Jason held the scrap of paper the Grounder had drawn, turning it ninety degrees, then a full one-hundred and eighty. He let out a long, frustrated huff.
"Ohhh-kay," Jason muttered, his eyes darting between two identical-looking ridges at the intersection ahead. "This could be a problem."
"What's the hold-up?" Finn asked, stepping forward with his hand on his rifle. "The map says east, right?"
"The map was drawn by a man with one eye and a missing ear who was bleeding out at the time," Jason countered, thrusting the paper at Finn. "Here, bring it. You want to lead the way? Be my guest, Magellan."
Finn took the map, squinting at the crude charcoal lines. He turned it around twice, his brow furrowed in confusion.
"What's the matter, Finn?" Jason asked with a razor-sharp smirk. "Did they skip the map-reading elective during your Spacewalker training? Or is the North Star different down here?"
"Unless, of course, the dead guy screwed us," Murphy chimed in, leaning against a tree. "Maybe 'East' in Grounder-speak means 'Straight into an ambush.'"
Raven snatched the paper from Finn, cursing under her breath. "Shit. These landmarks don't match the topography. The reservoir should be behind that ridge, but the slope is all wrong and there are two of them to boot."
"Damn it," Jason hissed, Every hour they spent circling the woods was an hour their people spent in cages.
Bellamy stepped up, pointing toward the left-hand trail that dipped into a rocky ravine. "Let's go this way. The ground is softer; if they're moving prisoners, they'd avoid the high-ground ridges where they're easily spotted. This leads toward the valley in the map."
Jason stared at the ravine, then at the steep, overgrown mountain path to the right. "Maybe. But if that reservoir is a reinforced bunker, it'll be high up for gravity-fed pressure. Tell you what, change of plans."
He looked at the group, his expression shifting into a commander's focus. "You four take that ridge. Follow Bellamy's lead. I'm going to take the other ridge path alone. I can move twice as fast without a unit behind me. I'll scout the high ground, see if I can get eyes on the facility, and then I'll circle back and meet you."
"I'm going with you," Raven said instantly, stepping toward him.
"No," Jason said, his voice firm. "I'm going to be moving at a dead sprint. I'm not slowing down for anyone, and I need you with them to handle any tech they find. Besides," he gestured toward the horizon where a faint plume of smoke drifted, "based on the trajectory of the Ark's descent, there's a high probability one of the stations crashed somewhere in that valley. You might stumble upon survivors."
"If anybody survived that impact," Finn muttered grimly.
Bellamy looked at Jason, seeing the immovable resolve in his friend's eyes. He knew there was no point in arguing once Jason had that 'look.'
"Fine," Bellamy said, reaching out to point at a jagged landmark on the map, a rock formation that looked like a broken tooth. "We meet here. Forty-eight hours. If you aren't there, we will continue looking."
"Fine," Jason nodded, his body already coiled to move. "I'll see you guys soon. Stay safe. And Bellamy? If you see a Grounder, don't wait for a conversation."
Jason stepped toward Raven. The others, Bellamy, Finn, and Murphy were already adjusting their packs, but they stopped as Jason reached out, cupping Raven's face in his hand. Before she could offer a witty parting shot, he leaned in and kissed her. It wasn't a tentative goodbye; it was the kiss of a man who intended to come back from hell to find her again.
Finn looked at the dirt, shifting his weight uncomfortably before staring off into the trees.
"Get a room," Murphy muttered, leaning on his rifle. "Or at least wait for the radiation to finish us off before you start the soap opera."
Bellamy gave Murphy a look of profound confusion and slight annoyance, but Jason didn't care. He pulled away, touched Raven's forehead with his own for a split second, and then he was gone. He turned and sprinted up the mountain path, his body a blur of motion that was swallowed by the greenery in seconds.
"Alright," Bellamy sighed, checking his compass. "Let's move."
Five hours later, miles away from the ridge, Jason slowed to a rhythmic trot. His breath was steady, his heart rate barely elevated despite the incline. Suddenly, he dug his heels into the loam, skidding to a halt.
He knelt, scanning the ground. Footprints. But these weren't the organized, predatory marks of a hunting party. These were deep, erratic gouges in the mud, signs of people running, frantic and uncoordinated, toward something.
"Where are you going in such a hurry?" he wondered aloud, his voice barely a whisper.
He followed the trail, his senses dialed to the maximum. A few minutes later, a sound drifted through the trees, cutting through the rustle of the leaves. It was high-pitched and raw. Someone was crying. It sounded less like a human sob and more like the whimpering of a wounded animal caught in a trap.
Trusting his instincts, Jason vaulted over a crest of rock and froze.
In a small, shaded hollow, crouched on the ground, was Octavia Blake. Her hair was matted with leaves, her face streaked with dirt and tears. She looked broken, surrounded by signs of a violent struggle.
