Throughout the night I had come to rest on my side, lying atop a pile of dead leaves. They didn't offer much comfort, but it was better than the cold, mossy concrete beneath them. The icy cold nighttime air snuck it's way through the rips in my pants and sections of bare skin and caused goosebumps to arise on my skin. My lips were numb, my ears, toes and fingertips too. The jacket I wore offered little warmth, only really heating up my upper body. My arm rested underneath my head, providing a sort of pillow. It didn't help much either, as my arms were nothing but skin and bone. I rolled onto my back. My wounds stung, though I ignored the discomfort. My physical wounds were the least of my worries right at this moment.

I had let Keegan, a wild and psychotic soul, loose because Anya had threatened to kill the Sky Kids. I wasn't sure if she was upholding her comments and storming through their gates right at this moment. I only prayed that if she was, Bellamy, Clarke, Finn, Octavia and all the others escaped with minimal damage. I knew that if they were attacked, and I later returned to them and told them of my capture, Bellamy would return to his old-self. He would completely shut off and most likely kill me on the spot. Just when I had started to see through the cracks in his walls.

I let out a sigh. Seconds after, a scream echoed throughout the halls. I scurried to my feet, almost tumbling over myself. The chains rattled against one another as I waited for any other noise. My peripheral vision went white, my head pounding as my body swayed. I had gotten up far too quickly. I bent over slightly, my hands resting on my knees as I heaved. I let out a hard cough, forcing myself to hurry up the process of vomiting that I hated way too much.

As I bent over, coughing, the cell door screeched open. Slowly coming to stand up straight, I wiped my mouth with my sleeve. I felt a pang of fear suddenly envelope me as a Grounder with a masked face entered the room. It was a male, based off his overall large and muscular build and wide shoulders. He stood near the gate, observing me as I waited for him to move. He stood eerily still, no sign of weapons on him at this moment. His hair was a dirty blonde, reaching just above his shoulders. His eyes held the same wild look in them as Keegan's did -- only they were blue, not hazel. Keegan's name made my bones turn cold and brought a nasty flavour to my mouth.

"Has she finally decided to end my misery and sentence me to my fateful death?" I spoke, my words sour.

A part of me didn't mind the thought of dying. It seemed like a peaceful thing. All my worries would disappear, and I'd be reunited with my family in the afterlife while we drunk and feasted for the millennial's to come. It would be complete heaven -- literally. But there was another part of me that was scared of dying. Was it as peaceful as they wrote in poems of the heroic figures that died, tragically? Would the Sky Kids live another day to see the beautiful, godly sun rise? If I gave into Anya and her tormenting ways, that would mean I'd have given up. She and her people would win. After all these years, preparing and mustering up the rage and vengeance to avenge the death of my family, all for nothing.

Maybe I was as cowardice as others perceived me to be.

The Grounder let out a chuckle, "Cheer up, Stalker. I thought your clan was all about peace, bliss and happiness." My eyebrows drew in thought at the sound of the familiar male voice. I stared at him, blinking, as I waited for the answer to come to me. I had heard that voice only a few days ago, and yet I couldn't put a face to it.

He let out a sad sigh, grabbing his chest in despair. "Damn, you've forgotten about me already? Am I that forgettable?" He removed the mask from his face.

I took a step forward, squinting my eyes slightly as I took in his now evident features. "Blade?" I questioned, earning a nod in response from the blonde and a grin. "What the hell are you doing here?!" I asked, glancing over his shoulder and listening for any unwanted visitors.

His presence added a small sense of relief to my bones as a familiar face was here who wasn't out to kill me. He grinned, walking towards me as he pulled out a small bag and handed it over to me. I looked to the bag, then back up at Blade. He motioned me to open it, reassuring me with eyebrows raised and a nod that it was safe. I unwrapped the fabric in my hand, revealing a piece of bread and some berries.

"What are you waiting for, dig in." Blade said, pushing the food closer to me. My stomach grumbled in response, the smell of the bread having entered my nostrils and ran its course through my body. "I brought you some water, too." He spun on his heels, heading over to the bag he had quietly dropped when he first entered. He pulled out a small tin bottle, and made his way back over to me.

I shoved the bread in my mouth within an instant, devouring it in a matter of seconds. Not even a second later, the berries disappeared down into my stomach too. "How long has it been since you ate?" He questioned, handing me the tin bottle.

"Centuries," I commented, swallowing the berries.

He shook the bottle in front of my face, motioning for me to take it. I glanced up at him, hesitantly grabbing the bottle and smelling the contents inside. Blade let out a sigh, taking a step back and sitting a few feet away from me. I sunk to the ground, resting my back on the concrete walls. The chains that bound me to the floor rattled against one another as I moved, rubbing against my hot skin.

