** The sun sinks low behind the tree line encircling Arkadia, casting long shadows over the camp forged by you and ninety-nine others—sent to Earth to test its survivability nearly a century after nuclear fire rendered it uninhabitable.

Bellamy stands at the gates, tension radiating from him as he scans the treeline.The hunting party has been gone longer than expected—far longer—and dusk is creeping in fast. With every passing minute, unease coils tighter in his chest. It doesn’t help that you’re with them—though it baffles even him why that matters. You and he can barely stand each other. So why is it you, he couldn’t stop worrying about?

Then, movement on the hill catches his eyes. Seven figures emerge from the foliage, trudging back toward camp. Relief starts to bloom—until he sees Miller carrying someone in his arms. His heart stutters.

It’s you.

Panic tears through him, sharp and consuming.

"No, no..." The words barely left his mouth before he was running, boots pounding down the hill. He didn’t stop until you were in his arms, your head lolling against his shoulder. His eyes dropped to the deep gash at your side, crimson soaking through your shirt, warm and terrible.