Fighting Our Way (Broken Tracks 2)

HARMONY: Great. See you then.

With a sliver of guilt, I pocket my cell and drive into the city. I’ll have to move

some appointments around today to fit this in, but it’ll be worth it.

Tris may actually hate me after today, then again, who’s to say he won’t be thanking me depending on what happens?

The sound of my cell ringing pierces the air, rousing me from my sleep. My heavy lids blink rapidly, trying in vain to wake myself up. I blindly reach for my cell, knowing my dad won’t be happy if it wakes him.

The ringtone dies off as I sit up, my fingers wrapping around the case of my cell. First morning light is shining through a gap of my curtains and when I look down at my cell, I see it’s five a.m.

Who the hell calls someone at five in the morning?

I shake my head, yawning and leaning back into my mountain of pillows before the ringing starts again.

I lift it up to my ear, answering it without seeing who’s calling.

“Hello?”

“I’m going to make you pay,” the distorted voice threatens down the line.

“Wha—”

“You did this, you’ve destroyed everything!” My breathing picks up, my palms starting to sweat as my gaze bats around my room.

The click of the call disconnecting sounds and I look down at my cell to see they’ve hung up.

A droplet of sweat runs down the center of my back as I wrap my trembling arms around my waist, trying to make myself as small as possible as I walk around the edge of the property.

Remembering the recurring dream I’ve been having sends me on high alert—even more so than I already am. I haven’t dreamed about that time since I came to live here, but I know what is bringing it all back—the packages are causing the memories to come to the forefront of my mind.

How did it get to this? What do they want?

Every small noise has my pulse skyrocketing and my shoulders drawing higher up to my ears. Chanting in my head it’s nothing, I continue checking for any signs that someone was here. My head whips back and forth as I come around the side of the garage, stopping in front of the fountain.

I’ve done this several times a day over the last five days—since I received the first empty package.

When I opened it, I prepared myself for another item like the first two, but I didn’t expect it to be empty. I knew it was from the same person as the first two from the writing on the top and the “fragile” sticker on the side. I didn’t understand why… why was it empty? What was their angle?

That was the first day I started to feel like someone was watching me. It’s a figment of my imagination—at least that’s what I keep telling myself, but your gut doesn’t lie and the tingles flowing through me telling me there’s someone out there.

The second package came the day after, and then a third and fourth over the following two days. Each one has been empty, not a single thing inside the box apart from black tissue paper.

It’s a game—a sick kind of game where I’m waiting for something to happen, for someone to strike out.

Shaking my head, I push forward, opening the front door and walking into the main house. My mind is full of all kinds of theories as to what they’re trying to achieve, what they’re trying to tell me. But ultimately, they’re trying to have me running scared.

I may be frightened, but I won’t run—I’m not the same person as I was back then.

“Amelia?”

I startle, my eyes widening as I feel the color drain from my face. I look at Tris and then Clay and Izzie before my gaze runs over the box by the back door.

Not again.

Shuffling my feet on the floor, I stammer, “He-ey.”

Tristan pushes up from where he’s leaning against the counter and steps toward me, his eyes flashing with concern. He can’t know. He can’t ever know. “Are you okay?”