"It's water, Quinn." Blade said, blatantly.

I poured a small amount of the liquid into my hand, examining the colour and smell of it. I eyed Blade, shrugging as I took another glance down at the liquid before sculling a mouthful down. "Can never be too sure." I stated. "Especially since almost the entire Trigedakru wants me dead."

"That's not true." Blade said, taking the empty bottle back from me. "There are good people here."

"Who?" I questioned. "You?"

Blade let out a scoff, shaking his head. "Me and others."

"Keegan and Gyda?" I said, diverting my gaze from Blade's.

"Gyda is a good person. Yes, she's stubborn and a handful every now and then but she's also kind, generous and empathetic. Keegan, however..." Blade fell silent. I could tell his eyes were on me, and as I turned my gaze back onto his I gulped. "...He's a tormented soul. He's dangerous, ruthless and pure evil. I don't know how someone like Gyda could ever have agreed to be bound to him for the rest of their days."

"That's not Keegan." I whispered, reliving past memories. "He was kind, sympathetic, loyal, trustworthy, loving and friendly. He was a child with big dreams and high hopes. He protected the ones he loved and stood for what he believed in. Keegan was just, fair and pure." I felt my heart ache in my chest, and clutched my hands together.

Blade cleared his throat, repositioning himself on the floor. "You're right. That is not Keegan. Because the Keegan you just described would not leave you to rot away in a cell while he's preparing for a war with the people who killed his own."

I blinked, turning my gaze onto the concrete wall behind Blade. Things were strange these days, I thought. One of the few people I had ever loved and been with since my time of birth, had turned His back on me. And here I was, talking to a man of the clan who killed mine, and befriending a group of kids who fell from the sky. I let out a small laugh at myself, shaking my head. Times had certainly changed.

"What?" Blade spoke, bringing his knees upwards and resting his arms lazily over his knees.

I turned my gaze back onto him. "Why are you helping me, Blade?" I asked, bluntly. "You sure as hell are not doing it out of the goodness of your heart. Tell me why you're helping me -- really. I'm a Stalker; your life-sworn enemy." I straightened myself up, staring at him intently. "So tell me... what use am I to you?"

Blade's carefree expression dropped, his face becoming utterly serious. He let out a sigh, tilting his head backwards so that his eyes were on the roof of the cell we sat in as he rocked back and forth. Several seconds passed till he abruptly tilted his head back down and looked to me, saying: "You want an honest answer?" I nodded. "I want Anya dead."

My lips separated slightly. I was shocked by his abrupt answer. I expected him to crack a smile and say he was joking as he finished, but nothing like that followed. The man before me was completely serious in what he had said, and for some reason, that sent a rippling shock throughout me. Why would he want her dead? She was his leader.

He hesitated before speaking up. "My mother and father are dead because of her."

I felt my insides tighten, thinking back on the time's of my mother and father's death. The expression on Blade's face mirrored that of mine whenever I thought back on my family. His usual smirk had been completely wiped from his face, a whole other vulnerable side showing on him as he let out a deep sigh and brushed stray hairs back from his face.

"Looks like we have two things in common now." I said, trying to break the tension within the air. Blade didn't laugh or break his demeanour. He clenched his jaw, turning his palms into fists. "If... If you don't mind me asking, what happened?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, afraid that I was to tread on a topic that was not for me to hear about.

He licked his lips, glancing up through the stray hairs that had fallen once again. "When I was a young boy, I found my parents lying dead on their beds. Their blood covered the sheets, their wrists having been slit by the blade that rest beside my father's hand." I held back my gasp, my heartbeat picking up. "The murderer had made it out to be a suicide. I believed it, too. I was just a boy, what else was I supposed to believe?" His voice broke at the end, though he quickly recovered himself. "I found out only a few moons ago on the anniversary of their death, that Anya had set the entire thing up." He paused, taking in a breath before continuing. "She did so, because my mother and father were planning to run away. Anya was so determined to keep them here, even if that meant killing them."

My eyes widened in shock; Anya was a complete psycho.

"You're kidding." I said, gobsmacked and somewhat scared. This woman was filled with more darkness then what she had shown me already.

Blade shook his head at my response, staring at me with the most lost and closed-off gaze he had ever given me. "What the hell is wrong with her?" I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "How the hell have you stayed here this long, Blade? How did you even live within these walls when you knew what she had done?!" I questioned.

