Tensions were high, simmering just beneath the surface of the camp. The grounders were still a looming threat, food was scarce, and the pressure to survive weighed heavily on everyone's mind. Bellamy's authority was being questioned more than ever as factions within the group started to form, loyalty wavering under the strain. All it needed was a spark, and it came in the form of an accusation against Murphy.
Murphy had always been a troublemaker, a bully who took pleasure in asserting dominance over the weaker members of the group. The resentments he'd built up since their landing were palpable, but no one expected things to escalate so quickly.
It all started with Millie, a quiet girl who kept mostly to herself. She stumbled back into camp one morning, disheveled, her face streaked with dirt and blood. Panic lit up her wide eyes as she rushed into the center of camp, collapsing near the dropship.
Clarke and Ares, who had been discussing supplies nearby, ran over immediately. Clarke knelt beside Millie, checking for injuries.
"Millie?" Clarke asked, her voice urgent but calm. "What happened?"
Millie gasped for air, clutching Clarke's arm as though it were the only thing keeping her grounded. "Murphy… I saw Murphy… standing over Derek's body."
The words sent shockwaves through the camp. Everyone turned toward the small girl, faces filled with a mix of disbelief and rage.
Bellamy, standing a few feet away, froze for a moment before stepping forward, his jaw clenched. "What do you mean, you saw Murphy over Derek?"
Millie swallowed hard, her voice shaky but certain. "There was blood everywhere. I saw Murphy standing there, and Derek… Derek was dead."
A murmur spread through the crowd, fueled by anger and fear. Murphy, who had been lounging by the dropship sharpening a knife, looked up, startled by the sudden attention. He rose to his feet, confused.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Murphy barked, his eyes narrowing at Millie. "I didn't kill anyone."
But the accusation had already taken hold, and the camp needed someone to blame. The pent-up resentment against Murphy came to a head.
Connor, one of Murphy's frequent targets, pointed a finger at him, his voice thick with venom. "You always hated Derek. We all saw how you treated him. Now he's dead, and you just happen to be standing over his body? Pretty damn convenient."
Murphy took a step back, his hands instinctively reaching for the knife strapped to his belt. "You're crazy! I didn't touch Derek!"
But the crowd wasn't listening. They'd been waiting for a reason to bring Murphy down, and now they had one. A low growl of approval rippled through the gathered group. Bellamy stood at the edge of the growing mob, silent, arms crossed, his face unreadable.
Clarke tried to step in, her voice cutting through the rising chaos. "We don't know what happened! We need to figure this out before we make any decisions."
But her words fell on deaf ears. The group, led by Connor, surged toward Murphy, knocking him to the ground. Murphy fought back, swinging wildly, but there were too many of them. They wrestled his knife away, pinning him down, his face bloodied from the struggle.
"Let's string him up!" Myles shouted, his face twisted in anger. "Teach him a lesson!"
Someone grabbed a rope, throwing it over a sturdy beam on the dropship. Murphy's protests grew frantic as they dragged him toward the makeshift noose.
Clarke tried again, shouting above the din. "You can't do this! This isn't justice!"
But Bellamy, standing tall above the crowd, didn't stop them. His expression was cold, calculated. "We need to show the others what happens when you cross the line. If we don't, we lose control. Let it happen."
Ares, standing near the edge of the crowd, saw Bellamy's resolve and knew there was no stopping this with words. He locked eyes with Clarke, her face pale with shock as Murphy was forced onto a crate, the noose tightened around his neck.
"We can't let them hang him!" Clarke pleaded, turning to Ares, her desperation clear.
Ares's mind raced. He knew what had to be done. He had kept his distance from many camp decisions, but this was different. If they let this happen, they would lose any semblance of order. It would be chaos.
Without another word, Ares pushed his way through the crowd, his eyes locked on the group holding the rope. The delinquents, lost in their bloodlust, barely noticed him at first, but that changed quickly.
With a single powerful blow, Ares knocked one of the boys holding the rope to the ground, sending him sprawling. Before the others could react, Ares grabbed the rope and yanked it from their grasp, sending them tumbling backward.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Myles shouted, but before he could move, Ares landed a fist to his gut, doubling him over.
The crowd stilled, shocked at the sudden show of force. Ares reached up, cutting the rope with a sharp knife, and Murphy collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, the noose still loosely around his neck.
Ares stood tall, his voice calm but deadly serious. "This is not how we do things. You want justice? We do it the right way. Not like savages."
Connor, still winded from Ares's blow, glared up at him. "Murphy killed Derek! We saw him!"
"You saw him near Derek's body," Ares corrected, stepping over Murphy to face Connor directly. "That doesn't make him a murderer."
Bellamy, who had been watching silently, finally spoke. "And what if he did do it? What's your plan, Ares? Let him walk?"
Ares turned to face Bellamy, his eyes hard. "I'll investigate it. I'll find out the truth. But if we let this happen, what's next? You think killing Murphy will make the camp safer? Or will it just make it easier for the next mob to form?"
The crowd was silent now, uncertainty creeping into their expressions. Clarke knelt beside Murphy, checking his injuries, while Bellamy stared at Ares, weighing his options.
Finally, Bellamy nodded slowly, but his voice was sharp. "Fine. Investigate. But if Murphy's guilty, he's yours to deal with."
Ares's gaze flickered to Murphy, who was still gasping for breath, his face bruised and battered. He wasn't sure if Murphy was innocent, but he knew that a camp ruled by mob justice would fall apart faster than any grounder attack.
Ares looked over at Clarke, her face filled with relief, and then to Bellamy, who still watched with narrowed eyes. He could feel the weight of what he had just done settling over the camp.
"You have my word," Ares said finally, his voice carrying through the crowd. "I'll find out the truth. But until then, no one touches Murphy."
The delinquents began to disperse, murmuring amongst themselves, unsure of what would come next. Bellamy shot Ares a final look before turning and walking away, leaving Murphy lying in the dirt, barely conscious but alive.
As Clarke helped Murphy to his feet, Ares kept his eyes on the retreating crowd. He had stopped the hanging, but the tension in the camp had only deepened. And now, more than ever, he knew the real enemy wasn't just outside their walls—it was within.