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NOV 2, 2149 DAY FIFTY ONE ON THE GROUND
DAKOTA THOMPSON WAS OUT FOR BLOOD. Her wretched soul was already tainted red, defiled with the deepest of impurities, but she wanted more. After seeing Fox in that bin, she needed more.
They entered the pristine white room where Dante Wallace was being kept by his son and grandson, spotless ivory walls lined with his favorite works of art. His eyes instantly landed on the familiar blonde in the doorway.
His tone was eerily even, some sort of suppressed anger somewhere beneath its surface. "Hello, Clarke."
"Sir, we need your help again." Bellamy began.
"It's okay. I took out the camera from the junction box in the hall." Monty assured. "We can talk freely."
"No one's watching anyway. Thanks to you, they're all on level five." the overturned President mentioned.
"You're not." Clarke lifted her chin, evoking a bitter smile from him.
"No, I'm not."
"Please. We don't have much time." Bellamy pleaded, refocusing on the mission, desperation shimmering in his chocolate eyes. "We need a way to get our people out of this mountain without killing everyone."
Clarke narrowed her eyes slightly. "He's not gonna help us."
There was a beat before Dante spoke again. "You cut the power, risking the lives of everyone in this mountain, my people. Even the ones who helped you."
The Griffin girl took an angry few steps towards him at his infuriating accusation. "We knew they'd be safe on level five. We made sure not to destroy the turbines so you could repair them." Her voice rose to a shout. "We're the good guys here! Not you!"
"Tell me," he quirked a brow, challenging her. "if we released your people and theirs, what would have happened to mine?"
Dakota hadn't uttered a word since they'd left the tunnels. She'd only stare grimly, blanketed by silence, dark eyes boring into whatever was fixed before her gaze. But something about the high and mighty tone of his voice was too much for her. She didn't miss a beat yanking the small knife from her holster, grunting as she shoved him ruthlessly against the wall. The girl kept a strong arm shoved against his chest, other hand resting the sharp tip of her blade directly against his atom's apple. He stared down at her demolished eyes, blacker than night, aware he was tall enough to overpower her. But he made no attempts to resist her punishment or anger or whatever this was— he didn't have any fight left.
