Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Prologue

Polis

Clarke opened the door to a shocking sight. Lexa was covered head-to-toe in blood with a vacant expression. “Lexa? Oh, my god!” she exclaimed as she dragged her girlfriend in by the arm to avoid unwanted attention. 

So far, Clarke found no injuries, but she was still perplexed by Lexa’s appearance. Clothes and hair disheveled with Lexa’s face, hands and torso soaked in crimson. Millions of questions flooded Clarke’s mind as she inspected her girlfriend. What happened? Where did you come from? Why are you standing on my doorstep in the middle of the night covered in blood? How long have you been on my porch? 

But the only one to escape Clarke’s lips was the most important one. “Babe, are you okay?”

“It’s not mine,” Lexa shook her head in denial, yet her face was reminiscent of a horrified witness. Her recent experiences, whatever they were, had clearly left her deeply disturbed. “You need to pack.”

Clarke’s face contorted into disbelief. “What?”

Lexa chased the demons haunting her away with a single, albeit powerful gulp, then met Clarke’s sapphire eyes. “Grab everything you can fit in one bag … two at most … and do it fast.”

“I don’t …” Clarke trailed off, her mind battling to keep up with whatever the fuck Lexa had been through tonight. 

She wasn’t a fool. Lexa ran in circles that left Clarke with shivers, not that her girlfriend had a say in who she could call her friends. Clarke could, in theory, walk away … go to college and earn a respectable income. She could pretend her parents’ exorbitant wealth was gained by legal means. A skilled trauma surgeon and a brilliant entrepreneur. No one needed to know Abby patched up gunshot wounds for the mob or that Jake was the cartel’s go-to for laundering money. Few of Clarke’s school friends asked for specifics, allowing the lie of omission to pass freely, without a guilty conscience.  

But Lexa wasn’t so lucky. No, Lexa would never … could never get out. She was fated to inherit a wretched kingdom—one abundant with treachery, espionage, drugs, money laundering and murderous psychopaths.

But like a fool, Clarke still had hope. Hope that Lexa could choose another, safer path—one that didn’t result in prison time or an early grave. Gazing at Lexa now, however, suggested she recently partook in some reprehensible act from which she would never recover. Had she killed someone? Tortured them? Was there someone after Lexa? If so, how the hell does Clarke protect her girlfriend now? Maybe if she called her dad … or Lexa's father. Yes. They would know what to do. 

Lost in her thoughts, Clarke remained unaware that Lexa was packing her clothes into a duffle bag, having already opened her drawers. By the time Clarke caught up with reality, Lexa had moved to the blonde's closet. With resolute purpose, she hastily packed the bag, her girlfriend’s movements suggesting an irreversible decision. Clarke’s worst fears had come true. Lexa had crossed that invisible line and now she would never walk away from her father’s kingdom. 

"Lex, talk to me." Clarke pleaded, trying to understand the urgency in her girlfriend's actions.

“It was the Ice Queen.” Lexa replied in a finite tone, telling Clarke all she needed to know.

Nia Eis reigned as the cartel’s monarch, her influence extending to every illegal drug circulating in the United States, directly or indirectly, earning her the moniker “Ice Queen.” Clarke’s father, a businessman in the underworld, held a deep-seated fear of Nia. He always warned Clarke to never, ever seek Nia Eis out or conduct business with her. The Ice Queen was off-limits, especially if Clarke eventually rose to her father’s mantle. Jake made his daughter swear it the last time she saw him–stay away from the Ice Queen. If Nia was involved with whatever happened to Lexa, then they were buried under a three-ton pile of shit. 

“What happened?” Clarke demanded, presuming her girlfriend had crossed the wrong woman.

“Don’t ask questions. Pack. Now.” Lexa harshly replied, prompting her girlfriend to shiver from the forcefulness of her tone. Lexa never spoke to her like this. Her voice was tender and reverent whenever Lexa spoke to Clarke. This only amplified the escalating fears swirling through Clarke’s mind. 

Finally, understanding the severity of the situation, Clarke shut her eyes and channelled her father. Jake had been through countless events that required finesse and quick thinking. How many times have the Griffins packed their things in the middle of the night to escape a dangerous situation? More times than Clarke could number. If her dad could do this, so could Clarke. So, she clamped her mouth shut and began to pack. 

As soon as she had two bags stuffed with clothing, Lexa snatched her by the hand and dragged her outside, where there was a car waiting. The silver sedan had windows tinted well past the legal limit. Clarke couldn’t even see the driver as they approached, but knew from the revving of the engine they were behind the wheel. 

Lexa opened the door to the backseat and practically shoved Clarke into the car. Inside, Clarke immediately spied Gustus, Alexander’s faithful bodyguard, in the driver’s seat. He, too, was covered in blood, though it was plain that at least some of it was his own. Gustus’ nose was crooked and bleeding. Likewise, it looked as though someone had bitten or ripped a chunk of his right ear off. Regardless of his injuries, Gustus’ breathing, like Lexa’s, was steady. Still, there was an emptiness in his gaze that told Clarke he had been through hell tonight. 

“Go.” Lexa commanded as soon as the car door was shut and the car peeled out of the parking lot. 

An eerie silence fell over the car’s occupants as Gustus navigated through heavy traffic. Clarke had so many unspoken questions as Lexa opened a box and yanked a new cell phone from the wrappings. Prepaid phone, based on the packaging. 

“This is for emergencies only. You can’t call your friends or family. You’re dead, as far as they’re concerned. Understand?” Lexa instructed as she handed over the phone, causing Clarke to panic.

She thought of Wells and Riley. Surely they'd try to find her if Clarke suddenly went missing. But it was Clarke's parents whom she was most concerned about. Jake would move mountains to find his daughter, as would Abby. No. They, of all people, needed to know Clarke was safe.

“But my mom and dad…” Clarke couldn’t walk away from them. Her dad, at least, would have a plan for something like this. Jake Griffin always had a plan. Clarke just had to call him and—

“Abby will be with you.”

“And my dad?” Clarke prayed this wasn’t another of her father’s heroic gestures. It wasn’t the first time Clarke and her mother had been whisked away for their protection. Still, Clarke couldn’t bear the thought of her father remaining in Polis while she and her mother ran. But Lexa’s expression suggested that was their only option. 

Lexa’s jaw tightened, and after a moment of chewing on her inner cheek, she closed her eyes in a silent plea. “Clarke.”

Fuck it. Clarke wasn’t beating around the bush anymore. She needed fucking answers. “Lexa, what the fuck is happening?”

“We tried … I tried to save him, but…” Lexa gazed down at her bloodstained hands and shook her head. 

“Save who? Lex, I don’t—” Realization hit Clarke like a freight train. Lexa was talking about her dad. Which meant … “No. No, he can’t be. Dad wouldn’t do business with the Ice Queen!”

But he would, though, wouldn’t he? Jake was a brilliant man. A masterful strategist who solved problems for the world’s most powerful criminals. His life had been filled with danger since before Clarke was born and he spent much of Clarke’s life teaching her how to navigate the murky waters of the criminal underworld. Jake Griffin was a vault of secrets, guarding everyone’s darkest truths with the fierce protectiveness of a dragon and its treasure hoard. But he knew, eventually, the castle would come crumbling down on top of him one day. His last conversation with Clarke had been a stern warning.

“Stay away from the three families,” her father cautioned. “Nothing good ever comes from them knowing your face. I know you’re sweet on Lexa, and I love her like a second daughter. But she’s a Woods Clarke. THE Woods, when her father dies. Which means Lexa’s life will be filled with death and destruction, no matter how hard she tries to stop it.” 

The rest of her father’s speech was much the same. Warnings of whom to avoid and who to do business with safely. Tips on how to run a job, if Clarke ever graduated from small time thievery. Her parents tried to give her a life outside of it all, pushing her to pursue her interest in art. But based on her last conversation with her dad, the Griffins knew that college would never sate Clarke’s innate thirst for crime. 

She grew up surrounded by darkness. Learned to pickpocket before she rode a bike. Was taught how to manipulate others to get her way or avoid trouble prior to grade school. Learned math by pouring over accounting books for Jake’s clients. Knew which street corners were safe, and which ones to avoid by age five. 

Clarke recognized long ago that this wasn’t normal. Few college freshmen knew the inner workings of the mob like she did. She often rolled her eyes at how naïve her college friends were. They thought living dangerously was visiting a cannabis dispensary or drinking too much booze. They didn’t know Clarke greased the palms of local cops to look the other way when her sorority handed out alcohol and drugs to minors. Or that several years of grifting were responsible for Clarke’s seemingly miraculous windfalls. 

No. Despite the Griffins’ efforts to present a different image, Clarke’s eighteen-year history of delinquency cannot be erased by a college degree. She, like Lexa, was born into a world of crime. A world few survived and even fewer escaped. 

Now that world was crashing down around her.

“He’s gone, Clarke,” Lexa whispered, her greyish-green eyes pooling with tears that refused to fall. “Jake’s dead. Murdered by Azgeda.”

“No, no, no! Dad!” Clarke cried out, shaking her head in disbelief. 

It couldn’t be true. No. Her dad was supposed to be invincible. He was her Superman. Clarke’s hero. He would never leave her. Never leave his family. No, there had to be a mistake. 

Only Clarke knew better. Lexa wouldn’t be here, covered in blood and demanding they run away, if it wasn’t serious. There was a protocol for this type of thing and so far, Lexa followed Jake’s emergency playbook to the letter. If anything were to happen to Jake, his family had to disappear. Which could only mean what Lexa said was true. Jake Griffin was dead. 

Sobbing uncontrollably, Clarke was drawn into a loving embrace. “I’m sorry, love. So sorry,” Lexa repeated as she held Clarke tightly in her muscular arms.

Clarke was only vaguely aware the car had stopped and Gustus had exited to give the couple some privacy. She was too lost in her grief to care if they were being apprehended. Maybe Nia would come for Clarke and Abby next. But the fear that notion caused was swiftly trumped by something far more sinister. 

Ha! Let the Ice Queen come and face the Woods family! The bitch would be decimated, and Nia knew it. In fact, Clarke reasoned that was the only reason Nia hadn’t come for the two remaining Griffins. Abby was Alexander’s personal physician and trusted friend, while Clarke was destined to marry Lexa, making them untouchable. An attack on them would likely mean a gang war–one that Nia would lose.

But then grief trumped Clarke's wicked musings. Her dad was dead … gone forever. She'd never feel his strong arms around her … or smell his cologne. Would his face fade from memory? Would the pain? 

Lexa’s arms were like a shield, fending off danger from all sides as Clarke fell apart. But after what felt like hours, Lexa pulled away. There was a sadness in her grey-green eyes as a black SUV pulled in beside them. It was only then that Clarke realized they were on the docks.

“It isn’t safe for you in Polis. At least not until things in the city cool down,” Lexa offered. Like Jake Griffin, Lexa always had a plan.

Clarke and her mother would escape the city via a ship owned by the Woods family. The destination was unknown to Lexa, though she claimed to trust the ship’s captain implicitly. He would take them somewhere Nia couldn’t reach them. There the Griffins would build a new life—one without Lexa.

“No, I’m not leaving you,” Clarke shook her head, drawing a sigh from her girlfriend.

“You must. If you stay, there will be war. Nia wants that–it’s why she killed him. But too many people will die if it comes to that, and I can’t … I won’t risk losing you.” Lexa replied, tenderly stroking Clarke’s cheek. “Please let me protect you, love.”

Clarke wanted to protest, to fight anyone who might take her away from Lexa. But she’d lived in this den of criminals long enough to know that Lexa was right. She and her mother had to disappear, or else they might be dead by morning. Or worse, Lexa might die protecting them. No. They had to vanish until things settled in Polis. How long that would take was unknown. Maybe never. But the choices were either stay and die, or run and live to see another day. So, with a heavy heart that was irreparably shattered, Clarke conceded.

“I’m never going to see you again, am I?” Clarke asked, once again battling tears as she met her girlfriend’s gaze and Lexa smiled softly.

“We will meet again… one day.” She promised, but Clarke shook her head. 

“You don’t know that!”

“I do.” Lexa cupped her girlfriend’s cheeks in her hands. “Because you’re it for me, Clarke Griffin. One way or another, I’ll find a way back to you.”

Clarke's tears fell freely now. There were so many people she wished to bid farewell. Or at least reassure them that she was safe. Wells and Riley. But more importantly, the boy who looked up to Clarke most—Lexa's younger brother. 

“Tell Aden–”

“He knows, Clarke. We all do,” Lexa replied in barely a whisper, as if saying it any louder might crumble the infamous walls she kept erected at all times.

“I love you, Lex,” she tearfully offered when Gustus knocked on the window to tell them it was time to go.

“I love you too, Clarke. Always.” Lexa said before leaning in to capture Clarke’s lips in a passionate kiss and refusing to break apart until they were both breathless. “Now go and don’t look back.”  

Clarke did look back. She couldn't help it. Though she couldn't see Lexa past the tinted windows of the car, Clarke knew Lexa was gazing back at her. 

Anger began to bubble in her chest as she climbed the gangway. Nia Eis had murdered Clarke's father. Tore her away from Lexa and those Clarke called family. She would get revenge, if it was the last thing Clarke did. It wouldn't be easy. Nia Eis was one of the most protected people on the planet. There was a wall of murderous gunmen between Clarke and the Ice Queen. Without the Woods family at her back, the odds of gaining revenge were insurmountable. But Clarke would find a way. 

∞

Ten Years Later

Arkadia

“So, do we have a deal?” Clarke asked.

Nigel tore her dark eyes from the painting and grinned. “You’re even better than your reputation, Ms. Griffin.”

It would be an understatement to say the job was difficult. Clarke spent months getting the details right as Raven and Monty infiltrated their target’s security system. Jasper, Bellamy and Octavia were on point, sneaking into the mansion for the swap. Now Nigel was the proud, albeit illegal, owner of an original Willem de Kooning piece worth a few hundred million dollars. Better yet, the rightful owner would never know his painting was stolen from over the mantle of his Florida estate. Instead, he’d spend the rest of his life gazing at an exquisite replica painted by none other than Clarke Griffin. 

“Yes, we have a deal.” Nigel snapped her fingers to summon her oversized goons. 

The man carrying the case reminded Clarke of a troll from a high fantasy series. He was almost as wide as he was tall, making for a humorous sight in an all-black suit. The guard set an oversized duffle bag loaded with cash on the table and opened it for her to inspect. Clarke gave it a cursory glance, thumbing through two of the stacks before zipping up the bag and meeting Nigel’s gaze. 

“What about the other half of my payment?”

Nigel narrowed her brown eyes at Clarke. “It’s a rather odd request, isn’t it?”

Clarke battled the urge to flinch. It took years to find a client willing to find this piece of intel. If the implicated party discovered someone was poking around in their affairs, no one would find Clarke's body. Hell, they might even murder Nigel for knowing it existed. Still, Clarke had to try. 

“My client was specific in their instructions,” Clarke shrugged, feigning nonchalance as Nigel reached into her left jacket pocket.

“They didn’t say what they wanted this for?” she asked, curling one eyebrow upward in a sharp line and Clarke shook her head.

“I’m a professional, Nigel. I don’t ask questions, I just deliver the goods.”

“Your work is impeccable as always, Ms. Griffin. It's why I look to you to handle the more … delicate jobs I offer.” Nigel offered as she passed an envelope across the table. “But whoever this client is, they are in more danger than they likely realize. You’d be wise to pass this information off and wipe your hands clean of them.”

“Don’t worry, Nigel. Once I get paid, I’m out.” Clarke offered her a confident smile, despite the churning in her heart. If Nigel told anyone what was in that envelope, Clarke would be dead by morning. 

Nigel smiled. “Good. I’ll have more business lined up for you next month.”

“You know how to reach me when you do.” she grinned, then stood up and grabbed the duffle bag. 

But Nigel stopped her. “One more thing, Clarke.”

Clarke gulped, praying this deal wasn’t about to go south. “Yes?”

Nigel waved off her bodyguards, prompting them to move to the other side of the room, then met Clarke’s gaze. “I don’t normally chase off business. But I respect you, and think you have a right to know.”

Clarke narrowed her eyes. “Know what?”

“Abby was here yesterday … for business of her own, if you get my meaning.”

Clarke shut her eyes and bit back a string of curses. Her mother’s journey with addiction began shortly after Jake was killed. Ever since then, it had been a rollercoaster of highs and lows, shifting from bouts of crippling addiction, followed by rehab and months of recovery. Abby’s struggle with addiction was worsening in recent years, and Clarke was exhausted from cleaning up her mother’s messes.

Clarke blew out a heavy breath. “Did you give her what she wanted?”

“Of course,” Nigel shrugged. “I am a businesswoman, after all, and I don’t make money by declining paying customers.”

Clarke wanted to cuss Nigel out. To demand that Nigel never give Abby drugs again. But she knew better. As she said, Nigel was a businesswoman and her primary form of income came from pushing narcotics for Azgeda. That’s where the money in the duffel bag on Clarke’s shoulder came from. Who was Clarke to judge gaining cash through illegal means?

“And I don’t suppose you’ll hold it against me if I throw her ass back in rehab?” Clarke tilted her head.

Nigel smiled. “Not at all. I make more money off you, anyway. As long as we maintain our arrangement, I won’t cry over losing a junkie.”

“Thank you,” Clarke sincerely replied, then glanced at the door. “It was a pleasure, as always, Nigel.”

“Same here, Clarke. I’ll see you in a month.” Nigel dismissed her, then went back to her game of chess.

Clarke strode out of the building with her head held high, despite the whirlwind of emotions. She should have known her mom was using again. Was she stealing opiates from work? Probably. Clarke only prayed no one at the hospital had noticed, because losing her job at the hospital would really set Abby back. Clarke needed to get ahead of this fast, which meant another intervention and a seventh stint in rehab. 

“Fuck my life,” Clarke muttered as she stepped onto the sidewalk. A black sedan met her on the curb, its driver offering Clarke a hopeful smile as she placed the duffle bag in the back seat, then took a seat beside Octavia. 

“Well?” Octavia asked, gaining a bright grin in return. 

“As simple as breathing, like I said.” Clarke replied, glancing over her shoulder at the millions in cash awaiting them.

“Woo-hoo! That’s what I’m talking about!” Octavia cheered, the wheels screeching on the pavement as she pulled into traffic. 

“Not too fast, O,” Clarke warned. The last thing they needed was to get pulled over.

