So here it is - the final chapter. I know it's been awhile since I last updated and to leave it on a cliff hanger like that so I apologise. I had a lot of serious stuff going on in my RL over the last couple of months and I was also working on a story to donate to a charity so this chapter got pushed back for awhile. But it's here now and ready to go and its my longest chapter ever at 11,000 words. A lot of questions will finally be answered.
Please note the trigger warnings: Violence, explicit language, robbery, attempted murder, use of a fire arm etc - if these will effect you I advise you not to read anymore.
Thank you to my pre-reader and beta, Sponsormusings for everything she does for me.
And most of all a big thank you to those who have reviewed, favored and followed this story. Its because of you I found the motivation to finish it. This chapter is dedicated to you.
Chapter 4
So if you're hurting babe
Just let your heart be free
You got a friend in me.
I'll be your shoulder at any time you need
Baby I believe
You can lay it all on me.
A gun?! A gun! Bellamy! The menacing man who's just stormed the gas station, dressed all in black and wearing a balaclava, is pointing a gun at Bellamy's chest! The thoughts go around and around Clarke's mind over and over again like she's listening to a broken record. Remaining where she is, she squats and hides in the back aisle, trying to stay as quiet as she can as the horrific scene unfolds a few feet away from her. She can't believe this is really happening; you hear stories about this on the news, but you never truly believe that it's ever going to happen to you, or to someone you know. Sighing softly, Clarke lays her head in her hands, trying to take deep soothing breaths – in and out, in and out.
After a minute she's able to gain a small sense of calm and begins surveying her surroundings, but all she can see are shelves filled with confectionery and a couple of fridges when she cranes her neck forward to see the far side wall. She'd thought the gas station was small when she first walked in, but now with the man holding a gun a few aisles away from her, the room seems to have shrunk even more – his presence reverberates in every nook and cranny and there's a foreboding chill in the air that's causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. She doesn't know how long it's been since the man came raging in. It could have been minutes or it could have been hours. But what she does know for sure, without a doubt, is that Bellamy is in serious danger.
She swallows the fear rising in her, and crawls as silently as she can to the end of the aisle, her thighs that had been burning from crouching so still now appreciating the movement. She sneaks a peek out from behind the shelf, taking in the confronting scene and listening quietly to the man's intimidating voice. "Don't even think about hitting that alarm," he says, waving his gun about, indicating for Bellamy to move. "Now take a step back from the counter and keep your hands where I can see them."
Clarke can't see Bellamy, it's the hulking man in her line of vision. After a second, a loud, crunching sound like breaking glass reaches her ears. "Well there goes the remnants of your security camera," the man chuckles darkly. "I think security is really lacking here don't you agree?" He taunts.
Clarke looks up, noticing the left wall behind the counter now has bits of wiring and casing hanging precariously. That must have been what caused the loud sound when he first walked in – he'd shot out the security camera. The nauseating feeling that had begun when the man first walked in is now starting to twist itself into knots in the pit of her stomach. This was no random act – this was planned.
With a quick swing of his arm, the man suddenly pushes all of Bellamy's text books that he'd stacked up on the counter earlier. They land with a loud thud onto the floor, splayed out carelessly on the tiles. "Gods and Heroes of Ancient Greece. You gotta be fucking kidding me," he says, sneering down and spitting on the covers.
The man then takes a couple of steps to the side, allowing Clarke to finally get a full view of Bellamy. He's standing up against a block of white drawers with his arms raised in the air, level with his shoulders. Her eyes scan over every inch of him, trying to assess any signs of distress or injury. To her sheer and utter relief he looks unharmed. In fact, Clarke thinks he looks…indifferent and even a little bored. Oh no, what are you up to Bellamy? Please don't do anything stupid.
"I've been waiting a long time for this," the man reveals gruffly.
"I can't say the same," Bellamy answers back coolly.
"You've always been an asshole," the man throws back with a scoff. "Now shut your fucking mouth and get over there and open up the register," he demands.
She watches as Bellamy stands there frozen, his features clouding with confusion.
"NOW!" He yells, pointing the gun at Bellamy's head in a threat. "Put the money in this," he orders, throwing an empty backpack at him.
Through anxious eyes, Clarke continues focusing all her attention on Bellamy. She watches as he slowly opens up the register and begins filling the bag with cash – while he does so, the burly figure uses his other hand to hastily stuff packs of gum into the back pocket of his tracksuit pants. His head is slightly down, but his gun is still trained on Bellamy.
She sees Bellamy raise his eyes slightly off his task and narrow them in the direction of her last known whereabouts in the store. His wide brown ones meet her worried blues ones instantly. He gives a slight shake of his head, his lips forming a firm and commanding line. She knows Bellamy's protective personality well, as she's witnessed it enough times in the last year when it comes to Octavia. With the looming threat they're now facing together she knows immediately what he's trying to convey to her – move back behind the shelf and stay there!
"What's this?" The man spits out gruffly, unknowingly cutting off their silent communication. Bellamy coolly looks over to the masked man. "Who's is this?" He demands, his voice getting louder as he holds up the clutch that she'd left on the counter.
Clarke manages to suppress a horrified gasp as her hand covers her mouth and she manages to quickly twist her body around so she's back behind the safety of the shelf. Placing her other hand across her chest, she feels her heart beating frantically underneath her palm. Oh my god, oh my god.
"It was left here earlier," Bellamy replies with a calm and steady tone. "I was going to take it to the police station on my way home."
"Well aren't you a fucking boy scout," the man ridicules. "Unfortunately for you, that won't be happening. I have other plans."
Clarke's eyes go wide in alarm at his words. Oh my god, what does he mean by that? Please don't let it mean what I think it does. Shaking her head, she wills the terrible thoughts to leave as her eyes begin to prick with tears. She doesn't know what to do to get them out of here, she's never felt so helpless in all her life. The only thing they've got going for them is the element of surprise, but just looking at the guy's muscular physique, she knows he would overpower her smaller frame within seconds. If they're going to get out of this she needs to get her hands on something she can use as a weapon.
With a plan starting to formulate in her brain and renewed determination flowing through her veins, Clarke slowly crawls up to the other end of the aisle, being careful not to make too much noise. Looking up, she takes in every item that's sitting perfectly displayed on the shelves, hoping desperately that something will stick out so she can use it to protect herself and Bellamy. She knows he told her to stay put, but with a threat looming over him like that, he can't expect she'll just sit back and do nothing; that's not in her nature, she's a fighter and stubborn as hell. Besides, since when has she ever listen to Bellamy Blake? Reaching the end of the aisle, she stops, trying to crane her neck forward so she can see some of the other items hanging in the next aisle. Biting her lip and psyching herself up to move she hears a noise like shuffling coming from the front counter. Then out of the blue, a hard and menacing voice says her name. Clarke. It makes her freeze on the spot and she begins to panic.