"I never stayed in this camp for too long when I found out. Even thinking about her makes my skin crawl. After everything she's done, all the murders she's committed, she doesn't deserve to walk amongst the living. I will admit, there are good people here, Quinn. But they're all delusional." I let out a shaky breath. "I can't trust anyone here because of that reason. They all stare at me as if I was the reason why they're dead. They don't even try to think different or doubt their leader. It's a goddamn maze to find anyone here who would believe me."

I licked my lips, "Until you met me." I said, catching his attention and earning a nod. "I believe you, Blade. You can trust me to have your back. But the question is, can I trust you?"

Blade didn't move. He didn't blink, didn't breathe. He simply just sat and stared. Looking into his eyes, I noticed there was not even a single speck of doubt or questioning in his thoughts. And he replied with a very sudden, "You can." I was only a little suspicious of how quickly he had answered. It was a good thing, I knew, but he didn't seem like he truly meant it, from the bottom of his heart. He had saved me once, but would he save me again?

I swallowed. "Good," And with a shaky exhale, lent back onto the wall behind me before speaking up again, steering the conversation to another topic that had had me so on edge these past few years. If Blade truly was here to help me, and if he had the slightest bit of information, I had to ask: "Anya had a reason for killing your parents, besides the fact that she lost her goddamn mind. But why did she kill my father and the rest of my family? She said my father betrayed her, that my mother took everything from her." I opened my mouth, looking to him for an answer. "But what did they take? And how could they take anything from them when they were a part of two separate clans who never were involved with one another? You're one of them, right? So tell me this one last thing, why did she do it?"

Blade didn't seem bothered by the sudden change in topic. If anything, he seemed relieved. His shoulders returned to normal, no more tension evident within them. As I looked to him, awaiting his answer, he appeared slightly uneasy. Why wouldn't he, though? He had just opened up to me about the murder of his parents. His hands shook as they separated from one another, though he was quick to clutch them together once again to stop the shaking.

With one final glance at his hands to make sure the uneasiness dulled down, he swallowed. "They watched him -- your father -- for years. They were always so obsessed with him after he left. They tracked him; picking a part his weaknesses, noting down who he talked to, where he hunted, every day activities."

"After he left?" I spoke, drawing my brows in confusion. "Where did he leave?"

Blade fiddled with the end of his sleeves. "Your father wasn't always a Stalker. Majority of Stalkers weren't actual Stalkers."

"What?" I said, never having felt this confused in my life.

He snapped back, his tone harsh, "Your father was once a member of the Trigedakru, Quinn. He was a member that just so happened to be Anya's first love."

I let out a loud snort, laughing at his absurd comment. The uneasy emotions within me beforehand completely dispersed. Blade fell silent, looking at me as if I was a maniac. I laughed till tears brimmed my eyes, fanning my face and trying my best to calm down my sudden outburst. As my laughter slowly died down, I coughed a few times. I wiped away the tears from the corner of my eyes. Letting out small chuckles here and there, I let out a small apology to Blade.

"You're funny," I stated, pointing to him like a child. "That's a good joke."

Blade let out a displeased sigh, glaring at me. "I'm not joking, you idiot." I let out a few more chuckles every now and then as he rubbed his eyes. "Shut up and listen because I don't have that much longer till someone notices that I've moved from my position."

I noted his seriousness, completely stopping my laughter. The tone in his voice suggested he was tired and not in the mood for any childish actions. The topic of his parents seemed to drain all energy and life from him. He had been somewhat lively when he had first entered, but now he was just solemn. It only made me more uneasy. The words that had slipped from his lips had caused myself to become eerily still. Filled with shock, I was at loss for words as his sunk in.

"Your father and Anya go way, way back. They did everything together; fought side-by-side, helped one another when one of the two were in need and stood by each other no matter what. They were raised together; trained together; slept in the same bed since they were kids. There wasn't a moment they were separated."

As Blade described my father and Anya's past relationship, it reminded me of Keegan and I. We had done everything together. We once, were inseparable. But just like Keegan, Anya had backstabbed my father. It frustrated me. The fact that the two were that close, and yet Anya didn't even hesitate to kill one of the most important figures in my life -- and hers, from what Blade had told me.

He continued on, "Over the time Anya started to develop more... deeper feelings for your father. Little did she know, the feelings were far from mutual. Although Anya decided to confess her feelings to him anyways. She was training to be a warrior and wasn't sure when she would be sent off to fight for her people. If she didn't come back, or never saw him again, she wanted him to know how she felt." He paused. I didn't realise it but I had been holding my breath for a while now. It was only when he paused for a breath that I continued to exhale and inhale once again.