But Octavia rolled her eyes. “Please! Everyone knows you’re a pro at sweet talking cops.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. She was a pro at bribing and manipulating cops. But tonight wasn't the night for that. There was too much at stake–especially with a certain envelope stuffed in her leather jacket. 

“Yeah, well, I’m not in the mood for hiccups. Not tonight.” Clarke sighed, her thoughts returning to her mother. Would Clarke come home to find her apartment ransacked like last time? Or would Abby OD in a random parking lot? Both were likely, and Clarke wasn't in the right frame of mind to handle either mess. 

Octavia nudged her with her elbow. “Hey! Lighten up, Griff. We just became millionaires.”

“Five million, divided by six people, is technically–”

“Oh! Shut up and let a girl dream, will ya?” Octavia smacked Clarke's arm. “One day we’ll be millionaires, though. Especially if we do more jobs like this one.”

“Yeah.” Clarke almost pointed out that the more money they made, the more danger involved. But she let Octavia dream, if only for tonight. 

The rest of the ride home was mostly silent. Or, rather, Clarke was silent while Octavia jabbered about all she planned to do with her share of the money. Either way, the gang would go out to celebrate. While Clarke was normally all for partying, she wasn’t in the mood tonight. But she had to pretend to be happy, at least. Besides, maybe a few drinks would help her prepare for the inevitable shitstorm that came with dragging her mother to rehab. 

Of course, Bellamy was waiting outside the warehouse when they arrived. “Everything went as planned?” he asked, his dark eyes scanning his sister and Clarke for visible injuries. 

“Yep. Told you Clarke knew her shit.” Octavia grinned as they stepped inside. 

“Yeah, well, I’m more worried about Nigel. Raven said–”

“It doesn’t matter what Nigel has done. She’s our meal ticket. As long as we keep delivering the goods as promised, we get paid,” Clarke replied, crossing the spacious room with their bounty hanging from one shoulder.  

“She works for the cartel, Clarke!” Bellamy frowned.

“And we’re a bunch of thieves, Bell! Thieves who just made five million in cash.” Octavia added. “So what do we care about what Nigel does for a living?”

“I care,” Raven offered, her arms crossed in front of her and a scowl on her face. Like Clarke, Raven's mother was a junkie–one who OD'd on Nigel's drugs. Clarke couldn't really blame her friend for being suspicious or even furious to learn their benefactor was Nigel. It was a savage way of life. But this was how they survived.

Clarke dropped the duffel bag on the table and unzipped it, smirking as she pulled out two pristinely wrapped stacks of hundred-dollar bills. “Then I suppose you don’t want your share?”

Rae and the others gazed at the money with wide eyes. None of them had seen so much money in one place. Well, Clarke had. But that was years ago. 

It took her ten years to gain the right contacts for a job like this. Clarke had to start from the ground up. She spent ten years picking pockets, robbing homes and banks to get this far. Now she had a regular patron willing to offer her more work. Rae may have morals to stand by, but Clarke’s were jaded long ago. Every triumphant gig was one step closer to her goal. 

“I’ll take your silence as a no, then,” Clarke smirked. 

Of course, Monty and Jasper were the first to put their grubby fingers on the cash, with Octavia swooping in after them. Bellamy was next to join the divvying up of money. Then, a reluctant Raven soon followed. As Rae and Bellamy counted their share, their moods lightened and soon they were excitedly talking about all they planned to do with the money.

Clarke excused herself to the bathroom and leaned against the sink, looking at her reflection. She took a long breath before splashing water on her face. She didn't think she could go through another intervention with her mother. They were always brutal, with Clarke's mom lashing out and spewing venomous words each time. Clarke would like to say they didn't hurt. That they were just words of anger. But no one does guilt trips better than a junkie and each time Abby was dragged to rehab, Clarke felt like the worst daughter ever. 

But her mom's relapse wasn't her only burden.

Clarke inhaled sharply before reaching into her black leather jacket and pulling out the envelope from Nigel. Clarke gazed at it for several minutes, considering if she truly wanted to look inside. But after a moment, she opened the envelope and found a memory card stashed inside. This had been her goal for ten years. If her intel was correct, and Nigel was trustworthy, the card contained dangerous information. Details on Jake’s death and the person responsible—Nia Eis. It was no wonder that Nigel feared might come of it and warned Clarke to walk away. If the wrong person got their hands on this intel—

“Griff! C’mon!” Raven called from the other side of the door. “We’re going to Grounders.”

“On my way!” Clarke replied, stuffing the card and envelope back in her jacket, then exiting the bathroom. Tonight, they will celebrate a successful gig. Tomorrow she would face her mother and whatever was on the memory card.

∞

"Six shots of tequila and an IPA for the pretty lady," The bar's owner shot Clarke a wink and a bright smile as she placed their drinks on the table. 

"Thanks, Val," Clarke grinned. 

"Anything for you, gorgeous." Val replied in a flirtatious tone. The brunette was about to say something else, but was cut off by another patron two tables down. Still, she swayed her hips seductively as she walked away, drawing the gazes of everyone in the bar. 

"Goddamn, Griff! How can you say no to that ass?" Bellamy asked, plainly drooling over Val–not that Clarke could blame him. 

Val was absolutely breathtaking to look at, with a curvaceous body, long dark hair and cinnamon eyes that sparkled in the bar's low light. Plus, Val was brilliant and an absolute badass. Seriously, the woman could take down a man three times her size without batting an eyelash. Clarke was sure the bar owner could have anyone she wanted, yet for reasons Clarke couldn't explain, Val's sights were laser focused on her. 

"Technically, I haven't said no," Clarke corrected before sipping her beer. She and Val had landed in bed plenty of times in the past. But it wasn't serious. It couldn't be.

"Yeah, but you refuse to ask her out on a proper date," Raven chided. "What are you waiting for, Griff? You know you two would be great for each other."

"I don't date." Clarke shook her head, her mind drifting back to another gorgeous brunette. 

Her heart was already taken, though Clarke wasn't sure if Lexa still felt the same after all these years. But nothing and no one compared to Lexa Woods. Even if Lexa had moved on, Clarke doubted she could ever love another. Nope. Lexa was the one for Clarke and always would be. 

"What is it, Griff? Holding out for someone special?" Bellamy asked, nodding at Val. "Cuz you're not gonna find anyone who compares to Val."

"What can I say?" Clarke grinned as her best friend approached the table. "I'm saving myself for Anya. She's my one true love."

"Gross." Anya feigned a gag as she slid into the seat next to Clarke. 

As Anya ordered her drinks, Monty and Jasper challenged Raven and Octavia to a game of pool. Bellamy muttered something about getting laid and then strutted up to the first pretty girl he spotted. Once they were out of view, Clarke's false smile fell. 

Anya studied Clarke's face for a moment, then leaned in and lowered her voice. "Why don't you look like someone who just got paid a ton of cash?"

Clarke sighed. "Mom's using again."

"Shit, Clarke. I'm sorry," Anya reached out and took her hand, drawing a relieved breath from Clarke.

Of all her friends, Anya knew Clarke best. In fact, Ahn was the first person to befriend Clarke after she and her mother escaped Polis. It was a chance meeting, with Anya and Clarke literally bumping into each other in a crosswalk. Clarke was having a shit day and Anya spilling coffee all over her only made it ten times worse. You'd think the gruff blonde would have chided Clarke for not watching where she was going. But instead, Ahn recognized that Clarke was two seconds from a meltdown.

Clarke doesn't normally trauma dump on strangers, but that day she did. Abby had overdosed for the first time and Clarke had spent the night with her in the hospital. She was nineteen without a dime to her name and their rent was due the week prior. Of course, the landlord bombarded Clarke with questions when she came home to change clothes for work, making her late for her shift at the local diner. Then the car wouldn't start, forcing Clarke to walk a mile through the busy streets to make it to work. Now, she had coffee all over her uniform and her boss wouldn't give a damn why, only that she was late and a mess. 

Anya listened to everything Clarke had to say, then offered to help anyway she could. It was through their first conversation that Clarke learned Anya was also new to Arkadia and starting over. She, too, was stuck in a shitty job, though hers was a tad more glamorous than waiting tables at a diner. Well, if you call running a gym specializing in boxing and mixed martial arts glamorous. The two became fast friends, and Ahn even offered to give Clarke lessons at the gym for free. Ten years later, Clarke and Anya were best friends and roommates, sharing a spacious apartment around the corner from Grounders. So Anya was well versed in the emotional rollercoaster that was Abby Griffin.

"I'm going in the morning to drag her ass back to rehab," Clarke said before downing the rest of her beer in one gulp. Of course, Val was there with another IPA in hand as soon as her emptied glass hit the table, gaining an appreciative smile from Clarke. 

"I'll go with you," Anya offered, prompting Clarke to shake her head. 

"It'll be ugly, Ahn."

"I know, which is why you'll need a friend to support you when Abby goes apeshit on you for flushing her stash." Ahn replied. "Besides, we both know I scare the shit outta her, so maybe it'll go smoother if I'm there."

"Well, you are pretty frightening," Clarke chuckled softly as she placed a cigarette in her lips and lit it. After a long inhale, Clarke tilted her head. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." Anya bobbed her head and Clarke expelled a sigh of relief. 

"Thanks, Ahn."

"What are friends for?" Anya shrugged, then shot Clarke a mischievous grin and nudged her with an elbow. "Now quit moping so we can celebrate your big day."

Clarke may not have felt like celebrating. But after a few more shots and glasses of beer, her walls finally fell. Nevermind that she was the reigning champion at the billiards table, earning her a few extra hundred bucks from the idiots who challenged her to a game. As she and Anya stumbled home, Clarke couldn't help grinning. She'd come a long way from living in squalor in a rat infested apartment and waiting tables in a shitty diner. For a moment, however brief, Clarke forgot about her mother's addiction and the envelope burning a hole in her pocket. She had good friends, a luxurious apartment and everything a girl could want. 

But as Anya opened the door to their flat, Clarke's world came crashing down around her. Inside, stood three large men wearing masks and tactical gear. There were several sheets of tarp spread across the wooden floors. Each of the men aimed their guns with silencers at the two women in the doorway. 

"You picked the wrong woman to fuck with, Griffin," One man offered, before he pulled the trigger.

Chapter Text

Arkadia

With superhuman reflexes, Anya threw out a hand and shoved Clarke out of the way, the bullet grazing her friend’s left arm. Before Clarke hit the floor, Ahn was somersaulting across it–towards the three gunmen. As Clarke scrambled to the coffee table, in search of the gun she stashed there, Anya rose to her feet and punched the first man in the throat. He gasped and dropped his gun, which Ahn effortlessly caught. Then she spun the man around so his back was pressed to Anya’s chest and used him as a shield while both women opened fire. Clarke hit the man on the right between the eyes, while Anya squeezed off three rounds at the man on the left–two in the chest and one in the forehead. 

Movement in the entrance caught both women’s attention, forcing them to spin around with guns raised. There were at least two more assassins in the apartment hallway, each of them wise enough to duck behind the brick wall for cover. In one fluid motion, Anya snapped the neck of the man in her grasp and let him fall to the ground, moving opposite Clarke on either side of the doorway. 

“Griffin! We know you’re in there!” One man shouted from the hallway, drawing a string of curses from the thief. 

“Why are they after you?” Ahn demanded, gaining a huff from Clarke in return. 

“How the hell should I know? I don’t even know who they are!” Clarke lied. Well, kinda. Truth was, she’d pissed off a lot of people in this line of work. Any of them could have sent assassins. But deep down, Clarke knew they were Azgeda, and that they had come for the memory card. But she sure as hell wasn’t telling Anya about that. Ahn would murder her.

Of course, Ahn sniffed out the lie like a damned narco dog. “Bullshit!” she countered before squeezing off two rounds at one of the men just as they poked their head out of cover. 

The man fell to the floor, his blood pooling on the floor, leaving Clarke stunned. Clarke knew Ahn was a crack shot, at least in the range. But shooting paper targets paled compared to armed assassins. Bullets whizzed all around them, shattering vases and windows, puncturing furniture and walls. Yet despite the chaos, Anya was calm, making Clarke wonder if her friend had been in a gunfight before. Clarke had. It kinda comes with the territory when you rob banks. Her friend’s steady breathing and precision aim made Clarke wonder just how well she knew Anya. 

Thwap!

Clarke grunted as a bullet lodged itself in her right shoulder. She grit her teeth and swung around the corner, opening fire. Two bullets left her magazine, one for each man who went down, leaving the hallway seemingly clear. Clarke kicked the lifeless body of the man who’d shot her and sneered at him. “I’m a better shot when I’m pissed off, dumbass.” 

Anya followed her into the hallway as they checked for more intruders, both with guns raised. Heavy, swift footfalls drew their attention to the stairwell. At least one of the assassins was escaping. 

“Not on my watch, motherfucker,” Ahn grumbled before bursting down the stairwell in a sprint, skipping three steps at a time. 

Clarke was close behind her, pausing only to gather extra ammo and an extra sidearm. The man headed to the garage, where a white, windowless cargo van was awaiting him. He shouted at the driver to go as he leapt into the van, grinning back at the pair of blondes before sliding the door shut. Clarke battled the urge to roll her eyes. This asshole actually thought he’d lost them.

Anya reached the Ducati first, with Clarke climbing in behind her. “Go!” she ordered, wrapping her right arm around Ahn’s waist as the motorcycle peeled out of the garage. 

Just as they cleared the entrance, the building shook, and windows blew out of their apartment. Clarke gazed back at the plume of flames exiting her bedroom window with wide eyes. These bastards had no intentions of letting her or Anya live, which stirred the feral beast deep within her breast. No, she couldn’t let these fuck-twats get away.

“Faster, Ahn!”

Anya gracefully zig-zagged through traffic, circumventing the path of bullets, while the van ahead of them brazenly crashed through anything in its path. Whoever these douchebags were, they were determined to escape and didn’t care who got hurt. The van went onto the sidewalk three times in its effort to evade the two blondes behind them. But as if tied to the end of a string, Anya remained only a car’s length behind them. The assassins were desperate. The driver swerved to force the bike into a median, but Anya expertly slowed, then spun around the van.

“Will you fucking shoot them already?” Anya demanded as she swerved around debris the van left behind, then sped up to the passenger side of the van. 

Clarke opened fire as soon as the driver was in view. Her first two bullets struck the van door, with the third landing on its mark–hitting the driver in the neck. The van took a sharp left turn and plowed into a storefront across the street. Ahn brought the bike to a halt and withdrew her weapon, aiming it at the van. The scent of gasoline stung Clarke’s nose as they approached with raised guns. She could hear someone coughing for air as they shuffled around inside the van. With a shared glance, Clarke and Anya split up–each covering the opposite sides of the vehicle. 

Just as Clarke inched towards the driver’s seat, the sliding door flew open and she found herself on the wrong side of an assault rifle. Two shots were fired. The assassin gasped as a bullet struck him in the head, then collapsed on the van’s floor. Clarke was too stunned to think at first. She didn’t think she’d been shot … again.

“Clarke! Shit! Shit! Shit! Are you hurt?” Anya asked, her voice and features tinged with panic as she raced up to her friend, dragging her behind the nearest brick wall. 

“I’m … I think I’m good.” Clarke muttered breathlessly, gazing down at herself awestruck. 

Her shoulder was bleeding–badly. The second bullet had grazed her arm and struck the van door. But overall, Clarke was in decent condition. That’s the most stunning part. She should be dead. But the bullets just … went around her and landed on him … 

Clarke shifted her eyes to Anya. “Was … was that you?”

It couldn’t have been Anya. She was on the opposite side of the van and the bullets came from behind Clarke. Clarke’s gaze spanned the area, searching for the mysterious gunman. She didn’t know if they were friend or foe, though their still breathing suggested they might be on the same side. 

“Hello?” Clarke called out, despite her better judgement and gaining a glare from Anya in return. 

“Are you fucking crazy?” Ahn whisper-yelled. 

“If they wanted me dead, I would be,” Clarke replied, cautiously peering around the wall’s corner, only to be harshly jerked backward. 

“Get behind me!” Anya demanded, checking her ammo as she crawled around Clarke.

“Don’t shoot them, Ahn! I think they’re—”

“There’s no time for a lovers’ quarrel, you two,” Came an all too familiar voice that had Clarke scrambling to her feet and rounding the corner. 

“Val? What are you doing here?” Clarke gaped at the bar owner as Val swung a rifle over her shoulder.

“Her job, apparently.” Val nodded at Anya and smirked. “The whole point was to keep Clarke out of danger, Ahn.”

“Bitch, don’t make me put a bullet in your head,” Anya waved her gun menacingly, though she was plainly teasing. Still, Clarke was perplexed. Yes, Val was a secret badass. Okay, not-so-secret, given she was the reigning champ in the ring. But Clarke had never seen her brandishing a gun, much less a sniper rifle. 

“We both know I’d kick your ass, Ahn,” Val let out a scoffing laugh, but her mirth waned as her cinnamon eyes fell on Clarke. “Shit! You’ve been shot!”

“I’m good,” Clarke deflected, though it was no use. 

Like two mother hens, Anya and Val fussed over Clarke’s shoulder, her arm, and an apparent scrape on her forehead. Yes, her shoulder was finally starting to ache. And she’d need a doctor soon. But Clarke didn’t need her best friend or her fuck buddy making a big deal about it. She’d survive and would heal swiftly, yet they were carrying on like it was the end of the world. No amount of assurances could soothe them. It was like someone had broken a priceless relic with the entire world watching. It was fucking embarrassing.

“Guys, I’m okay.” She said for the tenth time. 

“She’s gonna fucking kill me,” Anya muttered behind gritted teeth, her amber eyes widening at the sound of sirens. “We gotta get outta here.”

“Wait!” Clarke moved to the driver and turned his neck, exposing the Azgeda tattoo. So she was right. They were after the memory card. Content with that knowledge, she fumbled with her pack of cigarettes and lighter. 

“Clarke, there’s no time for that!” Anya protested, but Clarke ignored her friend. 

She placed a cigarette in her lips and lit it, taking one long drag before tossing it at a pool of gasoline next to the van. In seconds, flames arose from the vehicle and Clarke bobbed her head. “Now we can go.”

Anya and Val bickered like a married couple over where to take Clarke. The hospital wasn’t an option. Too many questions and too many cops. Home was impossible, given that it was in flames when they left. That left the warehouse, but Clarke didn’t have medical supplies stashed there. Abby was probably high as balls and the only other doctor they knew worked for Azgeda. Clarke knew a great deal about medicine. She just needed supplies–which Abby always kept in stock. The alternative was potentially walking into enemy territory and asking for a bullet in the head. Deciding to choose the lesser of two evils, Val drove Clarke to Abby’s, with Anya following on her bike.