"Clarke… Griffin…" the voice repeats, like he's trying to memorise it.
Shit! He's found me! How does he know my name?! Clarke quickly swings her body around expecting to see the hulking man standing behind her - but he's not there. She's still alone in the aisle.
"100 Tree Line Way, Arcadia. Apartment 4A…"
Oh my god! He's going through my clutch. He's found my license – he knows where I live!
"…pretty girl, I might have to pay her a little visit," he chuckles darkly, and the sound sends a shot of fear straight to her heart. A sudden smashing sound brings her out of her thoughts and a second later a jeering voice yells out, "Hey! Watch what you're fucking doing and hurry up with that bag."
She overhears more shuffling and a few items falling to the floor, but Clarke doesn't dare to sneak another glance. She can imagine by the man's constant footsteps on the tiled flooring that he's pacing around a bit; his breathing is getting heavier and harsher as he mouths the odd taunt to Bellamy. It's clear by the hurried and callous tone of his voice that he's getting agitated.
After a minute of eerie stillness she hears a fridge door opening, the sound of bottles rattling and then the door closing swiftly. The quiet lingers in the air with a sense of foreboding, she doesn't know where he is and what he's doing. But then it all happens at once; she hears the air conditioner kicking back on with a loud groan, a bottle smashing and a surprised, gruff, voice yelling, "Hey!" She knows that voice doesn't belong to Bellamy and immediately thinks that perhaps he's somehow managed to sneak up behind the man and overpowered him. But that doesn't explain the rush of footsteps coming closer; she only has a second to realise that the noise is heading her way before the man rounds the end of the aisle she's been hiding in. Her shocked blue eyes meet his icy blue ones from underneath the balaclava. On instinct she quickly jumps to her feet but her heels trip over the hem of her dress, causing her to stumble into a shelf; his cold hand brushes against her shoulder and she lets out a scream. Running as fast as she can she heads in the direction of where she last saw Bellamy, but the man's too fast for her, too pumped up with adrenaline - or something else in his system - that he reaches her in no time, grabbing her and wrapping his strong forearm across her chest and pulling her roughly up against the front of his body. She catches a whiff of cigarette smoke before she feels the cold metal of the gun's muzzle dig into her temple.
She looks straight ahead with wide, terrified eyes, watching as Bellamy races towards them. But it's like she's in a dream because he's moving towards her in slow motion, and everything is hazy, out of focus. She blinks a few times hoping to clear her head and to focus on the cold feeling of the gun against her head, but her body is going into shock, protecting itself by making her world and everything in it slow down. But although she's slightly dazed, she manages to take notice of the many familiar features of Bellamy Blake; hair that is ruffled and sticking up at the sides, the strong outline of his chest and his arm muscles shifting underneath his shirt - but it's the blazing look in his eyes that captivates her the most. They're overcome by a fiery heat that she has never seen before, not even on their worst days of fighting. It's the scorching intensity on his face and him bellowing out, "NO!" that brings her mind back to normal speed. After what feels like an eternity, he stops a few feet in front of them. "Let her go," he demands and she can see his hands have formed fighting fists at his sides.
The man tightens his grip on her, letting out an amused chuckle; he's clearly not threatened by Bellamy's display. Clarke feels his hot breath fan over her ear and she has the sudden urge to vomit. She tries to turn her head and recoil away, but he has her pressed up against his body with a deathlike grip and the gun is still sitting on her temple; the blood pulses furiously at the point under the skin, matching the beating of her heart. Her forehead is beaded with a light sheen of sweat and her breathing is coming out in quick, harsh pants. She can't deny it, she's terrified and she has no weapon to even try and defend herself with. "Nice of you to join the party, sweetheart," he cackles. "You almost got away with it too - shame I saw your reflection in the fridge door."
"Just let her go," Bellamy repeats, hissing through gritted teeth.
The man completely ignores his demand, continuing to talk to Clarke, and murmuring in her ear in a taunting manner, but still loud enough for Bellamy to hear every word. "You didn't have to dress up for the occasion you know, Princess. But I like that you did," he tells her, and sticks out his tongue, running it across the shell of her ear.
The feel of his cold, wet tongue on her skin repulses her and her stomach clenches in response. She doesn't want to give him the satisfaction that he's getting to her, but she can't help but let out a tiny whimper.
"Don't fucking touch her!" Bellamy shouts as he takes a step towards them. She can tell by his stiff posture and the flare of his nostrils that he's trying hard to maintain control, and that if there wasn't a gun involved he would have already pulled him off her and had him face down on the ground. "AND DON'T YOU DARE CALL HER THAT NAME!" He adds, spittle flying from his mouth from the force of his words.
Clarke's eyes widen in surprise at his extreme outburst. Trust Bellamy not to cower when he's faced with mortal danger, she doesn't know whether to be proud or think he's being a stupid ass. She can't believe he got that upset over the nickname. Princess. Why?
"I'll call her whatever the fuck I want!" The man argues back and Clarke feels the cool steel of the gun leave her temple. But her relief is short lived because he quickly turns the gun and points it back at Bellamy chest. His arm is straight, steady and doesn't waver – but neither does Bellamy.
"No! Please don't," Clarke begs, trying to break up the standoff and move the attention back onto herself.
The man scoffs in exasperation. "Don't tell me you care for this guy? Do you even know him? Do you know he's a lying, traitorous asshole who's only out to save his own skin?"
"I…" She doesn't know what to say. Clearly this man knows Bellamy, but she's not about to focus and address that right now. "Just please let us go, you have your money," she gasps out, struggling against the strong weight of his forearm against her chest. "You still have your mask on - we don't know who you are - you can just leave."
The man lets out a sharp exhale and she smells his putrid breath brush across her face. "Well, for you, Princess, I wish it could have been that simple. But robbing this place wasn't my only plan for tonight."
"What…what was your plan?" She chokes out, terrified of his answer.
