Kass Morgan - Day 21

Sasha flinched, but continued. “Everything was okay at first, though it was strange having new people around. The rest of us have known each other our whole lives, and it was our first time meeting outsiders. But we did our best to make them feel welcome.” Her face darkened, and her voice grew cold. “They didn’t treat us with the same courtesy, so they had to leave.”

Something in her tone ignited Bellamy’s anger. “What the hell does that mean?” he snapped. He was sick of this girl and her vague responses. “Where are they?”

She took a deep breath. “They’re dead.”

“ Dead? ” Wells repeated, momentarily losing his composure as murmurs rose up from the crowd. “ All of them?”

Sasha nodded.

Murderers , Bellamy thought. The Earthborns were insane killers. They’d shot Asher without warning. He shuddered as the thought he’d been trying to suppress for days rose to the surface: What if Octavia was already dead? He clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms. If he didn’t get her back, he was going to make every single one of them pay. With their lives.

“So what, you killed them?” Graham asked. “And since that wasn’t enough, you decided to kill Asher too?”

“No, that’s not what happened. We—”

But Graham cut her off, turning to Wells with a sneer. “It’s not too late to kill her, you know.”

“Will you just listen ?” Clarke said angrily. “She says they didn’t kill Asher!”

“Then who did?” Bellamy demanded. It took every ounce of his willpower not to shout the question at Clarke. Why the hell was she taking the Earthborn girl’s side?

“None of us ever thought another group would come down. But then you arrived.” Sasha looked between Clarke and Wells, as if it had been their idea to come down to this goddamn planet. “There was all this arguing, and fighting, and then a faction of us split off. They’re the ones who killed your friend.” She pressed her lips together and turned to Bellamy. “I bet they’re the ones who took your sister too.”

“So where are they?” he challenged.

“I wish I knew. None of us have seen them since they took off. You’ve seen them more recently than I have. But the rest of us aren’t like that.”

“And why should we believe you?” Graham asked with a sneer. A chorus of agreement rose among the others. “There are ways of finding out if she’s telling the truth.”

“Cut it out, Graham,” Wells snapped, stepping forward to stand between Graham and the girl. “Clarke, take Sasha back to the infirmary and keep an eye on her until we figure out what to do.”

“I know what to do,” Bellamy interrupted, anger and frustration beginning to boil dangerously in his blood. “We grab our weapons and go after the bastards who took Octavia.”

“Don’t!” Sasha said, her voice suddenly shaky. “They’ll kill you. There are a lot more of us than there are of you.”

“So we’ll bring you with us, as leverage.” Graham pushed past Wells and grabbed Sasha’s arm.

“Let go of her!” Clarke shouted. But Sasha didn’t need any assistance. In a single smooth move, she kneed Graham in the stomach, freed herself from his grasp, and twisted his arm behind his back.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed. She released Graham and sent him stumbling forward, then staggered back a few steps herself, as if the act had required all her strength.

“Are you okay?” Clarke asked, taking Sasha’s elbow as the girl’s knees started shaking.

“Fine,” Sasha said hoarsely.

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten anything?” Wells asked.

“A while.”

When Bellamy saw Wells glance over his shoulder toward the fire, where the two rabbits were already being devoured, he bristled. “No way are you feeding her what I hunted,” he said to Wells, his voice cold.

“I agree,” Graham interrupted. “We’re not feeding that little bitch.” About three-quarters of the group nodded in agreement. The others were already busy fighting for the last scraps of meat clinging to the rabbits’ bones.

Before anyone had time to respond, a shriek rose up from the shadows on the far side of the campfire. Bellamy ran toward the sound, a dozen others at his heels. They all slammed into him as he skidded to a stop.

Tamsin stumbled into the clearing, then collapsed on the ground with a shriek. Blood gushed from a wound in her thigh, just below the jagged hem of her shorts.

“Holy shit,” said Graham, standing next to Bellamy, too stunned to do more than stare at the arrow sticking out of Tamsin’s leg.

As Clarke rushed over, Bellamy turned to look at the Earthborn girl. She was being held in place by a grave-faced Azuma and a sneering Dmitri, her eyes wide with horror as she looked from the injured girl to the shadowy forest. But Bellamy knew better than to be fooled by her act.

The next time blood was spilled in the camp, it was going to be hers.

“Wells?” Someone was prodding his arm. “Hey, Wells?”

Wells’s eyes snapped open, draining the last droplets of a dream from his mind. He’d been floating down a canal in Venice. No, wait, he’d been riding a horse into battle alongside Napoleon.

Kendall was standing over him, but Wells ignored her as he scrambled to his feet. The Earthborn—Sasha—was just where he’d left her; she hadn’t moved all night. Not that there was much opportunity for her to move with her ankles bound together. She was still sitting up against the tree, staring off into the distance with an inscrutable expression on her face, as if she’d trained herself not to betray her thoughts.

In the end, his only option had been to spend the night outside with the prisoner. The three cabins were packed with the nearly one hundred people who’d sprinted for safety in the chaos after the second attack. There was barely room for everyone to sit down, let alone sleep.

Wells and Bellamy had carried the sobbing but lucid Tamsin to the infirmary cabin, followed by Clarke, who’d shoved people out of the way to make room for her newest patient. Luckily, the wound hadn’t been life threatening, and even with a dozen terrified people surrounding her, Clarke had managed to stitch up and bandage Tamsin’s leg. But when Eric and Graham had come in, dragging Sasha between them, the cabin had erupted in a frenzy of angry shouts.

“I say we kill her now,” Graham had bellowed, transforming a number of the shouts into cheers.

“Absolutely not,” Bellamy growled. “Not before she tells us where to find my sister.”

Graham’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but they’ve probably killed Octavia by now. Our only shot at justice is cutting this little bitch’s head off and leaving it in the woods for her friends to find.”

There’d been no chance at a peaceful solution, not when everyone was half-crazed with fear and adrenaline. And so Wells had volunteered to spend the night outside with the prisoner—keeping her safe but separate from the group until they figured out what to do with her.

A few people had objected to that plan as well, saying that it was too dangerous for Wells to be in the clearing by himself, but when they realized it was either that or keep Sasha inside with them, they’d fallen silent.

Wells knew he should’ve been terrified after seeing what had happened to Asher and Tamsin, but as he settled against a tree a few meters away from Sasha, curiosity soon swept his fear aside. He couldn’t quite believe he was looking at someone born on Earth, someone who’d be able to answer all the questions that had kept him up late into the night as a kid. What did snow feel like? Had she ever seen a bear? Were there still cities standing? What was left of New York? Chicago? But he must’ve lulled himself to sleep with his questions, and turned them into the stuff of dreams.