✯ | chapter four

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"You know, I think you're right," he whispered. "Anything can surmount to nothing. But it's what we make of that nothing that matters."

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No matter what, when you're in a forest in the middle of the night surrounded by a camp full of prisoners, you're never truly going to fall into a deep slumber. So when Leila heard Wells stir beside her, her eyes shot open. Lying deadly still to avoid getting noticed, she waited until she was sure that Wells and whoever had woken him were gone before getting to her feet and following silently.

As she stood up, she wrapped her jacket around her body once again, walking quietly through the clusters of sleeping teenagers before she finally caught sight of two shadowy figures disappearing behind a tree. Increasing her pace, she soon fell into step behind them, far enough away to not be discovered but close enough to hear any and all conversation being held.

She noticed the slicked-back hair of Bellamy Blake, and something that strongly resembled a gun resting in his hand. He walked silently beside Wells, who was instantly recognisable due to his limp.

"That's far enough," Bellamy ordered, as Wells continued forwards for a few more steps before turning. "I don't want to shoot you, Wells. Hell, I like you. But I do need them–" he gestured to the sky, "–to think that you're dead."

"Why? Why are you doing this – for real – not some crap about getting to do what you wanna do," Wells asked.

"I have my reasons," Bellamy shrugged almost imperceptibly. "I also have the gun, so I ask the questions, and the question is: why aren't you helping me? Your dad banished you, Wells, and yet here you are, still doing his bidding, following the rules. Aren't you tired of always doing what's expected of you? Stand up to him. Take off that wristband and you'll be amazed at how good it feels."

"No," Wells said bluntly. "Never. Not gonna happen. Is that clear enough for you."

"Yeah, it is," Bellamy replied, the click of the gun sounding moments later. "I'm sorry it had to be this way."

Bellamy then lowered the gun and shoved it back into his waistband. As Leila watched, confused, Murphy appeared from behind a bush, his knife in his hand as most of his other friends followed suit.

Wells looked around, trapped, before attempting to run up the small bank. As he reached the top, two more of Murphy's friends grabbed him, dragging him back down towards Bellamy. Legs suddenly snapping into action, Leila propelled herself forwards, nothing going through her mind except the thought that she had to get to Wells; protect him from Murphy.

"No!" she yelled, running forwards.

Bellamy turned and caught the brunette as she ran to help her friend. Arms wrapping around her waist, Bellamy restrained the girl. "Easy, there, Sunshine."

"Get off me, Blake!" she yelled, thrashing around in Bellamy's arms.

"No! No! Get off of me! No!" Wells yelled.

"Get him down. Put him down," Murphy demanded.

Wells was forced to the ground as Murphy's friends held his arm against a rock that jutted out of the ground, wristband on show as Murphy stood over him with a grin.

"No! Come on, man. Let me go," Wells wailed.

Bellamy turned and walked away, dragging Leila with him as she kicked and thrashed. Due to her height, it was easy for Bellamy to pick her up off of the floor and throw her over his shoulder as if she weighed nothing.

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