"To kill Bellamy Blake," he tells her simply, the words flowing easily from his mouth, without shame or remorse. He takes a threatening step towards Bellamy, the gun still pointed at his chest and drags Clarke along with him. With all her might, she tries to dig her heels into the dirty tiled floor and starts to scratch at his forearm, all in order to hinder his movements; but his hold on her is too tight and she winces. Even through his clothes, she can feel his arm muscles strain and easily defeat her protests. They stop straight in front of Bellamy, whose face is still hard, but Clarke swears she sees his eyes flicker for a moment in fear.
"Please don't kill him," she pleads. "I'll do anything." The words come out automatically, without rhyme or reason, but she knows she means them with all her heart. Bellamy might not be her favorite person but after knowing him for a year, she can't imagine her life without him in it – his snark and all. He doesn't deserve to die and if she can stop it, she will. Bellamy looks over at her, the stony look on his face has dropped and it's been taken over by shock. He's clearly stunned by her words and the fact that she would put herself in harm's way to save him. His features soften and turn into something like awe. She swears she hears him murmur, "Brave, Princess," with a tone she doesn't recognise.
Before she can try and process what his tone means, the moment is gone and Bellamy turns to the man placing a fixed and resolved look on his face. "I'll do you a deal, let her go, and I'll stay. You can do whatever you want with me."
"Bellamy, no."
The man says nothing, allowing Bellamy to continue stating his case. "She doesn't know who you are; she doesn't know a name and hasn't seen your face. You could just disappear, it's that simple."
"Please don't do this," she chokes out to him.
"Cl…Clarke," he whispers, as he shifts his gaze back to her, his tone revealing an underlying pain. Her eyes widen in surprise; not at just his vulnerability, but at the fact that in the year they've known each other not once has he ever called her by her real name. It's always been Princess or Griffin. Despite the situation, Clarke is mesmerised by the way her name just fell from his tongue, all low, desperate and throaty; she doesn't think she's ever heard anything so agonizingly beautiful. "Let me do this," he tells her.
She shakes her head, the moment gone as quickly as it came. "I'm not going to leave you alone with this man - especially one that wants to kill you," she tells him intensely. "And if you think I would, then I have to say I'm offended."
Bellamy's features transform into frustration. "Oh my god, Clarke! I'm trying to save your life here. Why do you have to be so stubborn?!"
Before she can relay a smart reply they're both cut off by a booming voice. "OI! Shut the fuck up, the both of ya's!" To make his point he swiftly moves the gun back onto Clarke, shoving it under her chin causing her to let out a hiss of pain. "You both act like you're running this show. Oh no, I don't fucking think so," he snarls, his voice getting angrier by the second. "I have the gun, I'm the one in control." To prove his point further, he rearranges the nozzle of the gun so it sits on her far cheek and forces her head to turn and look up at him. "You both aren't going anywhere. There'll be no witnesses," he tells her and then he twists his head around to look back over at Bellamy. "You hear that Blake? You and your little Princess aren't going anywhere," he sneers with an edge of finality.
A moment of silence goes by where Clarke and Bellamy let his threatening words sink into their very souls. Despair and coldness travels through the air that not even the thickest and warmest blanket could hold off. The occasional heavy breath or wince from Clarke when the gun digs into the soft pillow of her cheek breaks the piercing silence and is wondering hopelessly what their next move will be when Bellamy decides to speak up.
"Well, if that's the way things are going to go down," he takes a step towards them, his focus entirely on him. "Take off your mask. I want to see your face… Dax Shepherd."
A surprised gasp escapes Clarke's mouth. She wondered if Bellamy knew who this man was, but she didn't think that he'd be bold enough to bring it up and announce it. Now that everyone's identities are all out in the open, she considers herself and Bellamy officially doomed.
The man lets out a boisterous laugh that makes his chest rumble and vibrate against her back. "Well, I'm talking to two dead people anyway, so why not?" He announces cockily, unwrapping his arm from Clarke's chest. She immediately feels instant relief, like a huge weight has been lifted. "Move over there," he demands, pointing his gun to indicate a couple of feet away from him. "Keep your hands where I can see them."
Clarke has never been so glad to move in all her life. Now that she has some space between this Dax Shepherd and his gun, she feels like she can breathe again – at least a little. She stares up at him, keeping her hands in front of her so he can see them. A few feet across from her she swears she hears Bellamy breathe out a small sigh of relief.
"If one of you tries to run away, I will shoot the other one on the spot. Do you understand?" Dax asks cruelly. Neither of them make an attempt to move as his intention is clear. With the gun still pointing at Clarke, he uses his other hand to lift the balaclava off his head, throwing it unceremoniously onto the ground. He looks back at them with a snarky grin. Clarke's eyes widen, taking in his features immediately; light brown hair, a sharp oval face and a large nose. But what stands out the most is the hardness in his eyes. When she first saw them, they were a surprised icy blue, but now they're filled with determination and ruthlessness. It's clear in the way he's looking at them, taking each of them in, that he won't be merciful. This causes the already hot, sick feeling that's sitting in the pit of her belly to start rolling in waves. It would take an absolute miracle for them to get out of this alive.
"Well, I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you picked up it was me?" Dax tells Bellamy, smoothly.
"As usual, you don't think before you act," Bellamy, snidely replies. "I could tell it was you the moment you walked in and shot out the security camera. You always had a cockiness about you during armed robberies."
"Yeah, well, you should know since you worked with me on one of them."
"WHAT?!" Clarke cries out, not thinking about the gun currently pointed at her. She can't hide her shock and horror at this new revelation. Surely, this can't be right, she had to have heard wrong. Bellamy Blake is a lot of things, but he's not a criminal – is he? Does Octavia know anything about this? With stunned eyes she turns to him. "Please tell me what he just said isn't true?"
"Clarke, it's not what it sounds like, I –"
"Ahh, what have we here, Blake? Have you been keeping secrets and lying to people?" He takes a step closer to Clarke. "I told you before Princess, he's only out to save his own skin - always has and always will. You can't trust him," Dax tells her, his eyes glinting.
"SHUT UP!" Bellamy's voice booms towards Dax, his face distorted in anger. "You're twisting everything that happened, you lying scum bag!" He glances towards Clarke with a desperate look upon his face. "Please don't believe anything that comes out of this asshole's mouth," he begs. "I know I'm a lot of things; I'm argumentative, cruel and in your words an ass, but I'm not a criminal – please believe me."