"Anya was far too late in it all. Tate had already met your mother, Avery, weeks before. He hadn't told his dear friend about the new woman in his life, because Tate suspected that Anya felt more for him and didn't wish to hurt her feelings." He cleared his throat before continuing. "Avery and Anya never really got along when they were children. One was always better than the other at something and that meant competition for them both."

I felt my mind run a million miles an hour. All this history with my parents and Anya that I had never known. Was Kemp ever told of their past? It was as if I hardly knew my own parents; they rarely used to speak about one another's past. Were these people Blade was talking about so easily really the man and woman that had raised me? How did he even know all this information? I was the daughter of Tate and Avery, and yet Blade, someone I only met a week or so ago knew far more about their past than I. I understood Blade had beef with Anya, but that didn't mean I could rely on everything he told me.

"Quinn?" Blade's voice drew me from my thoughts. "You with me?"

"Huh?" My eyes flicked upwards, my head snapping up. "Yeah," I said, tucking my hair behind my ears. "Sorry, I just..."

"If you want me to stop, just say so--"

"No." I interrupted him abruptly. "Don't stop, I need to know."

He nodded, hesitantly. Before I judged his word, I first needed to hear what he had to say. After he was done telling me everything he knew, then I would question how he knew it all. How a boy from the Tree Clan knew the conflicted and passionate history of my mother, father, and Anya. I had to know every last speck of information so that I could destroy Anya.

***

Blade told me of the sudden wedding engagement between my mother and father; soon following the birth of Kemp. The mention of my brothers name caused an ache in my chest to form. I yearned for him to be by my side just once more. What I would give to see his smile and head of curls appear from the shadows and embrace me in his warm, comforting and brotherly hugs. Kemp may have been a ruthless warrior to some, but he was a loving brother to me.

For the first time in a while, I spoke up, asking the question that had been on the tip of my tongue for a while now: "How do you know all this?"

Blade readjusted his seating position, letting out a grunt as he sunk into his coat seconds before the cell door screeched open. Blade was off the floor in an instant, eyes wide in surprise as a Grounder entered the cell. I sat up, the chains rattling against one another as I moved. My heart beat picked up in my chest, and I glanced over at Blade for a split second. His shoulders were tensed, his face hardening. The Grounder that had entered the room ignored me completely as he stared at the other man in the room. By the looks of his dark gaze, Blade wasn't supposed to be in here.

"What the hell do you think you're doing in here, boy?" The Grounder was much older than Blade, his roots turning a silvery grey, his sun-kissed skin slightly wrinkled, specked with freckles and a mole seen on his right cheekbone.

Blade lowered his head slightly, as if greeting the elder-looking man with a sign of respect. "I was trying to get some information out of her." He replied back confidently.

The Grounder wasted no time in snapping back, "Your orders were to ready Nikolai's horses for the ride that awaits him to our Heda, not to venture down into the prison cells and consort with a filthy Stalker." He spoke the word Stalker with such hatred and disgust, he looked like he was almost ready to heave.

I let out a grunt, finally earning the attention of the elder and sending a ball of spit over and down to his feet. The man bared his teeth like an animal as he stormed across the room until he reached me. Blade didn't intervene as the man grabbed ahold of me and stood me up. He leant his face inches from mine. I clenched my teeth, disgusted at the smell of his sour breath.

"You dare spit in my direction when you are in the state you are in now?" He spoke, lowly. "If it weren't for the merciful orders of Anya, you'd currently be in the butcher room, ready to be cut into small pieces and fed to the Reapers." With one last evil glance at me, he let me go and spun on his heels. He turned to face Blade, pointing an accusing finger at him. "And you," He began. "You really are mad. No wonder your parents wanted to leave this place--"

It wasn't Blade who cut the man off, but me. "You're the mad one for letting a murderer lead your people!"

The man spun back on his heels, facing me once again. His face contorted in utter rage, his hand reaching to his side and drawing the hatchet from his belt. His lips lifted in a snarl. The man began to stalk forward, weapon ready. He was stopped as Blade within a seconds time, reached out for the man with a dark expression and pulled him backwards. The elder man stumbled backwards, falling onto his behind as his weapon slipped from his hand. His eyes widened. For a split second, I could've sworn I saw paranoia flash before his eyes as Blade stalked forward, kicked the hatchet out of arms reach, bent down and took a hold of the man's head, and pulled it upwards before thrusting it down with such force, that when the man's skull connected with the concrete beneath, I heard the crack of the bone and cringed.

