He can't have known it but the second I feel his hand on my neck, my vision blanks. I'm not in a friendly, if aggressive, fighting match. I'm back at Dauntless, and Peter has me in a chokehold as he dangles me over the Chasm. When he lifts me up, everything I do becomes about survival. I twist and squirm in his grasp, swinging my legs backward to kick him, to wrap around his waist so I can't be thrown away.

My hands, still free, come together to form a hammer. If he wants me to go for the balls, then I'll do it.