Rebellion (The 100 #4)(55)

“My child, I’m begging you,” Soren said.

“I’m not your child,” Glass said, shaking her head in disgust. “None of us are.”

Soren’s mouth drew in, all warmth evaporating like a mirage in the desert sun.

Glass retreated a few feet more. “You’ve never had a mother, have you? A real one?”

Soren closed her eyes, not responding.

Another step. “Well, I had a mother once. Do you know what they do, out there in the real world? They protect their children.” Glass felt all emotion draining out of her, remembering her camp, her village, the wagon that dragged her away, room after room of this hellhole filled with grieving prisoners, and all of this repeated again and again, inflicted on generation after generation. “You do the opposite, Soren. You manipulate your people to kill anything in your way. You do the opposite of protecting your children—you offer them up in this horrible ceremony. You’re not a mother.” She shrugged. “Just a parasite.”

As another blast shook the eastern walls, the ground shook under Glass’s feet.

“I’ll die if you leave me here!” Soren called out, her voice fading to nothing.

Glass bit back a swell of tears, fighting the urge to turn back.

“Only if Earth wills it,” she said.

West through the alleys, Glass thought, starting away. Out to the fields and then keep running, keep running, keep running.

A great shrieking whine sounded from behind her. That beam was finally giving way.

Glass heard Soren screaming.

Her heart broke, despite it all. But she kept on running.





CHAPTER 29


Clarke


Clarke held her breath, watching the last grenade explode along the massive outer wall, brilliant orange searing her eyes. The sound of it made her flinch, just as the last three detonations had.

Beside her, Bellamy let out an exultant huff, while Luke rocked back onto his heels, grinning in relief. Four explosives. Four successful detonations. Now all that was left to do was invade.

Clarke poked her head above the rubble, watching the silhouettes of Felix, Jessa, and Vale hurry into the gaping hole their bombs had carved into the outer wall of the compound. Paul had stayed behind at their campsite like the coward that he was.

Luke started to rise, but Bellamy held his hand up. “Wait for Felix’s signal that the coast is clear.”

Clarke gripped the crumbling cinder blocks in front of her, staring unblinking at the spot the others had just disappeared into. She drew in an anxious breath, hearing the rat-a-tat of new gunfire rising above the groaning of the building and roar of the flames.

Please let it be us doing the firing, she prayed, her fingers tightening reluctantly around her own handgun in preparation.

Felix appeared in the distance, waving a lit torch above his head. He glanced behind him, and then quickly ducked back inside.

Bellamy hissed, “There. Let’s move.”

They sprinted across the heap of rubble where they’d taken cover. Clarke ran until her lungs burned, covering her face with her arm as they approached the plumes of smoke from the explosions. She tried not to look up at the building, somehow even more terrifying a behemoth now that it was visibly crumbling. They’d need to get in and out fast or they were going to be destroyed right along with the rest of it.

She cocked her gun and strode inside, blood pumping hard, eyes darting in every direction. Bellamy took the lead, while Luke provided cover from the side, all of them stunned by the sight of the place. It was like a bombed-out walled city. Clarke wasn’t sure how much damage was from their grenades and how much had happened long ago. But Luke’s plan to undermine the foundations of the walls was working better than anyone could have dreamed. Too well, in fact.

The walls were buckling, huge chunks falling from above, the whole thing letting out a deep metallic groan.

“You guys go find the others, before this whole thing collapses!” Clarke said, pointing in the opposite direction. “I’ll find Felix, Jessa, and Vale and head to the armory with them.”

Luke started off quickly, undoubtedly thinking of Glass’s presence somewhere in the building, but Bellamy hesitated for a pained moment before turning to join him.

Clarke braced herself and turned, weapon raised, just as a white-clad mob rounded the corner of the debris-strewn road and raced toward her. Clarke raised her gun, setting its sights on the tallest of them. But then one of the raiders turned… and Clarke nearly dropped her weapon in shock.

It was Wells.

He looked just as stunned by the sight of her, but he recovered fast and covered the space between them in five quick strides, pulling her in for a quick hug.

“You’re all right!” she said, stepping away for a relieved look at him.

“I am,” he replied, wiping sweat off his brow.

“Eric?” she asked.

He pointed behind him at the tall one she’d nearly shot. “He’s fine.”

“Graham?”

Wells shook his head, pain sparking in his eyes.

Clarke peered over his shoulder at the group of raiders behind him. “Are they…?”

“They’re with us,” Wells said. “Or they want to be. I can explain everything.”

A rumble sounded from above. Clarke peered up to see a thick crack creeping down the wall face. She grabbed Wells’s elbow and yanked him away from it.