She nodded, but when she reached up to touch her neck, her hand came away smeared with blood. “Let me see.” Wells pushed back her hair to get a closer look—there was a small puncture wound at the base of her throat, but just a scratch. She would be fine. Wells didn’t want to think about what would’ve happened if he’d arrived any later.

“What the hell?” he spat, turning to Bellamy, who was rising shakily to his feet. When Bellamy caught sight of the blood on Sasha’s neck, he seemed to pale slightly, but his tone was indignant.

“I was doing what I had to do, to get Octavia back. It’s clear that I’m the only one who still cares what happens to her.” Bellamy glanced at Sasha. “I wasn’t going to hurt her. I just wanted to show her that this isn’t a game. It’s my sister’s life.”

“You need to stay the hell away from her,” Wells said, stepping in front of Sasha.

Bellamy’s mouth twisted into a sneer. “Are you serious? Whose side are you on, Wells? Every day that passes, my chances of finding Octavia alive grow smaller. What do you think she’s doing, having a tea party with the Earthborns? They could be torturing her for all we know.” The pain in his voice unlocked something inside Wells’s chest. He knew how Bellamy felt, terror and desperation pushing him to the brink—because it was exactly how he’d felt when he learned that Clarke was going to be executed, back on the Colony.

“I know,” Wells said, struggling to keep his voice level. “But no more trying to hurt anyone, okay? That’s not how we do things.”

“Please,” Bellamy shot back. “If I was actually trying to hurt her, there would be a pool of her Earthborn blood on the ground right now.”

“That’s enough!” Wells shouted, his voice raw. “I’m taking Sasha back to camp. I suggest you stay here until you’re ready to have a rational discussion.”

Wells grabbed Sasha by the wrist and began leading her back toward the clearing. “Traitor,” he heard Bellamy mutter under his breath. Wells tried to ignore him, but he couldn’t help wondering if Bellamy was right. Was he foolish to trust Sasha? He glanced over at her face, which was completely closed off, her eyes looking straight ahead. His brain flashed, unbidden, to an image of Priya’s hanging body. They’d been inside the camp. They’d used the hundred’s own rope to kill her.

“I’m sorry about what happened back there,” Wells said quietly. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.” But her voice was still shaky, and he could feel her trembling against him. Then her forearm shifted in his wrist, and she slipped her palm into his, still looking straight ahead and revealing nothing.

Wells was silent as they walked back toward camp, hand in hand.

CHAPTER 17

Glass

“Don’t look,” Luke said as he pulled Glass away from the body on the ground. She averted her eyes before she had a chance to see whether it was a guard or a civilian. She didn’t even know if it was a man or a woman.

Glass wasn’t sure what she’d expected. Had she really thought the skybridge would open, and all the Waldenites and Arcadians would file onto Phoenix in a calm and orderly fashion, bidding polite hellos to the people who’d left them all to die?

No, she’d known it wouldn’t be simple, or organized. But she hadn’t expected the noise that filled the skybridge when the barrier raised—an earsplitting chorus of sobs and shouts and cheers and screams.

She hadn’t expected a male voice to come blasting out of the speakers. For the past seventeen years, Phoenix’s PA system had been used for inane, prerecorded announcements read by the same slightly robotic-sounding woman. “Please remember to abide by all curfew restrictions” and “All signs of illness must be reported to a health monitor.”

But as the first wave of people surged across the skybridge, a very different voice rang out over the chaotic clamor. “All residents of Walden and Arcadia must return to their own ships immediately. This is your only warning. All trespassers will be shot.”

Hearing a man’s voice coming out of the speakers was as disconcerting as seeing the skybridge closed, almost as if the ship had been possessed. But even that wasn’t as troubling as the sight of a dozen guards marching toward the bridge, guns raised.

Even then, Glass hadn’t expected them to actually shoot anyone.

She was wrong.

The guards had opened fire on the first wave of Waldenites who crossed the bridge, but even that wasn’t enough to deter the crowds who rushed forward to overpower the guards and take their weapons. Within minutes, Phoenix was filled with Waldenites and Arcadians. At first, most had just seemed relieved to be able to breathe, taking huge gasps of oxygen-rich air. But then they began to spread out throughout Phoenix, carrying whatever they could find as weapons and breaking down doors to steal from the Phoenicians. It had rapidly gotten violent and out of hand.

Luke pulled Glass to the side as two men ran past, each holding an enormous container of protein packets. Then another pair of Waldenites turned the corner, but these weren’t carrying supplies—they were dragging an unconscious guard.

Glass covered her mouth in horror as she watched the young guard’s head roll from side to side. There was a deep purple bruise on his cheek, and he was bleeding from a gash in his shoulder, leaving a trail of blood behind him. She could feel Luke tense next to her, and she grabbed his arm to restrain him. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Let them go.”

Luke watched the Waldenites drag the guard around a corner and disappear, although they could still hear their laughter echoing in the corridor. “I could have taken them,” he said with a huff.

In another situation, Glass might’ve smiled at Luke’s indignation, but she felt only a growing panic. All she could think about was finding her mother and heading to the launch deck. She could only hope that her mother was safe at home, that she’d known better than to venture out into the chaos.

Glass loved her mother, but she had never been particularly good in a crisis. Over the years, Glass had realized that there were some battles Sonja simply couldn’t face.

And so Glass had learned how to fight for both of them.

It felt odd walking back from the Exchange by herself, without Cora or Huxley next to her chattering about their purchases, or scheming of ways to keep their parents from discovering how many points they’d spent. Their absence made Glass all the more aware of the lightness of her pocket. Just minutes ago, it had held her mother’s last necklace.

Huxley’s mother had appeared at the jewelry booth just as Glass began haggling with the vendor about how many points the necklace was worth. “It’s a lovely piece, dear,” she murmured, giving Glass a pitying smile before leaning over to say something to a woman Glass didn’t recognize. Glass had flushed, but kept arguing. She and her mom needed those ration points.

Moving through the Exchange, Glass had felt everyone’s eyes on her. Phoenix was in a state of delighted shock at the scandal surrounding her family. Affairs were nothing new, but moving out was a drastic step given the housing shortage. And according to regulations, two people couldn’t occupy a flat meant for three, which meant that Glass and Sonja had been forced to move to a smaller unit on an inconvenient deck. Now, without her father’s seemingly endless supply of ration points, they’d had to sell practically everything they owned at the Exchange just to keep from living on water and protein paste.

Glass turned down their hallway and sighed with relief when she saw that it was empty. The one benefit of living in such an undesirable location was that she wouldn’t run into people she knew. Or, used to know. It had been weeks since Cora had done more than give her a curt nod in the corridor, grabbing Huxley’s elbow when she smiled at Glass. Wells was the only one of her friends who acted like nothing had changed—but he’d recently started officer training, which kept him so busy, he barely had time to visit his mother in the hospital, let alone hang out with Glass.

She pressed her hand against the door’s sensor and stepped inside, wrinkling her nose. Their old flat had always smelled like a combination of expensive greenhouse fruit and her mother’s perfume, and she still hadn’t gotten used to the stale, stuffy scent that choked the smaller unit.