BOOK ONE IN THE SALVATION SERIES
"Victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror. Victory however long and hard the road may be; for without victory there is no survival."
"You just ripped off Winston Churchill."
"Wow, Blake, congratulations...
" she is so stubborn— her heart has an argument with her head every time it wants to beat "
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I walk out of the tent angrily, fighting the urge to kick the metal barrel to my left. I can't let Finn plant that bomb, and Bellamy knows I wouldn't let Finn put himself in danger if I could be the one to do it, so why the hell did he say Finn would? I hear the tent flap open and I'm not surprised by the voice that follows.
"Princess-" Bellamy grabs my bicep, spinning me around in the darkness. Even through it, I can tell he's bracing himself for my harsh words.
"I'm not letting him do it," I seethe, shrugging myself out of his grip. My eyes flash with determination, my mind set. No one can change my mind.
"You're not planting that bomb, Avalon," Bellamy demands roughly, not backing down. A muscle in his jaw feathers, his fists clenching and unclenching by his side.
A choked laugh escapes me, and I stare back at Bellamy defiantly. "And you think that'll stop me?" I cross my arms over my chest unblinking. I would leave earlier, beat Finn there and do it myself.
There was no way I would put Finn in danger by choice. I've always protected him and that was not about to change now because Bellamy wants to be power hungry.
"I said Finn puts it on the bridge. I don't know why that's so hard for you to understand!" His voice rises, face tinted red once Bellamy realizes that fact, a few campers staring.
I turn back to Bellamy, my arms crossed over my chest. "You know it's better if I did. I made that bomb, I know how to set it up. Why the hell shouldn't I?" I demand, at least looking for whatever sorry excuse Bellamy had come up with.
His jaw clenches, soft curls falling onto his forehead as Bellamy shakes his head. Bellamy looks up, exasperated, before grabbing my wrist and leading me away from the rest of the campers.
"Bellamy, I swear if this is some vacuous move to show me who's in charge-" I ramble, tripping on a twig in the darkness. Bellamy looks back at me, a hand reaching out to steady me before it falls as he decides against it.
He slows to a stop, and I halt in my tracks. The darkness swallows us up, trees surrounding us, the camp walls in sight over Bellamy's shoulder.
"Clarke is sick, and someone needs to be in charge here!" Bellamy begins, his tone defensive. I watch his shoulders tense, the air also thick with it. But that's how it always was with us- tension, fighting, arguing, getting along for a short period of time until it all starts again.
