• •

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN;

WE THUS DRIFT TOWARD UNPARALLELED CATASTROPHE.

• •

WISPS OF DAWN BECKONED THE DUO CLOSER TO THE BRIDGE AS THEY RACED AGAINST TIME. Haven couldn't decipher just how long they'd been running for; all she knew was that it was the fastest she had ever moved, her natural endurance had been eclipsed by an otherworldly speed ever since the hundred landed on the ground. Running for their lives had become second nature, ingrained into their very beings as they navigated the perils of their unforgiving world.

Now, it was torture.

Every cavity within her chest wailed in a familiar agony, reminiscent of the moments before she succumbed to cardiac arrest in the past. It sucked, bad. Perhaps the chest pain she had endured over the past two days wasn't a case of broken heart syndrome; maybe it was a flare-up of the stenosis she thought she was cured of. Her body had been stretched to its breaking point for far longer than it should have–but whatever.

There was no simply time for it.

"Are those war drums?"

        The sound of thunderous percussion reverberated through the frigid air among them, beating in perfect tandem with the rhythm of their footfalls. Each slam resonated against the earth with relentless intensity, yet amidst the cacophony, it couldn't drown out the staccato of Haven's racing heart.

        "We're close," Haven rasped, hardly sparing Monty a glance as the wind whipped against her bare skin. "Just keep–"

        White-hot, excruciating pain tore through her heart, seizing her words in her throat and bringing her to an abrupt standstill. Gasping against the overwhelming discomfort, she blinked, her vision momentarily blurring and tripling before her.

        "Haven?" Monty skidded to a sudden halt beside her, his rifle clutched tightly as he swung it over his shoulder. With a worried furrow creasing his brow, he pivoted to face her. "Haven! You good?"

        Definitely fucking not.

        But Monty didn't need to know that. If Haven was destined to have another flare-up today–it would have to wait. Raven's life hung in the balance, as did the lives of everyone in the camp. She refused to let her body's betrayal jeopardize their mission; she'd be damned if she allowed her own physical limitations to derail their effort.

        So, like always–she sucked it up.

        "I'm good," Haven panted, somehow managing to draw a steady breath of air into her lungs. Though Monty's skepticism lingered, she refused to falter, mustering a determined resolve as she propelled herself into another sprint. "I'm good. Let's go!"

They streaked into the sunrise like twin comets, their figures illuminated by the fiery hues of dawn as they tore across the terrain, leaving a trail of scorched earth in their wake. As the outline of the bridge materialized on the horizon, Haven's gaze remained fixed, her senses so honed into locating Raven that she hardly even noticed the boys beside her.

        Monty erupted into a shout. "Jasper!"

        "Monty?" Jasper's abrupt movement sent his rifle scraping against the tree stump it had been propped against, the metallic sound echoing in the tense air. He spun on his heels, his eyes wide with surprise. "Haven? What the hell are you–"

        "Where is she?!"

        Jasper wasted no time registering the urgency in Haven's demand. With trembling hands, he pointed a finger towards a distant figure on the bridge, their silhouette barely visible through the thick tangle of ferns.

        There, sprawled on her hands and knees, was Raven Reyes. Even from afar, her reckless bravery was cauterizing, illuminated with such intensity that Haven couldn't help but wonder if the bomb had already detonated. She crawled across the bridge at an agonizingly slow pace. But it wasn't the bomb she was inching towards—it was her gun.

        As Haven's gaze flickered to the group nearby, she finally noticed Finn standing beside Jasper, his wide eyes filled with unbridled horror as he witnessed his girlfriend's perilous crawl towards her own death. And yet, despite the urgency of the situation, he remained motionless. Not even a twitch in his limbs betrayed any hint or action or intention. It wasn't clear whether he was paralyzed by dread or simply unwilling to intervene, resigning himself to accept her fate without even trying to save her.

        He was as useless as a fucking statue.

        But Haven certainly wasn't.

        There was no time to pummel Finn into the dirt and reprimand him. Instead, Haven propelled herself down the crest of lush greenery that sloped towards the bridge's apex. Branches clawed at her skin, and dirt kicked up beneath her feet, billowing around her like fog. Amidst the dense foliage, visibility was scarce, but pressing forward was her only option. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig only fueled her anxiety, a relentless reminder of the ticking clock within her that urged her to move faster, faster, faster–to reach Raven before it was too late.

        Once Haven reached the bridge, she hurled a blind order over her shoulder, her plea carried by the wind's turbulent embrace. "Jasper, line up the shot!"

And then, defying all limits, she sprinted even further. The wilderness surrounding her dissolved into a frenzied blur of green, each stride fueled by an overwhelming surge of adrenaline. Every step was a battle against her body's protests, muscles straining against the relentless onslaught of fatigue.

