GRIM REAPER¹, bellamy blake

031 ━━ control room

hi! im sorry i didnt update more yesterday >< ive produced 20+ chapters within the past few days and felt a tiny bit burned out so i just took a nice little chill day :) i love writing this story though! hopefully we can finish it within a week or so hehe im estimating 70 ish chapters for this book? maybe 60 or so

━━━✦━━━

IONA WAS in the back of the group as they entered the main control room.

She didn't entirely feel comfortable around anyone besides Bellamy- even with him, there were moments where the comfort was gone and replaced with underlying hatred- and much preferred to speak to herself within her thoughts as opposed to saying them out loud.

So far, Clarke didn't seem to care about the Grounder woman. She tried her hardest not to even look in her direction, let alone speak to her unless absolutely necessary, and Iona assumed it was because of Lexa; which was true, because every time Clarke glanced at her face, all she could see was Lexa.

Monty seemed too focused on the situation to really pay her any mind, but if he did catch sight of her icy gaze, his eyes would widen, and he'd look away instantly. He was afraid of her.

Bellamy was just Bellamy.

The man would steal glances at her on occasion, even murmur a few hushed words and spark quiet conversation. Then, just as fast as he'd done it, he'd start ignoring her presence again, glaring at the back of Dante's head and exchanging soft stares with Clarke.

None of these things bothered Iona- not truly- and she had long accepted her role as the outsider amongst their clan.

Sky People and their Grounder luggage, she'd mock internally.

Overall, they didn't appear to hate Iona. The looks she'd receive were mostly because of her clan, and what her clan had just done to them, but none of their feelings seemed to be explicitly directed towards her.

It almost made her regret how she treated them in the first place. Almost.

"Monty, can you get the monitors up and running?" Clarke asked. From her position in the corner, shrouded by the darkness enveloping the room, Iona watched as Monty darted over to one of the computers, rapidly mashing buttons.

"Of course," Monty said, before suddenly, a whole wall of computers lit up, humming to life.

Some were cameras, some were graphs, others were stats. Iona took note of the empty halls being monitored- or, well, with Cage on level five, they weren't exactly being monitored anymore- before her gaze found the panel that everyone else seemed to be drawn to.

Iona recognized the room, a sunken feeling bubbling up in her stomach, as she watched Sky People be drilled into. Everyone looked terrible, bruises scattered along their bodies, blood dripping from their wounds.

Mouths were moving in silent cries, but the Mountain Men didn't appear to care. They made no movements that could be related to sympathy in any sense, continuing their job as if they had no morals.

Which, after what she's seen, Iona doubts they have any of.

"Is that Raven?" Bellamy stuttered out, eyes widening.

Upon closer inspection, Iona recognized the fresh scar running down her stomach, her gaze dropping to her katana. She could recognize a cut her blade had made any day of the week, month, or year, and her insides churned.

Raven was being drilled into.

Clarke stepped forward to observe a different panel, one showing the rest of the prisoners lined up against the wall. Clarke's face fell in recognition, "Mom?"

Suddenly fueled by rage, Bellamy grabbed a radio and handed it to Dante, "Tell them to stop. Now!"

Dante shook his head, "I won't do that."

At once, Iona drew her blade, stepping out of the darkness. She held it right against Dante's throat, her expression completely unphased.

"If I were you, I'd do what they said."

Dante huffed, "I don't take orders from animals. You'll have to kill me first."

Iona pressed the tip of her katana into his skin, a scowl overcoming her features. Bellamy hurried to grab her arm, pulling her- and her weapon- away from the ex-president. Iona struggled against Bellamy's grip, growling, "Oh, trust me, I'd have no problems with that."

Dante appeared pleased with himself, however, smiling slightly. It was a wicked, twisted, cruel smile; one that had Iona wishing she could lunge at him.

Through their struggle, none of them had noticed Clarke grab the radio. If they had, one of them surely would've stopped her from making such a rash decision such as broadcast her voice- making her presence known- across the mountain.

But it was too late for that.

"Carl Emerson, Mt. Weather security detail, come in."

"Clarke, what are you doing-"

"Who is this?"

"You know who it is," Clarke said.

Iona stared at the woman, who didn't appear to have a care in the world for what she'd just done and took a shallow breath.

If they were lucky, maybe they'd live for another ten minutes.

━━━✦━━━