep and unfocused, and she’s just started on her coffee. “Something wrong?” she said. “I’m not really here. I’m supposed to go for a run with Bud, that maniac.” “I’m hoping you’ll make an exception,” I say. “Not many people come in here with urgent tattoo requests,” she says. “There’s a first time for everything.” “Okay.” She sits up, more alert now. “You have something in mind?” “You had a drawing in your apartment when we walked through it a few weeks ago. It was of all the faction symbols together. Still have it?” She stiffens. “You weren’t supposed to see that.” I know why I wasn’t supposed to see it, why that drawing isn’t som
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