"Octavia?"
She jumped, her hand flying to the hilt of the sword at her hip with a speed that spoke of Trikru training. Her eyes were wild, ready for a fight, until they locked onto his face.
"Jason?" She stood up slowly, her knees trembling. "Jason!"
She moved toward him, a sob of relief catching in her throat. Jason let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and offered a small, crooked smile.
"You know, for a girl who's supposed to be a 'Grounder warrior' now, you sure make a hell of a lot of noise," Jason said, his voice laced with his usual dry sarcasm. "I could hear you from the next ridge over. You're lucky I'm not a hungry panther."
Octavia let out a shaky laugh, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Dumbass," she muttered, though she looked like she wanted to hug him.
Jason's eyes immediately dropped to her leg. He saw the way she shifted her weight, favoring the limb. "Lincoln got you out before the dropship went up, didn't he? I can see the leg he treated. Who did the stitches?"
"Lincoln and Nyko," she said, her voice turning somber again. "Nyko is his friend, a healer. He helped save me when I was poisoned." Her face crumpled again as she looked back at the hollow. "But the Reapers... they came. They took them both, Jason. They took Lincoln."
"Reapers," Jason repeated. He looked at the carnage in the hollow. "What happened after you left? Do you have any idea what's going on?"
"I've been in the woods," she said. "What happened to the others? Where's Bell?"
"The Ark is down, Octavia," Jason said, watching her eyes widen. "Kane and Abby are at a crash site nearby. But the others, Clarke, Miller, Jasper they're gone. Taken by men inside the mountain. I separated from Bellamy and the others hours ago to cover more ground. I was supposed to circle back to a meet-point. You should come with me. We'll find him."
Octavia paused, her eyes hardening into something cold and resolute. She looked toward the dark mouth of a nearby cave system. "No."
Jason blinked. "What do you mean, no?"
"I have to get Lincoln back first," she said firmly. "I'm not leaving him to those monsters."
Jason stared at her, a bitter thought crossing his mind. 'Bellamy lived his whole life under the floorboards for you. He sacrificed his freedom, his happiness, and nearly his life a dozen times just to keep you safe. And the second he's within reach, you turn your back for a guy you met a few months ago? Damn, Octavia. That's cold.'
He didn't say it out loud, but the look in his eyes told her he wasn't thrilled. Still, he knew the Blake stubbornness. Arguing was a waste of breath.
"Fine," Jason said,
Octavia wiped the grit from her face, her eyes narrowing as she processed Jason's words. "Wait... if the Ark is actually down here, if the Council is on the ground, why aren't they with you? Why aren't there soldiers crawling all over these woods looking for our people?"
Jason let out a long, weary sigh, leaning his weight against a moss-covered rock. "Because Kane is still playing by the old rulebook. He's obsessed with 'fortifying' the crash site, building walls, and establishing a hierarchy. He forbade anyone from leaving until they've done a proper risk assessment. Anyone who leaves without permission gets punished."
Octavia scoffed with a cynical sound. "Punishment? Down here?" She looked him up and down, noting the blood on his gear and the cold focus in his eyes. "You're here, aren't you?"
Jason's lips quirked into a sharp, mocking smirk. "Well, you know me, O. I've always had a bit of a problem with authority."
Before he could continue, a dark-skinned woman with short, cropped hair and eyes like flint emerged from the thicket. She was flanked by five Grounder warriors, their hands hovering over the hilts of their blades.
She stopped dead when she saw Jason, her face hardening into a mask of pure suspicion. "Who are you?" she growled, her voice a low, guttural rasp.
Jason held her gaze, his expression unchanging. He recognized her face but his memory was still messed up, maybe it'll come later on, he glanced at the warriors behind her, then back to her.
"If you weren't listening when Octavia said my name, I don't think I feel like repeating it for you," he said, his voice dropping into a rough, dangerous register. He stepped forward, his silhouette cutting a line against the trees. "My turn. Where is the shortest route east?"
The woman's grip tightened on her sword. "And why would I answer that, Sky Person?"
Jason's aura shifted. It wasn't just confidence; it was a heavy, suffocating presence that seemed to chill the air around them. He looked at the five warriors, his eyes tracking their pulse points with the cold efficiency of a machine.
"Because," Jason said, his voice barely a whisper yet carrying the weight of a mountain, "I will let you continue to draw breath if you do."
A small, predatory smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, the kind of smile that didn't reach his eyes. "You must have heard of me by now. The warriors you sent to the dropship didn't all die. Some survived long enough to tell stories, especially the ones with Anya."
He leaned in closer, his voice vibrating with a lethal certainty. "I am the Smiling Butcher. And right now, I'm in a very good mood. Don't make me change that."