LEXA

When Lexa had woken up the room was completely dark. It smelled like salt and lavender. She had blinked a few times to make sense of where she was. She was on some sort of a small bed; wearing someone else's jacket that smelled like lavender. She hugged the jacket closer; the air was cold.

She tried to recall all the clues to figure out where they might have brought her but all she could think about were the unanswered questions. Who were these people? What did they want from her? How many of these people have infiltrated her company? Why was there a tunnel from The Tower to Mount weather without her knowledge? And who were the prisoners they had used to distract her city? Had they been there the whole time? Who the fuck was Clarke?

She remembered plummeting from the Key bridge as Echo crashed the van into the railings, then strangely she remembered feeling like she had died. Like a complete void of nothingness only to wake up with Clarke holding her face, the air scratching against her skin, black starry sky all around, and then pain exploding over her skull. Things were a little hazy after that. She remembered being carried onto a car and strange people - Delinquents - laughing at something one of them had said. She had fallen asleep again.

The next thing she knew she was awake here, in this room, head pounding, in the dark. She felt like she was nine, being sent to a private boarding school after her father had died, frightened and alone. Anya had been too young to take care of her and Titus had been too busy. She was shipped to a place she could never come back from. It was why she completed her studies earlier than most of the other students. She wanted to live in a place she could call home, to live close to the people who wanted her, who she cared for, who gave her a purpose to fulfill. But here, all she could do was wait.

She forced herself to breathe. She was scared. Only fools are fearless, Anya had once told her. Fear was necessary to be alive. She looked around. The room was pitch-black. All she could hear in the silence was her own rapid breathing as panic gripped her again. She composed herself by controlling her breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth.

Where had Clarke brought her? Was Clarke even her real name? She could be in a basement or a warehouse. She might not even be in the United States anymore. It didn't matter. She was Alexandria Woods. She was stronger than this, she told herself. These people have cheated death too many times but that would, in logic, make them fearless and hence reckless. She would just have to wait for that moment. Whenever that moment was to come, she would seize it. Wherever she was, she would get out.

A door opened. White light spilled in the room. A man, not much older than she entered the room. He left the door open. What a fool. Never stop your enemy when he is making a mistake. Outside, it was day. Lexa sat up on her bed.

"Oh, you are awake!" The man said, a white grin flashing. He walked up to a wall and pressed some sort of a button and a sunroof opened up overhead. Lexa squinted at the assault of bright light.

"How are you feeling?" The man asked. He sat across from her on a chair and opened up a small medical kit. When Lexa didn't respond to his question, he said, "Oh, you must be confused. My name is Eric Jackson. I am the Doctor of the crew even though they don't really need one." He chuckled. "Last night when Clarke brought you here, you were running a fever. That is why she asked me to come here and check up on you -"

"Where am I?" Her voice came out hoarse and scratchy due to unuse.

"In the middle of the Atlantic Ocean," Eric answered. Lexa couldn't tell if he was joking or not. Eric took out a pair of surgical scissors from his kit and gestured at the back of his head. "I bandaged a wound on the back of your neck last night. It was bleeding a little. If you could turn around, I will remove it."

Lexa nodded. The next thirty seconds were already playing in her mind. As she turned facing the headboard and lowered the jacket she was wearing, she felt his hands touching her skin. She snaked her own hand around and grabbed him by his wrist. He was caught off guard. She twisted his wrist until she heard a distinct crack; he let out a yelp and dropped the pair of scissors from his hand. Before he could cry out for help, she jammed the scissors into his throat's soft skin. It was a technique Anya had taught her. He collapsed, holding his bleeding throat.

She broke for the open door. She climbed a small flight of stairs; in front of her, there was nothing but the ocean. Eric wasn't joking, she really was on a boat in the middle of the fucking ocean.

"Good morning, your royal highness." A smug voice said from behind her. Lexa turned to see an equally smug face. He had his hand raised as if surrendering. A revolver was strapped to his thigh.

"Nice to meet you. We are the good guys on good days, I promise" He was saying. She did not have time for his bullshit. In a swift motion, Lexa unholstered his gun and fired at his face point-blank.

"What's going on?" Someone was shouting from the lower deck. Lexa saw a guy climbing the stairs. She had seen that guy before in Mount Weather. He was one of her employees. He paused as he saw her and raised his hands above his head. "Don-"

Lexa fired at him. He dropped instantly. She ran for the steps leading to the cockpit in hopes of finding a radio or something to contact the outside world. She descended the steps until she was standing in a hardwood cabin with control panels. The only problem was that Clarke was there.

