Homecoming

She nodded at him, then turned to Bellamy. He wrapped his arms around her waist, held her close as she rested her cheek against his chest for a long moment while he kissed the top of her head. “I love you,” he said as she pulled away.

“I love you too.”

“Take care of her, Wells,” Bellamy called as he watched them make their way toward the stairs. Wells turned to meet his eyes and nodded.

“And take care of him, Clarke,” Bellamy said, a little softer this time. “Take care of each other.”

A moment later, they were gone.

Bellamy wasn’t sure how many miles he’d logged, pacing the hall, but it was impossible for him to stand still. He had to keep moving. The bunker was eerily silent. Fifteen minutes passed, then twenty. Bellamy couldn’t take it. He slipped out of the room, ran up the circular stairs, and cracked open the door to Mount Weather. He stood in the shadows of the hallway, listening for a sign that the battle was about to begin.

Finally, a long, low whistle echoed across the hilltop, followed by three short chirps. Rhodes’s men were close. Bellamy held his breath. Seconds later, the first shot rang out, then another, then too many to count. The night sky lit up with gunfire, and dozens of spears and arrows whizzed down from the trees in a blurred swoosh. Agonized cries and shouts rose up as if from the earth itself. Then, as if they were materializing from thin air, wounded men and women began stumbling out of the forest, into the clearing outside Mount Weather. Some were Colonists, others were Earthborns. All were covered in blood and writhing in pain. It was instant carnage, as bad as anything Bellamy had seen when the dropships crashed.

Without thinking, Bellamy bolted through the door. He snatched up a club from the hand of a fallen Earthborn and began swinging it wildly in every direction. He was doing some pretty good damage too, until three Earthborns swooped down on him, grabbing him by the arms and practically lifting him off his feet. They hauled him backward into the entrance to Mount Weather. Bellamy kicked and tried to break free. “Let me go,” he yelled. “I want to fight!”

“You need to stay out of sight,” one of the women admonished, and Bellamy instantly felt remorseful—how had he let himself get carried away again?

He stopped struggling and began running toward the door. The Earthborns circled him for protection and ran alongside him. Just steps from the safety of Mount Weather’s walls, a man to Bellamy’s right let out a cry and fell to the ground. Bellamy froze and looked down in horror. Blood poured from the man’s chest, but he raised his arm and gestured for Bellamy to keep moving. Bellamy did as he was told, leaping forward in a full sprint. It was just a few feet. He felt the attackers closing in from behind, practically breathing down his neck. He pushed his muscles harder than ever, his legs burning and his fists and elbows pumping up and down as he ran.

Before he could reach the safety of the bunker, though, everything suddenly went silent.

“Stop, Blake, or I’ll shoot them all,” a man barked from behind him. Bellamy came to a halt. Panting for breath, he turned to see a group of bloodied and bruised Colonists approaching, guns raised and pointed right at him. The two Earthborns guarding Bellamy stepped in front of him and raised their spears. Bellamy clenched and unclenched his fists. His heart pounded so hard, it shook his whole body.

A Colonist in a guard’s uniform stepped to the front of the group. It was Burnett, Rhodes’s second-in-command. His eyes lit up when he saw Bellamy.

“Step aside,” Burnett commanded the two Earthborns standing between him and his prey.

“Not going to happen,” one of the men replied, shifting his club from one shoulder to the other.

“What does this boy mean to you?” Burnett growled. “Why would you die to protect him?”

“To keep Earth from being overrun by assholes like you,” the Earthborn said calmly. “Get out of here!” he called over his shoulder to Bellamy.

Bellamy backed slowly toward the door. More Colonists gathered behind Burnett, guns raised. Bellamy turned to run. He heard two sharp pops, then the dull thud as two bodies dropped to the ground. He gasped but stumbled forward. Just as he wrapped his fingers around the handle of the bunker door, a voice called after him.

“We have your sister.”

Bellamy froze. His chest constricted, as if Burnett’s words had formed a noose around his neck. “What are you going to do to her?” he asked as he turned around slowly, his voice strangled.

“For a boy so fixated on protecting his sister, it didn’t take much for you to leave her behind, did it?”

“She had a life there,” Bellamy said slowly, unsure if he was talking more to Burnett or to himself. “She was starting to know what it meant to be happy.”

Burnett smirked. “And now she knows what it means to be under arrest.”

White-hot anger surged through Bellamy’s veins. “She hasn’t done anything wrong.”