ATARAXIA • BELLAMY BLAKE

[ 5 0 ]

"Raven?" is the first thing that comes out of my mouth when where all forced into the dorm room on level five.

Raven looks up at me, hands handcuffed to the wall like everyone else in the room. Her face falls even lower when she sees my face. I guess my being here almost serves as an indication of defeat.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, my own hands dragged up above my head to be locked in place beside her.

"Blew up their dam," she replies flatly.

Of course. Raven cut the power. That's why we're all here on level five. It must be the only part of the Mountain still safe from radiation.

I scan the room, spotting familiar faces, our friends, including Harper, who hadn't been taken to the harvest chamber yet. But there's no sign of Bellamy. For a brief moment, I feel a flicker of relief, knowing there's still a chance he'll save us all—until my eyes land on the boy strapped to the table in the center of the room. His body is riddled with drilled holes, barely clinging to life, and that relief vanishes.

"It's over," Miller mutters beside me, his voice hollow. "We're done."

"It's not over yet," I reply, my voice steely as I give him a sharp look. "Stay ready."

"For what?" he asks, defeated, his face a mirror of despair. I don't have an answer. I just know it can't end like this.

A man draped in bloodstained white cloth approaches the table. His hands, smeared with red, reach for the drill as he prepares to continue his gruesome work. I force myself to look away.

The soldiers finish shackling us to the walls and head for the door. Almost immediately, another man enters—two guards escort masked prisoners behind him. The man leading them has a gash on his forehead, his voice too familiar. My eyes drop to his uniform tag: Emerson. At last, I can match a face to the voice I've learned to hate.

Before I can process it further, another door creaks open. A man in a worn grey suit strides in. He can be none other than Cage Wallace. He moves toward Emerson with a calculating gaze.

"Did we take any losses?" Cage asks.

"Not as many as they did, sir. But I'm the only one left who's been cured," Emerson replies. "Some of the kids are still missing. I can take a team in hazmats and sweep the other levels."

"No. No more wasted lives," Cage dismisses him with a casual wave, his indifference to the lives they're taking in this room almost enough to make me gag.

Cage orders the guards to remove the prisoners' hoods. Monroe's face is revealed first, followed by Sergeant Miller, who, the moment he sees his son, surges forward.

"Nate!" he cries, only to be slammed back by a guard's boot.

Miller thrashes against his restraints, spitting curses, but I keep my eyes on the prisoners as the next faces appear—Kane and Abby.

"What is wrong with you people?" Kane demands, his voice shaking as he looks around and watches the doctor extract more blood from the dead boy on the table.

Abby's voice trembles with urgency as her eyes scan the room. "Where's my daughter?"

"She's talking about Clarke," Emerson informs Cage.

Cage steps closer to Abby, towering over her. "I'm sorry it had to come to this," he says, his words hollow before turning away and leaving the room. Abby and the others are dragged over to be shackled like the rest of us.

I try to keep my composure, but the moment the guards unceremoniously drag the boy's lifeless body from the room, I feel a chill creep up my spine. We're nothing more than cattle to them.