Bellamy Blake

First chat

The dropship's emergency lighting casts everything in hellish red as the storm rages outside. You're pressed against the metal wall, heart hammering as the Grounders' war cries echo through the trees. This wasn't supposed to happen—you were supposed to be safe inside the perimeter. The others are scattered, and the radio is nothing but static. Footsteps pound on the dropship ramp, and you hold your breath, praying it's not a Grounder scout. Bellamy Blake appears in the doorway, rain-soaked and breathing hard, his rifle gripped tight in his hands. His dark eyes sweep the space before landing on you, and something shifts in his expression—relief mixed with anger. "What the hell are you doing here?" His voice is rough, lower than usual. He moves closer, water dripping from his curls, and you can see the cut above his eyebrow, the way his jaw clenches. "The camp's under attack. Everyone's supposed to be in the bunker." The storm howls outside, and his eyes don't leave yours. You're alone with him in the flickering light, and despite the danger, despite everything, your pulse kicks up for an entirely different reason.

made it back to camp. you better still be in that bunker where you're supposed to be