GRIM REAPER¹, bellamy blake

017 ━━ the death toll

2 obx stories published!!

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"WE HAVE to go back," Lincoln hurried to undo Bellamy's bindings, beginning to speak nonsense. "It's the only way."

"Go back? What do you mean, go back? We can't go back now!" Bellamy argued with the Grounder man, "There's probably, what, four or five? Maybe six? We can take them! We might never get a chance like this again."

"For once, I agree with him, Lincoln," Iona said. She undid the other side of Bellamy's chains before handing him one of her throwing daggers. "Hope you have good aim."

"I thought I could do it..." Lincoln murmured, "but I can't. Okay? It's over."

"No, it's not," Bellamy said, a serious and determined look overcoming his features. "We can join them. Listen to me. When they bring out the Red, you grab it, and you run like hell. The reapers... they'll go nuts, the Grounders will run, and the Mountain Men will have a mess to clean up."

"I said no!" Lincoln said, just as the reapers came running in from the entrance. "You'll get yourselves killed."

Suddenly, Bellamy jumped him, causing Iona to grip at her daggers and hide her face. There's a very, very slight chance one of the reapers might recognize a Trikru commander amongst the reapers; if they did, it wouldn't be good.

Lincoln to fight back, gripping the male in a tight grip as Iona held her dagger to his throat.

"This one tried to escape..." Lincoln told the approaching reapers. "He's ours."

"Put him on the log," one replied dryly, gesturing to Bellamy.

Iona tried to stay as still as possible, as to avoid drawing attention to herself.

However, as Bellamy was dragged by Lincoln to the center of the group, one of the reapers seemed to notice something was off. At once, her katana had been unsheathed by a reaper beside her, and she instantly growled.

His eyes seemed to widen at the sight of the Commander seal upon her blade, and instantly, he was gripping her arm, "Imposter!"

"Get your hands off of my weapon!" Iona yelled, bringing her hidden dagger to his neck. She hit him with the blunt end, causing the man to spin until he hit the ground, unconscious.

She grabbed back her katana from his body and wielded it with two hands. Bellamy, already blindfolded and attached to the post, struggled against his bindings at the sudden commotion and yelling, and Lincoln seemed too unfocused to understand what was happening.

It appeared as if Iona was in this one alone.

"Useless..." She muttered quietly.

Iona thought it would be an easy feat- she's trained for years, has killed hundreds, and leads her people in training; she was soon proven wrong.

Every jab of her katana was met with a sword or an axe, and it was becoming more and more apparent that reapers had an upper hand in terms of endurance and strength.

Iona's never been someone to give up, but she felt her resolve crumble every time the Reapers stood back up after having been stabbed, all whilst blood tainted her clothes, her wounds eating away at her.

Letting out a strangled war cry, Iona dropped to her knee with a final thrust of her blade. It went straight into the thigh of a Reaper man before him, and he growled angrily, clutching at the opening.

Taking her opportunity, she stabbed her dagger into the side of his neck, spurting crimson against her tan skin. Her white face paint now had spots of red that trailed down her cheeks- and then suddenly, she felt something stab into her side.

Iona let out a strangled cry and grasped at the wound, but it was too late.

Her world had already turned black.

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Iona can't remember being carried into the upper chamber of Mt. Weather.

All she felt was pain, then grief, then an overwhelming sense of numb. It spread from her wounds like a wildfire, causing sputtered groans to escape her lips.

Where was Lincoln? Where was Bellamy?

She had so many questions, but she couldn't manage to open her eyes long enough to see.

Iona smelled and tasted blood, metallic overpowering her senses. Her head lolled back against the plush feeling of pillows, and she withheld a groan.

"Another Commander..." A voice spoke plainly, somewhat interested in the tattooed woman. Iona lazily groaned, a soft whimper escaping her lips at the realization she was too numb to move.

Iona felt a force lifting up her left arm, tracing the lines of her tattoos.

"Trikru."

Finally, as Iona's eyes managed to force themselves open, she came face-to-face to a man. He was handsome- if you don't consider the fact that he's stuck needles in five different parts of Iona's arm- and he sent her a sinister smile.

"Put her with the others."

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