"What the fuck?" Clarke said as she noticed her. The cigarette she was smoking dropped to the floor.

Lexa knew there was no going past Clarke but she was not going to get caught easily after putting in this much effort. She had murdered three men to reach here. She would not let their lives go to waste. As Clarke started to approach, she ran back to the way she had come until she was on the lower deck. There was only one way from there. She could see the coastline. It was far but she could make it. She had a greater will. She climbed over the glass railing and jumped into the sparkling blue water.

For a moment, the water enveloped her like foam. The fear, the sensation felt familiar. Almost haunting in a way. The cold was the biggest fucking problem. She swam up. Her heart was hammering in her chest. She put all her energy into crossing the waves; not looking back. In retrospect, she should've looked back. Clarke had jumped after her. Clarke was a better swimmer than her because she had caught up to her with some effort.

Clarke held her from behind as she futilely tried to pull away. Her rage was thrashing. There was nothing she could do. The realization made her sick, but it was true. She was in the middle of the ocean, freezing, and there's not a goddamn thing she could do about it. She let out another scream of frustration at the sky and slammed her hand in the water, which didn't do much but soak her head and made her even colder. She was kicking and treading water, but the cold was going to kill her in a few minutes if she didn't get out of it. Except there was nowhere to get out. Nowhere to go. There was just her, and the ocean and Clarke.

"Stop fighting!" Clarke was yelling in her ear.

"Let go of me!" She protested. She wished she hadn't left the gun on the boat.

"Do you really want to die for the rest of your life drowning and being chewed off by sharks?" Clarke yelled again. "Do you really want that?"

Lexa stopped struggling. Mostly because she was exhausted and starving and it was fucking cold. She will have to try again tomorrow. Sometimes we have to lose smaller battles in order to win the war.

"Yeah," Clarke said. "That's what I thought."

She was taken back to the boat.

The guy she had shot point-blank was sitting against the rails with the same smug look on his face like he had just watched the most entertaining thing in his life. He had blood on the front of his white t-shirt. So he was an immortal as well. Were all of these people here like him? Lexa wanted to kill him again. Octavia was standing on the deck. She looked almost nervous. She passed two towels to Clarke. Clarke handed one to her.

"I asked you to keep an eye on her," Clarke said to the smug guy. He stood up and lazily walked up to them, hands in pocket.

"What could I do?" he put on his sunglasses as he talked. "Her royal highness wanted to go for a swim in Shark-infested waters. Who was I to deny her such small pleasures?"

"Shut up, Murphy," Clarke said.

Murphy extended a hand towards Lexa. "John Murphy. You have been the most interesting thing of this century so far. Except, of course, Tinder."

Whether that was a compliment or an insult, Lexa couldn't decipher. She didn't care. She didn't shake his hand. He retreated with a smile.

Clarke was looking back at her expectantly. "Come on," Clarke said. "Or do you want to pull some other tricks?" She started walking without waiting for an answer.

"They are either gonna fuck each other or kill each other." She heard Octavia say.

"Since the second option is not applicable here, I bet my immortality they are gonna fuck." Murphy replied.

When Lexa came back to the cabin, she stood close to the door as if that would give her a new idea to escape. Water was pooling at her feet; she longed for the warmth of the jacket that was lying on the bed. Clarke was inside a walk-in closet. She could hear her swearing.

She noticed the details of the room more carefully. It had three circular windows on one side and a sunroof on the ceiling. The floor and the walls were polished teak wood. There was a small dining table on one side with two chairs. It was curated with style. The bed was in the center with white sheets and cream pillows. Lexa noticed a variety of swords and blades on display on one wall. The other was covered in a bookshelf.

Lexa had been on many boats with clients. This was one of the impressive ones from what she had seen so far. It was at least a hundred and twenty meters long with three decks and a cockpit. There were two other doors in this room only. One for a Walk-in closet and another, Lexa assumed, was for the bathroom.

When Clarke emerged back from the closet, she looked at her quizzically. Lexa awkwardly tried to look intimidating but it was hard to do when she felt like a wet cat.

"What are you doing standing there?" Clarke questioned. There was a pile of fresh clothes in her hand. "You are getting water all over the floor."

