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...
" you get a strong feeling when you leave a place. you'll feel regret, you'll miss the moments it gave you, and you'll miss the person you were at this place, knowing you will never be the same again "
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I'm unable to shut my eyes as Raven's grip on my hand tightens, Clarke putting a heated blade to the wound. I breathe through the pain, knowing her wound was worse than my wrists. All Clarke could do was bandage them until they got better. As for my arm, well— she had to move it back into place. To say the least, I blacked out.
"That should stop the external bleeding," Clarke informs me, her hands steady as she sets the hot blade down. My eyes are trained on Raven's wound, the bloodied skin damaged.
"I don't understand. How did Murphy get a gun?" Finn asks, and my breath hitches in my throat. I blink hazily, the feeling of Murphy's hand against my throat present as if it were happening, gasping for air.
I feel a hand brush against mine underneath the table, the fingers warm against my skin. The simple reminder that someone was here is enough to bring me back to reality. My head snaps up, cheeks tinted red in embarrassment. What Murphy did made me feel powerless, and I can't think of anything much worse.
Bellamy's concerned gaze meets mine. I shrug it off as if it were nothing, letting my hand fall away from his. I ball it by my side, trying to ignore how normal and right that felt.
"Long story," Bellamy mutters, glancing back up at Finn. Finn looks between us with confusion, his gaze flitting back and fourth.
"Murphy's revenge fantasy turned into a reality," My eyebrows arch up, the dry humor making everyone pause. I squeeze Raven's hand tighter, my knuckles white.
Sweat beads on her forehead as it pinches in pain, her face going pale. If I could trade places with her, I would. Raven saved everyone's asses on more than one occasion, and look what thanks she got.
"We got lucky. If Murphy hit the fuel tank instead of me we'd all be dead," Raven bounces off of my dryness, her voice weak. I shoot her a glare, eyes narrowing.
"Oh my god, the fuel is still down there?!"
"Wait, there's rocket fuel down there? Enough to build a bomb?"
Clarke and I both blurt out the different sentences at the same time. I hadn't really realized that it malfunctioned, leaving the hydrazine untouched. That would be good for us- we could build at least fifty bombs.
"Enough to make a hundred," Raven turns her head to Clarke, clarifying the statement. My stomach sinks with despair, remembering the hole blast in the roof. "If we had any gunpowder left."
I swallow the ball lodged in my throat, growing frustrated of how much little control we had over the fate of this camp.
Bellamy holds Lincoln's book in his hands, my mother's journal now on the table next to Raven. I had read what I could— which now included a lot thanks to my time I healing — looking for anything about the reapers. Either my mother hadn't encountered them, or didn't find them useful enough for the journal.