At the sound of the crack, I jumped. A pool of blood began to form underneath the Grounder's head. Blade was breathing heavily, sweat covering his forehead. A dark shadow covered the side of his face that was visible to me, and the chaotic look that swept across his harsh features scared me. My hands shook slightly, my blood having run cold. As Blade turned to face me, the murderous look that covered his face made every part of me scream to run. I began to move out of instinct, though the chains restricted me.

He stared at me, his eyes blank. The Blade before me was not the Blade that I had spoken to moments ago. His head tilted to the left, his eyes unblinking and scanning my fearful figure with an inhuman look. It was a look that suggested he was searching for all signs of weakness. He was examining for pin-points, observing me like I was his prey. I began to open my mouth to speak, but thought better as he slowly turned his eyes back onto the dead man.

I was so caught up in watching Blade for his next move, that I didn't hear the approaching footsteps that echoed throughout the hallway. Keegan entered the room, his gaze focused on the floor below him with his head hung low and eyebrows drawn in thought. He halted in his steps as his eyes fell onto the Grounder below him. Keegan's head snapped upwards, his mouth agape. His scar had healed now, though bruising was still evident. The white of his eyes was filled with red veins; the outside of his hazel iris lined with red.

He rushed forward onto his knees, examining the dead man's body. He felt for a pulse before checking the back of the man's head where the blood was spilling from. His eyes widened slightly, and as he carefully lay the man's head back down to rest, he got to his feet and gave a lethal stare to both Blade and I.

"What the hell happened here?" His voice was a deadly calm as he spoke to the both of us. I looked to Blade. His usual-self was back, but there was still something off about him. Keegan noticed my sudden eye movement, and turned his attention to the blonde Grounder. "You were supposed to be on watch, Blade. What the hell are you doing down here with her? And why is this man's skull crushed?"

Blade hesitated for a moment, his gaze flicking to me before he focused back on Keegan, "Nikolai told me to come in here and get information from her. While I was doing so, He came in and started working her up. He got too close and before I could stop her, she slammed his head on the floor."

I shot Blade a look. He caught my gaze, holding it and giving me a look that suggested I keep my mouth shut and go along with his story. I held his gaze for a moment longer before glancing over to Keegan. His right hand rested on his hip, his other fiddling with his bottom lip as he stared down at the body below him. The man's eyes were still wide open in shock. Keegan crouched back down with a grunt, closing the man's eyes with his hand. He returned to a standing position and eyed Blade with a suspicious look.

"Athos!" Keegan called out suddenly, his voice echoing throughout the cell.

Not even five seconds after Keegan called out, a young boy no older than ten, walked through the cell door. His cheeks, ears and the tip of his nose were red from the cold. His brown hair was tussled, stray hairs peeking up here and there. The boy reminded me of a younger version of Jasper, especially the hair. He came to stand a few feet behind, sneaking a peek around Keegan's figure at me. As his eyes landed on me, he did nothing but blink once. Athos' vibrant green eyes looked back to Keegan as the young man spun on his heels, facing the boy. No words were shared between them; only a nod from Keegan.

Keegan turned back around, stepping out of Athos' way to reveal the body. The boy seemed to jump slightly, but as Keegan caught his gaze, Athos gulped and did his best to stay as far away from the body as he could. The boy walked over to me, pulling something from his pocket. I stared at him with curiosity, looking to Blade who had only been glaring at Keegan the entirety of the time. The aura in the room was gloomy and slightly suffocating. The way Blade was looking at Keegan made me fear something was about to happen.

The chains that bound my feet were unlocked by Athos suddenly. I felt my lips part and my eyes widen in surprise. The object that Athos had been searching for in his pocket was a key -- the key to my chains. They were letting me free. But why? As Athos hesitantly reached forward to unlock the cuffs around my wrists, he glanced up at me for a split second. As the chains fell, and my wrists let out a deep sigh of relief, I wanted to thank the young boy. But before I could, he was fleeing out the room with nothing but a fearful look covering his eyes as he fled.

"Now, I know for a fact that Quinn didn't kill this man, Blade." Keegan spoke for the first time in minutes, stepping over the limp body below him. I got to my feet, using the wall for support as Keegan continued, "See, the funny thing is, is that I was just speaking to Nikolai a moment ago, and he told me you were supposed to be hunting with him this evening." Blade opened his mouth, ready to speak, but Keegan snapped within an instant, "You'll keep your big mouth shut for once. Quinn was chained the entire time this man came in. He would have had to have gotten pretty damn close to her for her to grab ahold of him. But even then, if she did grab ahold of him and -- like you said -- smash his head into the concrete floor, his blood would be right near her feet, not within your stepping distance."