She scowled. "I-"

"It's okay." Clarke quickly said. "Get into the bathroom or you will catch a cold again. Being immortal doesn't make you immune to mortal sickness." Sometimes, Lexa couldn't understand what Clarke was saying. "We have hot water. You look like you need it. You have blood all over your hair and clothes." Clarke pointed out.

"Yeah, I wonder why," Lexa muttered. She dashed for the bathroom and shut the door behind her. She could not bear to look at Clarke's face. A few days ago, she had wanted to know Clarke but now she wished she had never met her.

Her escape would have to wait a little longer. The prospect of getting a hot shower was too salivating. She came out of the bathroom wearing a bathrobe. Clarke was sitting on the sofa with a book opened on her lap. Lexa eyed the pile of clothes on the bed.

"Can I get some privacy?" Lexa asked, disdainfully.

Clarke smirked. "This is my boat, my cabin. I am not going anywhere. You can go to change in the closet." Clarke gestured towards the other door.

Lexa huffed out a breath. In her head, she knew she was being a brat but she couldn't help it. She didn't know how to react when things were out of her control.

In the closet, she searched the drawers and the hangers for any weapons or blades that she could use later. There was nothing except for Clarke's clothes. Clarke was probably clearing it all when she was inside, Lexa thought. She changed into the oversized navy hoodie and black jeans Clarke had provided. They smelled like lavender and gunpowder. They smelled like Clarke.

When she stepped, Clarke was standing by the window. The main door was shut; the water near it had been wiped off.

"Go sit down." Clarke pointed at the chair she had put in the middle of the room.

Lexa felt like a child being told what to do. She didn't like it at all. She kept her chin high and folded her arms. Her eyes were cold and stern. Was this going to be some sort of interrogation? She was ready if this was one. She was not going to spill her company secrets and give up because of some menial torture. She could endure it. She wouldn't talk at all.

Clarke walked behind her back. Lexa wanted to see what she was doing but she didn't want to appear too eager or impatient. Clarke put both her hands on her shoulders from behind. She flinched.

"Relax," Clarke said. "Your erratic breathing is scaring the gulls outside."

Lexa let out a frustrated breath. Whatever Clarke was trying to do, she will not open her mouth to her.

"Put your arms on the armrests," Clarke said.

There was no point in denying or delaying, she was too exhausted. Clarke came back in front of her with four small pieces of ropes. Her breath hitched.

Clarke started with her right hand. Lexa's eyes were fixed on the rope binding her to the chair, unmoving. Clarke's fingers glided around the rope and her wrist as she tied the knot expertly. "I am tying you to this chair. Why?" Clarke asked, maintaining eye contact with her.

Because you are a fucking asshole. Lexa did not answer.

Clarke moved onto her left hand. "Not because you tried to run away. But because you used a weapon on some of the most important people in life to kill them while they were just doing their jobs. While they were helping you. Your actions have consequences."

Lexa matched Clarke's eyes for the first time since sitting down. They were not angry or smiling. They were steady and calm like the ocean outside. Clarke checked the knot and knelt to tie her ankles with the chair's leg.

"You have to understand that the bullet that didn't kill them yesterday could be lethal to them today. And while that may not mean anything to you, they mean a lot to me-"

"My sister meant a lot to me, yet you abducted her. Tortured her -" Lexa snapped, surprising herself.

"We do not torture people," Clarke stated simply. "Or at least not the people who don't deserve it. But tell me, would you have preferred if we had killed her in the harbor?"

The thought of her sister dying left a sick feeling in her stomach. She did not answer Clarke's question. Clarke was done with her legs; she stood in front of Lexa. When Lexa did not meet her eyes, Clarke put a finger under her chin and lifted gently.

"Your actions have consequences but you are not a prisoner here," Clarke stated.

Lexa scoffed. "Am I free to go then?"

"Yes. But not until you've asked the right questions. If you're not asking then you aren't ready for answers at all. You have to ask the right questions and listen to what I am saying. That's all. This is as much about you as it is about us."

"No, thank you." Lexa gave a half twisted smile.

Clarke removed the finger under her chin and folded her arms. She kept her gaze locked on Clarke's stubbornly. A silent match of who will look away first.

"I have tried to treat you respectfully. My friends have told you again and again that they are not here to hurt you. But all you have done is hurt us." Clarke said. Lexa felt goosebumps rising on her skin.