Clarke's confused eyes meet his; the brown of his irises have softened, reminding her of warm honey dew, and they're pleading for her to believe him. His shoulders are sagged and his hands are up, like they're wanting to reach out and touch her. Clarke has never seen this man before - he's worried and desperate and she immediately believes him. Her eyes alleviate in response and she gives him a small nod. Bellamy exhales loudly in relief, his mouth curled into a grin. If it wasn't for the circumstances, Clarke would think it was the most beautiful smile she has ever seen.
"Damn. So close," Dax taunts, pointing the gun back over to Bellamy. "It would have been the final nail in your coffin by turning your friend against you," he laughs. "But as always you're the King of manipulation, right? You can make people believe anything you want."
"Well I certainly made you believe I wanted in on your shady deals, didn't I?" Bellamy goads. "That I could help you and your buddies with my expertise at background checks and strategic experience," he adds, letting out a sarcastic laugh. "The joke was certainly on you, Shepherd."
She can see on Dax's face the moment Bellamy's words make an impact. "Shut the fuck up, Blake," he yells, storming over to Bellamy and grabbing him by the shirt, shoving the gun under his chin. Clarke looks on in horror – is this it? Is this the moment Bellamy Blake dies and is out of her life forever? "You ruined my life, Blake," Dax hisses out. "Because of you, my friends and I got sent to prison, you –"
"You brought it on yourself," Bellamy shoots back, trying to manoeuvre himself out of Dax's grip. "Did you really think you weren't going to get caught? You were sending inside information on the places we guarded to your little gang," he spits out ludicrously. "The pattern was so obvious. If you thought you were being clever, you're more of an imbecile than I thought."
"You bastard!" Dax screams, swinging his arm back before forcefully hitting Bellamy across the face with the butt of the gun. The heavy blow causes Bellamy to lose his balance and keel over. Dax uses the opportunity to his advantage and sends a swift kick to Bellamy's ribs.
Clarke watches in dismay as Bellamy curls himself into a ball as Dax keeps kicking him. She looks around quickly at anything that could help her get Dax off him, but there's nothing. All rational thoughts leave and her protective nature and adrenaline kicks in when she sees Dax crouch down and throw a punch, landing on Bellamy's jaw and causing him to cry out. She doesn't think, she just does. Hurling herself onto Dax's back, she shouts, "Get the hell off him!" Her tiny fists beat down on every surface she can reach. She knows she can't physically do too much damage to him, but she's hoping she can at least distract him so Bellamy can get up. Her plan works and he starts backing away from Bellamy, swinging his body from side to side in order to throw her off his back - it doesn't work. Instead she circles both her forearms around his neck, and both her legs around his waist, and hangs on tight. Through the chaos she manages to get a glimpse of Bellamy behind Dax's shoulder. He looks pretty beat up, with a cut under his left eye, a trickle of blood coming from his nose and several purple bruises mixing in with his freckles, taking refuge on his sweaty olive skin.
"Argh! You bitch!" Dax shouts, as Clarke loosens her grip to use her nails to scratch at Dax's cheek. Instantly he grabs her hand and using all his force, throws her off his back onto the ground, shock reverberating through her spine. Clarke lets out a loud cry of pain, shocked by his strength, she knows she'll bruise immediately. But she doesn't have time to waste, and tries to get up, but with a gown and heels on it's a challenging feat. As soon as she gets up unsteadily onto her feet, he immediately reaches for her arm and grips it tight. She swivels herself around to look at him and is pleased to see that his face is filled with rage and his cheek is covered with four long distinctive cuts. "You're more trouble than you're worth," he grits out and before Clarke can try and shield herself, his fist comes out of nowhere and pummels straight into her stomach, successfully knocking the air out of her lungs. She lands on her back with a sharp gasp, instantly finding it difficult to breathe. She clutches her stomach as she tries to crawl away. Looking over her shoulder, wondering what he's going to do to her next, she sees him pick up the gun that must have fallen to the floor in their scuffle. Dammit, she didn't realise he had lost his hold on it; she should have tried to reach for it. She looks up at him just in time to see a taunting look taking over his face, his eyes glinting in triumph. "It's a shame Princess, we could have had so much fun together,' he says, aiming the gun at her. "I've never believed in fairy tales and it looks like you won't be living happily ever after." Then he cocks the gun.
Clarke freezes at the sound; the barrel is staring back at her and holding her in place. Her brain screams at her to move, even if it's in vain, but her body won't cooperate. She can't do anything besides hear the sound of blood pounding through her ears in panic. She closes her eyes and waits for the end, hoping it will be quick and painless. At that moment she's accepted her fate and prays that Bellamy will use this chance to get himself out of here. But then from somewhere that feels far away, she hears a loud roar and a familiar, hoarse voice screaming, 'NO!"
The ear-splitting sound of a gun goes off and she waits for the impact; the pain and her own scream, but it doesn't come. She doesn't feel anything besides hearing a small crash and the sound of something falling off the shelf next to her. She quickly opens her eyes and sees across the room the two men scuffling violently on the ground. She looks down at her body, surprised that she can't see any blood - she wasn't shot. Besides some ringing in her ears and the ache in her stomach from Dax's earlier assault she feels physically fine.
The grunting sounds and occasional curses coming from across the way forces her out of her daze, as she takes in the chaotic scene in front of her. Bellamy has been slammed onto his back with Dax positioning himself on top, taking swing after swing; his fists plummeting into Bellamy's torso like he's a punching bag.
"He's going to kill him," she whispers to herself fearfully.
"CLARKE! Get out of here!" she hears him manage to cry out, followed by a painful groan as a blow lands on his face.
"You're dead, Blake!"
Through teary, hopeless eyes, she knows their time is running out. Still on the ground, she twists her body around so she's now facing the counter and looks about helplessly at anything that could help her. That's when she sees it - the jerry can, her jerry can that's currently filled with gas and is still standing next to the counter apparently untouched. Her eyes light up and she lets out a small sound of exclamation - with the weight of the gas filling it, she could use the can as a weapon. With a renewed rush of adrenaline and determination, she pulls herself to her feet and runs as fast as she can to grab it. Using both her hands, she tries to get familiar with the heavy weight as she initially stumbles under it, and heads towards the scuffling men. Dax doesn't seem to notice her presence behind him, being too busy wrapping his hands around Bellamy's throat. She's not a violent person, but she has no choice but to do this; Bellamy's life is in her hands. With that resolve, and using as much strength as she can muster, she lifts and swings the can as hard as she can, aiming for Dax's head. The impact knocks him off Bellamy immediately, falling to the ground in shock and holding his head in a daze. She hears Bellamy's harsh relieving breaths as he tries to suck air back into his lungs. It's like sweet music to her ears and she's never felt so grateful and relieved in all her life. "You're okay," she chokes out, bending down next to him, her hand finding its way uncharacteristically in his hair and stroking it. She steals a quick look over to Dax who is still on the ground a few feet away from them; he's still in shock, wondering what just happened. Clarke's happy when she realises the gun has been scuffled away under a shelf – Dax must have dropped it when he'd launched himself at Bellamy.