Her mother’s house wasn’t far, only a few minutes from the crime scene, so they settled on Abby’s. Clarke wasn’t surprised to find the front door unlocked, though she had a key. Even less a surprise was finding Abby passed out on the living room floor. Her kit, containing a syringe and spoon, was haphazardly discarded on the coffee table. Bile rose in Clarke’s throat. This wasn’t the first time she’d found her mother like this, and Clarke doubted it would be the last. But each time felt like it might be the last. There was no vomit or convulsions this time, suggesting her mother hadn’t OD’d—yet. 

“So much for finding a doctor,” Ahn grumbled, her copper eyes shooting daggers at Clarke’s sleeping mother. Anya was always supportive of Clarke when Abby was using. But forgiveness wasn’t in Anya’s vocabulary when it came to Abby. She’d witnessed too much and saw firsthand what Abby’s addiction did to Clarke. “Useless fucking junkie.”

“We can go somewhere else, Clarke. The bar is closed, we can use my office … we just need some supplies,” Val offered, with sadness swirling in those cinnamon hued eyes as she gazed at Abby.

Clarke gulped hard as she took in the scene. If one of Abby’s junkie friends stopped by, they’d have free dibs on at least two grams of heroin. Abby wouldn’t even know they were there until she sobered up. Clarke clenched her fists as she gazed at the drug Abby so often chose over her daughter. Fuck, she hated heroin. It destroyed everything it touched, even those like Clarke, who’d never even considered using the drug. Not that Clarke was a saint. She wasn’t even close. She’d done more than her share of drugs in the past. In fact, she rather enjoyed cannabis as a way to wind down before bed. But seeing Abby’s life irrevocably destroyed by heroin was more than sufficient to keep Clarke off the junk. 

“I’m good, and this is the best place to work without drawing attention,” Clarke took a sharp breath and nodded at the kitchen. “She keeps the medical supplies in there.”

Clarke led the way, knowing precisely where to find her mother’s emergency kit and swinging by the bar to grab a bottle of whiskey on the way. Her friends glanced at Clarke and then Abby’s stash, with an obvious question in their eyes. It would be simplest to follow Abby’s lead and use the heroin for the pain. But Clarke couldn’t stomach it, even while in agony.

“This is enough,” Clarke said, wincing slightly as she lifted the whiskey bottle. Ahn and Val plainly disagreed, but knew better than to argue. Anya, at least, understood her reasoning as she helped Clarke open the bottle. “There’s Everclear on the bar. Use it on your hands.”

“You want me to take the bullet out?!” Anya shot her an astonished glare and Val expelled an aggravated huff.

“I’ll do it, Ahn.” Val rolled her eyes and poured the liquor over her hands as Clarke settled into a chair.

Abby had everything they needed for an emergency surgery, as her daughter expected. Clarke laid it out on the dining room table, then clumsily pulled off her jacket. Val was there in a flash to help with her t-shirt, an apologetic smile crossing her lips when Clarke whimpered as she raised her right arm over her head. Then Val loosened her belt and handed it to Clarke to bite down on. 

Clarke doused the wound in liquor and took several large gulps of whiskey for the pain. Then she patiently guided Val through the procedure. To say the pain was excruciating would be an understatement. Clarke’s hands and voice shook, and she was sweating profusely as Val poked and prodded the wound, trying to find the bullet. Clarke’s teeth clamped down on her belt, the garment muffling her agonized screams as Val fished out the bullet lodged in her shoulder. White spots filled her vision and searing heat erupted in her shoulder, but Clarke refused to pass out. Finally, Val placed the bullet on the table and both women released a long breath. 

Val gave her a hesitant glance. “Sew it up or–”

“Cauterize it,” Clarke answered with a shaky voice. Her body was shutting down … telling her to sleep, but she couldn’t … not until it was over. 

Val had a pained expression as she crossed the kitchen and flipped on one of the stove burners. She grabbed a knife from a drawer and placed it over the flames, gulping hard as the metal slowly changed colors. Val glanced at the living room, then back to Clarke. “Are you sure you don’t want to—”

“No drugs,” Clarke shook her head. “I’ll be fine.”

Val’s face paled as she raised the now red-hot knife and shot Clarke an apologetic smile before placing the knife against the wound. Clarke released a howl of pain as the room filled with the scent of burning flesh. Strange how similar it was to bacon, Clarke thought before her vision blurred. Val removed the knife and began bandaging the wound as Clarke slowly blinked away the pain. She was so tired…

“It’s me,” Anya said, drawing Clarke’s gaze. Ahn was on the phone, likely to Raven or Octavia. But there was a fear in her eyes and tone that suggested neither woman was on the other end of the line. “They came for her.”

With those final words, Clarke’s world turned black. 

∞

“What the fuck is this?” Anya demanded, roughly shaking Clarke out of her slumber. 

Clarke gazed around in confusion for a moment before her eyes landed on the memory card in Ahn’s grasp. “Shit,” she mumbled. Clarke felt like three-day-old food left out to rot, and the last thing she needed was this conversation. 

“This is what they were after, isn’t it?” Ahn continued, waving the memory card around to make her point. “Isn’t it?!”

“Anya, please. Now isn’t the time,” Abby wearily offered, drawing Clarke’s gaze to her mother. Abby looked exactly how Clarke felt, but at least she was awake. 

“No, this is exactly the time,” Anya barked, then refocused her attention on Clarke.

Someone had moved Clarke in her sleep, presumably Anya. Instead of sitting in a dining room chair, Clarke was lying in the guest bedroom. The room smelled musty, and the furniture was in dire need of dusting, but at least she was in a bed. 

“What’s on this drive, Clarke?” Ahn persisted, despite the glares sent at her from Abby and Val.

Clarke licked her lips, finding them and her mouth dry as a desert in summer. Thankfully, Abby rushed forward with some water and helped Clarke sip from the cup, though her mother’s hands shook terribly. Clarke gave her an appreciative smile, then shifted her eyes back to the memory card that Anya was waving in her face.

“I don’t know,” Clarke lied. 

Well, technically, she was telling the truth. For all she knew, the card was blank. But given that Azgeda sent assassins, it was likely the information she requested from Nigel. Ugh! Nigel. 

“Fucking bitch sold me out,” Clarke grumbled, gaining a stern glare from Anya.

“Who? Who sold you out?”

“Nigel,” Clarke sighed. “She’s the only one who knew I had that.”

“So you do know what’s on it,” Anya redirected. “Talk. Now.”

Clarke glanced at her mother. Abby looked awful. Her hair was a mess, and she was pretty sure her mother hadn’t bathed in weeks. But at least she was sober enough to stand. Still, if the memory card had the information Clarke had asked for, then Abby didn’t need to know. In fact, it might send her into another relapse. 

“I haven’t looked at it yet. But I’ll make you a deal. Come with me to the warehouse and we can look at it together,” Clarke bartered, gaining a scrutinous glare from her best friend. She didn’t exactly plan on keeping her end of the bargain, but at least she bought more time. 

But there was no fooling Anya Forrest. Her friend shifted her eyes to Abby. “Do you still have a computer? Or did you sell it for that shit you put in your arm?”

Abby flinched under Anya’s harsh tone. But then she pointed at the hallway. “It’s in my office.”

“A junkie who hasn’t sold her first-born child for drugs,” Anya muttered as Abby walked away. “It’s a fucking miracle.”

“Be nice, Ahn,” Clarke chided, prompting her friend to roll her eyes. 

“I’ll be nice when she stops using that shit … permanently.” Ahn replied, taking a sharp breath when Abby returned with a laptop in hand. 

“Mom, could you give us a minute?” Clarke asked, gaining a hesitant glance from her mother. 

Thankfully, Val read between the lines and had the perfect excuse for Abby to leave. “Why don’t we grab some food for everyone? There’s a pizza place around the corner that Clarke likes.”

Abby sent her a questioning look, prompting Clarke to jump in. “I could totally eat some pizza and wings. Do you mind, mom?”

After a pause, Abby bobbed her head and followed Val out of the room. As they disappeared, Clarke overheard Val suggesting they get Abby cleaned up before they left, which was very much appreciated. She owed Val big time for last night and today. If only Val could charm the venomous snake currently glaring at Clarke …

“Don’t try to sweet talk me, or pull any shenanigans,” Ahn warned as she sat beside Clarke in the bed and opened the laptop.

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Your bedside manner sucks, Ahn.”

“Stop stalling,” Anya slipped the memory card into the laptop and opened the first file.

There were hundreds of them, each listing details of Nia’s operation. Contacts. Money launderers. A detailed list of each of her goons and their daily activities over the last decade. Incriminating video and voice recordings. If Clarke wanted to bring the Ice Queen down, she had all the evidence required on a single memory card. No wonder Azgeda came for her. 

But the last file was a video that changed everything, at least for Clarke. Clarke’s heart dropped out of her chest as the video played. The film was grainy and too shaky for her liking. But there was no denying who they were looking at—Abby. 

“He’s going to tell Alexander everything, Thelonious. It’ll start a gang war, and we both know it.” Clarke’s mother said, and the camera shook. 

“Then we have to warn Nia before this gets out,” Clarke’s uncle, Theo, replied with a heavy sigh, causing Abby’s face to pale. 

“No, we can’t! She’ll kill Jake to keep her secret! You know she will!”

“It will be an honorable death. One man’s sacrifice to save hundreds of lives, Abby.” Thelonious offered, but Clarke’s mother wasn’t having it. 

“No. No, I can’t. There has to be another way,” Abby shook her head and an all too familiar hand rested on her mother’s shoulder. 

“Jake made his choice. He’s paid to keep secrets, yet he threatens to share them with Alexander.” Theo replied, his resolve unfaltering. “If we come forward and tell Nia about Jake’s plan, then we prevent a war … save countless lives. Think of Clarke.”

Abby’s expression turned pensive for several moments before she finally spoke. “I’ll need guarantees. If I do this, then Nia must promise not to harm Clarke.”

“You’re making the right decision, Abby.”

The video stopped playing, but Clarke’s mind was racing. Her father was dead because of her mother. Abby sold him out to Nia Eis. What the hell was she thinking? Didn’t she realize Alexander would have protected the Griffins? But instead—

Strong arms enveloped her. It was only then that Clarke realized she was crying. “I’m sorry, Clarke.” Anya whispered. “So sorry.”

Clarke wanted nothing more than to sob for hours. To scream and shout at the unfairness of it all. Now it all made sense. Abby’s addiction. The way her mother lashed out whenever she was dragged to rehab. How many times had Abby said, “I did it for you,” when Clarke confronted her about the drugs? Then the showering of apologies that came after a week of being sober–none of them making sense to Clarke until now. Abby killed Jake. Yes, it was technically Nia, but Abby was just as culpable. And Uncle Theo. He was to blame as well. 

“I’ll kill all of them!” Clarke muttered between sobs, with Anya gently rubbing circles on her back trying to soothe her friend. 

“Now isn’t a good time for that,” Anya offered. “Why don’t we take a few weeks to heal up and think before you make hasty decisions?”

Clarke pulled out of the hug and glared at her friend. “They killed my dad!”

Ahn’s expression softened. “I know. But you gotta think this through, Clarke. The first step is keeping you safe.” 

Clarke expelled a scoffing laugh and rolled her eyes. The only ones not safe were Nia, Theo and her mom. Clarke may be a low tier thief in this world, but that didn’t mean she was helpless. With this information, Clarke could easily climb the ranks until she was face-to-face with Nia. 

“We need to start with Nigel,” Clarke reasoned and Anya sighed.

“Agreed.” Anya bit her bottom lip and her expression turned pensive. “I need to make a call.”

“A call to who?”

“I’m willing to bet Nia doesn’t know about the memory card. Nigel wouldn’t risk her finding out, which is why they sent assassins. The plan was to kill you to cover it up. Because if Nia finds out, she’ll kill everyone involved–including Nigel.” Anya explained. “I know someone who can keep this in Arkadia and make sure Nia doesn’t hear about this.”

“And how do you know this person?” Clarke narrowed her eyes.

“They’re … an old friend. One with the right contacts and who will make sure your name stays out of it if word gets out the memory card exists.” 

Clarke sighed. “You’re forgetting the most important part, Ahn. There’s a mole in Azgeda.”

“Obviously, but none of the files point to who they are.” Anya expelled a long breath. “For now, we focus on containment.”

Clarke knew her friend was right. If she went in guns blazing the likelihood of Clarke dying was very high. As angry as she was, Clarke wasn’t down for being murdered. It took ten years just to find this memory card. If she planned this out carefully, maybe Clarke could find the spy and get them to help her. So, with a heavy sigh, Clarke conceded.

“Okay,” she said. “We do it your way … for now.”

“Good.” Anya stood up and moved to leave, pausing in the doorway. “Your mother can’t know about this. Or that you know she was part of it.”

Clarke scoffed. “I’m not letting her off the hook, Ahn!”

“And you shouldn’t. But she’s a junkie, Clarke, and Nia is head of the cartel. She’ll sell you out for drugs, and we both know it.” Anya replied.

Clarke wanted to argue. To claim her mother wouldn’t do such a thing. She’d cuss out her mom and cut her off for good. Hell, a part of her wanted her mom dead. But Ahn was right. If Abby would sell out her husband without the drugs, then she wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to Clarke. That thought had bile rising in Clarke’s throat. How was she going to look her mother in the eyes, knowing what she had done?

“Okay.” Clarke sighed. “But she’s not getting away with this.”

“She won’t. I promise.” Anya shook her head. “Get some rest while I make a few calls.”

Clarke doubted she’d sleep with her mind so full of thoughts and her shoulder throbbing angrily. But she bobbed her head, regardless. “I’ll try.”

∞

Chapter Text

Arkadia

Lexa POV

“Why don’t we speak as professionals, you and I?” Lexa offered. “I’m sure we can come to a mutual understanding if we just—”

Lexa was cut off by the persistent ringing of her phone. She shot her host an apologetic glance as she fished the phone out of her pocket. Glancing at the caller ID, Lexa knew this call couldn’t wait. So she stood up and left the room as she brought the cellphone to her ear.

“You have news?” She asked, holding her breath for the worst potential outcome. 

The last twenty-four hours had stolen moments from Lexa’s worst nightmares. Azgeda came for Clarke. Her and Anya’s apartment was in ruins, following a fiery blast. But worst of all, Clarke was injured in a firefight with Azgeda assassins. Anya claimed she was okay, but Lexa couldn’t help wondering if her old mentor was downplaying the severity of Clarke’s wounds, for Lexa’s sake. 

When they last spoke, Clarke was stable, but was being treated by a fucking junkie. Everyone knew better than to trust a junkie, even if she was Clarke’s mother. Lexa only prayed that this wasn’t more bad news because it was already a particularly trying day. She tried managing her emotions but couldn’t shake the image of Clarke bleeding to death on some dingy apartment floor.

“She’s doing much better. Abby thinks she’ll be back to driving everyone crazy by the end of the week—assuming Abby still knows what she’s doing, that is,” Anya replied with a heavy sigh. “I don’t know if I trust her to care for Clarke, Lex. She’s worse than ever.”

Lexa glanced at Gus and snapped her fingers. “I’ll send Azgeda’s physician to you immediately.” Of course, the giant bodyguard immediately pulled out his phone and dialed the doctor.

But Anya still had reservations. “Is that a good idea? Given everything that’s going on?”

“There will be no more incidents like last night, Anya.” Lexa shifted her eyes to the floor, taking inventory of a long day’s work. 

Twenty-three body bags spaced exactly six inches apart. Her professional cleaner, Vinson, was meticulous beyond measure. But that’s what she paid him a fortune to do—leave no messes or traces of evidence behind. When Vinson was finished, the club’s office and VIP section would look freshly renovated.

“Azgeda’s Arkadian chapter is under new management, effective immediately,” Lexa continued, her gaze shifting to the other end of the hallway. 

Roan should be here any minute and she would make it clear that Clarke was off limits. Never again would Azgeda bring harm to Clarke. If they did, then those responsible would join the other corpses lining the hallway. Hell, she’d kill any Azgedan within a mile of Clarke if she was harmed again. 

“And what about the drive? I can’t very well confiscate it without her noticing.” Anya’s frustration was evident in her tone. But her day had been twice as trying as Lexa’s. She and Clarke not only had to fight for their lives, they lost everything they owned in the process. 

Lexa sighed. She knew what she had to do–ask Clarke nicely for the memory card. Or better yet, offer to help her get revenge. But Lexa feared it might make things worse for Clarke. What if Clarke didn’t want to see Lexa? Or if her presence was viewed as an ultimatum? Clarke never followed the rules. If you told her not to do something, she’d swear on her father’s grave that she’d be compliant. Then Clarke would turn around and do it, anyway. Clarke’s defiant nature was one of the reasons Lexa loved her so dearly. 

Loved. Past tense. Because love is weakness and Lexa didn’t have the luxury of falling in love. Her life didn’t allow for it. Still, Lexa was on the first flight to Arkadia when Anya called to tell her what had happened. 

Val had just plucked a bullet out of Clarke, who refused any pain-relieving drugs on account of her mother’s addiction. That alone infuriated Lexa. Clarke shouldn’t have been made to suffer. But Abby’s selfish actions forced her hand. Lexa planned to rip Abby to shreds for that and demanded that Anya sober the doctor up immediately so she could tend to her daughter. 

The next call came as Lexa’s jet reached the Arkadian tarmac, informing her who was responsible for the assassins—Nigel. But there was more. The attack had a motive. There was a drive with detailed information on Nia’s business operations. Names of her informants, some of whom worked directly for Lexa. But most troubling was the revelation that Abby and Thelonious Jaha were ultimately responsible for Jake Griffin’s death ten years prior. 

Lexa knew Clarke wouldn’t let this go. Her fiery determination wouldn’t allow her to ignore Azgeda’s role in Jake’s death. Nor would Clarke turn a blind eye to her mother’s and Theo’s part in it. No. There would be no stopping Clarke until Nia and every person even marginally responsible was dead. 

“She needs to hear it from you, Lex.” Anya continued.

Lexa knew Anya was right. Her best option to rescue Clarke from this shitshow was to offer her assistance. Maybe if Lexa pleads her case, Clarke would be content knowing Nia would die–even if Lexa was the one to do it. One thing was certain. She could no longer protect Clarke from the shadows. Not from this. Clarke wouldn’t relent until she had her revenge. Lexa only prayed she might listen to reason if it came from her lips, rather than Anya’s or Val’s. 