"RAVEN!" Haven's scream pierced through the stratosphere, a primal cry echoing across the morning sky, "RAVEN! WAIT!"

By now, Raven had successfully clutched the rifle in her hands. Fifty feet separated them, a vast expanse fraught with impending doom. Forty feet. Flat on her stomach, she angled the weapon with blurred vision, the weight of its significance heavy in her blood-stained grasp. Thirty feet. If she had heard Haven's desperate plea, she certainly made no effort to show it. Twenty feet. Shakily, she thumbed the trigger, her hand quivering with the weight of the decision she was about to make. The barrel of the rifle trembled in her hands, its aim faltering in the face of the monumental choice before her.

"RAVEN–!"

Ten.

Haven's heart thundered against her ribs like a battering ram as she forced her legs to pump harder, each step a frantic scramble against the merciless march of time. Adrenaline surged through her veins like wildfire, igniting every nerve ending with a primal urgency. Preparing to take the shot towards the bomb would not only claim Raven's life–but hers as well.

Five.

This was her best friend. Raven, who had saved her a plate after every missed meal in the Mess Hall. Raven, who had taught her how to hotwire a control panel–and how to trust. Raven, whose fearless spirit had propelled her into the unknown, constructing an escape pod from mere scraps to follow her boyfriend and her best friend down to a radioactive sphere, light years away from the safety of their home.

One.

Haven slammed into Raven's body without hesitation, her desperation lending her strength as she wrenched her friend up by the arms, forcing her to stand. The rifle clattered to the ground uselessly at their feet. Gripping each other tightly, their fingers digging into flesh, they held on as if afraid the other would vanish into thin air.

"Hav?" Raven croaked, "What are you–"

"Saving your ass." Haven's breaths were ragged and labored, cheeks aflame with exertion as she hoisted her friend's arms over her shoulder for support. "As usual. Just hold onto me, okay?"

Wordlessly, they staggered in the opposite direction, dragging themselves back towards the safety of the treeline. Each movement felt like tempting fate, as if they were marching towards the waiting spears of the Grounders. It was almost cruelly ironic. The journey became a twisted mockery of progress; with each step forward, the distant drums of war only grew louder.

        "FASTER! FASTER! LET'S GO!"

        Finn emerged from the thicket of trees just as the girls reached the far end of the bridge. His eyes bulged, flashing with something indiscernible as he caught sight of the blood leaking from Raven's nose–a clear indication of the virus. Then, he was hauling her from Haven's wobbly arms, leading them both towards a nearby ditch.

As they collapsed into the dirt, seeking refuge against the unforgiving backdrop of a rock, Finn turned to Raven with wide eyes. "The bomb–?"

Raven nodded wearily.

"SHOOT, JASPER!" Finn bellowed, 
echoing the command against the sunrise with an urgency that rattled his bones. "SHOOT! SHOOT!"

        Haven seethed with an unfathomable rage as she glanced towards the Collins boy, rendering her vision hazy with its searing intensity. His girlfriend had nearly died, and yet he had made no effort to save her. The first question out of his mouth hadn't been about her wellbeing; it was about the damn bomb. She could practically feel the fury incinerating her from within, warping the tissue within her chest at an inhuman speed.

        Unless it was the onset of a flare-up.

        Then, she was screwed.

        But again–there was simply no time for it. Not as Grounders could be seen leaping amongst the treetops overhead. Not as the war drums seemed to vibrate her very skull. In this hostile terrain, danger lurked around every corner, ready to strike at any moment. If the bomb didn't blow, they were nothing more than sitting ducks.

A singular gunshot snarled through the air.

        Haven peered around the corner of the rock only to witness the bullet veer off course, far from its intended target—the bomb. Despite Jasper missing the first shot, his attempt had successfully halted the advance of the shadowy silhouettes of the Grounders. Even their thunderous war drums seemed to quiet–as if waiting, seeking for what's next.

Three more rounds shattered the silence.

All misses.

"You got this, Jas!" Haven could only pray that her shout could be heard from this far away. "You can do it!"

Dread swelled beneath her ribs as the fifth shot, the final round in Jasper's clip, missed its mark yet again. The Grounders could be seen stirring from their places in the shadows once more. Finn braced himself for the inevitable, steeling his resolve to flee if necessary. Like wraiths, the warriors slowly crept onto bridge, exploiting the jarring quiet that ensued.

Another shot rang out–courtesy of Monty's rifle–followed by a second.

Then, the world was on fire.