"I'm going…to get you…Blake," Dax manages to spit out. Even through the pain he's obviously feeling, Clarke can sense his thirst for revenge showing itself again.
With a grimace Bellamy pushes himself up into a sitting position and with gentle hands he moves Clarke behind him. Before she realises what he's doing she sees him reach for the jerry can, rising to his feet and then with all his strength, slams it back down onto Dax's head, causing him to lose consciousness.
Clarke lets out a surprised gasp at the action and watches Bellamy wince as he puts the jerry can down. "He's not dead, but he'll be out for a while," Blake reassures her through gritted teeth, placing a bruised hand gently across his ribs. Clarke wonders if any of them are broken.
They begin to move with an unspoken agreement between them; they crawl together slowly and clumsily towards the middle of the shop, desperately trying to remove themselves from the violent scene before them. The room is filled with painful gasps and groans, as they get themselves comfortable by leaning back against a shelf and sitting side by side, thigh against thigh.
Sitting in silence, Clarke feels like she's just come out of a surreal dream - her surroundings seem brighter and she feels an invisible pull towards the strong presence of the man sitting beside her. She's never been more thankful than this moment – they're both alive and the threat is gone…well, it's lying on the ground unconscious. She takes notice of her breathing returning back to its normal rhythm, as much as it can after such a violent and frightening encounter. But the breathing of the man next to her is starting to alarm her; it's becoming heavier and she swears a choked sob escapes his throat. She twists her body around, putting a supportive hand on his thigh to reassure him. "You're okay."
"No. I'm not," he reveals quietly, his tone laced with pain. Clarke senses he's just not talking about tonight. "My Mother, if she knew what I'd done, who I am…she raised me to be better, to be good…"
"Bellamy –"
"But all I do is hurt people." He looks down at his bruised and bloody knuckles. "Everybody in my life I hurt. I'm a monster," he whispers, anguished.
Clarke's mouth drops open and her heart aches for him as she witnesses a stray tear fall down his cheek. In all the time she's known him she had no idea that behind his tough exterior that there was this much self-loathing. She wonders if Octavia has ever been privy to this vulnerable side of him before, but she dismisses the thought away quickly because the way he's so protective of her and constantly tries to shield her from anything bad, she doubts he's ever let her see him this exposed. Once again, she realises that her and Bellamy are stumbling onto new ground, and like last time she has no idea where it could lead. They've just experienced something together so intense and life altering that no matter what happens between them, it will bond them together forever. Things like this can change people. "You're not a monster," she whispers intently, silently pleading for him to believe her. He can be an ass, but she's never believed for a moment that he's a monster. Ever. "You saved my life tonight."
Bellamy shakes his head, accompanying it with a loud sniff and avoids looking at her - instead he turns his attention to the shelf across from them. "You wouldn't have needed saving if it wasn't for me," he tells her. "You were dragged into this mess and almost got killed because of me…because of my past."
His past? We all have a past; some more eventful and tragic than others. But she wonders what on earth could have happened in his past that was so bad that it nearly got them both killed tonight. Since meeting Bellamy, he's always had an air of mystery about him even through all his snark and rudeness. But Clarke has always been intrigued and wondered how many secrets are buried deep within - because let's face it, you can't go through life acting like he does and not be holding some kind of secret or trauma. He's piqued her interest, especially lately with his over the top behaviour - the constant meetups with Miller that always looked serious and intense, like it wasn't a fun, social gathering between two buddies. Plus only a couple of weeks ago, he'd organised to have all of Octavia's locks changed in her apartment without providing any explanation. He even offhandedly suggested to Clarke that she should think about upgrading hers as well. In the end both she and Octavia had shrugged the whole thing off, putting it down to the fact he's too overprotective and controlling.
"I know you don't like sharing things – especially with me," she starts softly, trying to break the silence and the invisible wall between them. She swears she sees his face wince in what looks like shame. "But after what's just happened to us, I have to know – no, I deserve to know – what you're talking about."
He nods his head in agreement, but still avoids eye contact with her. A voice inside her tells her not to push him; that maybe it will be easier for him to reveal what's just happened and why when he's not feeling judged or questioned. Silence fills the air between them for a minute; she can tell he's gathering his thoughts before he speaks. "It started nearly two years ago - I was a guard for 'Ark Protection and Security'. I didn't like it, but it was a job, it paid the bills and I always had a little left over to help O with things she needed for school that her scholarship didn't cover," he reasons. "Plus it turned out I had a knack for that type of work; I found it quite easy to act intimidating and throw someone out on their ass if they were causing trouble."
Clarke doesn't hide the small smile gracing her face. "Yes, I'm sure you didn't need any training for that."
His lips curl softly at her words. "Anyway, I had a few different establishments that I looked after – The Ton-DC night club, M & J Moonshine Liquors and Arcadia National Bank." He pauses and exhales heavily. "Dax Shepherd also worked for Ark and we were partnered together." He lets the weight of his words sink in.
So that's how they know each other. What could have caused Dax Shepherd to want to kill his fellow partner? Wait – didn't Dax mention that he'd been sent to jail before – and it was Bellamy's fault? What on earth happened between them?
Reading her mind, Bellamy continues. "Things were fine for a couple of months, we actually got along well…until the establishments we were guarding started getting robbed once we left for the day."
Clarke considers his profile curiously. "You suspected him."
"Not at first," shaking his head. "But after the second one I started to get suspicious. There were just too many coincidences. And the way they were getting in and knowing where things were kept, it rang alarm bells with me," he explains.
"Did your superiors suspect either of you?"
He nods. "Yeah - when I first came to them with my suspicions, they eventually admitted they thought it was one of us. My boss, Pike, pulled me aside later and said they'd been leaning more towards Shepherd being the culprit but they didn't have any proof."
"So what happened after that?"
"A couple of days later I was called into Pike's office for a secret meeting with a couple of detectives." He stops to cough and clear his throat. "We all suspected that the bank would be the next target…and that's when they told me they were going to catch Shepherd in the act, but that they needed my help."