But there were no guarantees. There may have been a time when Clarke listened to Lexa. But ten years had passed since then. Both of them were different women now. Maybe Clarke was resentful that Lexa sent her away.

“I don’t know, Ahn.” Lexa pinched the bridge of her nose to help her think clearly. “What if Clarke—”

“Thinks she’s invincible? That’s always been a problem. So is Clarke not listening to anyone but her gut. That’s how we got into this mess.”

“And you actually think she’ll listen to me?” Lexa sighed. Clarke was always a wild card. She went whichever direction the wind blew, with little regard for her own safety. Clarke seemed convinced her brazen determination was equivalent to a suit of armor. It had gotten Clarke hurt or in trouble more times than Lexa could count. It was why Lexa sent Anya and Val to Arkadia–to protect Clarke from others and herself. 

“Will she listen to you? Not if you show up barking orders like she’s one of your lackeys. But she trusts you, Lex, and she’s missed you like crazy,” Anya offered, drawing a scoff from Lexa. 

“It’s been ten years, Ahn. I’m sure she’s over me by now.” 

Did Lexa secretly hope Clarke still pined after her? Yes, though she was ashamed to admit it. It wasn’t fair to Clarke, especially knowing Lexa’s heart could never be hers. But her heart already belonged to Clarke, didn’t it? Why else would Lexa be in Arkadia cleaning house? For ten years Lexa shut herself off to love and a single incident had her questioning everything. 

Now it was Anya’s turn to scoff. “Have you gotten over her?”

“Love is weakness, Anya.” Those three words kept Lexa alive all these years. It held her empire together. Kept Lexa from crumbling when her father and mother died. Kept her from cracking under the pressure of being Heda. 

This life wasn’t for the weak. Lexa lost plenty of friends and family. Some died. A few betrayed her, forcing Lexa to take action to prevent others from doing the same. She’d killed enemies and loved ones indiscriminately. There was no room for love in a life like that. If Aden betrayed her tomorrow, she would have no choice but to kill him. A moment’s hesitation would cost Lexa her life and cause the Coalition to crumble.

“Save that bullshit for Titus!” Ahn retorted. “If you were truly over Clarke, then Val and I would be in Polis, not Arkadia.”

“I’m keeping a promise to her father,” Lexa deflected, but Anya wasn’t having it. 

“I grew up with the same mantra, Lexa. I told myself that if I love someone, I put them in danger. This was just a job to me when I started–one that I hated.” Anya sighed. “But I get it now. Clarke is like a fucking virus. She infects everyone with her big heart and ridiculous obsession with putting herself in harm’s way.”

Lexa sighed as she glanced at the body bags lining the hallway. She knew the truth in Anya’s words. If Azgeda had attacked a street thug, twenty-three people would still be breathing. Lexa certainly wouldn’t cross the country to handle this mess herself if she didn’t care about Clarke. But that’s what made it dangerous. What if Nia learned Lexa was still attached to Clarke? The answer was a simple and terrible truth; Clarke would die.

“She still loves you, ya know?” Anya continued. “Her room was filled with sketches of you.”

Lexa’s heart shouldn’t have fluttered at Anya’s words. But it did. 

“Which is why you think I can reach her,” Lexa reasoned. 

“Yep. You’re already in town, so what’s the harm in seeing her face-to-face?”

Lexa shut her eyes. What if she met Clarke and couldn’t walk away? What would that mean for Lexa? Would she lose her reason in favor of protecting Clarke from Nia? Would it be the death of her? What if Clarke found out Anya and Val had been sent at Lexa’s behest? Would Clarke be furious? Or would she be relieved to know Lexa had been protecting her all this time? Lexa’s gut told her Clarke would be pissed. But maybe … just maybe a part of Clarke would be glad to know the truth.

“I need to think about it,” Lexa finally answered. There was still loads of work to do here and her hostess had been incredibly patient. 

“Don’t think too long, Lex.” Anya warned. “Bullet wound or not, Clarke’s gearing up to take down the Ice Queen. It’s all she’s been talking about and being stuck at her mom’s is only making her more restless.”

Lexa cringed, imagining what a mess Abby’s place must be. In her experience, junkies didn’t consider cleanliness a priority. Clarke deserved to heal up in a luxurious space, not a rat infested shit hole. 

“I’ll pay for a hotel until you find a new place.”

“Or we could just move into your place in Polis. You have what … ten bedrooms in that mansion of yours?” Anya’s smile was apparent in her tone. She wasn’t giving up easily.

“Six,” Lexa corrected, then glanced at the doorway down the hall. “I have to go, Ahn.”

“Just think about it, okay? Clarke’s hellbent on going to Polis now that she has the drive. Which means, one way or another, she’s coming home. She’s safer with you than me, and we both know it.” With those final words, Anya hung up, leaving Lexa to think about what her old friend said. 

Would it truly be so awful to see Clarke again? No. In fact, it would be a dream come true. Ten years. Ten long fucking years that had molded Lexa into an entirely new person. Would Clarke still love her, now that she was Heda? Could Clarke forgive Lexa for all the atrocities she’d committed in the last decade?

Lexa shook herself. Now wasn’t the time for this type of thinking. She needed to focus and tie up a dozen loose ends. So, with a sharp breath, Lexa ran her fingers through her long hair and walked confidently back to the club’s office. 

“Forgive my manners, Nigel,” she offered as she entered. “It’s been a hectic day. I’m sure you understand.”

Nigel frantically bobbed her head, likely praying she’d be offered mercy in return for her patience. 

“Now, where were we?” Lexa hummed before her eyes brightened. “Oh, that’s right. You and I are going to speak like professionals. That means no lies, screaming, spitting or vulgar name calling. Understood?”

Lexa tilted one eyebrow upward in a sharp line, and Nigel nodded. Content with her response, Lexa removed the gag stuffed in Nigel’s mouth. Nigel coughed a few times and licked her lips as if parched.

“Get her some water … or would you prefer something stronger?” Lexa tilted her head and Nigel took a hard gulp.

“There’s a special bottle of whiskey in my desk drawer, if you don’t mind.”

“That sounds wonderful! We could both use a stiff drink,” Lexa grinned and took a seat across from Nigel, then waved at one of her henchmen to fetch the bottle and some glasses. 

Ryder took two tumblers from a nearby bar and filled them to the halfway point. With a nod from Lexa, Ryder lifted the glass to Nigel’s lips–her hands were tied–and helped her take a sip of the whiskey. Lexa watched her drink, then waited to see if it was poisoned. You couldn’t trust anyone these days–especially someone in Nigel’s position. 

Lexa seized control of Nigel’s club, murdered her guards–half of them were tortured to death–then held Nigel captive for eight hours as she interrogated her and her inner circle. So they weren’t exactly on good terms. But Nigel had yet to piss herself, which was a fucking miracle given what she’d been through. 

Once it was evident the whiskey wasn’t poisonous, Lexa sipped hers, humming with contentment at the flavor. It was delicious. Nigel had good taste. She could say that much for the horrible woman. 

“Now, tell me everything about the drive you sold to Clarke Griffin. I want details and there will be no holding back. You’ve seen what happened to your guards, yes?” Lexa raised an eyebrow and Nigel nodded. “I’ll make it last for days, weeks even, if you make me work for it. Got it?”

“Th-there’s an Azgedan spy … they made the drive hoping to buy their freedom. They want out of Azgeda, but only with assurances that they’ll be protected from Nia.” Nigel answered. 

“What’s this spy’s name?” Lexa sat back in her chair and crossed her legs.

“I-I don’t know. All communication went through a dead drop.” Nigel shook her head. “B-but I can tell you how to contact them.”

Gustus scribbled down Nigel’s instructions, then scampered off to contact the spy. It would take a day or two if Nigel was truthful. That meant Nigel’s torment would be drawn out a bit longer than Lexa planned. In the meantime, Lexa asked Nigel hundreds of questions. By the time Lexa exited the office for a breather, she had compiled a list of contacts, a backlog of Nigel’s bookkeeping records, security and safe codes to the club, an apartment and a home in the suburbs. Nigel’s safe was emptied of cash and any ill begotten goods were confiscated. Lexa had everything she needed to supplant Nigel with a more suitable candidate–Roan Eis. 

Roan was at odds with his mother and had been banished from Polis by Nia. His distaste for his mother was widely known, but his loyalty to Heda was unquestionable. Lexa had tested him many times through the years and knew he would follow her rules blindly. Obviously, the former cartel prince was honored that Lexa might choose him to replace Nigel. He was pliant in Lexa’s capable hands, willing to do whatever she asked and without question.

Of course, she wasn’t leaving him unchaperoned. Val would report on Roan’s comings and goings, as would Anya. This was, of course, assuming Lexa didn’t take Anya’s advice and relocate her old friend and Clarke to Polis. 

Lexa sighed. She still hadn’t decided what to do about Clarke. But Lexa was leaning toward a long overdue reunion. If for no other reason than to lay eyes on the blonde again. This sentiment only grew as time passed. With nothing to do but to wait, Lexa was lost in her thoughts, most of them centered on a certain blonde.

∞

It had been a day and a half since Lexa sent Gustus to the dead drop. In that time, Lexa had plenty of time to think. She’d learned all she could from Nigel, whose usefulness had reached an expiration date. Her club, apartment and home were signed over to Roan, who was gladly taking the reins of Arkadian leadership on Heda’s behalf. Ryder claimed the former cartel prince had been busy after Lexa gathered Nigel’s lieutenants at the club the night before.

Heda introduced herself and Roan to his new crew. She made her expectations known, including taxes that would be collected on Heda’s behalf. It was a fair cut, one that assured Azgeda had Heda’s protection should another gang try to cut in on their territory. That was what the Coalition was built on. Thirteen gangs, all loyal to Heda. Lexa kept the in-fighting to a minimum to prevent a gang war. It kept prices competitive and everyone made the maximum dollar on their illegal goods without undercutting the others.

So far, the Arkadian chapter of Azgeda was on board. They were impressed by Roan’s ideas to maximize profits and change Nigel’s way of doing business. The streets would overflow with drugs and illegal goods. Azgedan run clubs and business would thrive. Roan had already gained the support of Nigel’s lieutenants. So far, they seemed onboard with the shift in leadership. The few who weren’t left the club in one of Vinson’s body bags.

“Heda,” Gustus offered with his head bent in respect as he handed her a slip of paper. “We have a reply.”

Lexa studied the note for several moments before taking a sharp breath and striding back into the office. She placed the note on the table and glared at the woman tied to the chair. “Is this a joke?”

Nigel’s dark eyes widened with surprise as she read the note. “No … no, I would never!”

Lexa pointed at the note from Nigel’s spy. It was impossible to misunderstand: I’ll only speak to Clarke Griffin. Which meant someone knew Clarke had the drive. But who? Was Nigel lying to her? Or was Nigel truly as stunned by the note as she appeared?

“How does this spy know about Griffin? You said she was a nobody. A low level thief, but this suggests otherwise! Tell me the truth!” Lexa demanded, feeling as if her world had been toppled. If word got out there was an Azgedan spy, Nia would burn down the city to find them. Now that spy was pointing a giant finger at Clarke, placing her in further danger. 

“Griffin is a phenomenal thief. In fact, I just offered her long-term employment,” Nigel explained, the desperation in her eyes was apparent. “But she isn’t involved with the spy. She can’t be.”

“Then why are they asking for her?” This was a motherfucking nightmare–one that Lexa had to end as soon as possible. Why did Clarke always insist on being in the eye of the storm? Did she know this spy? Had Nigel told them about Clarke?

Nigel shook her head. “I don’t know. I swear! M-maybe the spy was watching me … waiting to see who I gave it to.”

“Who else knows about the drive?” Lexa narrowed her eyes, searching Nigel for even the slightest hint of a lie. 

“No one but those in this room, the spy and Griffin.”

Lexa placed both hands on the table and glared at Nigel. “You didn’t tell anyone else in your crew that Griffin had it?” 

“Everyone that knew is dead.” Nigel shrugged.

“Not everyone.” Lexa pulled out her gun and shot Nigel in the head. 

Gustus stepped forward with a handkerchief in hand. “Shall I collect her for you, Heda?”

Lexa wiped her hands and face with the cloth, cleaning the blood splatter, then sighed. “No. I’ll go to her.”

Gus tilted his head and inspected Lexa closely before lowering his voice. “Is that a good idea? I know what she means to you.”

“That was a long time ago,” Lexa deflected, and Gustus gave her a knowing smile.

“All wounds leave scars, Heda. Clarke is … a rather persistent scar. The kind that can’t be erased.”

Lexa expelled a heavy sigh. “Yes, she is.”

Gus patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll get the car.”

Lexa took a sharp breath and shut her eyes. It seemed fate was determined to bring her and Clarke together. Lexa only prayed they wouldn’t regret it. 

Chapter Text

Baby, you understand me now

If sometimes you see that I'm mad

Don't you know, no one alive can always be an angel?

When everything goes wrong, you see some bad

But I'm just a soul whose intentions are good

Oh, Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood

Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood by Nina Simone

Arkadia

Clarke POV

Two days. That’s how long it took for Clarke to reach her limit and stomp out of her mother’s house. Not that anyone could blame her. It was a motherfucking miracle she had killed no one in that time, especially with her traitorous mother hovering over Clarke nonstop. 

Clarke wanted to shout or scream at her mother. To demand answers. But Anya was right. They couldn’t trust Abby not to betray her own daughter to the enemy. 

It probably didn’t help that Clarke had little to do but sit in bed–which was mind numbing. Clarke hated sitting around with nothing to do. She needed something–anything–to keep her mind and body busy, especially with her shoulder throbbing angrily. 

Usually, she’d throw herself into work, planning her next heist or networking to get new contacts. Hell, if she was really bored, Clarke would go downtown and pickpocket oblivious tourists, just to scratch that itch. If not for Anya and Abby hovering over her nonstop, Clarke would have already made a break for it. But they didn’t give her a moment’s peace. 

Granted, they knew Clarke better than anyone and that she would run at the first opportunity. Clarke called Raven, asking her to sift through the drive to see if she could find this spy. Maybe they could lead her to Nia. All Clarke had to do was meet the gang at the warehouse. But first, she had to escape. 

Clarke was about to sneak out the bedroom window when Val returned with an Azgedan doctor and two hulking bodyguards. She thought for sure they were sent to kill her. But Val assured Clarke that the guards were for their safety. Or, more correctly, for Clarke’s protection. 

Clarke wasn’t sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, their tattoos were familiar–Trikru. But the size of the two men would make a linebacker shiver. One of the men had a beard that stopped mid-belly. His head was shaved clean on both sides with an odd mohawk at the top, making his all-black suit seem wildly out of place. The other guard was taller, but clean cut. His hair was neatly trimmed and his face was clean shaven, making him seem more approachable, though he was the size of a large refrigerator. 

It didn’t help that neither man spoke at all. Curt bobs of their heads were the only sign they heard Clarke speaking. It was plain their orders were to make themselves invisible, which was laughable given their size. 

“Can I get you food or something to drink?” Clarke offered, though Abby’s kitchen was likely bare of the necessities. Still, she had to try. Just seeing them standing there unmoving made her nervous, even if they were technically there to protect Clarke. 

Of course, neither man accepted her offer. They declined with a shake of their heads, then continued staring off into the front door as if they had X-ray vision. 

The doctor, at least, had an amiable demeanor. More importantly, Clarke’s health was his primary concern. Within minutes of his arrival, the Azgedan doctor, Cillian, had Clarke hooked up to an IV filled with antibiotics. He offered Clarke pain relievers, of course, which she adamantly declined. Thankfully, Cillian was understanding, and subbed out the heavy drugs for ibuprofen. It didn’t help nearly as well as opiates might, but it took the edge off somewhat. Cillian even had something on hand for Abby to help with withdrawals, which she tossed across the living room. 

Abby was absolutely unbearable. She saw Cillian’s presence as a personal affront to her, especially when he pointed out that Abby had done little in the way of aftercare. Cillian was mostly concerned about preventing an infection.

“My daughter doesn’t need a second opinion!” Abby insisted for the fifth time tonight, gaining four sets of eye-rolls in return. 

If Clarke wasn’t so angry with her mother, she might have agreed with Abby. Clarke was never one to fuss over her health. She’d prefer to tough it out and pour all her energy into finding the Azgedan spy rather than sit in bed. But Cillian had a way of making her feel comfortable. He didn’t scold or lecture Clarke when he took her vitals, like Abby did. Instead, he spoke to Clarke as if she were an old friend, which helped to crumble the walls she erected when Cillian and the two guards first arrived. 

It also didn’t hurt that Cillian and the two guards were sent by a ghost from Clarke’s past. 

“Heda disagrees with you, Dr. Griffin. She’s the one paying for my services, so if you have a problem with my presence, take it up with her.”

Of course, that had Clarke’s head spinning. 

Clarke was out of the loop on life in Polis. But she had contacts in her hometown–ones she was strictly forbidden to speak with–that shared news from time to time. Lexa’s cousin, Lincoln, was her most frequent contact, though Aden sent Clarke flowers every year on her birthday. 

It was through Lincoln that Clarke learned Lexa’s parents were assassinated five years ago. The news left her absolutely gutted. Clarke loved Alexander and Anastasia dearly. Alex was a hard man. A man’s man, if you will. Loud and gruff. He was exceptionally demanding of Lexa and Aden, but he loved his children and the Griffins fiercely. He never forgot birthdays or special occasions. Even when his schedule was swamped, he made time for his family and Clarke’s. Alex was even present at Clarke’s graduation, along with a gaggle of tattooed, steroid-riddled men, cheering as Clarke walked across the stage to gather her diploma. 

Anastasia was Alexander’s polar opposite, the ying to his yang. She was soft-spoken, loving, and full of grace. Ana was a genuine lady, always dressed to the nines and in full make-up. She never said a harsh word. Nor did she frown. Anastasia was nearly always baking something to hand off to guests. And she gave the best hugs.

It was heart wrenching to hear about their murder. But most of all, Clarke’s heart was shattered for Lexa and Aden. Alex and Ana loved their children more than anything, and Clarke knew their deaths created a dark void in the Woods’ household. Not only did Lexa and Aden lose their parents, but any chance of walking away from this life was now impossible for them. Aden would never be free to live a life of his choosing. Neither of them would. Lexa would inherit her father’s role as Heda, her fate now tied to the Coalition.

