Chapter One
**Logan's POV**
Logan was tired of waiting.
That damned brat Lincoln was late for his lessons on healing medicines and plants.
"If he doesn't show by morning, I'll go find him," Logan thought to himself, staring into the fire outside his shelter.
He'd helped raise the boy, after all. He knew just how good a fighter Lincoln was. Only he, the Commander, and maybe a few others could match him in the arts of stealth and sword combat.
But lately, Lincoln had been distracted.
Those Sky People.
Logan snorted.
He knew they were simply survivors of the thirteen stations that had been in orbit when the bombs fell. What surprised him was that any of them were still alive after all this time. The stations should have failed decades ago, life support, oxygen recyclers, all of it should have degraded past functionality I guess that just shows how stubborn people are.
He himself was coming up on 130 years old, thanks to that cursed crap his sister had shot into his bones.
It had been the first test experiment to see if she could get Night Blood to naturally evolve into people, making space travel easier on astronauts because of its ability to metabolize radiation. That had been its original purpose—before everything went to hell, before the bombs, before Becca became the first Commander.
Well, he supposed he'd go look for the boy tomorrow.
Those Mountain Men better hope they hadn't grabbed him, because that would just piss Logan off.
---
The next morning, Logan grabbed his medical bag, slung it over his shoulder, and started walking toward Lincoln's cave.
He understood that at Lincoln's age, the boy needed privacy. He just wished Lincoln didn't have to live so damn far away from the Logans hut.
After an hour's hike, Logan could immediately tell something was off.
The smell was wrong. There were extra footprints in the dirt and signs of someone heavy being dragged.
Logan immediately rushed to the cave, worry etched across his face.
Inside, he saw signs of a struggle. Chains on the floor. Lincoln's weapons missing.
*Red.*
That's all Logan saw.
Red rage, pure and simple.
He secured his bag around his shoulders, grabbed his walking staff, and started marching, following the tracks.
Whoever had grabbed his kid was sloppy, stupid, and had better hope Lincoln was in one piece.
---
He came upon a makeshift... something. Something that vaguely resembled a settlement but looked like it had been thrown together by people who'd never built anything in their lives.
All the tracks led back here.
Well, whoever they were, they'd just pissed off the wrong man.
Logan marched straight up to their gate, ignoring the shouting of whatever lookout they had posted.
He braced himself and Spartan kicked the door as hard as he could. Deep down he was cheering having always wanted to make an entrance like this.
The gate exploded inward, torn clean off its hinges.
"Shoddy work," Logan muttered as he walked through.
He looked around. And around.
Children. Dozens of them. Teenagers, no adults, all staring at him with wide eyes and weapons they barely knew how to hold.
"Where are the adults?" Logan called out.
Silence.
"Who's in charge?"
More silence.
"AND FINAL QUESTION—AND YOU BETTER GET THIS ONE RIGHT—*WHERE IS MY BOY?!*"
Every kid there jumped. Some stood a little straighter. Some held old rifles pointed at him, some pointed away. Logan didn't care. It wasn't like the bullets would stop him, or even hurt that much for long.
But it would piss him off.
Finally, a young man emerged from one of the structures, drop pod by the look of it, the kid probably eighteen or nineteen, wearing an old tactical uniform with a sidearm in his hand pointed directly at Logan.
Following him out were two other boys, a pretty blonde girl, and two other young women.
Logan's eyes narrowed.
*Is this the reason? Did Lincoln do something to one of their girls and they captured him?*
No. No, his boy would never do something like that. He'd raised Lincoln to be kind and strong, to help when he could.
"Who are you and what do you want?" the young man asked, trying to sound authoritative and failing.
Logan sized him up. Scared. Trying to be brave. Finger too tight on the trigger.
"I'm here to get my son back," Logan said flatly. "You captured him in his home. I want him back."
The young man glared. "He kidnapped my sister and attacked one of us."
Logan inhaled deeply, catching scents on the wind.
There the girl. She smelled like Lincoln. And like medical plant extract on her head. He knew that smell. He'd taught it to Lincoln himself.
"Did he?" Logan asked, keeping eye contact with the girl.
"No," she whispered.
"Excuse me," Logan growled. "I didn't hear you."
"No!" the girl said louder, stepping forward. "He saved me. Twice. He only defended himself in his own home."
Logan's eyes narrowed at the boy with the gun.
They were drawing a crowd now. More children emerging from the dropship and surrounding structures, watching.
The boy looked conflicted. Scared.
Logan took one step forward and started to reach out, intending to ask for the gun—
The weapon went off.
The bullet caught Logan square in the forehead, snapping his head back.
*Okay. Now I'm pissed.*
---
**Bellamy's POV**
Bellamy didn't mean to pull the trigger.
It had been reflex. He'd seen the Grounder step toward him and he'd just *reacted*.
The Grounder's head snapped back from the impact.
But he didn't fall.
Instead, something happened that would haunt everyone's nightmares for the rest of their lives.
The Grounder slowly straightened his head.
And looked at Bellamy with pure, unfiltered rage.
Right before their eyes, they saw it—black bone visible beneath torn skin. The skull itself. And then the skin began closing over it at an astonishing rate, knitting itself back together like it had never been damaged at all.
Bellamy's gun was knocked out of his hand by the staff—moving so fast he barely saw it.
The staff jabbed into his ribs.
Pain exploded through his chest and he bent over, gasping.
Then a knee came up and smashed into his face, breaking his nose with a sickening crunch.
Bellamy hit the ground, vision swimming, tasting blood.
The last thing he heard before darkness took him was his sister screaming his name.
---
**Logan's POV**
The boy lay on the ground, out cold but alive.
The girl who'd spoken up—the one who smelled like Lincoln—rushed to her brother's side.
Logan simply walked past everyone.
No one moved. They were all too afraid, staring at the place where a bullet hole had been in his forehead just seconds ago.
He walked straight into the dropship.
Time to get his boy.