All at once, the bomb they had fashioned from a humble tin can erupted into a furious display of destruction. Light seared across their vision with blinding intensity, while smoke billowed in a massive, gargantuan cloud. The bridge, once a sturdy structure of stone and steel, was reduced to nothing but twisted wreckage and smoldering debris, consumed by the relentless fury of the blast. Heat from the explosion kissed their skin even from hundreds of yards away. Despite the fiery violence, a haunting silence lingered–as if the bomb's detonation had yet to unleash its full wrath.

Suddenly, it was as if the earth itself recoiled in terror–the sonic boom that followed rattled the very ground beneath them, unleashing a deafening roar that reverberated through the core of existence.

They did it.

They fucking did it.

But somehow, Haven couldn't muster the relief she expected. Not now. Not as she witnessed Raven's feeble attempt to grab onto Finn's wrist for stability, fresh blood staining the corners of her lips she hovered on the brink of unconsciousness. Naturally, Finn remained oblivious to her distress, his attention diverted elsewhere–ignorant of the impending crisis unfolding right beside him.

In that fateful moment, the air was rent with the deafening roar of twin detonations. The first, the bridge itself, erupted into a chaotic symphony of splintering wood and twisting steel, engulfed in a whirlwind of smoke and debris. Yet, amidst the chaos, another explosion surged forth, a force unmatched by mere physical destruction.

It was the eruption of Haven's wrath.

        "YOU COWARD!"

        With a primal scream tearing from her throat, Haven surged up from the dirt, her entire being consumed by a white-hot rage. Grabbing Finn by the collar of his jacket, she yanked him up with a force fueled by fury, only to violently slam him back down onto the ground.

        "Hav, what the–?!"

        With a sickening thud, Finn's skull met the unyielding earth, and in that moment, Haven's fury knew no bounds. Her clenched fist became a merciless force of retribution, each blow directed squarely at Finn's face. Through gritted teeth, she spat out her contempt, each word dripping with venomous disdain, "You stupid, spineless coward!"

        "Hey–HEY!" Jasper was the first to hurtle from his perch atop the slope, frantically barreling down its expanse at the frightening sounds of violence. "Calm down!"

        But Haven could hardly hear him.

        "You were just gonna let her die, right?" Haven ceased her assault on Finn's face only to drag him closer as he attempted to flee. "Watch the girl who risked her ass for you get blown to bits? Right before your stupid," Her words were punctuated by each ferocious strike. "Fucking," Blood sprayed mercilessly from his nose with each impact. "Eyes!"

        "Haven!" Jasper's futile attempt to intervene fell on deaf ears as Haven's fury burned unchecked. "He gets it! Let's just–"

        "Don't touch me!" Haven hissed, her eyes ablaze with a vehemence that made Jasper recoil. Then, she turned her attention back to the boy at her mercy. "You are nothing, Finn–nothing. Never in a thousand lifetimes will you ever deserve her." Tears stung her eyes as the agony within her chest intensified. "Ever!"

        Finn scarcely made any effort to resist the onslaught of her blows. He lay there, his body limp and vulnerable, absorbing each strike with a silent resignation that spoke volumes. While the first three hits were expected, the fifth one elicited a wince, a pained groan escaping his lips as he battled to speak past the metallic tang of blood in his mouth.

        "Get...off..." he choked, "...me."

        Haven seized him by his collar once more. "Or what? What are you gonna do, huh?" she taunted, rising from the dirt and hauling him to stand alongside her. Offering a solid three feet of space between them, she dared him to make a move. But as he remained hunched over, defeated, she let out a derisive scoff. "That's what I thought. If you want to do the right thing, start by fucking apologizing."

        "The right thing?" Finn echoed, his voice tinged with bitterness as he spat out a mouthful of scarlet onto the dirt. His gaze narrowed, dark and accusatory, as he tilted his head. "Is that what you told yourself when you killed Dax?"

        Haven went rigid.

        The reality of his words drained every ounce of oxygen from her lungs. All at once, her everlasting rage dissipated, replaced by a cold, desolate emptiness. It was as if a veil had been torn from her eyes, revealing an insidious truth she had been unwilling to confront. For the first time since leaving Bellamy in the dropship, she felt as though she could finally see clearly–but it brought no solace. Instead, it only left her feeling exposed, stripped bare of defenses, and consumed by an overwhelming urge to smother herself in anger and denial.

       What have you done?

        A sudden rustle of leaves jerked Haven from her trance. Her friends had formed a cautious circle around her, their expressions wild and uncertain, treating her like a volatile force to be approached with caution. Monty strained to hold Raven upright, his eyes wide with the unspoken dread that permeated the air. Raven was hardly clinging to consciousness. Jasper stood nearby, his rifle slung over his back, hands poised as if ready to console Haven–or restrain her if necessary. And Finn, bloodied but unbowed, pinned her with a glare that cut through her like a dagger.
       
