Rupture | Bellamy Blake ² [Discontinued]

❉| chapter nineteen

❝life is about growth and change. but you, my dear god of mischief brother, just want to stay the same.❞

-thor odinson, ragnarok

♛

THE OLD MAKESHIFT WALL of our dropship camp brings back a surge of nostalgia rushing into me as we walk toward it. Caleb's eyes wander around the mechanisms of it, most likely observing the many logs, metal shafts, and other scraps we'd used to build it. I'm shocked that, even after five months, it's still standing strong.

Kane stops us at the entrance. His automatic rifle is aimed at the back of Bellamy's head, but he sweeps it around the empty camp as he tentatively calls out, "Monty?"

There's no response. The camp is hauntingly silent.

"We got here first."

We take several more slow steps inside the camp. It's completely empty except for the looming ship we'd crashed into Earth in. Every tent, every campfire, every piece of life had been burned long ago. The ashen skulls and remains of what we'd built had disappeared from the winter months. It leaves a weight settling on my chest that I try my best to shake away.

"No we didn't," Octavia grumbles as she yanks Bellamy and Caleb toward her, sword at their necks.

"Hey, what are you doing—" Kane tries to hiss. My heart leaps into my throat as Caleb swallows instinctively, the blade inches from his collar. Bellamy appears relatively unbothered. After all of this, he's been acting emotionless and numb.

"Get outside!" the girl commands fiercely. "Now!"

Her eyes are trained on the open door of the ship, where the cloth is still drawn, though torn and dirty from age. I squint at the material. Sure enough, the tiniest flicker of movement catches my eye near the corner.

"She's right," I whisper to Kane. "Someone's here."

"Draw your weapon," he orders quietly. I grasp the handgun from its holster on my belt and raise it toward the dropship. My heart beats unsteadily, a low hum in my ears.

The cloth is pushed aside to reveal Monty. As he steps out, Octavia's head tilts to the side and she relaxes her stance in the slightest. However, he appears tense, and I soon realize why.

A pistol appears behind him. I clench my jaw and continue to hold my own steady as Pike emerges from the ship as well. The two stand on the ramp with Pike aiming the gun at Monty's head.

"They followed me," he informs us shakily. I glance down at his hands, noticing they're restrained as well. A flare of anger rises in me that Monty had been used for bait. "I'm sorry."

"Let him go!" I order, my eyebrows pinched together in both frustration and concentration. My aim moves in the slightest, but Pike knows what he's doing by covering his body with that of his hostage's. I can't risk a shot— it could hit the wrong target. Even if I did manage to get him, it would have to be an extremely precise headshot. I couldn't do that from so far away.