"They wanted you to infiltrate Shepherd's gang to catch them and get the proof," Clarke answers for him, knowing exactly where this is going. So that's why Shepherd was so angry at Bellamy and wanted revenge. It also makes sense in why he tried to trick her into thinking Bellamy was a criminal - he was just part of the sting operation that helped put Shepherd and his gang away.
He nods, confirming this. "In the end we got the proof, but the whole thing was a long and messy process. I had to go to the state court and testify."
Clarke nods. "And that's what you were doing just before you met me?"
"Yeah," he whispers hoarsely, closing his eyes; he looks absolutely exhausted. Not just from the psychical exertion of tonight's attack, but carrying around such a heavy and unwanted burden. She can see how it could have weighed on his mind over the last couple of years.
"You did the right thing Bellamy," she asserts, reassuringly. Before tonight she knows he never wanted or needed her approval or understanding about anything, but now with their defences down, she wants to give it to him – she wants him to know its okay.
In response, he turns his head to look at her for the first time since they sat down. "Even after what we just went through?" He asks, with a mixture of doubt and wonder. "After nearly getting killed by a gun-wielding psychopath? You still believe that?"
"Yes," she replies, calmly. "What you did back then, putting yourself in danger like that, was a selfless and noble act."
He scoffs, shaking his head, now looking slightly amused. "Noble? I never thought I would hear that noun next to my name. Ever." He smirks. "Besides, I got to resign from that shitty job and got a free ride to college because of it." He twists his body around slowly, and meets her eyes intently. "I wasn't going to risk my life for nothing - I was going to get something out of it." His eyes then soften, his shoulders drop and his voice reflects a hint of nervousness and vulnerability. "Do you still think I'm noble and selfless?"
She stares back at the liquid brown of his irises, feeling herself being pulled into their depths. For a moment she feels like she's weightless, floating through a dark sky where no one can touch her. "Look around, Bellamy," she tells him softly. "I think you've earned that college degree and then some."
He grins back at her, and for a moment they stare at each other, not knowing what to say and too lost in each other's comforting presence. It's the loud hum of the air conditioner somewhere in the background that pulls Clarke out of her daze and ends their staring contest. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Bellamy run a hand through his sweaty hair and let out a tiny unsatisfied sigh. Not knowing what the sigh could mean, she averts her attention back to the chaotic mess all around them, as well as to the still unconscious man lying on the dirty tiles. "We should call the police."
"Can't – no service," he grumbles. "I love this town, but we certainly live in the Stone Age." He tries shuffling around in his spot again trying to get comfortable, but instead hisses in pain.
Clarke quickly puts her hands down on his arms trying to stop him. "Try not to move around so much, your ribs could be broken," she reprimands. Looking at him carefully she knows he's not capable to getting up and finding help - it will have to be her. But what if Dax wakes up while I'm gone? Bellamy assured her that he won't, but she doesn't want to risk it and leave him here alone. Her worried facial expressions must show the dilemma her mind is currently pondering as Bellamy speaks up. "Don't worry, Miller will be passing through in about 20 minutes," he reassures her, looking past her shoulder and taking note of the clock hanging on the wall above the counter. "He's been doing it lately, after his shift at the club." His voice then turns serious, genuine. "Besides, I don't want you walking these roads by yourself."
Clarke raises an eyebrow. "I think after tonight I've proven I can take care of myself."
He smirks, looking at her appreciatively. "I don't doubt that, but you're hurt too," he reminds her, indicating her stomach where Dax punched her and knocked the wind out of her. She swears she sees a flash of fury in Bellamy's eyes before they soften again. "It's best if we stay together and wait for Miller."
She really can't argue with that logic and truth be told, she really doesn't have the energy to either walk back to her car with the gas can or walk in the direction of town to find help. "Okay," she agrees. "We've definitely proven we're good together." He moves his head in a double take, like he wasn't expecting to hear those words come out of her mouth, but he quickly recovers with an amused grin.
Clarke's eyes go wide. "No, I…what I mean is…we work well together…as a team, I mean." She adds, feeling a flush of heat rising at the back of her neck in embarrassment.
It's clear he picked up on the innuendo, but instead of making her feel uncomfortable or ridiculing her, he answers back huskily, highlighting every word. "I agree - we are good together."
The unexpected heat in his eyes and the rough baritone of his voice sends a jolt straight to her lower belly and she feels herself blushing. Blushing? Who would have thought Bellamy Blake could make her blush – and in a middle of a crime scene of all places? Oh my god, what is wrong with me? She ducks her face down, hoping he won't see the evidence of her attraction. Yes, she has always been attracted to him; she has been ever since the first night she met him, but with all the arguing and disagreements between the two of them in the last year, the allure was always easy to deny and bury deep down. Sighing, she doesn't think this is the right time or place to think about this now, so she tries to distract him with a change of topic. "Um, speaking of Miller – you knew something like this was going to happen. Didn't you? All those conversations with Miller?" She looks up at him.
His heated gaze cools. "I can't get anything past you, can I?" He says, sounding impressed. "I didn't know anything for sure. I found out three months ago that Shepherd got released due to good behaviour and overcrowding," he rolls his eyes in disgust. "The last I heard he was heading east towards Luna Waters – it's pretty far away from here, but my old superiors thought I should know…just in case."
"You should have told us – well, you should have at least told Octavia."
"I didn't want to worry her."
"That should be your catchphrase," she chastises, with a roll of her eyes. "Does she know the extent of all this?"
"No," he shakes his head. "I may have omitted some of the truth – she doesn't know that I was part of the sting operation. Just that I had to testify against my old partner," he clarifies, looking a bit red faced and guilty.
"So let me get this straight," Clarke says, a knowing smirk forming upon her lips. "The night we met, you accused me of keeping a secret from your sister, when all along you were doing the same thing."
"That was different," he tries to defend. She gives him a pointed look and his eyes lower in defeat. "Yeah, okay, I see your point," he mumbles.
Given the seriousness of the situation they're in, Clarke can't help but let out a joyful laugh. "Wow," she says, looking impressed. "I think that's the closest thing I've ever gotten to a Bellamy Blake apology."
"Yeah, well enjoy it, as it doesn't happen very often," he replies with a smirk.
They sit in relative silence for a few moments, each of them sneaking the occasional peek over to Dax, who is still lying unconscious. Bellamy blows out a heavy breath and she feels his shoulders next to hers drop down. She senses something is building inside him - that he's on the threshold of revealing something important, so she doesn't dare say a word or move a muscle. "The truth is," he starts, with the sound of a heavy heart. "Trusting people is hard for me. And I don't like it when people lie to me or to the people I care about."