        How could she let this happen?

        How could she have subjected them to such fear–inflicted by her own actions? It was true that she killed Dax. But did they think she'd kill Finn, too? Hadn't she summoned every ounce of her strength to deflect Lincoln's blade and save Finn's life in the cave–not long ago? The memory was still vivid, the pain of her stitches a constant reminder. But as she questioned herself further, a haunting uncertainty lingered: did her past deeds still hold meaning, or had they become mere echoes in the face of new horrors?

        Did any of it even matter?

As Haven fixed her gaze on the boy before her, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was staring into the eyes of a stranger. But she never stopped to think that maybe–he didn't recognize her, either.

Life on Earth was cruel.

Humankind was crueler.

        Soon, the void within her had flared to life once more, consuming her being with searing intensity. Every cell within her shrieked in agony. Desperation clawed at her soul as she yearned to mend the shattered fragments of her existence, to erase the scars inflicted by the harrowing nightmare of the past month. Yet, despite her fervent desire, she found herself paralyzed, unable to even coax her mouth into forming a single coherent sentence. With each breath, her lungs flamed with a fiery torment, her fingers tingled with an unsettling numbness, and her vision began to warp.

        But Finn was far from done.

        "What–do you really think nobody put it together?" he drawled, his words punctuated by a blink, despite the swollen bruise already blooming around his eye. "Or is it only okay for you and Bellamy to make bad decisions? I'm not fucking perfect, Hav."

        He dared a step closer.

        "But at least I don't kill people."

        Weakly, Haven shoved him, a feeble attempt to put more distance between them. But he swiftly retaliated–shoving her just above her heart with twice the force.

        That was all it had taken.

        There was no stopping Haven's descent as she staggered backwards, feeling the exact moment her heart ceased its beat. Reeling from the impact, she crumpled to the ground, the unforgiving earth embracing her with a cold finality. She knew all all too well the perilous path that lay ahead; she was staring down the barrel of a relentless onslaught, one that would leave her utterly vulnerable and at the mercy of her own body.

        It didn't matter how hard she fought to keep her eyes open, to cling to the fading echoes of her friends' cries–to remember the promise she made to the boy she left in the dropship.

        Darkness laid her to rest in seconds.

• •

        BELLAMY DID NOT LIKE BEDREST. The very notion of being confined to his stupid cot felt far more torturous than enduring the virus all over again. Honestly, he would've preferred it. Every fiber of his being screamed with the urge to move, to make himself useful–yet the relentless fatigue had held him captive, weighing down his limbs like anchors.

Somehow, he managed to last an hour.

But then, the bomb went off.

Bellamy had all but catapulted from his cot, navigating through the influx of teenagers Clarke had ushered into the dropship as a precaution. Eager to confirm the success of the plan, he strained to catch a glimpse of the rising plume of smoke, a sign that their daring scheme had actually fucking worked.

It felt good, knowing that the group at the bridge had presumably managed to pull it off. But the relief it brought was fleeting. He wouldn't feel at ease until they returned, alive. So, until then–he threw himself back into barking orders, keeping himself occupied and his mind focused on the task at hand:

Watching over Orion.

The Vincetta girl, unlike most of the other delinquents, had taken longer to recover from the virus. Clarke suspected it was due to her weakened immune system from lack of nourishment. To Bellamy's astonishment, Orion had gone without food for two days, insisting that the only thing she could stomach was her own grief.

He understood that.

        However, it didn't stop him from stomping into the meat tent and practically forcing a drumstick into her hands. Recalling Haven's preference for a smaller leg, he made the selection with care, hoping to provide some familiarity in the gesture. Though Orion accepted it rather begrudgingly, the noticeable boost in her energy after consuming it was undeniable.

"Look, if you aren't gonna stop pacing–go kick rocks, or something."

Which, led them to where they were now.

Hours had slipped by since the bomb detonated, and the dropship was slowly returning to its usual rhythm. Most of those affected by the virus were now on the mend, either resuming their regular tasks or simply biding their time within the confines of the metal space.

        Meanwhile, Orion remained curled up against the wall, knees pressed tightly to her chest, her gaze fixed on Bellamy's tireless patrol of the first floor. Despite the countless laps he had completed, his restless energy seemed unquenchable, driving him back to Orion's side time and time again. Each time he returned, he offered assistance before resuming his pacing, the cycle repeating itself in an endless loop.

        A thousand tiny nerves festered beneath his skin, yet there was nothing to channel them into. So–he simply acknowledged Orion's comment with a mere grunt, focusing on the rhythm of his footsteps in an attempt to drown out the noise beneath his skull.

