The second I step back inside the ballroom, I make my way over to a waitress and order a water. I down the entire pint before thanking the girl and leaving her with the empty glass. Heading back to the food table, I quickly plate up a mountain of bread and potatoes before shoving the roll into my mouth and tearing off a big chunk.

The Enforcer wives are staring at me with judgemental expressions all over again. I give them a big grin before stepping off to the side of the room and focusing on my food.

"You hungry?" Carl appears beside me.

"Something like that," I murmur in response.

"You were gone for a while," he notes.

I swallow the bread in my mouth. "I couldn't find the toilet."

"I see." It doesn't sound like he believes me. "So... no trouble?"

"No trouble," I confirm. Liar.

"Good," he replies quietly. "Whenever you're ready, we all will be too," he tells me.

I nod, twirling a roast potato with my fingers. "Just make everyone aware that it won't be too much longer. We just have to wait for the right moment."

"Will do," he answers before making a move to walk away.

"And Carl?"

"Yes?" He turns back towards me. 

"Do you mind keeping an eye on Lyla?" I ask him. His brow furrows before he nods, walking back towards Pippa and Lyla who are chatting at the other end of the room. Lyla's wearing Pete's jacket now, no doubt to cover up her mess of a dress. Other than that, she looks calm and collected, nothing like how she was in the corridor.

I shove another potato into my mouth.

I need to pull myself together like Lyla has.

I finish my plate of food and discard it at the edge of the room before making my way across the room to Jesse. He's just finishing up a conversation with someone and sends me an apologetic smile before winding his arm around my waist. 

"Are you okay?" he asks me.

I nod, giving him a smile. "You're a busy man this evening."

He frowns. "It's only a few people. Most of the room doesn't know me."

"They don't care that Killmoor was taken?" I whisper.

He purses his lips. "It doesn't seem like they know about it."

"What?" I hiss.

He looks around us and leans in closer. "They all think I still work there. I don't think it's been made common knowledge that Killmoor has been lost."

"Jesus Christ," I exhale.

"We shouldn't talk about this here," he murmurs before pulling his head away again.

"You're right," I answer, smiling at him as I place my hand on his chest. "What should we talk about? Little Jesse?"

He groans and rolls his eyes. "If anyone hears you saying that who knows that I don't have a kid, they're going to think that you're on about... you know!"

I laugh and step backwards. "You're right. I should never have called my kid that!"

He grins before his eyes focus on something behind me and the grin fades. His hand tightens on my waist.

"Jesse." The male voice sounds familiar. "And you brought a lady friend with you."

From the look on Jesse's face, this Enforcer is the complete opposite of a friend. I want to look, but I can tell from his expression that I shouldn't be hasty. Instead, I shift my body ever so slightly sideways.

"Would this lovely lady care to dance?" the Enforcer continues. Jesse's hands are practically claws against my waist. Carefully and slowly, my eyes look to the side, following a smartly pressed grey suit up to an angular, relatively young looking face. The Roman nose seems familiar.

And then I see his seaweed green eyes and all the breath leaves my body. They're as leery as they were the last time I saw them.

My heart stops.

Panic rips at my organs.

"Tris." Jesse lets go of my waist to step in front of me. Jesse was there. He knows who this man is. What he did. After all, he worked with him. He probably saw worse than what he did to the likes of me.

"Jesse," Tris responds. His voice is low, as deep and menacing as I hear in my nightmares. "Would you care to step aside?"

"She's with me," Jesse retorts.

Tris lets out a low chuckle. "Whether she came with you or not, this lady is not your wife. She died over a year ago. So I can only assume that somehow, your frail little self managed to talk an unwilling widow into being your date. What did you promise her, huh?"

"Nothing," Jesse grinds back. His hands clench into fists.

"Either way, the lady isn't tied to you, so she can answer me herself."

"You don't—"

"It's interesting that you escaped from Killmoor," Tris muses. I'm nauseous. I might throw up, right here, right now. "It was my day off that night... but you... I swear you were working."

