𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐭︱raven reyes, book 1

xi. justice

"J.M. John Murphy. The people have a right to know."

If June had been thinking more clearly, and her head wasn't clouded with thoughts mixing between hatred and retribution for Wells, she'd agree with Bellamy. It would have been best that the delinquents didn't know about the knife and Murphy's initials, and it was something that should have been kept between them. She tried to breathe through her nose, keeping herself collected long enough to race out of the tent and stand with the crowd forming as Clarke confronted Murphy. June could feel her skin pulling over her knuckles from how tight her hands were in fists, with her lower lip curled but keeping her boots dug in the ground, remaining composed.

This is Clarke's job, June told herself, repeating the words in her head. Clarke was a leader, like her father, and June only came down to protect her, Wells and the others, like Wells had wanted her to.

"You son of a bitch!" Clarke cried out after storming towards Murphy while giving him a harsh shove.

Surprised by the action, Murphy stumbled to steady himself. Just his face having the nerve to come off as astonished made June boil with rage. "What's your problem?" He demanded.

"Recognize this?" Clarke interrogated, lifting the knife into his view.

Eyes glazing over the weapon, a look of recognition hit Murphy. "It's my knife," he answered, reaching for it, but it was quickly snatched out of his range by Clarke. "Where'd you find it?"

By now, the pair arguing had drawn in all of the delinquents who circled them, wondering what was happening. Clarke informed them quickly by encountering Murphy. "Where you dropped it after you killed Wells," she revealed spitefully.

The accusation made Murphy look more confused than surprised. June gritted her teeth, tired of the expressions. He needed to confess, and he needed to pay for what he's done. Wells didn't deserve it, and in June's eyes, all signs pointed to only Murphy. "Where I what?" He questioned, lost. "The grounders killed Wells, not me," he defended.

"I know what you did," Clarke declared, on the same track as June. "And you're gonna pay for it."

"Really?" Murphy said with a careless scoff. He paused, scanning the crowd. His eyes landed on June, noticing how furious she was. The other delinquents didn't look so happy with him either. He began to look nervous, even noticing that Bellamy was as well. "Bellamy, you really believe this crap?" He called out, holding his arms out in defense. Bellamy didn't answer, instead crossing his arms over his chest.

Clarke took a step to the side, giving Murphy no other choice but to look at her. "You threatened to kill him," she spat out. "We all heard you, you hated Wells!"

"Plenty of people hated Wells," Murphy argued. "His father was the Chancellor that locked us up." June knew he was right, and there were plenty more people that hated Wells beside him. She shrugged off the feeling creeping up in the back of her mind telling her that he should be able to explain himself, only remembering Wells body being lowered in the ground. It was a permanent imagine in June's head, unable to be erased, and forcing aside the thought of giving Murphy a chance.

"You're the only one that got in a knife fight with him!" Clarke pointed out sharply, remembering coming to camp just in time to witness it. June knew she wasn't even there for the entire thing, and couldn't imagine how it felt to watch him fight enough to only defend himself.

"I didn't kill him then, either," Murphy retorted in defense.

Cutting in by pushing herself between her brother and June, Octavia called out. "Tried to kill Jasper too."

Wide-eyed, Jasper turned his head to glance from Octavia to Monty while clutching his injury. "What?"

Huffing, Murphy rolled his eyes. "Come on, this is ridiculous."