GRIM REAPER¹, bellamy blake

079 ━━ the coup

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ONE OF the many people that joined Iona in that jail was Sinclair. He was the last person she ever expected to see in there, yet, here he was, pacing in front of the door as he cried out to the guards, demanding to speak to Bellamy.

What baffled Iona even further was when Bellamy finally did approach. He didn't even spare Iona a glance. He stayed focused on Sinclair, as they whispered back and forth between each other.

Iona was officially lost and confused- not to mention tired, hungry, in dire need of a shower (she was still caked in blood), and in immense pain. The painkillers helped a bit, but she needed more.

Huffing, she eyed Bellamy angrily, as if that would get his attention, before downing another two painkillers with ease.

"You know, you weren't supposed to take another for at least six hours," Lincoln muttered, watching her thickly swallow down the pills. She shrugged, reaching for a third, and that's when he took her hand and shook her head, "Nope, you're done for the day."

Iona watched angrily as he put the pill back into the bottle, then slid the bottle into his pants pocket as a way to keep it away from her greedy hands.

Lincoln, watching Bellamy and Sinclair talk, glanced back at Iona. He seemed, suddenly, enraged as he watched her twitch. Not only was she in pain, but she was mad and confused. Plus, she was practically living off those painkillers.

It didn't feel right- not when the source of her pain was standing right there, almost close enough to touch.

Carefully tucking Iona under his arm, he helped her stand, ignoring the grunts and questioning mumbles escaping her mouth once she was dragged over to the door. Lincoln, with eyes steely and narrowed, glared at Bellamy, whose eyes did not seem to find his.

Instead, they hesitantly- as if scared looking at her would break something in him- looked at Iona, taking in her appearance.

"So, the cowards make their own deals to save their skin," He grumbled, aimed at Sinclair. He wanted to expose Bellamy's lies, right in front of Iona's face, and watch the way he'd undoubtedly squirm.

For her, though, he kept it down, huffing- but more comments escaped him once their conversation continued.

"Can't defeat the army at the gate so you turn on your own?" Lincoln shook his head disapprovingly, scoffing. "Does that make you feel strong?"

Bellamy narrowed his eyes, "Quiet."

"I'm not the one that needs to be sentenced," Lincoln muttered, and before Iona could register what was happening, he was approaching Sinclair and tossing him to the floor, saying, "You'll tell them nothing."

Iona, dragged down by Lincoln roughly punching Sinclair straight in the face, fell to the ground, clutching at her stomach and groaning painfully.

"Lincoln!" Various soldiers, Bellamy, and Iona all yelled out.

The gate opened, and then Lincoln instantly stopped punching. Iona must've been passed out when they made this plan, because she had absolutely no recollection whatsoever of making a plan that involved beating the shit out of Sinclair, and then turning on the guards inside.

Lincoln punched at punched at the guards and Iona wished she could do something more than cling onto him and painfully cry out at every sudden movement.

She'd never been so useless before.

This shit hurt like nothing else ever had.

Her wound didn't even hurt as much as her realizing she was only dragging Lincoln down and making him slower- and making the fight ten times harder than it typically would've been for him had she not been attached.

An alarm blared and Iona whimpered, feeling small in the fight, nearly getting trampled as she tried so hard to run, but failed to, as she was forced to stay with Lincoln.

Everyone else seemed to escape, but not Lincoln, as every guard seemed to start electrifying him with their batons. As he groaned, his back aching from the pain, Iona sat on the floor, leaning her back against the wall lifelessly.

She couldn't help.

She couldn't fight.

She couldn't even walk on her own.

Worst of all? Bellamy didn't help her.

He continued fighting against the grounders, and his attention was never drawn to her pained cries, nor was he conflicted when he saw them begin to start using their batons on her, too. He merely watched, blinking back the horror and pretending the scene was different.

Then, he continued to gather up grounders and those he saw as guilty and shove them all in that cell; he didn't even look the tiniest bit guilty.

"I was wrong about you, Bellamy," Iona called once, loud enough for Bellamy to hear. It stopped him in his tracks, and when he turned, he was met with her tired and bruised face, tears sliding down her cheeks.  "You're a coward."

He pretended he was unphased, staring at her coldly, unblinking. Then, he turned, gnawing on his bottom lip as he walked off.

Iona watched him go before turning to Lincoln.

She smiled. It was full of pain and unease, and obvious discomfort as she swallowed thickly- but it was a smile. An aching, painful, and soulful smile that had Lincoln shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

"Tell me, now," Iona said, blinking away her tears. "What did Bellamy do?"

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