Admittedly, a part of Clarke was hopeful at first. Now that Lexa was Heda, Clarke should be free to return home. After all, no one would dare to attack Heda’s girlfriend. So Clarke waited impatiently for a phone call or visit, or any sign that Lexa still wanted Clarke in her life. But the call never came. Men in suits didn’t come knocking on Clarke’s door, offering to take her home. Instead, Clarke was left waiting for nothing. 

At first, Clarke presumed Lexa was merely being cautious. She reasoned Lexa was busy wrangling the other gangs into submission in the wake of Alexander’s death. Maybe Lexa was ensuring it was safe before she reunited with Clarke. Yes. That had to be it. Because Lexa said that Clarke was the one.

But days turned into weeks, then months and years passed without a call or any attempt at contact. 

It shouldn’t have hurt as bad as it did, but Clarke was inconsolable. For years Clarke pined after Lexa, counting the minutes until she would see her girlfriend again. She’d imagined their reunion hundreds of times, each one ending with Clarke and Lexa spending a blissful week in bed. But it seemed those dreams would never become reality and Clarke wanted to crawl under a rock and die. 

Anya thought she was crazy, of course, because Clarke kept saying she couldn’t explain why she was so sad. It was silly and childish on Clarke’s part. She recognized that. But being ignored by Lexa was worse than any punishment imaginable, in Clarke’s mind. Didn’t Lex want her to come home? Or had she moved on with someone else? 

Now, all these years later, it seemed Lexa was keeping tabs on Clarke after all, which left the thief deeply conflicted. Part of her wanted to rejoice. Lexa hadn’t forgotten about her, as Clarke assumed. But Clarke was also a tad perturbed it took a bullet in the shoulder to gain Lexa’s attention. Nevermind that Lex couldn’t be bothered to come to Arkadia herself. Instead, Lexa sent her oversized minions. 

But really, what did Clarke expect? Lexa was Heda now and therefore way out of Clarke’s league. Still, it would have been nice for Lexa to call or send flowers, just to let Clarke know she still cared. 

“I don’t need some quack doctor telling me how to care for my daughter!” Abby shouted, yanking Clarke from her thoughts. “I’m more than capable of–”

That was it. Clarke’s breaking point. All her fears, frustrations and heartbreak finally snowballed into a blowout of epic proportions. 

“The fuck you are!” Clarke snapped. 

How dare Abby pretend to be a doting mother?! Had she forgotten all the times Clarke pulled her mother out of the literal gutter? Abby routinely missed special events because she was too busy getting high. Then there was the sin of betraying Clarke’s father, which ended in his death! 

Nope. She wasn’t having it. Clarke couldn’t pretend not to hate her mother. Not anymore. So she let all her frustrations out. Vomited scathing reminders of just how thoroughly Abby had failed her daughter. Listed every horrible and unforgivable act. Every forgotten birthday or missed dinner plans. Demanded repayment for six motherfucking stints in rehab, all of which were paid for by Clarke. 

The only sin of Abby’s that Clarke omitted was betraying Jake. Oh, how she wanted to throw that in her mother’s face! But luckily she had Anya’s voice in her head, telling her to keep quiet. 

Clarke knew her rant was unprofessional on her part and that it placed Anya, Val, and Cillian in a precarious position. The three of them just stood there with wide eyes and gaping mouths as Clarke doled out the tongue lashing of a motherfucking lifetime. Had Clarke any sense, she would have kept her mouth shut, if only to put the others at ease. But she was so motherfucking done with her mother.

Finally, Clarke had said everything she’d held back for ten years. Once she was finished, Clarke stormed out of the house and into the backyard for some much needed fresh air. She collapsed on the back porch and hurled curses at the stars above.  

It was all too much. Her shoulder hurt like hell. Her mom was an absolute mess. And the one person who could make it right was on the opposite side of the country. Clarke hated the tears that pooled in her eyes. She cursed them as they fell. But they ignored her desire to exhibit strength and left her sobbing like an idiot. 

Clarke heard the footsteps behind her, but she didn’t turn around. She couldn’t bear to let Anya or Val see her like this. So instead, Clarke buried her face in her hands to hide her tears. 

“Klark.” Her name was barely a whisper, but there was no mistaking the voice attached to it. Only one person said her name like that …

Clarke was on her feet in a flash, spinning around to face the woman she’d longed to see for ten fucking years. “Lexa?”

Her feet carried her forward instinctively, and Clarke threw her arms around the woman she’d dreamt of each night. At first Lexa was tense in her embrace, hesitant. But after a moment, Lexa’s arms wrapped around Clarke. With each passing moment, Lexa’s body sank further into Clarke’s, her warmth and muscular arms taking on the burdens that Clarke had been carrying for so long. 

Minutes passed. Hours, perhaps. Maybe longer. Clarke wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she’d waited a decade for this moment and it was everything Clarke had hoped. 

“Does this hurt you?” Lexa finally asked, pulling back slightly to meet Clarke’s gaze, and the blonde shook her head as she soaked up every detail. 

Lexa was older. But the last decade had only made her more stunning to gaze at. Her gray-green eyes, though plainly gleaming with joy, held hints of sadness and worry in them. Or perhaps it was exhaustion. Lexa had traded her standard leather jacket and t-shirt for a black business suit that appeared tailored just for her. It fit her exquisitely, accentuating her defined muscles and curves. Around her neck hung the cog that Alexander once wore—the mark of Heda.

“It’s really you,” Clarke breathlessly muttered, her hands grasping Lexa’s cheeks as if to test if she was dreaming. 

She couldn’t believe it. Lex’s timing was impeccable. It was almost as if Lexa were an angel sent to rescue Clarke from her meltdown. Tears fell again, but they were joyful.

“It’s me,” Lexa smiled softly as her green-gray eyes flicked over Clarke’s face. Lex had a dreamy, albeit concerned, expression as she wiped Clarke’s tears away. “Are you okay?”

“I am now,” Clarke smiled up at her, debating if it was poor manners to capture those pillowy lips.

Lexa’s fingers ran through Clarke’s silky mane, lifting the portion she’d dyed pink. “Your hair…”

Clarke blushed. Lexa had only known her with long, flowing hair. Now it was cropped just above her shoulders. “Oh, it’s uh … I cut it a few years ago. Makes it easier for work.”

“It suits you.” Lexa’s smile grew wider, though it was still more reserved than Clarke recalled from their youth. 

Lex always had the brightest smiles. They gave Clarke the warm fuzzies every time. Even when Clarke was feeling down, all it took was one of her girlfriend’s smiles to lift her spirits. This one wasn’t as bright as Clarke remembered, but it was enough to have the last two days fading into the ether. 

Finally, after all these years, Clarke had her girlfriend back and she couldn’t be happier. There was so much to say and do now that Lexa was here. She had so many questions. How are you? What’s your life been like? What took you so long? Does this mean you still care? Do we pick up where we left off? Or are you here to break my heart?

But the one that left her lips was the simplest–or so Clarke believed. “How did you find me?”

“I … may have been keeping tabs on you,” Lexa sheepishly answered.

“Have you been spying on me, Lex?” Clarke teased, feeling lighter than ever, and Lexa gulped before she bobbed her head. 

“Yes. I know it wasn’t … fair of me. But I had to know you were safe,” Lexa offered, her expression somewhat on the anxious side, which baffled Clarke at first. But then the ball dropped. “So I asked Anya and Val…”

Wait. She did what? No. Clarke had to have misheard her. Because–

“... to monitor you and report on any…”

Clarke blinked several times. She was dreaming. Or maybe Clarke had truly cracked under the pressure. Because she could swear Lexa said she sent Anya and Val to watch over Clarke. But that couldn’t be right. 

No. Clarke met Anya in the middle of an intersection. They bonded over having shitty jobs. But Lexa suggested that Anya’s job was to protect Clarke. Which meant…

“You sent Ahn … and Val … to do what?” Clarke was stunned. She had to be hearing this wrong.

“I sent them to protect you. I know it was underhanded on my part, but it made me feel better knowing you had them.”

“But…”

No. That couldn’t be right. Because Anya was Clarke’s best friend. Ten years. Ten fucking years, Anya had been Clarke’s rock. The one who helped shoulder Clarke’s burdens. Ahn helped Clarke through every high and low. Held her when Clarke cried. Listened to every gripe and helped her celebrate good news. 

And Val. Val had been flirting with Clarke from day one. They met one night at Grounders when Anya and Clarke wandered into the pub a few weeks after their fateful meeting. Val, like Anya, listened to Clarke’s woes and congratulated her on every successful job. When they finally fell into bed together, it felt natural. Not in a love way, but in a friends with benefits kinda way. 

But Lexa suggested that all of it was a lie.

Clarke’s mind scrambled to recall every moment spent with Anya and Val over the last ten years. Neither of them ever mentioned working for Lexa. Nor did they claim to be anything other than a boxing club manager and a bar owner. But Lexa’s words claimed otherwise. Anya and Val were, in truth, assassins working for Trikru. 

“They are the best at what they do.” Lexa continued, blissfully unaware of the turmoil her words caused. “I trust no one more with your life.”

“You … told them to pretend to be my friends?” Clarke was reeling. She felt sick. This was the ultimate betrayal. Was this some kind of sick game to them? Pretend to be her friend so we can spy on her?

Lexa shook her head. “No, I told them to watch over you. Protect you. Be there for you when you needed a friend or–”

It was bad enough that Anya pretended to be Clarke’s closest friend. Ahn was her ride or die. Her sole confidant. But Lexa was saying otherwise. And Val. Ugh! Bile rose in Clarke’s throat. Was Clarke merely a conquest to her? A story to tell her friends? Hey, look at me, I banged Heda’s girlfriend! It made Clarke feel dirty. Like a cheap whore.

“Did you tell them to fuck me, too?” Clarke snapped, suddenly feeling as if she’d been used.

Now it was Lexa’s turn to be stunned. “What?” 

“Did you tell Val to fuck me?”

Lexa’s expression fell. The gleam in her eyes faded, only to be replaced with a blend of heartbreak and rage. Lexa’s gaze bored into the house, where Val and Anya were waiting. Or maybe they were wise enough to run for their lives. Clarke had half a mind to murder them both. But based on Lexa’s expression, Clarke would have competition. Good.

Lex’s jaw clenched. “No, I did not.”

Clarke could see the question in Lexa’s eyes. She wanted to know more. But she didn’t dare to ask. Instead, Lex brushed past Clarke and stormed into the house with a veritable tornado of rage in her wake. 

At first, Clarke remained in place. She was too baffled by what had just happened. Their joyful reunion was marred by a decade of deception. And Clarke wasn’t sure who to be angrier with; Lexa or Val and Anya. 

But when the shouting began, Clarke decided she’d had her fill of drama. No one in the house truly cared about her. If they did, then Anya wouldn’t have lied. Val wouldn’t have slept with Clarke. Abby would have kicked the drugs. The only person she hadn’t yet decided to hate was Lexa, though Clarke was supremely miffed with her, too. 

“How dare you! Clarke is mine!” Lexa shouted, gaining a scoffing laugh from Val.

“If you truly loved her, you would have come for her years ago!” Val retorted. “Instead, you abandoned her!”

Val had a point. If Clarke was Lexa’s, then why did it take so long for her to come to Arkadia? Why hadn’t Lexa reached out in all this time? Yes, she hired bodyguards–lying, conniving ones–but that didn’t make up for Lexa’s absence in Clarke’s life. It took a bullet to gain Lexa’s attention finally.

Clarke nearly stomped inside and said as much. But she couldn’t bear to look Anya of Val in the eyes. So Clarke walked around the side of the house and into the night. She needed to think. To get away from the liars who’d pretended to give a shit about her. Clarke strode confidently down the street, rolling her eyes as the shouts grew louder. 

“Fuck all of you,” she grumbled as she pulled out a cigarette and lit it. 

It felt like fate had trapped her in a sick cosmic joke. Clarke was already having a bad few days and just when it started to get better, fate ripped the carpet out from underneath her. Why was this happening to her? Why couldn’t she and Lexa have the reunion Clarke had dreamt about for a decade? Instead of passionate kisses and mind blowing sex, she got a shitshow. 

Anya wasn’t her friend and never was. Val used her in some sick game Clarke couldn’t make sense of, leaving the blonde scrambling for answers. Was everything in her life a lie? Were Raven, Octavia and the rest of the gang in on Lexa’s mission to protect Clarke, too? 

A part of Clarke longed to go back in time and tell Lexa she wasn’t leaving Polis. Maybe then she and Lexa could have had the happy ending she’d longed for. Instead, Clarke wound up being at the center of a web of lies so thick she couldn’t find a way out.

Clarke walked for what felt like hours until she reached a part of the city she’d never seen. The streets were dark here, with little light to guide her. Clarke passed a massive homeless encampment along the way, which only made her turbulent thoughts increase. She did not differ from these vagrants now. Clarke had no one to call. No place to go. No possessions. Clarke had no one who she could depend on. All she had were a bunch of assholes who used her like a pawn in a deranged game of chess. And for what?

She was so lost in her swirling thoughts that Clarke didn’t hear the engine starting as she strode down the street. Nor did she notice the all-black sedan creeping up behind her until it was too late. 

Chapter Text

Clarke POV

Clarke should have seen them coming. Or at least heard them creeping up two car lengths behind her. But she was too lost in her head. So it wasn’t until the car cut her off–tires screeching on the pavement–that she spotted her assailants. Four men burst out of the car with weapons raised, prompting Clarke to spring into action. 

She attacked the closest man first, with a jab to his throat and a swipe of the legs. He fell with a grunt, his gun spiraling across the ground. Clarke dove to the pavement, scrambling after the weapon and narrowly avoiding another bullet. Her fingers grasped the fallen weapon, and she spun around, opening fire. The second man fell with a bullet to his chest, leaving the third and fourth assailants, who popped off three shots, forcing Clarke to find cover behind a car. 

Bullets riddled the vehicle as Clarke crept to the opposite side. She took a sharp breath as she reached the rear fender of the car. Her assailants were heading the opposite direction in search of the blonde. Clarke crawled to her attackers’ vehicle, then around the other side. If she played this right, she could escape. But just as she cleared the second car, one of the men spotted her.

“She’s there!” He shouted, drawing a wave of gunfire in Clarke’s direction. 

She could hear their footsteps on the pavement. The three men were spreading out to flank her. Clarke was about to pop out of cover and open fire when the squeal of tires pulled her attention left. A luxury sports car peeled into view and was headed straight for them. The car came to a screeching halt, with a large man dressed in the three-piece suit bursting out of the driver’s seat with his gun raised. 

“Great, just what I fucking need,” she cursed under her breath as she sank back into cover. 

To her astonishment, the man from the sports car didn’t fire at Clarke but at the other three, granting the blonde a chance for escape. As she made a run for it, she heard shouting and gunfire, but refused to look back. She ran forward until she reached an intersection, glancing back momentarily at the men locked in a gunfight. The man in the suit was kicking the other goons’ asses. All but one was on the ground, and the fourth assailant was clutching his left arm. She turned back to her escape route, trying to assess which direction was best.

Clarke was about to take a left down the street when someone grabbed her from behind. She spun around and jutted out her left fist, but her assailant easily deflected the punch. Clarke’s left leg snapped forward, landing right in her assailant’s groin and eliciting a painful groan from the man. As he doubled over in agony, Clarke swiped his leg, sending him colliding with the ground. 

Clarke raised her weapon and prepared to shoot the man in the head, only for her assailant to burst into joyful laughter. She narrowed her eyes in confusion. Was this a joke to him? If so, he was about to learn that nobody fucks with Clarke Griffn.

The man slowly rose to his feet, dusting off his black suit. “You’re feistier than I remember, Princess,” he offered with a wide smile, but his use of her old nickname only infuriated her. 

Her father started calling her princess when Clarke was a child. The nickname stuck. Everyone called her princess back in Polis. Well, not everyone. Not Lexa. Clarke didn’t mind it when it came from friends or family. But she hated it when Finn Collins and his douchey friends said it. Lexa knew that and forbade anyone that wasn’t family from calling her girlfriend princess. Clarke hadn’t heard that name since she left Polis. How dare this stranger use the moniker!

“Call me that again, and I’ll put a bullet in your head!” She snapped, her eyes taking in every detail of her assailant. 

He was almost as tall as the guards Lexa had sent with the doctor. The man was in his early to mid-twenties. He was a handsome man, the kind that likely turned heads wherever he went. Muscular, too. But not the steroid induced kind. More like what you’d expect from a football player. He had sandy blonde hair and blue eyes that gleamed in the moonlight. Something about those eyes was strangely familiar, though Clarke couldn’t place it until the man spoke again. 

The man threw his hands up in an unspoken surrender. “Clarke, it’s me, Aden.”

Clarke gasped as her eyes flicked over his face a second time before it clicked. His looks should’ve given him away. He was a Woods, through and through, with his mother’s eyes and Alex’s sharp jawline. But his bright smile was the same one she recalled from her youth—Lexa’s smile.

“Aden? Oh, my god!” For the second time tonight, Clarke’s feet carried her forward with arms open and she was immediately drawn into a bear hug. 

Aden held her tight, but was mindful of her shoulder. “It’s good to see you again, Clarke. I missed you so much.”

“Me too, Ad,” Clarke grinned up at him, finding this all too much to believe. 

No longer was he the gangly, pimpled-faced pre-teen she knew all those years ago. Now she had to crane her neck to meet his gaze. And damn, he was a looker! Clarke wagered Aden had both girls and boys lining up to ask him out on a date. He could easily be a movie star with his bright smile–so much like Lexa’s–and muscular build. 

“When did you get so big?” She poked him in the stomach, which was hard as stone, just as Clarke expected. 

Aden shrugged. “High School. Dad made me sign up for football. Ya know, to carry on the Woods’ legacy and all.”

All the Woods played football. In fact, Lexa was the quarterback on their high school team back in the day. She looked sexy as hell in her uniform. Lex gave Clarke one of her jerseys her sophomore year, and the blonde wore it every chance she could. The jersey came with her to Arkadia, where Clarke wore it as a pajama top. It survived twelve years, all so it could be blown up with the rest of Clarke’s belongings. 

Just thinking about her current situation had Clarke frowning again. She was so fucked. At least she could go to the warehouse and collect some cash to pay for a room and fresh clothes. But what if she ran into the gang? Were they working for Lexa, too? Did she even want to know if they were?

“Hey, no frowning,” Aden nudged her and Clarke expelled a heavy sigh. 

“Sorry, Ad. It’s been a rough few days.”

“So I’ve heard,” Aden’s smile faltered slightly, but he immediately brushed it off and took Clarke’s hand and grinned. “I know something that’ll make it better.”