Clarke opens her mouth to defend herself but Bellamy manoeuvres himself to face her, cutting her off gently.
"And I know that makes me a hypocrite," he tells her. "It's just I was trying to protect my sister." His face looks crestfallen. "She's been lied to for most of her life - by our mother…and I had to follow along as well."
"What do you mean?" Clarke asks gently. She has to fight her natural instincts to reach out and hold his hands in reassurance, she doesn't like seeing anyone in pain – and after the events of tonight she never wants to see Bellamy hurt or suffering again.
"I'm sure O told you that we have different fathers."
She nods her head, confirming his words. Octavia had revealed that Blake family skeleton early on in their friendship but it didn't seem to faze her, she just mentioned it to Clarke casually one day and then moved on to the next topic without a care in the world.
"My father died when I was quite young - it tore my mother up pretty badly," he reveals, his lips pursed in thought. "Anyway a few years later, she met a man, he seemed great - always brought me presents," he adds. "They were together for about a year and everything was going well. I remember the day she told me I was going to have a little brother or sister," he pauses, reminiscing with a tiny smile. "I had never seen her so happy."
"What happened?" She whispers, not sure if she wants to know the answer.
Bellamy's eyes immediately flare into anger and his face turns hard. "The asshole was married - the whole time he was with us he had a wife and two kids back at home," he spits out roughly. "When he found out my mom was pregnant he was furious. I remember he pulled out his wallet and threw some money at her, telling her to get rid of it. She was devastated."
Clarke shakes her head in disbelief, "Oh my god, that's awful, your poor mother – who was this guy?"
"He was from Mount Weather," his voice spits out with venom, his tone icy. "Some cocky, rich socialite who enjoyed getting around behind his wife's back."
"Mount Weather?"
"Yeah," Bellamy grits out. "His name is Cage Wallace."
"Cage Wallace?!" Clarke asks, shocked, her eyes widening in recognition.
"You know him?" Bellamy enquiries.
"Not very well," she tells him, shaking her head. "My mother's mentioned him a few times over the years. He used to work at the same hospital as her," she explains. "Wait, does Octavia know that he's her father?"
"She does now," he says, his tone turning to annoyance. "Growing up, my mother made me promise never to tell her, but after she died I ended up breaking that promise. I thought O had a right to know when she asked."
Clarke nods her head. "Well we've only spoken about her father once, but she didn't mention any name. In fact the whole topic didn't seem to bother her," she reassures him.
"That's O for you," he smirks an unmistakable look of pride on his face. "Me on the other hand…" he trails off for a moment, like he's thinking about something, before his features fill with heated resolve. "So is he still working at your mom's hospital?"
Clarke hesitates for a moment, looking down at her dirty fingernails before revealing Cage Wallace's fate. "He's dead, Bellamy."
"What?!"
Clarke nods her head slowly, confirming. "He died a few years ago - a hunting accident."
Bellamy looks back at her in shock, like he can't believe what he's just heard. He opens his mouth, like he's about to say something, before he closes it again and leans back against the shelf with a heavy sigh.
"Do you feel better?" She asks, after a moment.
"No," he says, softly. His anger has disappeared but is now replaced again by sadness. "I thought hearing something like that would make me feel better, but it doesn't – it doesn't change a damn thing."
Hesitantly, she reaches over to where his hand sits on his thigh, and slowly entwines their hands together. Her heart beats a mile a minute, worried he will break out of her grasp, offended by her touch. But he doesn't - in fact he grips her hand tighter. "Is that why you didn't like me when we first met?" She asks. "Because I was from Mount Weather? You didn't think you could trust me?"
"Yes," he replies hoarsely, his cheeks tinged pink with a hint of shame.
She closes her eyes with a soft sigh, feeling an enormous weight lift off her shoulders and her muscles loosen from the tension and melt away. Finally, she knows the truth; the real reason why he's had it in for her since the beginning. Although she can't condone his behaviour, she has a huge amount of empathy and understanding about why he did it. At such a young and vulnerable age his trust was broken; he witnessed his mother's suffering, and the consequences and abandonment of a man who they assumed would always be there for both of them. And on top of that, he'd taken on the responsibility of looking after his sister. Just the thought of what he's gone through his entire life gives Clarke a whole new perspective and admiration towards Bellamy Blake.
She's pulled out of her thoughts by the feel of his thumb rubbing soft and soothing circles around her hand. This new and surprising gesture makes her body tingle all over.
"I know you're not like that," he murmurs, and she feels a pull, an unseen but powerful magnetic force flowing from him and radiating into her palm. "I see who you are."
She meets his gaze and her lips curl up into a gentle smile, she swears her cheeks have turned crimson at his statement. "When did you start seeing who I really was?"
"When O was sick," he tells her, not missing a beat. "The way you took care of her; making her soup and staying with her. It's like my eyes started opening up that day." He shifts in his spot, so he's looking at her directly. "Don't get me wrong Princess, you still annoy the hell out of me," he chuckles as he sees Clarke's face in fake offense. "But I think that's why… I like you," he reveals carefully, staring intently into her eyes to try and read her reaction. Clarke's eyes widen at his bold statement, but then her features soften with wonder. He continues on, his voice coming out braver. "I like that you call me out on all my crap, you challenge me like no one else in my entire life," he lists off. "You're smart, beautiful and I admire you for stepping out of a life you weren't happy with and trying to make a new one for yourself.
"Bellamy…"
"And I know you care deeply about the people around you – I see it with O and with Lincoln and tonight…I saw it with me."
She feels overwhelmed by his confession; she doesn't know what to say, and she's never been speechless when it comes to Bellamy. But this is entirely different, it's like his words have become a key in unlocking something that was deeply embedded inside her, something she wasn't even sure existed. She does feel something for him…
"Why did you stay?" He asks carefully, his eyes now warm and staring at her nervously. "You don't owe me anything. I told you to get out of here, but you stayed - why?"
"Because you didn't deserve that and…" she stops to gather her thoughts.
He continues looking at her with tentative eyes, like he's afraid what she's going to say.
She laughs inwardly and she suddenly feels shy under his gaze. "I think I didn't want to leave you because…well, I think you know why," she tells him sincerely. It's a truth that's always been there, one she can now acknowledge and say out loud.