"I was sick," Jesse retorts. "I didn't go in."

"Oh, really?" Tris sounds amused all over again. "That's not what the ID entry log says."

"That's not what—"

"I'll dance with you," I announce, quickly cutting the conversation off before everything goes south. I keep my head sideways, away from Tris as I step out and around Jesse. His hand reaches out, clasping onto mine.

"Are you—"

"I'll be back soon," I cut Jesse off, tearing my hand from his before holding it out towards the green-eyed Enforcer and swallowing down my disgust. He takes it, still smirking at Jesse as he guides me away, over towards the dance floor. I keep my head lowered, but I don't think it really matters. He's more concerned about watching Jesse's reaction. I suppose that's a good thing.

Tris' hand suddenly coils around my middle, tugging me roughly against his chest. A surprised gasp escapes me and I shift my head sideways, hiding the scar.

And then the music floods my eardrums and Tris steps sideways, leading me around the room in something I'd liken to Keira Knightley's Pride & Prejudice. It's bizarre.

I go with the flow, no-one seemingly watching us — bar my protective companions. I know without looking that Jesse is seething, his eyes pinned to us. No doubt Carl has already zeroed in on the situation too. 

Other than that, I've successfully blended in with the crowd. The realisation allows me to relax slightly into the dance.

But then he talks.

"So..." Tris voice vibrates through his chest. "I haven't seen you here before."

"I'm a widow," I half lie. "Jesse's my friend."

"What's your name?"

My breath slips through my lips at the question. "You mean you want to know who my husband is? Was?"

I can practically feel Tris smirking above me. I don't dare look up. "Maybe," he replies.

Kayla Thomson. My name is Kayla Thomson. It was Jace's last name... the one given to me the second they announced that we were to be married. I can hardly even remember what it was before that, my family name nothing more than a memory to me.

But Tris knows Kayla Thomson.

He tortured her in Killmoor. He gave her the scar that had her screaming, begging for death. And he would have heard all about Jace Thomson's death too. It was only three months ago... and Jesse has told us all about how the Enforcer's share their horror stories.

"Rivert." The name falls from my lips. "My name is Kayla Rivert."

Tris hums above me. "Rivert... I feel like I've heard it before."

I swallow.

Of course.

I'm such a freaking idiot. My fear is stopping me from thinking straight.

I clear my throat before replying, "It's been quite a few years."

It has. Long enough I hope, that even if he did know Riley, it's fallen from his tiny brain.

Tris falls silent before suddenly stepping back and twirling me away from him. My hair flies outward, leaving my face bare, so I don't let myself stop, instead winding myself back in towards his body. I land, my back to his chest, and turn my head so that the scar rests against his chest.

"My my..." Tris hums. "You are eager."

Eager to kill you.

Tris sways behind me, intertwining our fingers and lifting them up in time with the music. I can almost see Carl's jaw tensing from here. Steam erupting from Jesse's ears.

"You're acting very shy for someone who's pressed against my chest," Tris mutters. Nausea swells inside my stomach.

"We're just dancing, Tris," I respond softly.

A low chuckle leaves his lips. "For now, maybe." I stiffen. He feels it, his hands moving to my waist and forcing them to continue moving. "Don't be a stiff, Kayla Rivert."

"I'm not," I retort, wrenching out of his hands before turning back towards him, head still lowered, grasping his hands and maintaining a distance between our bodies. We sway. "I'm just not interested in pursuing anything with the likes of you."

He doesn't pick up on the sneer in my voice, instead humming under his breath before responding, "Why? Do you still hold a candle for your dead husband?"

"Maybe," I reply. "My husband is none of your business."

"I beg to differ. He was an Enforcer. Hence why you're here." He lets go of my hand to point back towards Jesse. "Although... why you're with that idiot is beyond me."

"Jesse is kind."