I bit down on my tongue, noticing Blade's uneasiness. Keegan had known from the moment he stepped foot in the room that Blade was the reason for all this. If only Blade hadn't gone all-out, he may have been able to walk free. But by the looks of it, Keegan was more than just slightly suspicious of Blade. Without tearing his gaze from Blade, he said to me, "Quinn, you're free to leave. Blade, your actions will be reported back to Anya who will decide your fate."

I took a step forward, looking between the two. Neither of them dared break their intense staring. Both were breathing steady, though I noticed Blade skip a breath at the thought of facing Anya. There would be no knowing what would happen to him if the entire camp found out that he had murdered one of his own. He'd be convicted for treachery and most likely either executed or exiled. He would be stripped of his clan, stripped of his name, stripped of everything.

"I killed him, Keegan. I killed that man." I stated, defiantly.

Blade broke his stare, his eyes falling on me. I knew he was inwardly cursing at me to keep my mouth shut, I could see it in his eyes. But I was not going to let another person die because they wanted to help me. Too many had already. That was going to end now.

"Do you take me for an idiot, Quinn?" Keegan said, turning his eyes onto me. "I said you're free to leave, so leave. Do not make me repeat myself, you know I hate to."

"Quinn, just go." Blade said suddenly, giving me a look that yelled at me to get the hell out of here.

But I stood my ground.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked, taking another step towards Keegan, urging him to answer. "The other day you swore you'd kill me the next time we met. Why the sudden change in heart?"

"Quinn, leave now before I change my mind--" Keegan began but didn't get very far as I took another step forward, a foot in front of him now, and yelled, "They'll kill you if they find out you're the one behind my escape, Keegan! They wont torture you anymore, they'll end it for good this time. Gyda will be alone for the rest of her life and you'll be remembered by Them as a treacherous bastard."

Keegan sucked in a breath, his gaze entirely on me. He turned his body around so that he was facing me, acting as if Blade suddenly didn't exist. He took a slight step forward, but thought better as I moved back. He gazed down, looking at me like he used to. The look he held in his eyes belonged to the Keegan I once knew, and it effected me, dearly. I wanted to reach forward and cup his face; to tell him that I was sorry for all the pain I had caused him over the years; that I was sorry for leaving him alone all these years. I wanted so, so badly to just wrap my arms around him and feel his warm embrace around me.

But that wasn't going to happen.

Before I could even scream for Blade to stop, he lunged forward and drove a knife he had housed in his belt through Keegan's side. I felt my heart drop in my chest. My eyes widened, gobsmacked, as Keegan let out a grunt, glancing at his side to Blade. The blonde took three steps back, out of Keegan's reach as he tried to grab for him. With a moan filled with pain, Keegan pulled the weapon from his side and threw it to the floor below him. His blood covered the blade, his hands, too.

"W-What did you do?" I whispered, looking over to Blade as Keegan fell forward into my arms. Blade's body was covered by the shadows; his cold, blue eyes standing out against his dark surroundings. "What did you do?!" I yelled suddenly, leaning Keegan's weakening body against the wall. I looked at Keegan. His face was slowly paling, his lips turning a blue colour. His breathing was becoming ragged as blood continued to seep through his shirt.

I felt my hands begin to shake as I took a hold of the hem of his shirt and ripped a piece off. I scrunched the cloth into a ball, holding it over the wound to delay the bleeding. "Call someone." I ordered, glancing up at Blade. "Call someone! He's going to bleed out, and he's going to die!"

"Get away from him, Quinn." Blade said, standing his ground.

I was about to call for someone, but the tone in Blade's voice made me stop. I turned my attention back to him, my eyebrows creasing, "What?"

"Quinn, he's got a knife!"

I felt time come to a slow as I turned my eyes onto Keegan's weakened frame. Slowly, ever so slowly, I watched in utter fear as his right hand held a small knife, swinging it in my direction. His face was covered in complete rage and blood-thirst. He was weakened and dying, but that didn't stop him from keeping his promise. It was then that I realised that he was never going to let me walk free. As soon as I was out that door, he was going to drive a knife through my back -- as he had promised.

Blade had known it. That was why he had stabbed him. I was an idiot to even think for a second, that Keegan felt anything other than hatred towards me. He was apart of the Trigedakru now; he was no longer a Stalker; no longer my best friend; no longer my first love; no longer Keegan; no longer, alive.

