GROUNDER - The 100, B.B

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐ 008 - Shelter in shadows

Sylva

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

Bellamy and Clarke returned to camp, their expressions grim, guns slung over their shoulders as they made their way back to the dropship. Whatever mission they'd been on had clearly gone sideways, but Bellamy's fury wasn't just about that. The moment he heard Lincoln had escaped, it was like a storm cloud descended over him, his anger palpable and intense. I could feel it even before he walked into the room, before he even looked at me. His rage was like a wave, crashing over everything and everyone in its path.

Now, alone with him in the dim, cold interior of the dropship, I could see that anger radiating off him, his jaw clenched, muscles tense as he tried to keep himself in check. The tension between us was thick, suffocating, and I knew this was a pivotal moment. This wasn't just about Lincoln anymore; this was about me, about the choices I'd made, about the silence I'd kept.

Bellamy paced back and forth in front of me, his hands running through his hair in frustration. The desperation in his movements was obvious, the way he seemed to be struggling to keep himself together. "Why can't you just talk?!" he burst out suddenly, his voice a mix of anger and desperation. "You're making this so much harder than it needs to be."

I stood still, my body aching from the time spent bound and immobile. I refused to meet his gaze at first, keeping my eyes trained on a spot on the floor, but I could feel the intensity of his stare burning into me, demanding a response, any response. But I stayed silent, not giving him the satisfaction of an answer. I knew it would only fuel his anger, but what could I say? Everything I said would be used against me, against my people. There was no winning in this situation.

He let out a huff, his frustration bubbling over. "Do you want me to torture you or something? Kill you?" His tone was challenging, daring me to respond, to give him something to work with. He took a step closer, his presence looming over me like a dark shadow. "'Cause I can do that right here, right now."

Fear gripped me then, cold and relentless. My heart pounded in my chest, and I felt my breath quicken, but I forced myself to remain still, to keep my face as neutral as possible. Warriors didn't show fear, and I wasn't going to break now, not after everything. But as Bellamy's eyes softened, I realized that he could see through me, that he knew exactly how afraid I was. I couldn't hide it from him, not entirely.

He exhaled deeply, the anger draining from his face, replaced by something else—something softer, more human. "Please, I know you're afraid," he said, his voice gentler now, almost pleading. "I don't want to do this. I'm already horrified enough with myself."

There was a vulnerability in his words that caught me off guard. I had expected him to be relentless, unyielding in his anger, but now there was something else in his eyes, a kind of desperation that went beyond mere frustration. He didn't want to hurt me, that much was clear. He was struggling, torn between what he felt he had to do and what he actually wanted to do.

For a long moment, we just looked at each other, his brown eyes searching myy hazel ones as if trying to find something—an answer, maybe, or some sign of understanding. The silence stretched out between us, heavy and oppressive, but I refused to be the first to break it. I wasn't going to give in, not until I knew for sure what his intentions were.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Bellamy spoke again, his voice softer, almost coaxing. "I'll let you go, okay? I'll let you go if you say something, anything. Please."

His offer hung in the air, and I could see the sincerity in his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged with the weight of the decision. He wasn't lying, at least not entirely. He was desperate for some kind of resolution, some way to end this without more bloodshed, without more pain. But could I trust him? Could I really believe that he would let me go, just like that?