He bursts into laughter in front of me. "Kindness means nothing in this day and age." He tugs me back into his body. I let out a gasp. "Just like your dead husband."

"How dare you," I snap, desperately trying to shove at his chest, yet keeping it as subtle as possible. Both Carl and Jesse will lose their heads if they think I'm in trouble. "He was far more valiant than any of you here."

"How so?" He sounds amused.

"He didn't want to be an Enforcer," I spit out, unable to stop myself. "Saw how fucking wrong all of it was."

Shit.

Tris chuckles once more before his hand tickles the base of my spine. I'm going to throw up. Gritting my teeth, I pray that the song ends soon.

All of a sudden, he stops dead. "Rivert," he mutters, his hand splaying out across my back. "Riley Rivert?"

My eyes focus on the marble floor. My heart pounds. Tris' hand is still frozen, holding me against him.

"He was thrown out of the Enforcers in disgrace! He didn't die!" Tris exclaims. "You..." My head whips up. Our eyes finally meet, shock coating his features as they slip down the scar that he put there. "You." The words are steeped with disgust.

I smirk at him, reaching down and forcing his hand off my back, interlinking our hands once more. "You're ruining the dance. Come on, Tris."

"Jesse's the one who brought you here?" he hisses, stepping forward with the music. "Traitor."

"He's no traitor, Tris," I respond. "You are. To the human fucking race."

He laughs out loud before lifting his hand and twirling me around once. His hand clutches at my back, eliminating the gap between us. I fight to keep my expression neutral.

"I'm not surprised that you're a traitor. Especially if you hung around with Riley."

I smirk. "There's no need to speak about him in past tense. He's still around."

Tris' eyebrows rise. "Well, that is a surprise. Same can't be said for your actual husband, can it?"

My jaw clenches. I freeze.

"Come on, Kayla," he mutters before grinning. "You're ruining the dance."

Reluctantly, I step forwards before spinning away from him. Twirling back in makes me want to vomit.

"I still remember the evening that Reece shot your husband. We were laughing about it for hours. The way you screamed for him. How he gave up fighting. The blood on the floor." Tris murmurs against my ear. "It's only a matter of time until we do the same to Riley. And you."

"No." I grind my teeth.

"And Jesse. And every other person who's helped you. You're only too easy to pick apart and slaughter. Every last one of you will be ripped apart and fed to the South." He's almost chuckling.

My breath catches in my throat and I pull back slightly, extending my arms between us and gauging his expression. It's smug. Cocky. Punchable.

"The South?" I echo.

Tris smirks. "You think I don't know? That a load of your kind went South?" he comments. "You know what's down there, Kayla?" He's toying with me. "Nothing but savages. Man's inherent evil has won down there. No rules, just ruthless murderers who will kill anything in their path." The music fades away and Tris' hand tightens on my stomach, yanking my back into his chest. He lowers his lips to my ear. "Your friends are already dead."

"No!" I snap, pushing him back and reaching down to my shoe. Tris anticipates my move, launching himself forward and gripping onto my upper arms, tugging me away from my weapon stash and hauling me against his knee. My spine clatters into it and I crumple to the floor, utterly winded.

"Kayla!" Jesse's voice shouts from the corner of the room. I see Carl shift out the corner of my eye. Both men have been watching me like a hawk for the past five minutes.

My fingers slip beneath my dress before coiling around the handle that sticks out the top of my holder. Wrenching the blade free, I let out a loud cry before catapulting myself towards Tris. He sidesteps my attack, sliding his foot out to trip me. I stop just in time, instead whipping my arm around towards him.

The knife slices through his cheek before I step back, knife outstretched towards him. The entire room seems to have frozen.

Tris' eyes flare before he lifts his hand to his cheek, touching the cut that I've inflicted. It isn't even as deep as the one he forced on me, yet a satisfied smirk spreads across my lips.

His eyes burn with fury at the sight of blood on his finger. "Bitch!" he snaps before throwing himself towards me.