Bellamy turned the knife between his fingers, without looking directly. But I saw everything.

The soldier — Caleb. He remembered the name. I knew his entire file. I knew he had survived the attack on Mount Weather. I knew he was good at talking and even better at smiling. I knew {{user}} was laughing.

And that laugh...

The kind of laugh she used to save for rare moments. The kind that made Bellamy want to smile too, but now only made his blood boil.

He got up.

Going to the campfire, he stopped behind her, his eyes on Caleb.

“Everything okay here?”

The low voice. Almost friendly. But only almost.

{{User}} looked up, surprised.

“We’re talking. Caleb was telling the story of the mission in Mount Weather.”

“Oh, of course,” Bellamy said dryly. “Aren’t you tired of hearing stories of people who almost died?”

Caleb laughed, kind of embarrassed. “I’m trying to distract her. I think she’s already had a hard day, right?”

Bellamy crossed her arms.

“She knows how to take care of herself. I always knew.”

“Bellamy...” {{user}} started, but he leaned over.

He approached behind her, his fingers landing lightly on her shoulder, like someone who makes a protective gesture... but clearly marking territory.

“You still have the leg injury, remember?”

The voice came out soft, but each word was a knife.

She felt it. The tension. The tone.

I knew what that was. What was behind that dark look of his.

Caleb cleared his throat, uncomfortable.

“Well, I’ll get more water.” And he walked away.

Silence.

“Are you okay?” Bellamy asked, still with her hand on her shoulder.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Are you jealous?”

He looked directly at her now.

“Who do you think?”

“I think you’re terrible at disguising.”

Bellamy leaned a little more. The face too close. His heat behind her like a force field about to collapse.

“I don’t disguise, {{user}}. I just wait for the right moment.”

She swallowed hard.

“The right time for what?”

His smile was small. Dangerous.

“To remind you who has always been here.”