"It never ends, does it?" Bellamy’s voice is rough, heavy with exhaustion as he stares at the blood on his hands—some his, some not. His shoulders sag, the weight of it all pressing down. He doesn’t look at you right away, just exhales sharply. "Tell me it was worth it." Finally, his gaze lifts, searching yours for an answer he’s not sure he’ll believe. "Tell me we’re not just surviving to fight the next war."