Clarke narrowed her eyes. “What’s that?”

Aden shot her a smile so bright it lit up the dim streets. “It’s a surprise. Are you game?”

Clarke didn’t even have to think about it. Aden was her family. One of the few from back home that wasn’t jaded by a life of crime. Well, at least not when she saw him last. Still, she trusted him completely. So she bobbed her head and followed Aden to the black sports car. Aden dutifully opened the passenger door and motioned for Clarke to get inside, shutting the door behind her. Then he walked around the car to the driver’s seat and hopped in. 

Aden shot her a bright smile as his car lurched forward. “So, where’d you learn those moves? I haven’t been knocked on my ass in years.”

Clarke took a sharp breath. “Anya taught me.”

Aden studied her for a moment, then sighed. “I take it you’re not her biggest fan right now.”

Clarke rolled her eyes. “How’d you guess?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the grumpy cat scowl you’ve got on right now,” Aden chuckled, gaining a slap on the arm in return. His expression turned serious as they reached a stoplight. “I know you’re pissed at them right now, and you have every right to be. Lexa has an … odd way of showing affection. She thinks giving someone bodyguards is akin to asking for your hand in marriage.”

“So she does this back home … with other women?” Clarke gulped hard. Aden shook his head and grinned. 

“Just you, Princess.” He shifted the car into gear, then glanced over at her with a sad smile. “You’re the one for her, Clarke. I know it may not feel like it, but you are.”

Clarke scoffed. “Then why did it take a bullet for her to find me?”

Aden sighed. “She was trying to protect you.”

Blue eyes rolled back in aggravation as Clarke grumbled. “Bang-up job she did.”

“We grew up thinking our parents were invincible. We thought no one could touch our family … Oh, how fucking wrong we were,” Aden frowned as he steered the car toward Main Street. “It scared her, ya know? For years, Lex kept saying once she was Heda, she’d find you and bring you home. But after seeing what happened to mom …”

Clarke grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m so sorry, Ad.”

“Yeah,” he let out a deep breath. “Me too.”

Silence stretched out between them for several moments before Aden continued. 

“Lex hasn’t been the same since they died. She pushes everyone away. Closed herself off to any emotions. For a while there, I was certain she didn’t feel anything anymore. But then Anya called and told her about the attack.” Aden’s lips curled into a slight smile. “It’s like a switch flipped. I haven’t seen her this passionate about anything since Finn Collins asked you on a date.”

Clarke couldn’t help but chuckle at that. She and Lexa had always been close. They were best friends from the beginning. But as they grew up, those feelings shifted. Clarke wasn’t sure who felt it first, her or Lexa. But by the time they reached high school, they were deeply in love. Only neither girl was prepared to admit it. Clarke was worried she might lose her best friend, and she assumed it was the same for Lex. It took a floppy-haired football player to get them to admit their feelings finally. 

Lexa was a junior and Clarke a sophomore. Finn had always shown an interest in Clarke, but she ignored his advances at every turn. But one day, three days before prom, Finn strode up to their table and asked Clarke to go with him. Clarke was going to say no, but she didn’t get the opportunity. Lexa announced then and there, in front of the entire school, that Clarke was hers. This was after she punched Finn in the face and broke his nose, of course. Then Lexa seized Clarke’s hand and led her out of the lunchroom. It was, admittedly, sexy as hell. 

Of course, Lexa apologized to Clarke. She stumbled over her words, trying to explain how she felt when Clarke cut her off with a kiss. One kiss turned into a thirty-minute make-out session under the bleachers. From that point on, they were officially a couple. But that didn’t stop Lexa from glaring at Finn anytime he looked in Clarke’s direction. 

“So, there haven’t been other women?” Clarke cautiously asked, and Aden shook his head. 

“Lex doesn’t date. She’s married to the Coalition, or at least that’s what Lexa tells herself,” he answered, pulling his car into a valet section of a business. “I meant what I said, Clarke. You’re it for her.”

“Yeah, well, I’d like to hear that from her,” she grumbled, and Aden shot her a confident grin.

“You will, I promise. Just give it time,” he replied, before handing his phone to Clarke so she could read the screen. 

There were a set of frantic messages, all from Lexa. In the first text, Lexa admitted she’d fucked up and that now Clarke was nowhere to be found. She asked him to find Clarke, recognizing the blonde likely didn’t want to be near Lexa. Then there were several texts asking if he’d found her yet. Later, Aden told his sister he’d found Clarke and that he needed a cleaner at the location of the gunfight. That prompted another group of messages asking if Clarke was injured and how badly. Lexa asked her brother to bring Clarke to the hotel, where she’d be safe. Also, she didn’t want the blonde recovering in Abby’s dingy home. Lex even promised to make herself scarce, should her presence offend Clarke. 

“So, what should I tell her?” Aden asked after she had time to read the last message.

“I’m not kicking her out of her own hotel room,” Clarke grumbled, and Aden shrugged.

“It’s the penthouse suite. There’s plenty of room for all of us.”

Clarke debated her answer. One part of her wanted to run back to Lexa and start over. But the other part was still furious. Still, she didn’t want to scare Lexa away. Clarke waited ten years to see Lex, and she’d be damned if she had to wait another decade.

“I’ll be there … and she doesn’t have to leave… in fact, I prefer she didn’t. I just … need—”

“To blow off some steam first?” Aden tilted his head to one side and grinned. “Why do you think I brought you here?”

Clarke shifted her gaze out of the window, smiling when she realized where they were—Shumway’s Speakeasy. Shumway ran gambling tables for the elite in the basement. On the main floor was a bar filled with overpriced cocktails for those who could afford them. Clarke loved to come here to play poker and lift wallets from the business executives who brazenly carried thousands in cash on their person. 

“We’re gonna gamble?” She loved poker, and Aden knew exactly how to lift her spirits. 

“No, I’m gonna watch you cheat,” Aden smirked. “Ante is twenty-k.” 

“I’ll need some cash first,” Clarke shot him a mischievous smile and Aden laughed. 

“I’d offer to cover it, but we both know you’d rather steal it off some poor clueless high-roller.”

“Damn right, I do!” Clarke was already feeling lighter. This casino was meant for the elite, and she’d have loads of pockets to pick before she made it to the gambling tables.

Few things compared to the thrill of gliding through a crowd, lifting their wallets. Clarke was in her element, and she couldn’t be happier. The chaos of the last few days faded into the distance as she collected her ante for the poker game in the basement. It was simpler than it should be. Her marks foolishly carried too much cash on them. Clarke had more than enough for the ante by the time she reached the basement door. 

As promised, Aden sat in the corner and watched Clarke cheat at poker. Hours passed and with each won pot, Clarke’s mood lifted. By the time she collected her winnings, Clarke had nearly forgotten she was angry with Lexa–which she presumed was Aden’s goal. 

∞

Lexa POV

Lexa paced the penthouse. Aden said he’d bring Clarke back with him once she’d had time to cool off. But that was six hours ago. Lexa prayed Clarke hadn’t changed her mind, because she’d spent the last several hours rehearsing her apology. 

Seeing Clarke again, holding her, changed everything for Lexa. It was like a veil had been lifted. Everything was clearer. It finally made sense. Clarke filled the void that had been growing inside her since Lexa’s parents died and, like an idiot, Lexa had pushed her away. 

It shouldn’t be so surprising. Lexa wasn’t great with people. Sure, she could lead them better than most, but interpersonal interactions were hard for her. This was mostly because Lexa spent so much energy trying not to get attached. She didn’t make friends. Lexa attended parties alone. Aden was her only companion, and she even pushed him away. Lexa never went on dates.

Sure, she had physical needs, but those were met with one of Niylah’s girls. It was strictly transactional, with no feelings attached and never the same girl twice. Nine times out of ten, Lexa walked away, feeling emptier than ever. Because it wasn’t the same as it was with Clarke. But Lexa told herself this was all she could ever have. That she was meant to be alone forever. She was fated for loneliness. To be Heda was to be alone.

But seeing Clarke again made her long for a companion again, an equal. That terrified Lexa, because she knew the risks involved. She would always be a target, as long as she was Heda. Anyone Heda loved would be a target, too. But for Clarke, she will try. Lexa wanted so badly to go back ten years and start over. Clarke always balanced the scales. She made things clearer. Yes, Clarke was as much a part of this world as Lexa, but she still kept her heart. Clarke loved fearlessly. She drew strength from those around her. Trusted blindly. 

Lexa forgot how powerful her love for Clarke was. Yet seeing her again had all those memories coming back. Yes, Lexa was hurt to know Val had slept with Clarke. And she made it clear that Clarke was off-limits. But was it her place to say those things? Was her overreaction too much for Clarke? Is that why she left?

Lexa knew the answer was yes. It also wasn’t fair to send Anya and Val to Arkadia without telling Clarke the truth. She’d hoped to give Clarke someone to lean on in her place and instead, it backfired. Clarke probably felt used. She’d never fully trust Anya or Val again. Maybe Lexa had lost her faith as well. 

Lexa hoped to explain. To tell Clarke how much she still loved her. That Clarke was the one. Explain how empty Lexa felt when they were separated. Now, she may never get that chance. 

Lexa collapsed on the couch with a huff and ran her fingers through her thick mane. “I fucked up.”

“Yeah, you kinda did,” an all too familiar voice offered, drawing Lexa’s gaze to the entrance. 

“Klark…” Lexa rose to her feet and crossed the room, pausing once she was within an arm’s length of Clarke. She longed to hold her again, to feel her warm skin and ensure that she wasn’t dreaming. But she doubted Clarke would welcome her touch. “Are you alright?”

Clarke smiled softly, glancing at Aden. “Better than I’ve been in a while.”

Lexa’s brother squeezed Clarke’s good shoulder and kissed her temple. “I’ll give you two some privacy,” he said before heading to one of the bedrooms with two overstuffed duffle bags in hand. 

Suddenly, Lexa was at a loss for words. What do you say, after all this time? How does she make up for the last decade? Or their last meeting? Instead, she clung to Cillian’s instructions to keep Clarke healthy, and reached for the bottle of antibiotics in her pocket. “Cillian said to take these every eight hours.”

Clarke had an odd expression as she took the antibiotics from Lexa. “Is that all?”

“He said to change your bandages regularly, too. I have extras set aside in your room, but if you need more–” Lexa paused when Clarke stepped forward and took her hand. 

“I’m sorry about your parents, Lex. I wanted to send flowers, but it didn’t feel like it was enough,” Clarke offered with a sad smile. 

Lexa gulped, gazing down at their joined hands. “I wanted to bring you home. It’s all I could think about for years. But after mom, I was so scared that might happen to you, too. I figured you were better off … safer without me.”

“So you just ignored me,” Clarke sighed, but Lexa shook her head. 

“I didn’t mean to, Clarke. I just wanted you to be safe.”

“Next time, ask me what I want before you make decisions that affect us both.” Clarke sternly replied. 

“I promise.” Lexa bobbed her head, then shifted uncomfortably on her feet. “I want you to … you should come with me … to Polis. I have a house you can stay in … there’s plenty of room, so if you don’t want to see me, you don’t have to.”

“I always want to see you, Lex. Even when I’m angry with you.” Clarke squeezed her hand. “And I recall loving the Woods estate.”

“It’s not … I built a new house. On the coast. It’s just as big, though.” Lexa gave her a sheepish smile. “I think you’ll love it.”

She knew Clarke would love it. It was, after all, Clarke’s design. Clarke drew the whole thing on a paper napkin when she and Lexa were teenagers. They spent hours discussing their dream home as Clarke sketched it. Lexa still had that napkin. In fact, she had it framed after the contractors built her home. Still, there was a small part of her that feared Clarke might not want to stay with Lexa.

“But if you don’t want to live there, I’ll get you an apartment or—”

“I don’t mind staying with you … as long as there are no more lies.” Clarke clarified.

“I promise.” Lexa was careful to meet Clarke’s gaze. 

“My other friends in Arkadia … do they work for you, too?” Clarke bit her bottom lip and Lexa shook her head.

“Just Anya and Val. I’m sorry, Clarke, I didn’t mean for them to mislead you. I just wanted you to be safe.”

“You keep saying that. But I don’t think you get it,” Clarke replied, shaking her head. “It doesn’t work if my heart isn’t safe, too.”

Lexa shifted her eyes to the ground and sighed. “I don’t know how to do that.” She wasn’t good with people and Lexa was afraid to fuck this up … again.

“Why do you want me to come to Polis with you? And don’t say to protect me. I want the genuine answer.”

Lexa’s eye flicked over Clarke’s face as she debated her response. What harm was there in telling her the truth? But Lexa had spent too long hiding from her feelings. It didn’t feel right to admit them. But that was what Clarke was asking, wasn’t it? 

Lexa sighed. “I got … lost for a while. Put what I wanted on the back-burner, while I focused on holding the Coalition together. And now … I want you to come home. I want us to start over. But it won’t be the same, it can’t be. If my enemies find out how I feel about you—”

“How do you feel about me?” Clarke redirected. “I need to hear you say it, Lex.”

Of course, Clarke couldn’t make this easy. Lexa spent a decade shying away from her feelings. Closing herself off to love. Now Clarke was backing her into a corner and Lexa was unsure how to put it in the right words–words Clarke would understand. Because Clarke was the love of her life and she deserved to know it. 

“I love you, Clarke.” Lexa replied in barely a whisper. “I always have. I meant what I said the last time we saw each other. You’re it for me.”

Clarke squeezed her hand again. “I need you to prove it, not through bodyguards or fancy gifts. Can you do that?”

Lexa bobbed her head. She’d do whatever it took to get Clarke back. Part of that scared her. What if she placed Clarke in further danger? But Clarke deserved all the love Lexa could give her. “You’ll … have bodyguards, though. It isn’t safe for you to go without them.”

Clarke chuckled. “Deal, but I get to choose them and they can’t interfere with work.”

“You mean robbing banks,” Lexa grumbled. Clarke was determined to be in harm’s way. Of course, she’d choose a job that involved danger. Clarke would make her guards work for it.

“Robbing anything, really. My last gig was stealing a priceless piece of artwork.” Clarke smiled brightly. She loved her job, which meant Lexa would have to accept it if she wanted to keep Clarke’s heart. 

They eventually move to the balcony. They sat on the railing, gazing out at the city, as they did in their youth as the couple discussed their lives over the last ten years. Clarke had built a team of thieves to help her on heists. She was very protective of them. They were more Clarke’s family than Abby ever was. If Clarke moved to Polis, they would surely follow. But Clarke wasn’t ready to tell them about Lexa, which was a relief. Lexa wasn’t ready for the world to know she loved Clarke. Not yet. She only prayed Clarke wouldn’t judge her for that, but it was the only way she knew to protect her beloved blonde. 

Thankfully, the conversation remained light until it was very late. They watched the sun come up together, as they had countless times in the past. It felt as if nothing had changed between them and Lexa couldn’t be happier.

“I’m exhausted,” Clarke finally offered at five a.m. and Lexa bobbed her head in agreement.

She led Clarke to one of the bedrooms, pointing out the clothes she’d purchased for the blonde. Clarke gazed at the space as if she were in a dream, likely having never stayed in such a luxurious hotel room. Lexa was about to give the blonde some privacy when Clarke took her hand. 

“Will you stay?” Clarke suddenly appeared nervous. “I know it sounds silly, but I’m afraid if I go to sleep, I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone. That this will all be a dream.”

Of course, Lexa agreed. She kicked off her shoes and crawled on top of the covers. Clarke settled in beside her, laying so her head was resting on Lexa’s shoulder, with her right arm draped across her waist. 

“Lex?” Clarke asked once they were settled in bed.

“Yes?”

“I love you, too,” Clarke pressed a chaste kiss on her cheek, causing Lexa to relax fully in the bed. “Good night, Lexa.”

Lexa smiled, burying her nose in those golden curls and inhaling deeply. “Good night, Clarke.”

It wasn’t long before the blonde was snoring softly. Lexa stayed up as long as she could, unable to believe this was finally happening. Watching Clarke sleeping so peacefully felt like a dream come true. Oh, how Lexa had longed to have Clarke in her arms like this every night! Her mind raced as Lexa listed all the ways she would prove her love to Clarke, while also keeping her safe from Heda’s enemies. It wouldn’t be easy. But Lexa had to try. Because she finally had Clarke back and she wouldn’t let her go, no matter how hard things got. 

Chapter Text

One Month Later

Clarke POV

Clarke took a sharp breath, then looked to her right and left. The entire gang was lined up and ready to go. “Okay, Rae. Start the timer.”

“And we go on three … two … one … get climbing!”

The team burst into a sprint toward the rock wall before them. Octavia greeted the wall first and scrambled up the first several feet. Clarke and Lincoln were right behind her, the blonde gritting her teeth at the throb in her right shoulder. Lexa was worried her injury might slow her down, but Clarke refused to give in. She climbed as fast as she could, ignoring the ache as she scrambled to the top of the wall. 

Lincoln had the advantage here, thanks to his upper body strength, and easily reached the top before Clarke and Octavia. Jasper was several feet below, dangling by one arm and cursing, with Monty trying desperately not to look down. Raven, Illian and Bellamy watched from below, the latter two preparing for a fall should it come. Bellamy should be up with them, but as it turns out, he wasn’t down for the next leg of the competition. 

Once at the top of the wall, the team entered a tight shaft that left them barely any room to move. Clarke crawled on her belly behind Lincoln, who was plainly struggling to creep forward in the small space. 

“You got this, big guy?” Clarke asked when Lincoln paused. 

“Yeah, I’m good. I just need to—”

“Lay flat on your tummy, Link,” Clarke suggested. “Then, use your arms to pull yourself forward.”

“If I didn’t know any better, Princess, I’d say you’ve done this before.” He replied, his smile evident in his voice. 

“Oh, we’ve done this loads of times.” Raven added over comms. “Last time, Bell got his jeans caught on a piece of sheet metal that tore away from the duct. He’s been a chickenshit about tight spaces ever since.”

“I was stuck in that air duct for two days!” Bellamy griped. “Do you have any idea how hot it is inside there?”

“A cozy seventy-eight degrees, if Jasper did his recon properly,” Raven answered. “Speaking of which, how ya doin’ there, Jas?”

“Oh, just peachy,” Jasper grunted as his hand slipped off one of the rocks.

“You’ve got this, Jasper!” Clarke assured him as she and Lincoln crawled forward through the maze of air ducts. “Just keep one hip close to the wall and use your eyes to map a path before you move up to the next climbing hold.”

