Chapter twenty:
Murphy's Law
(Part 3)
WITH HER heartbeat thumping in her temples, Vivienne ignored the anxious pain in her chest as she raced after Clarke, each footstep echoing with urgency. She tuned out Bellamy's calls behind her, focused solely on catching up to Clarke's determined stride."Clarke!" she shouted again, her voice cutting through the camp, drawing curious stares from campmates as she rushed past them. Her pace was driven by fear and determination, her mind racing.
"You son of a bitch!" Clarke exclaimed as she shoved Murphy back, catching him off-guard.
He laughed slightly as he stumbled. "What's your problem?" he queried, glancing over Clarke's shoulder to see Vivienne trembling, and Bellamy standing tall beside her.
"Recognize this?" Clarke held up the knife, a crowd already beginning to gather, eyes drawn to the blood staining its tip.
"It's my knife. Where'd you find it?"
In an attempt to calm herself, Vivienne trailed her thumb against her elbow, feeling the slight texture of her own skin under her touch. She cradled her arms as her eyes scanned the growing crowd, sensing the unease spreading among them. The air was thick with murmurs and nervous glances exchanged between campmates, each person drawn into the unfolding drama before them. Vivienne took slow, deliberate breaths, trying to steady herself.
"Where you dropped it after you killed Wells," Clarke stated with cold certainty, snatching the knife away from Murphy just as he reached for it.
Staring at her, Murphy's mouth hung open slightly, his eyes narrowing in confusion. "Where I what?" he spat, not comprehending the accusation.
"The Grounders killed Wells, not me," Murphy stated defiantly, his voice carrying over the murmurs of the crowd that had gathered around them. He briefly glanced back at Vivienne, searching her face for any sign of belief or understanding. All he found were her wide, tearful eyes, filled with a mix of shock and uncertainty. She remained silently stood beside Bellamy, Octavia, and Jasper.
Despite Murphy's words, the tension in the air remained palpable, with doubts and suspicions swirling among the onlookers.
"I know what you did," Clarke accused, getting so close to Murphy that he could feel her warm breath on his face. "And you're gonna pay for it."
"Really?" Murphy challenged, his defiance clear in his tone. He glanced over at Clarke, then turned to find his leader, Bellamy. "Bellamy, you really believe this crap?" he called out, hoping for support. Bellamy remained silent, his jaw tensing and arms crossing as he stood taller, his expression unreadable.
"You threatened to kill him. We all heard you," Clarke's voice raised slightly. "You hated Wells."
"Plenty of people hated Wells," Murphy countered, his voice rising in frustration. "His father was the Chancellor that locked us up!" He began to shout, trying to make his case to those around them.
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SOLDIER; the 100 (1)
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