BOOK ONE IN THE SALVATION SERIES
"Victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror. Victory however long and hard the road may be; for without victory there is no survival."
"You just ripped off Winston Churchill."
"Wow, Blake, congratulations...
" they had never felt pure terror, pure helplessness, until the girl they loved— each in their own way, was being taken from them "
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JASPER'S P.O.V (THIRD PERSON)
Jasper's hands shake uncontrollably, the gun dropping from his clammy hands. He swears under his breath, watching the grounders retreat. But that wasn't what Jasper was focused on— it was the girl being thrown to the ground by the sheer force of the bomb.
And it was all his fault.
The air fills heavily with smoke, Jasper fighting the urge to cough. His chest felt weighed down, the guilt already eating away at him. Avalon is probably lying dead down by the bridge because he couldn't make the damn shot. He panicked, fear coursing throughout his bones so much his aim was more crap than usual.
The smoke starts the thin, and his chocolate eyes scan near the edge of the now destroyed bridge for his friend. He spots her mangled body, a rock lying over half her torso, locking Avalon to the rubble. Jasper picks up the rifle, slinging it over his back before standing up hastily.
Jasper doesn't hesitate this time to get the girl, his guilt over-powering his fear of the grounders. With heavy breaths, he slides down the muddy grass and to the sick girl. Even from where he stood, Jasper could tell Avalon was either unconscious, or.... he didn't want to even think about the other option. It couldn't possibly happen, especially not to Avalon.
Jasper pinches his eyes shut as if he were in pain, the smell of death enveloping him. His face visibly pales when he nears Avalon, a lump finding its home in his throat.
She looked, well—dead. Blood tears streaked down her scratched up face, her body lying there in a way Jasper thought wasn't possible, the rock covering her chest. Her clothes were ripped to shreds, her jacket torn to almost nothing. Jasper throws himself onto his knees, reaching out towards Avalon with two shaky hands. He didn't care if he might get sick, Jasper owed her this much. He knew it was grim, but he had to check.
"Please, Avalon," Jasper whispers, placing a hand right underneath her jawline, fingers over a pulse point. The first thing he noticed, was how cold she was. Avalon's skin was icy to the touch.
The second thing he noticed, was that the blood wasn't pumping. Her pulse was absent, Jasper freezing right where he was. His body couldn't move, the fingers still against her neck.
"No no no. No!" Jasper's ragged voice calls out, dread finding a home in the pit of his stomach.
No one ever thought Avalon, Avalon Rayne, could die. It just couldn't be possible. After everything she'd been through, she always came out on top. Jasper knew the camp feared her for that— even more so than Bellamy, but he also knew everything she did was to save the camp. She was so selfless, she died for them. But Jasper knew she wouldn't have had to if he had just made the damn shot.