        Orion lifted a brow. "What the hell was that for?" she hissed, arms crossed over her chest as Bellamy continued his circuit. "Feeling cranky 'cause the King of Dirt isn't immune to the virus? Shocking."

        Bellamy's retort was sharp. "Shut up."

        "Feisty today, aren't we?" Orion remarked, dismissing the urge to scoff while Bellamy shamelessly rolled his eyes. "Jeez. Would you relax? It's not like they're dead."

        At that, Bellamy stiffened, a twinge of discomfort coursing through him. Perhaps Haven's keen observation skills were rubbing off on the younger girl, or maybe he was simply too transparent. Regardless, the thought struck a nerve, causing him to abruptly cease his pacing and fix Orion with a piercing glare.

        "They could be."

        "They aren't."

Bellamy clenched his jaw. "You don't know that," he huffed, clearing the distance between them and sinking down the wall beside her. To his surprise, she made no move to rebuff him, silently granting him a bit more space to sit. "They should be here by now. It's only a four-hour trek back to camp, and it's been five."

"They're probably exhausted from, y'know–saving our lives?" Orion reasoned, stealing a glance at Bellamy to gauge his reaction, only to find him staring off into nothingness. "You've really gotta give 'em some more credit. They did the damn thing. Finn might be an idiot, but he can carry his weight. Jasper's got good aim when he stops shaking like wuss. Monty's a genius. Raven's basically a god–"

        "It's not them I'm worried about," Bellamy admitted.

        Something within him stirred at the quiet truth he had revealed. To be honest, he couldn't quite explain why he was confiding in Orion, but the relentless churn of dread demanded release. He trusted the group to carry out their mission because Haven trusted them. Yet, his trust in her also carried the weight of knowing she would unflinchingly throw herself into danger–for their sake–without hesitation.

        "Oh, trust me," Orion snickered, finding it hard to contain her amusement at Bellamy's admission. "We know."

        Bellamy shot her an odd look.

        Orion merely blinked. "What–you think we're all freakin' blind or something?" An incredulous scoff escaped her lips as Bellamy narrowed his eyes. "Everyone can see the way you look at her. Plus, the whole sob fest before she left was like, disgustingly obvious."

        Suddenly regretting his decision to speak up, Bellamy let out a guarded huff, his tone clipped. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're a terrible liar," Orion jabbed, though the mischievous glint in her eyes was tempered with genuine warmth. "Come on, Blake. Can't stop the free fall, can you?" She knowingly patted his chest with her hand. "Better buckle up, my guy. You're in for the long run now."

Bellamy's cheeks flamed. "I–"

"Look, Haven's gonna be fine," Orion assured, her words imbued with a certainty that almost made him believe her. "It's basically a scientific fact that she's indestructible."

It was lost on Bellamy how Orion consistently maintained such unwavering faith and conviction, especially in the face of uncertainty. It seemed as though she harbored hardly any concern for Haven's fate. He found himself questioning whether her confidence was merely a facade, a way to suppress her own fears, or if she genuinely believed in the words she spoke.

Either way, it felt conflicting.

Haven always found a way to survive, but she wasn't fucking fireproof. Despite this, the trust everyone placed in her resilience felt disturbingly casual. It seemed as if they believed she warranted less concern than the rest of them, a sentiment that struck him as careless, if not outright reckless. While Bellamy was well aware of her strength, he had also seen her die. He knew how it felt to lose her–over and over again–a pain the others had been spared from experiencing.

        But maybe he was just a cynic.

Shifting gears, Bellamy let out a slow exhale. "Y'know–that's the same word I used to describe you. Indestructible," he admitted, "Haven wouldn't leave the dropship to help us make bullets, not unless she knew you were good."

"Of course she wouldn't." Orion snorted, though her laughter carried a bittersweet edge. "I...I haven't had anybody watch over me like that before. Not until I met her and kind of just wormed my way into her life." She forced a smile, but it felt hollow. "Now, she's stuck with me forever!"

        Bellamy studied her for a moment, his scrutiny gentle yet perceptive, as he contemplated his next words. "You say that like you're...unwanted, or something," he observed, noticing the faint falter in her grin. "But she cares about you, Orion. A lot."

        "Yeah, yeah." Orion waved him off, deftly reining in the glimmer of vulnerability that slipped through the cracks. "Well, I care about her more–and I know she'll come strolling through the gate in no time." With a casual bump of his elbow, she added, "Have a little faith."

        Bellamy leaned his head against the cold, metal wall behind him, its frigidity seeping through his clothes and into his bones. "Even with the bomb set off, the Grounders could still be out there. Who's to say that some of them didn't already cross the bridge before it blew?" he countered, "They're probably spying on them from all directions."

"You've got a point," Murphy interjected, "But in the meantime, you can ease up a bit–they won't touch Haven."