"You'll sit here like this until or unless I decide otherwise. You'll stay in this room. You'll not meet and hurt any other member of my crew until I am sure that you'll not hurt them. If you need food or water or anything you will ask me. I will untie you when you need to use the bathroom but then you will come back and sit here. You'll respect everything we have done for you and understand what I am doing now. You will calm down and listen. And at least try to understand who you are, who we are, and what we do to survive. Until then you can sit here and brood." Clarke gave a small squeeze on her shoulder. "I will lock the door behind me."

Lexa scoffed again. For fuck's sake, now these strangers, these criminals will tell her who she is.

Clarke left her with a smile.

Lexa had not realized how hungry or thirsty she had been until Clarke had mentioned it. She hadn't eaten or drunk anything since yesterday. She bit her tongue and tried to distract herself from the drying sensation in her throat. Like this, her options were limited. The ropes were not too tight, yet when she tugged at them, it was clear that they were expertly tied. She tilted her head and tried to read the titles of the books on the shelf. Some were in English but mostly there were in languages she couldn't even recognize.

It was night when Clarke returned to her cabin. There was no clock in the room but the sky was dark outside. The room was lit only by the moonlight. Lexa hadn't moved, of course, but she was slumped in the chair. Half sleeping; trying to conserve energy as best as she could.

Clarke had a glass of water with her this time. She stepped into the dark moonlit room and stood just out of arm's reach of the chair, face neutral, eyes on half-conscious Lexa. She set the glass of water on the coffee table.

"All you have to do is ask the right questions, Lexa."

The CEO twitched and gave Clarke a bleary glare.

"I am not asking you anything else," Clarke said soothingly. "It's very simple. Ask the right questions and I will answer."

Which was true, in their world of lies and truths, Clarke was not asking for money or her company secrets. She was asking her to follow an order. It will start a pattern in her mind, and that pattern will be the start of her demise.

Clarke waited. Lexa shifted a bit, opening her other eye. "Fuck you," she managed to croak through her dry throat, but her eyes were locked on the water.

Clarke laughed. "You sound like a brat. Are you? Do you want water or do you want to keep acting like a brat?"

For a long moment, she didn't think she was going to answer. She just might be stubborn enough that she would rather pass out than give in.

"Fine," Clarke eventually said. "We will try again tomorrow."

Clarke turned towards her bed; getting ready to sleep for the night. Lexa sat staring at the glass of water Clarke had placed on the coffee table, just out of reach. There's a drop of condensed water on the side of it, running down towards her fingertips, and all Lexa could think about was having that water on her tongue, running down her throat. She had never wanted anything so badly in her entire life.

A few seconds later, she felt a hand on her shoulders. She flinched. Clarke was wrapping a thick warm blanket on her shoulders.

"It gets cold at night. You will need this." Clarke's face was neutral. "Sleep well," She said.

"I hope you get drowned in your sleep." She muttered in reply.

Clarke chuckled in response. Finally, Clarke picked up the glass and turned to leave again. Lexa watched the water go. A small noise of objection escaped her, one that instantly made her irritated with herself. But Clarke had heard it.

"Are you trying to say something, Lexa?"

Lexa licked her lips and then said thickly, "I'm not a brat." Lexa tried to draw in a deep breath, which ended up just making her cough harder. God, she hated how her voice came out.

"Then stop behaving like one and just ask, Lexa." Clarke's eyes were encouraging, Lexa's thoughts to behead her were not. Lexa clenched her jaw, fighting the battle between giving in and maintaining her ground. She needed to drink. Desperately. But she also had her pride, which was stupidly winning out over her body's needs. She needed water. She was going to die without it.

"Water," Lexa croaked. Lexa stiffened in her chair.

"Yes?" Clarke said soothingly.

"Can I have some water, please?" It took her a minute to actually get the words out.

"Yes, of course." Clarke gave her a flashing white grin.

She lifted the glass of water to Lexa's lips, forcing her to drink in small and measured sips. Lexa knew it was safer this way, yet she hated it. She wanted to grab the glass and drink it all in one shot and break it over Clarke's head. It took her over ten minutes to finish the glass. When the glass was finally empty, Clarke placed a finger under her chin and lifted her gaze to match Clarke's.

"Well done," Clarke said proudly.

Lexa scowled, irritation crossing her face. She pulled her face away from Clarke's gentle touch. Clarke smiled then. Lexa knew what was happening. They had used the same basic technique to condition her soldiers for obedience. She was praising good reactions and punishing bad ones. Carrot and stick.

