Grace Marlowe was a bitch. A beautiful, golden haired bitch. They thought she was flawless, but later they would know that she was anything but. Frankly, she was vain. She was selfish. She was cold. She have never had any friend and she thought she...
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IT WAS WHAT SHE HAD wanted since the first time she heard about the grounders. She wanted them all captured, chained and shackled, leaving them powerless to the mercy of the hundred.
Now, that they finally had one completely helpless and battered in front of her, she could only feel sick.
She didn't know what to expect. When she first heard about them, she imagined some mutant, half human half animal that could survive the radiation. When she first saw them covered with war paint and thick animal skin outfit, she imagined they were all ruthless killers, couldn't possibly feel anything other than bloodthirsty.
This grounder in front of her couldn't exactly fit to that categories.
He was big and all muscles, sure, but he had two hands, two legs and no tail, no fangs or claws. His blood was red, pooring out of his many wounds. His face was mostly emotionless and even calm when the boys gave him more bruises and cuts, but his eyes were sharp and cool, as if he actually understood what they were saying.
He looked like... a human.
Suddenly, a colossal shake caused all of them to fall to their knees. The harsh blow threw the weapons and every other things on the table scattered across the floor.
Bellamy rushed to Grace's aid, helping her get back to her feet as she pushed her long hair that was now unravelled from her face.
"Are we under attack?!" Bellamy asked whilst unconsciously tightening his hold around Grace's smaller frame.
"It was just storm damage," Drew answered after he climbed back from checking the lower level. "We're okay."
Bellamy let out a relieved breath, putting his nose on top of the girl's golden head. Her hand grabbed his shirt and pulled him back to her when the black haired man started to walk back towards the grounder.
"Bellamy," she said softly, "don't do things you'll only regret."
Bellamy frowned. "Why do you suddenly care about the grounder?"
"I don't," she admitted, and that was the truth. Even if she felt bad, if the grounder had to die for her or Bellamy to live, then she would kill him in a heartbeat. "But..."
"But what?" He pressed, looking down at her with his deep brown eyes.
"I—I care about you," she blurted out, the words seemed to be painful for her to admit and she averted her eyes to look anywhere other than his freckled face. "And I know you don't want to do this. You don't want to torture or kill someone... We've already made so many reckless decisions, but we can stop this one before it gets too far."
Bellamy was quiet for a minute, then he closed his eyes and sighed deeply, "Grace, you don't understand. Even if I don't want to, I need to do this."