John Murphy stood with his arms folded, casually leaning against the ladder positioned in the room's center, exuding an aura of nonchalance. While it remained uncertain how much of the conversation he'd overheard, it was unmistakable that he had caught enough to audaciously offer his input.

Bellamy could practically feel his blood catching fire within him. "Who the hell said you could speak?"

"He's telling the truth," Orion interjected, casting a scrutinizing glare at Murphy before redirecting her attention to the Blake boy. "He, uh...told me about this earlier."

        What the fuck?

        Exasperated, Bellamy's eyes darted between Orion and Murphy, his gaze probing for any hint of deception. Orion's vehement aversion to Murphy was no secret; their longstanding animosity had often ignited into countless fits of rage. Yet, in a strange turn of events, Orion now seemed willing to vouch for him.

        Hell certainly must have frozen over.

        Still entrenched in his skepticism, Bellamy's words were terse. "Told you about what?"

Murphy raised his hands defensively. "Just hear me out, okay?" he grumbled, his voice gruff as he awaited Bellamy's begrudging acknowledgment, marked by the clench of his jaw. "I could overhear the Grounders talking when I was in my..." He sucked in a sharp breath. "...cage. They thought I was asleep, so they slipped up. Spoke in english."

"And–?"

        "And...when you shot their leader, Anya, you shattered every bone in her hand," Murphy recounted, a shadow of amusement flickering in his eyes as he recalled the memory. "They know it was you, Bellamy, but they also know you did it to protect Haven. They're not gonna lay a finger on her if they fear the repercussions."

        As Bellamy listened to Murphy's explanation, he scrutinized it for any shred of reassurance, only to come up empty-handed. "That hasn't stopped them before."

        "It will now." As Murphy moved to edge closer to the pair on the floor, he hesitated, noticing Bellamy instinctively clenching his fists in silent warning. "If they go after her, and she doesn't kill them herself–they know that you will."

        "Told ya," Orion beamed, casting a smug glance at the Blake boy, her eyebrows wiggling in a knowing fashion. "Freakin' obvious!"

        Bellamy brushed off Orion's teasing remark with a dismissive flicker of his eyes, his focus laser-sharp as he fixed Murphy with a withering glare. "Assuming you're not lying through your teeth, how the hell does that change anything?" he challenged, "Doesn't that just make her bait?"

       "Nah. They have this weird rule for her. Non-lethal force only," Murphy disclosed, his shoulders rising in a casual shrug, seemingly unfazed by Bellamy's silent intensity. "Plus, they saw her kill Dax in the woods to, uh...save you. Something about her freaks them out."

        Orion grinned. "Good."

        Discreetly, Bellamy cast a quick glance towards Orion, his curiosity piqued by her reaction to Dax's death. To his astonishment, she betrayed no hint of surprise or alarm. Instead, her expression spoke volumes, radiating a visceral understanding of Haven's actions–even before Haven had a chance to explain herself.

        But the horror still remained. Why the fuck were the Grounders having conversations about Haven in the first place–about himself? Did Murphy give up their name under torture? Was he even telling the truth? Each question hammered at his brain relentlessly, driving spikes of agony through his every thought.

        "I'm not willing to test that theory," Bellamy declared, tension coiling in his gut as he shifted from his position against the wall and rose to his feet. "I'm going after them."

        Orion rolled her eyes. "You're such a drama queen," she huffed, though to Bellamy's surprise, she mirrored his actions. "I mean, come on. You stopped puking only like, six hours ago. You're no good if you end up slowing them down." Then, a mischievous smirk crept onto her lips. "But me? I'm way faster than you."

        "They're already slowed down," Bellamy hissed, "You're staying here. This has gone on way too–"

        "IT'S THEM! OPEN THE GATE!"

        At once, Bellamy soared towards the exit, quickly flanked by Orion and majority of the dropship's inhabitants.

        A large crowd of teenagers had already clustered near the gate. Many had been anxiously awaiting this moment since the virus no longer gripped them, and now, their faces were alive with excitement, illuminated by the soft glow of the setting sun. Cheers erupted from the crowd as familiar figures appeared in the distance, their silhouettes outlined against the fading light. But amidst the crush of bodies, it was impossible to discern exactly who they were cheering for.

        "See?" Orion jested, "There she..."

        Silence.

        Bellamy pummeled his way towards the front of the mob with his heart lodged in his throat. The once-deafening cheers dissolved into a stifling silence, whispers of dread swirling among the crowd in a haunting melody. As Bellamy's figure loomed closer, the teenagers parted with an instinctual reverence, exposing the nightmarish scene that awaited him at the forefront.