“Why are we doing this again?” Monty asked, the strain in his voice apparent. Clarke couldn’t see Monty, but she wagered he’d passed Jasper and was nearing the top. 

“Do you want this job to go south because you couldn’t reach the only path to the jackpot?” Octavia asked, close on the heels of Clarke’s shoes. “Now shut up. When we do this for real, we can’t talk or the guards will hear us.”

“Which is why we’re practicing it first,” Clarke added. “Link, next left, then two rights.”

This was just another day at the office for Clarke, and she loved every second. Raven and Monty hacked the blueprints of the building and mapped out the air ducts that led to their goal. The team put Clarke’s two new bodyguards, Lincoln and Illian, to the test, making them construct the maze of ductwork and a rough layout of their ultimate goal. 

The team split up halfway through, with Monty and Jasper heading to the server room to cut off the video feed before Clarke, O and Link reached their position. Once there, Clarke, O and Lincoln made an eight-foot drop into the office. The computer was three feet to their left, where they would hack into the files they needed to download for their client.

“Alright, guys, I’m in.” Rae announced as soon as Clarke inserted the jump drive in the computer. “Give me three minutes to access the files we’re looking for.” 

Clarke looked at her watch and sighed. “Hurry it up, Rae!”

“Yeah, yeah, keep your panties on!”

As soon as they had the intel, it was a twenty-story drop off the balcony railing. Each teammate had rappelling gear for his or her daring escape. Altogether, the gang had twenty minutes to get in, download the files and get back to their van. 

The first practice run was a partial success. Link, O and Clarke ran the circuit, including rappelling down the exit with five seconds to spare. Monty and Jasper, however, were two minutes shy of the cutoff. Jas took a right out of the server room instead of a left, slowing them down. 

“We go again,” Clarke insisted as soon as Monty and Jasper joined them on the ground, gaining a set of groans from the gang. 

Altogether, the team ran twenty circuits, leaving them all exhausted. Clarke’s hands and arms shook from overuse. But that’s why they always did practice runs. Well, not always. In the early days, the gang preferred to wing it. Some of the group–Bellamy and Jasper—insisted they worked better in the moment. That their senses and reflexes were best the first go around. But they learned years ago that practice did indeed bring perfection. 

“That’s it, guys! Great round!” Clarke praised, gaining a set of weary glares in return. 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a masochist?” Jasper asked, his entire body sagging from exhaustion. 

Clarke chuckled. “You have a few times.”

She couldn’t blame them. Who else climbed three stories, crawled through five more and then rappelled down the side of a building twenty times in a row? It was motherfucking crazy, and Clarke knew it. But this is how they survived in this fucked-up world.

Lincoln, however, looked like he was having the best day of his life. “You’d run one hell of a gym, Princess. I haven’t been this worn out in years.”

“Which is why I stayed on the ground, Link,” Illian added as he handed Clarke and Lincoln a towel to wipe away the sweat. 

Clarke never expected to get so lucky. When Lexa offered to let Clarke choose her own guards, Lincoln was her first choice. Lincoln was Lexa’s cousin. Clarke grew up with him and trusted Link completely. So when he suggested Illian take the second guard position, Clarke didn’t hesitate. Thankfully, both men integrated into Clarke’s team right away. Their personalities melded with the gang, and they made themselves useful to the team. Plus, Clarke’s friends admitted they could use some extra muscle if they were taking on bigger jobs. 

It was sketchy at first, the team not used to having outsiders in on a gig. But when Clarke assured them she knew Link and Illian from childhood, they lowered their guard. Still, there were plenty of nerves that accompanied their move across the country. For her and the gang. Raven was the most suspicious when Clarke first told the gang she was moving to Polis. 

Even now, weeks after their move, Raven had reservations. And who could blame her? They uprooted themselves and moved across the country. Polis was nothing like Arkadia. 

“You sure about this, Griff?” Raven offered as she helped load an extra laptop and accessories into Clarke’s bag. 

Clarke had little in the way of belongings. Just some tools of the trade that she kept at the warehouse, including weapons and some of Raven’s fancy devices. What little she had in clothes was bought for her by Lexa, who knew Clarke well enough to get the sizes and styles right. Clarke’s closet consisted of three tank tops, four t-shirts and five pairs of jeans. It was nothing compared to Lexa’s wardrobe. Her closet was overflowing with designer suits and dresses. 

In a way, their various attire spoke to the differences between Arkadia and Polis. Arkadia was dingy, and Polis was upscale and pristine.

“Polis is a whole other realm of crime,” Raven added. “Like completely opposite from Arkadia. Everyone here drives fancy cars and lives in a mansion.”

“Which is why it’ll be perfect for us,” Clarke grinned. “Think of the jobs we’ll get, Rae.”

“I’ll admit, this one sounds pretty fun. Just … are we ready for something this big?” 

Rae was nervous, which was to be expected. Their job was a heist in Silicon Valley and would require every ounce of Raven and Monty’s big brains to complete. But Clarke had faith in her friends’ abilities. Still, they had every right to be anxious. Moving to Polis was a huge step forward for them. 

Arkadia was a cesspool of drugs and crime. It was pretty normal for some poor soul to be murdered on the street for ten bucks' worth of cash in their wallet. Downtown was nicer, but nothing in Arkadia compared to Polis. Polis was the shining diamond of the criminal world. The streets were clean. Because Heda kept them that way. No random hold-ups in dark alleys. No vehicular thefts. They were known solely for their high-profile heists and white-collar crime. Only the most elite criminals lived in Polis, and jobs were highly competitive. 

“We’re basically street rats to these people,” Raven continued, frowning as she gazed around the warehouse. Even this building was nicer than what the Arkadians were accustomed to working in.

The gang didn’t have much. Any fancy gadgets they owned were homemade. They had two old, beat-up vans to work from. They didn’t have a billionaire crime lord lining their pockets with expendable cash to purchase better equipment. Yes, Lexa offered, but Clarke declined. She wanted to prove they could succeed on their own.

Clarke shot her friend a confident smile. “Which is why we’re gonna blow their minds when we finish this gig.”

They had a month to prepare and scout locations, which was a bit tight on schedule. But Clarke had every bit of faith in her team. Aden was gracious enough to rent them a warehouse in the city where the gang could work. He originally offered it for free, but Clarke refused. She and the team would make a name for themselves without Woods’ sponsorship.

The gang went to work right away on infiltrating security and finding a way inside their mark’s office building. They slaved night and day to build a replica of the office building so they could practice. That time didn’t include reconnaissance or gathering supplies. It would suck to put in all this work only to fail. But that was part of the risk. 

“And you’re sure you don’t want to stay with me and Octavia?” Raven asked, her brown eyes sending a scrutinous glare at the blonde. “Not to get in your business, but rent here is fucking insane! You practically have to be a millionaire to afford a place by yourself.”

“I told you, I’m staying with an old friend,” Clarke repeated for the fifth time. 

For now, Lexa and their relationship were a secret. Clarke didn’t want to tell her friends for several reasons, mainly because Lexa was akin to a god in their line of work. Everyone in the crime world knew the name Heda. Lexa was the reigning Queen of Crime. The last thing Clarke wanted was her friends hitting Lexa up for work or handouts. Plus, it felt exciting to have their relationship–which was still in the early stages–be a secret. It had only been a month since the attack, but Clarke was already enjoying sharing stolen kisses and hiding smiles when she and Lex weren’t alone.

“Mm-hmm, in a place that your best friends aren’t allowed to see.” Raven narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

“Look, no offense. But after what happened … I just think it’s safer for everyone not to know where I live,” Clarke carefully replied.

Clarke had told them the entire story. Well, parts of it. They knew she had accidentally gotten mixed up with an Azgedan spy, which was partially true. Clarke told them about the assassins and the apartment explosion. Likewise, they knew the flash drive put a massive target on Clarke’s back. With Nigel dead, the hope was that there would be no further assassination attempts, but you never knew. 

Of course, the safest place on the planet was with Lexa. Her mansion was more heavily guarded than the White House. But Clarke couldn’t very well tell her friends she was moving in with Heda. 

She could, however, explain the presence of her two bodyguards...

“You've got everything you need, Princess?” Lincoln asked as Clarke zipped up her duffel bag and the blonde bobbed her head. 

Rae tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “You’re not sleeping with Lincoln, are you?”

Clarke laughed. “Definitely not. He’s like my brother.”

“Fine, keep your secrets. But sooner or later we’re meeting this mysterious friend of yours,” Raven replied. 

“Are you coming out for drinks, Griff?” O asked, gaining a set of grumbles from the gang.

“Are you trying to give her another excuse to torture us?” Jasper griped, gaining a set of chuckles from the team.

“I have plans tonight,” Clarke answered. “But after the job’s done tomorrow, I’m buying everyone drinks.”

“Make it three each and I’ll retract my masochist comment,” Jasper smirked, and Clarke bobbed her head. 

“Deal.”

“You should come out with us, Link. You, too, Illian,” Octavia, who was not so subtly falling for Link, offered. “There’s this bar on Fifth and Marks. I think you’d like it.”

Clarke fought the urge to cringe. Fifth and Marks was Sangeda territory. While they were technically allies with Trikru, the tension between the two gangs was palpable. Link, especially, would stand out from the crowd, as everyone in Polis knew he was Heda’s cousin.

Thankfully, Lincoln knew the risks. “Maybe another time. I’m about to collapse after this one’s workout.” He nudged Clarke with his elbow.

Octavia deflated, but she accepted his excuse. “Yeah, well … maybe next time?”

Link grinned. “I’d love that.”

Clarke followed Link and Illian to the car with a soft smile. She was exhausted, but pleased with today’s practice runs. On the last circuit, everyone finished with minutes to spare. Which meant they’d succeed tomorrow night. But that wasn’t the only reason Clarke was smiling. 

Moving to Polis turned out to be a dream come true. She had Lexa back and a gorgeous home to live in. Clarke gazed up at the mansion with wide eyes as it appeared in the distance. She loved this house. It was everything she’d dreamed it might be. 

If Clarke weren’t already in love with Lexa, this house would be the deciding factor. It was precisely as Clarke had imagined, with enormous windows gazing out into the ocean and every amenity a person could ask for. The entire property was modern and monochrome in design. 

There was a garden, an art gallery, a pool house, and a home theatre. In the back was an Olympic-sized pool with water slides. The gym was so large it had room for a boxing ring at the center, which Clarke and Lexa visited daily. Each of the six bedrooms was massive, allowing for a sitting area and full bathroom in each one. Clarke spent an hour browsing the art gallery when she first arrived, which drew a bright smile from Lexa. 

The house itself was a testament of just how much Lexa loved Clarke. Every aspect held a piece of Clarke, if only in its design. But any doubts Clarke had about Lexa’s sincerity vanished when they entered Lexa’s home office. On each wall hung a piece of artwork by none other than Clarke Griffin–sketches, paintings and even doodles. Sitting on Lexa’s desk was a framed napkin that had Clarke’s original layout of the very house in which they stood. A wooden box sat next to the house’s rough blueprint, filled with every love letter Clarke ever wrote to Lexa. Clarke nearly melted into a puddle of goo as she thumbed through them. 

“Who knew Heda was such a romantic?” Clarke grinned as she took in every detail of the room, and Lexa blushed.

“This is where I go when I need to think.”

Lexa may have shut herself off from those around her, but her feelings for Clarke lie bare on the walls of her office. Granted, it could only be accessed by Lexa, who had the sole key. But Clarke was honored to be the only other person allowed to see her home office. Not even Titus, who seemed attached on a leash to Heda, was granted entry. 

The romantic gesture had Clarke striding up to Lexa and kissing her like there was no tomorrow. This was, of course, their first kiss since Clarke fled Polis a decade prior. Lexa was stunned at first, and maybe it was a tad too soon for kisses. They’d only been together a week at this point. But Clarke couldn’t help but show her appreciation for the house. 

Since that first day in Polis, the couple was right back where they left off. Well, kinda. Lexa was adamant that they keep their relationship a secret from everyone. That meant stealing kisses when Titus’ head was turned. Or sneaking around like teenagers to avoid any of the guards seeing them canoodling. Thankfully, most of the staff left Lexa’s wing at nighttime, granting the couple a modicum of privacy for six hours. But Sasha was back at work at precisely five a.m. each morning, forcing Clarke to sneak out of Lexa’s room to avoid being caught. 

Admittedly, Clarke gained her share of side-eyes after moving into the Woods mansion. The staff was used to Lexa living alone, so they were all abuzz when Clarke arrived. The butler, Sasha, sent her share of scrutinous gazes when she realized Clarke wasn’t sleeping in her assigned room. Clarke’s bed was always made, and most of her belongings had migrated into Lexa’s master suite–which was the size of a large home. Sasha commented that there must be a ghost in the house, because she found Clarke’s bra in Lexa’s room, gaining a set of rosy cheeks in response. But that was the only time Sasha brought it up, and the rest of the staff were blissfully oblivious. 

Titus, in particular, was difficult to hide from. He kept barging into rooms unannounced, forcing Clarke and Lexa to throw on false smiles or swiftly break apart. Clarke was ninety-nine percent sure Titus made it his life’s goal to cockblock Heda at every turn. 

The only people who knew Lexa and Clarke were a couple were Aden and Link. Neither man was a threat, and they fully supported their need to keep it a secret. Lincoln often ran interference for the couple when Titus was searching for Heda. Seriously, that guy needed to get his head out of Lexa’s ass. Thankfully, Titus’ car was not in the driveway tonight when Clarke returned home, bringing a bright smile to her face. 

She and Lex may actually have a night to themselves.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Clarke offered as she, Link and Illian pulled to a stop in the driveway. 

She wondered where Lexa was and what she was up to. If Clarke could guess, Lex was practicing too. It was, after all, the time of day where she and Lexa met up at the gym for their own training. Sure enough, Clarke stepped into the gym, finding Lexa hanging upside down from a heavy bag, doing situps. 

“Hey beautiful,” she offered, trying not to drool over Lexa’s abs that were full on display. 

She had to admit, training with Lexa was a double-edged sword. On the one hand, Lex was twice as good as Anya and Val in the ring. Clarke was learning some game-changing moves while training with Lexa. Clarke’s lessons with Anya were focused on discombobulating her foe so she could escape. With Lexa, the focus was on killing or severely injuring her opponents so they couldn’t walk. Lex taught Clarke how to fight with a knife, in addition to mixed martial arts. It was exciting for Clarke. But it was also incredibly distracting. There should be a law against Lexa working out in a sports bra and track shorts. Too often, Clarke caught herself gaping at her girlfriend. 

I mean, who the hell does situps while hanging from a punching bag? Apparently Lexa. Every day. Without fail. One hundred situps morning and night. Abs full on display for Clarke to melt over. So really, it’s not Clarke’s fault that she occasionally missed a jab or kick in the ring. It’s Lexa’s fault for being so damned sexy. 

Lexa shot her a bright smile. “Hey, you.”

Lex almost ceased her situps, but Clarke waved her hand. “No, no. Don’t stop on my account.”

“Admit it, you just want to drool over my abs,” the brunette smirked, and Clarke didn’t bother to hide the truth.

“Damn right, I do,” she replied, stepping forward to rake her fingers over those delectable abs. “You’re not allowed to be this sexy.”

“I don’t know how to stop,” Lexa laughed, grabbing the top of the bag for leverage and sinking to her feet with a bright smile. “How was your day, love?” 

“Perfect, now that I have you all to myself.” Clarke grinned. She stepped forward and placed her hands on Lexa’s hips, leaning in for a lingering kiss before asking, “How about yours?”

Lexa rolled her eyes. “Boring meetings, as always.”

That was Lexa’s go-to response, which was fine with Clarke. One of the agreements they made before Clarke moved in was that they could have some secrets. Heda had a big job and knew things that would be dangerous for Clarke to be privy to. Likewise, Lexa needed to have plausible deniability when it came to Clarke’s line of work. She couldn’t be implicated in Clarke’s crimes, which was partially why the gang knew nothing about Lexa. If Clarke learned something Lexa needed to know, she’d share it and vice versa.  

Plus, it was fun having Lexa as her secret lover. They may not get as much time as they wanted to spend together. But they made every second count. 

“How’d practice go?”

“It was rough, but rewarding.” Clarke mindlessly rubbed her sore shoulder.

“You look like you could use a hot shower, love,” Lexa noted, peppering the blonde’s neck with kisses, which caused Clarke to instinctively glance around for onlookers.

“Are we alone?”

Lexa grinned. “Aside from the guards outside? Yes. I gave the staff the night off. So … shower?”

Clarke leaned in for a heated kiss, smirking as she pulled away. “Only if you’re joining me.”

Lexa hummed in response, a mischievous grin on her face as she lifted Clarke up so the blonde was straddling her waist. “I think I could do that.” She said before carrying Clarke upstairs to the master suite. 

Chapter Text

Spy POV

The convoy arrived in front of the tower right on time. Seven vehicles, ranging from large SUVs to smaller sedans, all with blacked-out windows to protect the identity of their passengers. Lexa’s security detail was smart. Heda never rode in the same car twice, nor in the same position in the row of vehicles. On some days, Lexa was the driver of the first vehicle in the convoy. Other times, she was the passenger or last in the row. Then there were the occasions when Lexa wasn’t with the convoy at all. On those days, she arrived on one of her motorcycles or in a luxury sports car. 

From her vantage point in the skyscraper, she could see everything through the scope of her sniper rifle. She’d been watching Lexa for weeks, trying to assess a pattern in Heda’s schedule and Clarke’s. But both women seemed content with a bit of chaos. Clarke especially had a wonky schedule. Some days she’d sleep until noon. Others, she was up before dawn. 

The only part of her regimen that was consistent was training in the gym with Lexa just before dinnertime. Otherwise, Clarke was all over the place. Literally. The woman was on the go twenty-four seven. 

The longer she watched Clarke, the more respect she held for the woman. Clarke was driven to succeed in every aspect of her life and never asked more from her team of thieves than Clarke would do herself. This quality was precisely what drew her to Clarke. She was a leader with a knack for strategy and the patience to wait when circumstances called for it. More importantly, Clarke often made decisions with her heart, even when it put her in danger. 

That’s why she chose Clarke. If anyone could figure out a way to escape from a lifetime of servitude to Azgeda, it was Clarke Griffin. Her relationship with Heda only made it that much more likely that a spy like herself would eventually escape Azgeda. 