"I will see you tomorrow, then," Clarke squeezed her shoulder again and turned to go back to her bed.

Lexa wanted to ask for more water. Food, maybe. And to walk. But she stopped herself. There was only so much of her pride that she was willing to trade. Clarke was dangerous and she was going to have to play very carefully if she wanted to go home anytime soon.

When she woke up the next morning, she was not tied to the chair. She was slumped on it, inches from falling on the ground. She blinked at first, trying to adjust to the daylight filling the room. She stood up and walked a few steps when she realized that Clarke was not in the room. Why had she left her unbound then? Lexa dashed for the door. It was locked. Of course, it was.

There were a note and a metal handcuff on the coffee table. Lexa did not want to touch it or read it. She was just going to ignore it and pretend that she didn't see it. But maybe Clarke had left some sort of instruction on it. Lexa picked it up. She could always place it back and pretend if she didn't like whatever was written in it.

You can use the bathroom. Don't drink the water from the tap, it's unfiltered. After you are done, place the handcuffs on your wrist and sit by the dining table. I will see you at lunch.

-C

The thought of lunch made her stomach growl. How long had she slept then? Had she slept past breakfast or Clarke had just decided that she was unworthy of breakfast? She sighed and went to the bathroom.

When she returned, the handcuffs were still waiting for her. Clarke was stupid to believe that she would put on the cuffs willingly. She scoffed and ignored them. She went to one of the windows looking out into the sea and started formulating a plan.

She could use or hide one of the blades on display to break out again. But Clarke would definitely notice if a blade was missing. The consequence for that would not be good. Lexa berated herself for thinking of consequences before the action. These obedience techniques were effective even when she understood what was happening.

What would happen if she tried to go to the cockpit again? The others will definitely try to stop her. She will have to hurt them again. But if she failed like last time, Clarke had proved that she could starve her. They obviously wanted to keep her alive but that could be achieved by minimum food and water as well. She couldn't take that chance. She needed her body at its hundred percent.

She heard footsteps echoing towards the cabin. She was not sure what to do. What if Clarke refused to feed her just because she did not follow her orders? It would cost nothing to Clarke but for Lexa, it was sleeping another day with an empty stomach and an unfocused mind. She dashed to the coffee table and clicked the handcuffs in place on her wrists. A wise warrior knows when not to fight.

She was standing when Clarke opened the door. She was holding a tray of food in one hand and a laptop in another. She first placed the laptop on the bedside table then looked at her and raised her eyebrows.

"I asked you to sit in that chair, didn't I?" Clarke said as she walked past Lex to set the tray on the small round dining table.

"Must have missed that part," Lexa smirked.

"It isn't too late to listen, is it?" Clarke pulled out a chair and gestured to it.

Lexa clenched her teeth against the hungry growl that her stomach was producing. She debated refusing but then what was the point? She would be stuck in this room without food or water. That was unacceptable. She had to get out.

So, she sat down. Her hands were cuffed in her laps for now. Clarke was setting the table. She placed a plate and filled it with some bread, horiatiki, a platter of olives and feta cheese, slow-roasted vegetables, grilled meat, and fried potatoes. Clarke was slow in her ministrations. Lexa just wanted to grab the plate and devour it.

Clarke took out a napkin and placed it on her lap lightly. She then held the fork and knife and sat on the chair across from Lexa who was wondering how to eat with cuffed hands. Her question was answered shortly as Clarke cut the bread into small pieces and looked at Lexa expectantly.

Then only Lexa realized that Clarke was going to feed her herself. She wasn't going to give Lexa a knife or a fork. Lexa tensed her shoulders. She wanted to resist, wanted to say that she did not need to be fed, that she was not a child. But wasn't that exactly what a child would say? Hunger was a force of nature. There was no denying it. Her hunger was all-consuming. Her body's needs were winning over her pride. She needed to eat.

Clarke waited patiently, giving her all the time she needed to fight against her pride. But when she did not make a move and lowered her eyes stubbornly. Clarke simply lifted a forkful of roasted vegetables up to her mouth and said, "Open."

Lexa opened her mouth and ate it, not matching Clarke's eyes. A faint blush traitorously colored her cheeks. The food was delicious. Whether because it was actually delicious or because she was hungry, it didn't matter. She chewed fast and waited for the next bite. Clarke fed her slowly like she had all the time in the world.