Monty appeared first, bearing the weight of Raven's limp form on his shoulder, her face streaked with the telltale signs of blood that seeped from her lips and nose. Close behind, Jasper hurried into view, his back facing the onlookers, arms outstretched to support one end of a hastily assembled stretcher. Finn joined him, mirroring his urgency, his tired visage adorned with dried blood as they carefully lowered the stretcher to the ground.

Haven's body lay atop it.

Still as death.

Black blood trickled from a scrape against her temple, its dark hue glistening like spilled ink in the sunlight, visible for all the camp to see. Her eyes remained delicately closed, as if guarding secrets untold, pallid lips slightly parted. Whether she inhaled or not, Bellamy couldn't tell. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe, as if the very air had inflated his lungs with poison. His gaze lingered upon her still form for an eternity, each detail etching itself into his memory with excruciating clarity.

His words were broken. "Is she–"

"No," Raven panted. "She's alive."

But relief was a foreign concept, impossible to grasp, as Bellamy's eyes fixated on a detail that ignited an unfathomable rage within him. Haven's knuckles bore an ominous shade of crimson, tainted by blood that wasn't her own. And as his gaze shifted to Finn fucking Collins, the truth written across his marred features, it only confirmed Bellamy's worst suspicions.

Jasper gulped. "Bellamy...man."

His warning fell on deaf ears.

Because by the time they had blinked, Bellamy exploded towards Finn like a well-aimed bullet, his movement a blur of focused rage. With a primal roar, he seized Finn by the shoulders and hurled him against the gate with a force that shook the very air. The metallic clang echoed ominously as Finn's back collided with the unforgiving surface, his eyes widening in horror. Yet, despite the suddenness of Bellamy's assault, Finn's expression betrayed no surprise–as if he had been expecting this confrontation all along.

        "What the hell happened?!" Bellamy fumed, "What did you do to her?!"

        His words were a venomous snarl, each syllable punctuated by his seething rage. His breath came out in heated bursts, his eyes burning with an insidious intensity. With each passing moment, his fury only seemed to swell, pressing Finn further against the metal as if trying to extract the truth through sheer force.

        Jasper tried again. "Bellamy–"

        "Shut up!" Bellamy barked, his voice cutting through the air like a whip. Without sparing Jasper a glance, he barred his forearm against Finn's throat. "What. Did. You. Do."

        Finn's protest bordered on pathetic. "I didn't do anything!"

        "Then why is she unconscious?!" Bellamy pinned his forearm further against Finn's neck, trembling with unbridled wrath. "Why is your blood on her hands?" he thundered, "Finn, if you laid a fucking finger on her, I swear to–"

        "ENOUGH!"

        All heads snapped toward Jasper.

        "J-Just listen to me, alright?" he pleaded, his breaths coming in ragged bursts as anxiety pulsed through every fiber of his scrawny frame. "After the bomb went off, they got into a stupid fight! Haven punched him for like, a minute straight. Finn didn't even fight her back–I swear!" His voice faltered. "Not until..."

        "Until what?" Bellamy seethed.

        Jasper drew in a shaky breath of air. "Once she stopped, he made a stupid comment. Really, really stupid," he explained, his words tumbling out in a frantic rush, "She shoved him again, he shoved her back–and then she just collapsed!"

"How–?"

"You're dead, Spacewalker." Orion's voice sliced through the charged atmosphere, her sudden appearance at Bellamy's side as swift as a shadow. Her eyes bore into Finn's guilt-ridden conscience like twin flames, their intensity matched only by the switchblade she held in her trembling grip. "You're dead as shit."

Finn managed to wheeze out a few words, only as Bellamy's restraint against his neck slackened. "For the last time, I didn't–"

"But you did! You shoved her!" Orion boomed, sharp and accusatory, daring to take a step closer. "Whatever she did to you, you definitely fucking deserved it. Maybe she didn't finish the job," she paused, her hand tightening around the grip of her blade. "But I will."

Then, she lunged for his throat.

Chaos erupted in a matter of seconds. Orion's blade slashed through the air with furious intensity, missing Finn's throat by mere centimeters as Jasper and Monty yanked her away. Raven observed the scene with a weariness that belied any shock, her sigh betraying a sense of resignation as her boyfriend found himself threatened–again. Meanwhile, Bellamy's grip on Finn remained firm, though the roar of the crowd only served to weaken his resolve, reveling in the spectacle before them.

"Orion!" Monty pleaded, straining against the Vincetta girl's relentless thrashing. "Orion! Come on–stop!"

But her fury was uncontainable. Again and again, Orion lunged towards him, her movements fueled by a rage so potent it seemed to override any sense of restraint. "LET ME AT HIM!"

