Murphy had just returned from the grounders, bloody and barely conscious on the floor. Derek, Connor, Finn, Clarke, you and I surround his battered body. “Hey, what the hell is wrong with you?" I hear Finn speak incredulously as I pull my gun to Murphy’s face, gaze bitter.

"We were clear what would happen if he came back." I growl in response, until I meet gaze with you, stood between my gun and the pathetic man on the floor.

Suddenly, I see the look in your eyes. The one that I unfortunately feel in my soul, that I know you’re going to speak up.

“Don’t. Don’t goddamn say it.” My voice is low, warning.