"You slept through breakfast," Clarke said, lifting the fork once more. "Murphy, the first guy you shot, had made some very delicious pancakes."

"You could have woken me up," Lexa said with food in her mouth, manners be damned.

"I tried to. But you are a heavy sleeper."

It was hard to believe that Clarke let her sleep just because she had refused to wake up. Lexa didn't bring it up though. She ate in complete silence.

"I am glad you didn't decide against eating. In our case, starvation is one of the most painful ways to die, after drowning of course." Clarke added.

Lexa didn't particularly want to talk about death while eating. She ate faster and finished it all well within ten minutes. It took another ten minutes to drink water from Clarke's hand. When she was done, Clarke offered her a tissue and cleaned up the table. She collected everything on the table and started to leave. Lexa didn't want her to leave just yet. She might come back after hours and Lexa would be left with her thoughts alone till then.

"Wait," She rasped out and immediately regretted how needy she sounded. Clarke stopped in her tracks. "Why do you keep saying 'in our case'?"

"You are asking questions, finally." Clarke grinned. Clarke gestured to the tray with dirty dishes. "I will come back in a minute, okay."

"Yeah, okay," Lexa said but Clarke was already closing the door behind her.

Lexa anxiously waited for her to return; lining up all the questions she wanted to ask. She shifted to the sofa and sat comfortably, eyeing the laptop. She wondered whether or not it was password protected. Or whether it was some sort of a test Clarke had planned. When Clarke returned, she noticed her but didn't say anything. She simply sat down beside her. Lexa didn't give her a chance to start the conversation and took the reins herself.

"Why am I here?" she asked.

"That is the first reasonable question that you have asked so far." Clarke looked amused. "It's concerning that you have not figured this out yet."

"Can't you just answer-"

"You are here because you are just like us. You are an immortal. You cannot be killed. Not yet at least. You are going to outlive everyone you know-"

Lies, lies, lies. All warfare is based on deception.

"That's not possible-" Lexa sprang up from her seat. Her cuffs jangled. "You are lying! You are fucking lying!"

Clarke let out a defeated sigh. She almost looked upset. She walked to the blades on the wall. Lexa took up a defensive stance. Was she going to hurt her again? But Clarke came closer to her. She held the blade in her left hand and spread her right palm open.

"Look," Clarke said. She pressed the sharp edge of her blade onto her palm and kept pressing until red liquid was oozing from it. She made an inch-long gash on her palm. Lexa hesitated to look at it. But Clarke came even closer.

As soon as Clarke removed the blade, her skin began to sew itself. It was like watching her skin travel backward through time. When the wound healed, there was no sign of it left on Clarke's skin. No scars and probably no pain.

"Now your hand." Clarke extended her open bloodied palm. She unsheathed another knife and waited for Lexa to place her hand on her own bloodied hand. Lexa did. She was calmer than she had expected, almost curious.

A part of her brain that sounded like Titus was screaming that she shouldn't let her do this, shouldn't let Clarke touch her, but she did. Clarke pressed the other blade to her palm, she winced. She made a smaller, shallower cut on her palm.

"It will take some time to get used to the pain," Clarke said as warm blood spread into her palm. Their gaze was fixed on it. Slowly and surely the cut began to heal. New skin bridging the gap from where the blood was coming. She stared at it in disbelief. It was almost magical. Almost.

"It is slow for now. But soon cuts like these will heal in seconds." Clarke explained. She looked at her with wide blue earnest eyes. "Lexa, you are not alone."

They were all deceivers, killers, and spies, trained to prey on people like her, people without their unnatural gifts. They were predators.

"No!" Lexa stepped back even further. She was a little dizzy. She suspected it wasn't because of her blood loss but rather from what she was hearing. "You drugged me or - or -"

"Very flattering, but no I didn't drug you. You are an immortal. That's a fact."

"You did something to me!" Lexa held up an accusatory finger, caught between the shame and necessity of what she was about to say. "You are unnatural. I-I am not one of you. I can't be." The words tasted like ash in her mouth. These were the words Titus used to describe them. Unnatural, inhuman, monster. These were the words she was raised on, words that still rang true for her.

Clarke pulled out her pistol from her waistband, turned off the safety, and calmly aimed at her. Lexa scoffed. These people knew nothing other than killing.

"You're not going to-" Lexa heard gunfire as she collapsed to the floor.