Within a seconds hesitation, I blocked his arm with my hand. The blade he held pierced my skin, digging below my shoulder. I ignored the pain, and having thrown him off, reached for his knife that rested in my body, pulled it out with clenched teeth and pushed it forward--

"Wait!" I stopped, abruptly, my eyes focused on the knife I was about to dig between Keegan's rib cage. My eyes slowly traced up, till they met his one hazel, and one scarred eye. "Quinn..." He spoke in between breaths, having trouble in breathing.

"Spit it out!" I spoke through clenched teeth and teary eyes. "I'm sick of your games, Keegan."

"Kill him, Quinn." Blade cut in, taking a step from the shadows. I ignored him, my hands beginning to shake as Keegan's breaths grew fainter.

Keegan sucked in a deep breath before speaking, "Don't... trust t-the weapon..."

As his eyes fluttered shut, I felt a whole bag of emotions explode within me. I reached forward, gently slapping his face for him to wake up and explain to me what he meant by not trusting 'the weapon'. "Hey," I said, cupping his sweaty face. "Keegan, wake up." My voice shook slightly, my voice cracking when I spoke his name. "Keegan, wake up!" I repeated, a little louder this time.

Tears tickled my cheeks. His eyes were still open, though his pulse had came to a deadly stop and his head leaned to his left. A tear stained his cheek, falling from his scarred eye. My palms were sweaty, my hands shaking in shock. It suddenly became hard to breathe. I felt back, crawling backwards until my back hit the other side of the room. I sucked in a deep breaths, my lungs burning from the amount of oxygen I was breathing in.

Blade took one last glance at Keegan before walking over to me, crouching down with a worried expression. "Quinn, calm down."

I couldn't seem to hear him clearly. The only thing I focused on was Keegan's limp body. His hazel eyes were staring ahead though they were not youthful and lively as they once were. His vibrant skin was turning an ash grey, the colour in his lips fading from a light pink to a pale blue.

Keegan was dead.

I thought that once Keegan was out of my life, I would feel almost relieved that he was dead. He had betrayed me, tormented me in both physical and emotional ways. He'd told countless lies and broken my heart with his words. You'd think I'd feel victory or anger. But I felt neither. All I felt was just... emptiness.

"Quinn..." Blade began, but trailed off as my eyes slowly met his.

I was looking at him though I wasn't entirely focused. As I spoke, I turned my gaze back onto Keegan and shivered. "You should go before they find you here." I said, my voice raspy; barely a whisper. "If they find out you're helping me, they'll execute you. Leave now. Do not make me ask you twice. You've done enough already." My voice had turned cold by the end of it, I could barely recognise my own self speaking.

With a hesitant nod, Blade got to his feet. He didn't dare steal a glance at his enemy's body before he reached the cell door. On the way, he stepped over the other man he had killed. He ignored that man, too, and stalked out of the cell, nothing but the two bodies before me evidence to say that he was ever here.

When I was certain Blade had disappeared completely, a sob escaped my mouth. Tears streamed down my cheeks, my head falling onto my knees. I let out small whimpers, allowing the cries that deemed to fall escape my mouth. If my heart hadn't already been broken to pieces, it was nothing but ashes now. I was alone with no one to protect me. I was much too far away from Bellamy; Keegan had left me long ago, and I wasn't sure if Blade was entirely trustworthy. Not even I could protect myself, for I had lost myself a long time ago.

I leant on my knees, starting to crawl over to Keegan's body, when all of a sudden, the cell door swung open. I jumped in fright, crawling back as Anya entered the room. She halted in her steps as her eyes first landed on the elder man's body, then trailed to Keegan's. When her eyes found me, cowering in the corner with blood-stained eyes, she glowered down at me.

"Clean the mess up, now." She ordered.

One of her guards, a female, walked around Anya and bent down to pick the elder man's body up. She had sharp facial features and a tattoo that covered the right side of her shaven head. She dragged the man out, his blood forming a trail out of the cell. As she exited the cell, a brunette man entered the room and made his way to Keegan's body. I began to crawl forward, letting out a small whimper as the man picked up Keegan's body and carried him out.

"Did they hurt you?" Anya spoke when the guards left, leaving just the two of us in the large cell.

I stared after the brunette who had carried Keegan out, wanting to give Keegan a proper burial. Anya eyed me, leaning on the wall Keegan had been lying moments before. Her arms were folded over her chest, looking just the same as she had beforehand. She still wore the same eye-makeup, though it was slightly smudged now around the ends of her eyes. She also now wore a different jacket, this one having more fur around the collar.

"If they hurt me or if they didn't, why do you care?" I spoke, my vocal chords harsh.

"Stubborn as always." Anya commented, rolling her eyes.

"Stop acting like you know every damn thing about me." I snapped, getting to my feet.