"STOP!" Jasper shouted, miraculously managing to drag Orion back a few feet and position himself between her and Finn. His voice quivered with horror as the frenzy ebbed. "This isn't about Finn! It's about her!" He pointed a wobbly finger towards Haven's unmoving body on the stretcher. "If you would've let me finish, you would know that her heart stopped!"

        Bellamy felt the words strike him like a sledgehammer. "What?"

        "It just stopped, right after the shove! I-I don't...I don't know how," Jasper confessed, his voice crumbling into a mere whisper as emotion threatened to consume him. "Monty did CPR and managed to start it again, but she still won't wake up. We got back as fast as we could." Tears shimmered in his wide eyes. "It's been hours."

        A thousand armies waged war against the the atrocities unfolding within Bellamy's ribcage. He stood immobile, a statue of despair, his mind a barren wasteland devoid of solutions. What could he do? What could any of them possibly do to fix this? He wasn't a doctor. Their resources were hardly enough to provide proper medical treatment. If Haven didn't wake up, if her heart dared to falter again...

        They would have nothing to save her.

        "Get Clarke. Now." Bellamy muttered, his voice a low but urgent directive as he turned to Monty. Releasing his hold on Finn, his gaze lingered upon Haven for a torturous eternity before snapping to Jasper and Orion. "You two–bring her to my tent."

Then, he addressed the crowd.

"LISTEN UP!" Bellamy's words exploded across the air like thunder. "We need all hands on deck! Gunners, stick to your posts! The rest of you–turn this camp INSIDE OUT!" he ordered, seizing the attention of every delinquent within earshot. "Med-kits, textbooks, smelling salts–anything that can help us, find it!"

The vibrant pulse that once coursed through the camp now simmered beneath the surface, undergoing a dizzying metamorphosis that nearly made their heads spin. With clenched fists and steely gazes, teenagers exchanged silent vows, each one a testament to their unwavering resolve.

        It became abundantly clear that nobody was placing bets on Vampira's mortality today. Instead, they stood shoulder to shoulder, bound by a collective commitment to defy the odds and save her life.

        "What are you waiting for?" Bellamy fixed the teenagers with an icy glare. "GET TO WORK!"

They scrambled into action soundlessly.

Bellamy scarcely registered Finn's presence as he left him propped against the wall. Unaffected by the soft glow of the lingering sunset, he pressed on, his hands trembling violently. No amount of effort could still their quivering; attempts to wring them out or clench them into fists proved futile against the fear coiled within him. He was relentlessly consumed by the task, oblivious to his surroundings until he collided into Raven.

She barely even flinched.

Bellamy stared at her woefully. "Are you–"

"She didn't hesitate," Raven whispered, unable to peel her watery eyes away from the girl on the stretcher. As Bellamy softened beside her, she pressed on, her voice warbled. "She ran across the bridge to stop me from taking the shot. I-I could've gotten us both killed, and she didn't even hesitate."

Of course, she didn't.

It didn't take long for Bellamy to seamlessly connect the dots. "I'm guessing your boyfriend did."

"He's not my boyfriend," Raven's rebuttal came swift and sharp, cutting through the air with a finality that contradicted her troubled demeanor. She sniffled, hastily wiping away the blood from her nose, only for fresh tears to cascade down her cheeks. "I-I can't...I can't lose her."

At her words, the battlefield raging within Bellamy came to an abrupt standstill, the warring factions of his heart yielding to a truth long buried beneath the rubble of his chest. It was a truth that had lain dormant for eons, one capable of both restoring his faith and tearing it asunder with the same breath. A truth he knew, deep down–would ultimately be the death of him.

"Neither can I."

• •

OWWW this chapter. haven's total unraveling with finn has been long overdue...her fight with him has been hinted at sooo many times and now the dam finally broke loose. and idc!! imma stand beside her just like she stands beside raven!! i feel like childhood friendships run so deeply in a way that nothing else does. NOBODY gets under your skin like family and this is exactly how i wanted to display that for haven...poorly timed, impulsive, violent + ugly.

id like to draw back to the first sentence of the previous chapter as well.... "haven was certain her rage would be the death of her someday.." i tried to be kinda subtle about hinting of her chest pain recently.. trying to veil it as emotional pain but nope🤭

annnd sorry finn is like absolutely insufferable in this book. in the show i can humanize him more but for the sake of the plot here, im just starting his character assassination early 😀

bellamy watching over orion though :))) orion calling him on his bluff 😏  their dynamic is so special to me bc orion is sooo perpetually bothered by him but they're just so open with each other :,) thats gonna be his second baby sister! i cant wait to develop them more. especially in act two....🫣

also...next chapter...its a doozy.

bring tissues.

LOVE YOU SO FREAKIN MUCH!!! beyond life itself!!! i die to hear your thoughts <3