Bellamy's face breaks out into the widest grin she's ever seen and it's magnificent, brighter and warmer than the sun. She thinks he needs to smile like that all the time. "So, I'm not being presumptuous here?" He asks hopefully, needing confirmation. "That the feelings I've been developing for you over the last few months…that you feel something for me too?"
Clarke smiles back – she'd thought something was a bit off with him over the last few months, and though there was still their usual banter and fights over the silliest things, the malice had gone. Their interactions had confused her, but after tonight, she now sees things so much more clearly. "You've done a really good job at hiding how you feel by the way, Bellamy," she adds. "If tonight hadn't have happened, I'd still be in the dark."
He nods. "Don't forget I'm a master at hiding stuff when I need to, and I didn't want to reveal anything to you when I thought it was only one-sided. Besides it's been fun riling you up," he adds with a wink. "I know when I've really gotten to you because you get these little lines between your brows." He laughs, pointing in amusement to her forehead, and Clarke turns her head in feigned annoyance. His laughter stops and his face turns more serious, his eyes showing a hint of nervousness. "So I'm going to repeat my question - do you feel anything for me? Even just a little bit? I understand if you need more time to think, I haven't made your life easy, but –"
"Shut up, Bellamy," Clarke demands, turning her head back around, placing a hand on his battered cheek and running her fingers gently down his jaw. "I do feel something for you," she reassures him with a smile. "In fact, I was attracted to you the first night we met, but then you had to go and be an ass."
He leans into her touch and covers her hand with his. Clarke feels a hitch in her breathing as she's overwhelmed by the feel of his strong, calloused hand on top of hers. He moves forward so there's only a small space between them; she can feel his warm breath fanning across her lips. "I told you before I'm no Prince Charming," he murmurs huskily. "I might be an ass from time to time, but I promise from now on - I won't be that person to you."
"That's a shame, I think I'm going to miss Bellamy the ass," she jokes. "But can we still fight and argue?"
"Well, we are pretty good at it," he plays along, his gaze lowering to her lips.
Noting where his attention lays, she wets her lips in anticipation. "I've heard that make up sex can be pretty good too," she replies.
Bellamy's breath stops at her words and exhales out with a groan that echoes in his chest. "Are you trying to kill me, Clarke?"
"No, I'm trying to kiss you," she tells him, leaning forward and placing her lips lightly onto his. Very quickly, Bellamy places his other hand behind her neck and encourages her to come closer, so they're chest to chest. Both of them let out small gasps of pain from their injuries, but neither stops as their mouths move together; tentatively at first, before throwing caution to the wind. Bellamy uses his tongue to lick the seam of her lips, seeking permission for her to open her mouth and she submits willingly. They breathe each other in like their lives depend on it, their tongues dancing together in a frenzied rhythm, like every tension and squabble between them over the last year has built up and burst into a blaze of flames. A throaty moan escapes Bellamy's mouth as Clarke runs her hands teasingly through his mop of curly hair, while Clarke sighs in relief when she feels his solid, muscular chest against her breasts.
"Fuck! What the hell happened here?" A new and familiar voice calls out behind them. The intrusion causes them to break apart swiftly, like shamed school children who have just been caught by a parent.
"Hey, Miller," Clarke's voice breaks the tension and the unanswered question in the air first.
"Hey, Miller?" He asks incredulously, looking at them both with wide eyes, before taking in the mess surrounding them; the items that had fallen off the shelves during their scuffle and the still unconscious man lying nearby. "Is that all I get?! What the hell happened? I walk in and we have this guy here," he points to Dax, "Lying on the ground unresponsive and you two making out like teenagers. Have I walked in on a really bad, clichéd action movie?"
"That's Dax Shepherd," Bellamy answers out gruffly.
Miller looks down at the floor again. "Holy shit. Is he dead?"
Bellamy shakes his head, "Just unconscious," he answers, trying to stand up. Clarke quickly reaches for him as he struggles, both of them leaning on each other for support as they manage to rise to their feet.
Miller moves in, looking at them more closely. "You both look like shit."
"Thanks," Clarke retorts back sarcastically.
"Don't worry Clarke, I'm sure a little kissing will help you feel better. Don't you agree Bellamy?" Miller jests with a smirk.
"Shut up," Bellamy replies, avoiding his stare as he manoeuvres Clarke in front of him, away from the scene and walking her to the front doors. "Miller, hand over your keys?"
"I never knew you were such a kinky bastard," Miller responds, amused, handing over his car keys.
Bellamy places them in Clarke's hands, wrapping his hands around hers and pulling her to him. He looks down at her intently, "Get in the rover, drive to the police station and tell them what happened –"
"No, I'm not leaving you."
"Clarke," he says, reassuringly. "It's alright, Miller's here – nothing will happen."
"Well if nothing will happen, then Miller can go –"
"No, you've seen enough," he states firmly. "I need you to get out of here," he tells her. "Please, go - I'll see you soon, I promise."
With the protectiveness clear in his eyes, tinted with a little bit of fear, she knows she can't say no to him – plus, she also doesn't want to get into another fight, she's had enough of those to last a lifetime. "Alright, I'll go," she nods, pulling out of his embrace. "But after all this you owe me a drink."
He chuckles. "How about dinner and a drink?" He asks, almost shyly.
Clarke's face lights up, but she quickly tones it down, not wanting to seem too keen. "I think that can be arranged," she says playfully, turning around and heading towards Miller's car.
Behind her she can hear the distinctive voice of Miller. "What the hell happened here tonight? And I'm not talking about Shepherd. You know Octavia is going to be excited about this – I didn't believe her, but she told me this would happen eventually."
Clarke smiles to herself - at least she doesn't have to worry about Octavia's reaction to the news of her and Bellamy. As she closes the heavy door to the rover, she puts her seatbelt on, feeling the presence of someone staring at her. Looking up, she sees Bellamy watching her from the doors of the gas station with a relieved smile on his face. He gives her a wink and then turns his attention to Miller.
Starting the car she realises she was right earlier when she thought tonight was one of the worst nights of her life, nothing will ever beat it. But she also never thought that something so good and promising could come out of it – a relationship with Bellamy. Taking a deep breath, Clarke puts the car into drive and swerves out of the parking lot as quick as she can, heading into the town of Arcadia, her home. The sooner tonight is over, the sooner she and Bellamy can have that drink and start a new phase in their lives. Together.
I would love to know what you thought of the last chapter. Hit me up here or on tumblr - peetaspikelets