She dismissed my comment, looking to my shoulder and said, "You're bleeding. Did Keegan do that?"

I let out a low growl, annoyed with her ignorance. "Yes, he did that. And now, he's dead."

"But you weren't the one to kill him now, were you? That leaves us with only two other options: Rufus, the other man who died here today, or there was someone else from the outside who helped you." Anya straightened, and with arms still crossed, paced back and forth. "You can tell me who really did it, and they can be punished for their actions. Or, you can lie about it and instead, suffer for the person who actually did commit the murder."

"How can I suffer for a dead man's actions?" I asked, glaring at Anya. "There was no other person in this room. It was myself, Rufus and Keegan."

Anya stopped in her pacing. Her eyes were trained on the dried blood on the floor below her as she played with her lower lip. I watched and waited for her next move. She was a winner when it came to unexpected moves. Just by the looks of her I could tell her attitude and moods could change within an instant. If that just so happened to me, I would deal with it.

Anya turned on her heels, slowly, and smiled. "Not a good move, mic lup."

My brows drew in suspicion, my heart picking up it's pace at the familiar nickname: mic lup. It meant Little Wolf, and it was something my father used to call me when I was a young child. Kemp had sometimes used that nickname out of habit. It was a name I held close to my heart. And as Anya spoke it so calmly and freely, I felt a string snap.

"What did you just call me?" I asked, taking a step forward. I began to hear my blood pumping in my ears as my heartbeat picked up. I felt my fingertips go numb, my stomach twisting. I swallowed the large lump in my throat as Anya looked to me, her gaze set. "No one calls me that, no one but--"

"Your father." Anya finished.

I was confused. I was born years after the incident with Anya and my parents. If she were to know any nickname, it would be Kemp's (if he had one). I remember my father telling me that that had also been his nickname when he was a child, given to him by his father. It may have meant little wolf, but a wolf wasn't always little. Once they grew, they were strong and fierce animals. They were wild and lovers of the moon; they were loyal to their pack, their family; they protected the ones they loved with their life.

"How dare you speak so lightly of my father, and my family, after what you did." I growled at her in a wolf-like manner, anger bubbling through my veins. "You're a child, Anya. Who gave you the right to kill my mother and father for loving each other?! Who gave you the right to slaughter my village?!" I yelled, spit flying from my mouth as I stalked towards her. Anya had stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes widening only slightly. "You're a cold-blooded killer! I only wish my father ran away with my mother much sooner, and farther, from you!"

"Everything that has happened to me, is all your fault." I screamed, tears blurring my vision. "You're a murderer--"

I was stopped as Anya growled and stepped forward. She took a tight hold of my neck and slammed me against the wall. Drawing a short blade from her side, she held it inches away from my throat. I breathed in through my nose, inching away from the blade. It pricked my skin slightly, though no blood fell.

"I did what I had to!" She yelled, her voice echoing through the cellar. I squeezed my eyes shut, letting out quick breaths as I awaited my death. "If you were in my position you would have done the same, Daughter of the Traitor." She pushed away from me, and I let out a deep exhale. "In a time of war, you'll find that those you thought were your friends, are in fact your enemies."

"Anya!" A voice called from the hallway, following it, the same woman who had dragged out the body. Anya glanced over her shoulder, sheathing her blade. The woman looked between the two of us suspiciously before turning her complete attention onto her leader. "The horses are ready. The Skaikru are waiting."

My heart jumped at the mention of the Sky People. Anya gave an understanding nod to the woman before she disappeared out the door again. Anya turned her attention back onto me, her gaze completely shut off and emotionless. It was just as she had been on the evening of my mother, Kemp, and my two sisters' murder. She was back to her usual self, which meant she was bound to show no mercy.

"It's a trap, isn't it." My comment was a more a statement than a question, for I knew their ways. "You'll never win, Anya. They're strong; they're fighters. They'll never give in to you, you don't have any leverage."

Anya chuckled, and began to make her way out of the cell. "You're correct, it is a trap. But, I have two very important things they want." I fell silent, waiting her answer. The air stilled. She stopped at the door, and glancing over her shoulder said, "They want a peace-treaty. Only I have the authority to go through with it. And, I have you." She shot me a wicked look and I felt myself inwardly sink. "Their leader is meeting with us at mid-day."

I shook my head in denial and fear, "Clarke would never agree to this. She doesn't give a damn about me."

Anya flashed me a smile, before heading to the door and calling in some guards, "Oh no, but the boy does."

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
this chapter was SO long, omg.
I'm so sorry about the amount of dialogue in this chapter, too. I'm not too happy with it tbh.
but o well, enjoy :)