Lucinda Kane was one of 100 prisoners exiled to Earth for their crimes in the sky. Relying on her beauty, intelligence, and physical skill to navigate the challenges of this new world will she survive everything Earth has to bring? All is fair in lo...
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"All I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier. Fighting in only your army. Frontlines, don't you ignore me."
You're losing me - Taylor Swift
.・。☽.・゜✭・.・
The warmth of Bellamy's kiss lingered on my forehead as we stood there, locked in an embrace that felt like it could hold back the war threatening to consume us. But reality had a way of intruding on moments like this, and sounds of preparation outside the tent grew louder, the reality of what we were about to face came crashing back.
Bellamy's body stiffened, and I felt his muscles tense under my hands. The sounds pulled us both from the brief refuge we had found in each other's arms. I leant away, giving him one last look, trying to memorise every detail of his face, every line, every shadow before the inevitable.
"We have to go," Bellamy murmured, his voice heavy with regret as he pulled back, his hand lingering on mine for a moment longer before he let go. His eyes, once filled with warmth, were now hard and focused, the leader in him taking over, pushing aside the fear and doubt that had momentarily surfaced.
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat as I forced myself to let him go. There was no room for hesitation now, no time for second thoughts. We had a plan, and we had to see it through. For each other, for the people depending on us, and for the slim chance that we could survive this.
As we stepped out of the tent, the chaotic energy of the camp was almost overwhelming. People moved with an urgent sense of purpose, their faces set in grim determination as they prepared for the battle that loomed on the horizon. The air was thick with the scent of gunpowder and the sharp tang of fear, a heady mixture that seemed to seep into my very bones.
Bellamy and I made our way toward the camp walls, our footsteps a rhythmic echo against the hard ground. The camp was a hive of activity, with people rushing to their posts, loading weapons, and reinforcing the barricades. The tension was almost palpable, an invisible force that wrapped around us.
As we neared the foxholes, I saw Miller standing at the edge, his face set in a hard, determined line as he directed the remaining gunners. His voice carried over the din of the camp, a beacon of authority in the chaos.
"Lucinda, head to the east wing with Jasper and-" Miller began, his voice firm and steady. But Bellamy, moving with the kind of urgency that spoke to the desperation we all felt, cut him off before he could finish.
"She's with me," Bellamy commanded, his tone inviting no argument. Without waiting for a response, he grasped my hand firmly, intertwining his fingers with mine in a gesture that was as much about reassurance as it was about command. The warmth of his grip was a small comfort amidst the cold reality of our situation.