To someone on the outside, walking away from this life was simple. Just leave or quit. But you can’t quit the cartel. No, you either die rich without your soul or morals intact or you meet a violent end. She had witnessed this plenty of times through the years. Someone would get it in their head that Nia would let them walk away, only to be found brutally murdered a few days later. Many times it was her who Nia sent to kill the poor souls. That’s why it took so long for her to wriggle her way out of these shackles.

Azgeda had been a part of her life since she was a child. They were more family to her than the two losers who brought her into this world. Her parents were addicts, which happens so often when you grow up on the corner of Grimes and Fourth. All of her friends’ parents either used drugs or sold them. It just came with the territory. But her parents were absolutely the worst. She went hungry for weeks because her parents were too high to remember they needed groceries. Their house was always in shambles, and her parents were friends with people of equally questionable morals. 

Azgeda was her escape from all that. They would never leave her alone with Tommy Dryer, the neighborhood’s resident pedophile. But her parents did. Three times. From day one, Azgeda fed her, clothed her and gave her a safe place to rest her head. 

It all started when she was seven years old. She was playing jump rope with her friend David when a group of older kids came by to bully them. These bullies were from school and had been a thorn in her side since kindergarten. When one of the boys pushed her into a wall, a husky man with fancy jewelry shouted at them to leave her alone. The other kids took one look at the man and ran. But she didn’t. 

Her savior was large in stature, just over six feet tall and muscular. Tattoos covered most of his exposed flesh. There was a gold ring on each finger, and he wore an expensive suit. He frequented the bar on the corner of Grimes and Fifth and was often seen leaning against his fancy sports car just outside the entrance. 

The man knelt so he could meet her gaze and pointed at her shoes. “Those are the only pair you own?” he asked, causing her to blush. 

Her shoes were bought at the thrift store and were a size too big. They had holes in the soles that had to be taped up so they didn’t fall apart. She’d asked her parents for new ones months ago, but they kept forgetting. “We’ll go shopping next week,” they always said. 

Embarrassed, she hung her head. It was bad enough that the other kids made fun of her. Now this stranger, her apparent guardian angel, saw how poor she was too. 

The man reached into his pocket and withdrew a hundred-dollar bill. “You know what this is?”

“Uh-huh,” she replied, her fingers fidgeting with the worn hem of her shirt. 

“I’ll make you a deal,” he offered, pulling a manila envelope out of his jacket. “Deliver this to Mr. Burns down the street and I’ll give you this bill.”

Of course, she did as the man asked. Half of Bobby Miller’s sandwich was the only food she’d eaten in the last two days. Nevermind that her hands itched to hold the bill in her hands, if only to know how it felt. It was simpler than she’d imagined. Mr. Burns took the envelope from her and even handed her a ten-dollar bill for her trouble. When she returned to the man in the suit, he kept his word and gave her the C-note. 

“Get yourself some food and new shoes, kid.” He said, grinning at the girl’s excitement when he handed the money over. “But you must promise not to tell anyone where you got it from. Got it?”

She went to bed with a full tummy and shoes that fit her. 

Two days later, the man had a similar task to complete. Then every other day after that. Each time he handed her money, the man instructed her on what to buy. New clothes. A bike and a backpack. He even paid for school supplies. Soon, the girl had so much money that she had to hide it under her floorboard in her bedroom. 

With each passing day, her tasks grew more intricate. The man, Gregor, became her full-time handler, issuing directives each time they crossed paths. Break into that apartment. Steal that man’s watch. Punch that kid in the face. Eager to please Gregor and in hopes of a reward, she completed each task to the letter. If he said wait in the rain for hours at a time, she did it. Because Gregor always made it worth her trouble. 

Everything changed on her eighth birthday. Gregor picked her up from school, as always. Only this time they went back to his apartment. Aggrieved, he told the girl that she’d been sold like cattle. That her parents gave her away in exchange for the heroin they so often used. 

Numb. 

That's what best described how she felt. Her parents hadn’t really been present in her life since they started using. But she also felt lost. Heartbroken. Where would she go? Who would care for her? Thankfully, Gregor had the answer.

“Would you like to go to a special school? One that’s just for girls and boys as smart as you.” Gregor asked, and of course, she agreed. She had no other option.

From that day forward, she went to a specialized boarding school in the home of Azgeda, Troit. It wasn’t what she’d imagined for a school, of course. They didn’t teach traditional lessons. Instead, the classes focused on combat training, money and weapon handling. They even had a special course on the drugs Azgeda peddled. It was stressful at first. Everyone was a stranger, and most of the teachers were terrifying. But Gregor showed up once a week to check on her progress. With each visit, her monetary reward increased. 

As an adult looking back, it became clear she was a victim. Yes, Azgeda gave her a home, food and everything for which she might ask. But they never truly had her best interests in mind. Azgeda needed footsoldiers whose loyalty to Nia was unshakeable. They gained these soldiers through years of manipulation. Azgeda plucked endangered children off the streets and gave them a semblance of family. In return, their lives belonged to Nia. There was no forgiveness for disloyalty. No option to walk away. Her life was tied to Azgeda, and they would kill her without hesitation if they sensed she was a threat. 

Still, it took over a decade for her to realize she’d been victimized. Her therapist called it grooming. That it was a form of psychological conditioning and that she suffered from Stockholm Syndrome. Who’d have thought?

I mean, if you look closely at her past, it’s not so hard to see. 

If you failed your handler or the instructors, you were trounced. She spent countless nights bruised and beaten. Why? She hesitated or asked questions instead of following orders blindly. They pitted students against each other. If you defeated someone in the sparring ring, you were expected to make an example of them. Beat them until they were severely wounded or unconscious. 

By her tenth birthday, they added murder into the mix. Kill your fellow student or join them in death. Sneak into a woman’s home and murder her. Pretend to be a helpless child and kill the first person who offers you aid. It was brutal, and with each completed mission the girl lost more of her soul. 

But it wasn’t all bad. She also learned multiple languages and skills. Hacking. Lockpicking. Espionage. Soon, she was travelling across the continent to complete tasks, each time staying in a fancy hotel. With each successful mission, her incentive payments increased. It wasn’t just money. Anything she dreamed of having was within her grasp, as long as she served Azgeda faithfully. Her drive to excel in all things kept her from losing her nerve, so she was rarely punished. Instead, the school ranked her at the top of her class, opening her to another realm of training. 

By her fifteenth birthday, she was back on the streets, selling drugs and completing tasks for Azgeda. She lived in the same apartment building as Gregor, doing whatever missions he assigned her. Other kids her age feared her. And who could blame them? She was a badass. 

One day, a group of footballers cornered her and demanded she give them all her money and drugs. She sent them all packing with broken bones and bloodied faces. Two of them never played football again. 

Azgeda gave her that. Taught her to fend for herself. Gave her the courage to stand up to bullies and the skills to back up her claims. They filled her pockets with so much cash that she was earning six figures by seventeen. So, was it really so surprising that she served Azgeda blindly for fourteen years?

She didn’t wake from the Azgedan fever dream until she was twenty-one. 

It was a routine job, one she’d done hundreds of times before—pretend to be someone you’re not and infiltrate their ranks. The young assassin spent so much time pretending to be other people that she forgot who she truly was. She couldn’t even remember her real name. Lying was second nature. But, she supposed that was the point. 

There was nothing about this job that distinguished it from the hundreds before it. She climbed the ranks of the opposing gang and collected intel, reporting everything she saw or heard to Gregor. She spent years in deep cover and never once did the enemy suspect she was a mole. In fact, they trusted her with their lives. 

On her twenty-first birthday, a new directive was issued. Break into a home and destroy a hard drive. Simple as that. It should have been a simple task. But the mark had the files open on his computer when she arrived. A file with her name on it. Before she could stop herself, the assassin was reading through the drive. It was forbidden; she knew that. In fact, when the job was finished, she took an hour-long shower, trying and failing to scrub away her guilt. Still, she kept the files.

To this day, she couldn’t name what specifically got under her skin. The mark who collected the data was as corrupt as any other person on the streets. But the intel the mark gathered had a detailed recording of Azgeda’s comings and goings. Names. Dates. Shipping manifests. A detailed list of clients and how to get them hooked on drugs. Records of children Azgeda purchased as slaves—her name included.  

She read all of it. Every single file was a list of Azgeda’s crimes. They intentionally got parents hooked on drugs and then stole their children to create footsoldiers for Nia’s army. It was Azgeda’s fault her parents were addicts. They handed them the needle, so to speak, and offered to shoot them up. In her parents’ case, they used a miscarriage as a gateway. She didn’t know her mother had miscarried, only that before they started using, her parents were unbearably sad. 

It took her weeks to decide. She went through every document on the drive, reading them three times over. Poured over a list of hundreds of parents and children with stories similar to hers. Drank herself into a stupor each night. Then she woke up hungover and did it all again. 

The turning point came with a chance encounter. A child not so different from her. The boy was begging for food when a fellow Azgedan approached him. When the boy declined to take the job in exchange for money, the Azgedan struck the boy and held a gun to his head. She intervened on the boy’s behalf.

“Leave him alone!” She shouted, holding her own weapon to the man’s temple.

Tucking the weapon into his belt, the Azgedan glared at her. “More proof that Trikru is weak,” he grumbled before walking away. 

She almost told him the truth. Azgeda was her family, not Trikru. But she didn’t dare blow her cover, even if the man was one of her own. 

“Are you okay?” she asked the boy once the man had left. The child–who couldn’t be over six years old–had a bruised cheek, but overall seemed unharmed. However, the tears in the boy’s eyes struck her like a bullet to the chest. 

She walked the boy home, asking him about his family. His mother was alone, working two full-time jobs to make ends meet. This wasn’t the first time he’d been approached by an adult, asking him to deliver an item. But the boy was wise enough to know Azgeda meant trouble. 

“My sister worked for them,” he offered. “But she made a mistake.”

The mistake was in telling their mother about the money. Their mom confronted the Azgedan and demanded he leave her children alone. Two days later, the girl was shot in a drive-by. She was eight years old. 

That’s when the spy started gathering intel on Azgeda. 

Don’t misunderstand though. She never stopped serving Azgeda. Every command was followed to the letter, even when it began to wear on her conscience. But each job gave her more intel to collect. She made a database listing every man, woman and child she conducted business with. She even logged Gregor’s movements and the tasks he completed for Nia. 

Why? Because she had hope. It was a fool’s hope, but that didn’t matter. That hope flourished when Clarke Griffin entered her universe. 

She and Clarke shared a similar goal: to take down Azgeda. It was a monumental task, even with the intel the assassin had gathered. But with Clarke’s help, she knew they would succeed. Why? The blonde had the determination of a hundred men. She never gave up on anyone or anything. Plus, Clarke had a direct line to Heda. She just needed a little push. 

When Nigel reported Clarke was sticking her nose in Azgedan business, she didn’t hesitate to act. “Then give her what she wants,” she suggested, causing Nigel’s eyes to widen in astonishment. 

“I don’t even know how to do that,” Nigel shook her head. 

She smirked. “There’s a spy looking to peddle some intel about Azgeda.”

Nigel gasped. “And you haven’t told Azplana?!”

“Oh, she knows,” the assassin lied. “But we’ve been trying to lure them out. This thief of yours can help us with that.”

“And what about my thief? She’s proven herself useful to Azgeda.” Nigel wasn’t prepared to let her little thief go, not that the assassin could blame her. 

“If she valued her life, she wouldn’t be snooping in Azplana’s business dealings.” She scribbled down instructions. “The spy has intel. A drive. Offer to buy it in exchange for a pass out of Azgeda.”

“No one leaves Azgeda,” Nigel shook her head. “You, of all people, should know that.”

“I never said it was the truth.” She shrugged.

Of course, she was the spy, and the dead drop was all a spur-of-the-moment lie. But, as a test of both Nigel’s loyalty and Clarke’s ability to squirm out of a dangerous situation, the assassin passed over a copy of her intel. As expected, Nigel double-crossed Clarke. Nearly succeeded, too. But unbeknownst to Clarke, she had a guardian angel looking after her–the very spy who collected the data on Azgeda. 

The plan worked like a charm. Heda came to Arkadia to rescue her long-lost love and whisked her away to Polis. But as the assassin predicted, Clarke didn’t hand over the drive. She let Heda sift through it, of course, but the drive never left Clarke’s possession. Better yet, Clarke was now working with the spy to bring Nia down. 

She wasn’t a fool. They couldn’t meet face-to-face. Not yet. Clarke wasn’t ready for that. Instead, they held coded conversations through a dead-drop system. The spy would give Clarke leads to go on and then watch the blonde from afar as she worked. 

Speaking of Clarke…

“There you are,” she muttered, gazing at her target through her scope.

This was the first time Clarke had visited the tower. Heda preferred to keep her lover hidden from the other kingpins, which meant Clarke was here of her own accord. Of course, the spy expected the blonde to come. She had gained valuable information on her last gig and was too curious not to read through the intel. 

Watching the blonde disappear through the tower’s entrance, the spy adjusted her earpiece. She bugged Heda’s office years ago and Lexa was none the wiser. Sure enough, Clarke was there to tell Lexa what she had found. 

“We need to talk,” Clarke said, interrupting Heda’s meeting, which was no surprise. Clarke didn’t understand boundaries. 

“Leave us,” Lexa commanded and sounds of shuffling feet filled the spy’s earpiece. After a brief pause, Lexa expelled a heavy sigh. “Klark, you can’t just—”

“I found something. It’s big and there’s no one else I trust with this,” The desperation in Clarke’s voice was plain, which meant it would only be a matter of time before the spy was summoned. 

Listening to their conversation, she dismantled her sniper rifle and tucked it away under a set of pipes, swapping it for the duffle bag she’d stored there. False smiles and a few polite exchanges later, she was in the restroom. Rummaging through the bag, the spy found an appropriate set of clothes to change into. Tucking her hair into a ponytail, she withdrew her earpiece and switched it off.

“Phone call in three … two … one …” she muttered, smiling when her cellphone lit up. “Yes, Heda?”

“I need you to come to the tower,” Lexa’s voice was stern, leaving no room for arguments. “Klark has something important to share.”

She smirked. Heda was too predictable. “I’m coming around the corner as we speak.” 

“Good. And, uh… just tread lightly when you see her.” Heda offered, her nerves apparent in her tone.

“Don’t worry, Lex. I’ll keep it professional.” she replied before hanging up the phone. A bright smile crossed her lips. This was all going according to plan.

Chapter Text

Clarke POV

One of the key lessons of Clarke's line of work is recognizing that everything is too good to be true. Clients always offer assurances as to how simple the job is. They nearly always think you'll accept a sudden price drop when you show up with the goods. Or the client pulls a gun on you after the deal is done, then demands their money back. But that's kinda the point, isn't it? They were, after all, criminals so tomfoolery is to be expected. You've gotta have balls of steel to do business in the world's underbelly, otherwise you'll be in the fetal position, begging for mercy. 

And then there are the times when the job goes to absolute shit before your eyes…

"Sniper! Get down!" Lincoln shouted as he and Illian rushed towards Clarke, who was gaping at the scene before her. 

She didn't know her client well. Only that Ontari Winters had as frigid a personality as her name. Ontari seemed mildly impressed when Clarke brought her the intel from the tech company. But other than that, Ontari struck Clarke as incredibly bored with life. Ontari reeked of someone who enjoys plucking butterfly wings, hurting puppies, or stealing candy from some poor kid. So it was kinda fitting that she took a bullet between her eyes just as Clarke was leaving. 

Not that Clarke was glad to see a client murdered. Ontari wasn't evil. Okay, maybe she was. Clarke was unsure. But… if anyone deserved it… No, she's not supposed to think like that. She needs to…

"Shit! The drive!" She exclaimed, crawling back toward the fallen data–much to Lincoln and Illian's displeasure. 

It seemed silly, given that Clarke just handed it over to Ontari. But whatever was on that drive was worth a bullet in a fixer's head. That could only mean there was data on there that was worth something to someone. Maybe she'd sell it to another buyer…

"No, no, no! Clarke, this way!" Lincoln cried out as he waved in the opposite direction of the drive. But Clarke would not be deterred.

She reached Ontari's lifeless body and rummaged through her pockets, immediately finding the drive. Clarke stuffed the jump drive in her jacket pocket and let out a deep breath. Now she had to make it across a minefield of bullets, then back to the car. No big deal. Right?

Okay, big deal. Now the gunman was firing at Clarke.

"You brought them here! Didn't you?" A giant of a man shouted, waving his finger at Clarke as she ducked behind cover. If the flimsy patio furniture even qualified as such. 

"Are you fucking kidding me, right now?! We're on the same side here!" she shouted back, before opening fire in the direction of the sniper. They were all pinned down. Clarke was currently hiding behind a plastic chaise lounge, which did nothing to shield her from the bullets. 

To think that it started as such a beautiful day. The sun was shining bright. The soft ocean breeze cooled her skin. Rays gleamed off the water of the pool a few feet away, causing a shimmer throughout the area. She was, admittedly, stunned to meet Ontari in a bikini, lying next to a swimming pool. But Clarke's clients have always been a bit… extra. Still, it was a gorgeous day and just before Ontari got her head blown off, Clarke considered a long dip in the pool at home. 

But then, of course, everything went to shit. One by one, the sniper was cutting them down. It was only a matter of time before—

"I'll tell Azplana—" The hulking man let out a gasp, then crumpled to the ground in a bloody lump. 

"Clarke! We have to get the hell outta here!" Lincoln pleaded and Clarke bobbed her head once, then crawled toward her two guards. 

At first it seemed she was making good progress. All the men around Clarke fell, but the bullets maintained a safe distance from the blonde. She even considered the sniper might not be here for her—until the bullets riddled the hulking man and adjacent table Clarke used for cover. She glanced at the duffle bag on the ground, praying the money was still intact. She'd dropped it when the firing began. 

Clarke wasn't leaving the money behind. They earned every penny. Clarke was careful to keep the edges of the sniper's sights as she hurried back to the payout for the job. Was it bad manners to collect money owed to you when the original owner of said money is dead? Was there even etiquette for this type of shit? 

"You're fucking insane, you know that?" Illian was freaking out as he returned fire on the gunman, not that Clarke could blame him. She should be dead. But she had a guardian angel watching over her. 

"We do the job, we get paid," she muttered under her breath, reaching for the duffle bag filled with cash. She wasn't going back to the warehouse empty-handed. "Cover me!"

Link and Illian opened fire, granting Clarke the space to run back to their position behind a wall. 

"Tell me this isn't how your jobs go every time. Cuz you said this was the easy part." Link shot her a smirk and Clarke shrugged.

"That was easy, compared to having my apartment bombed like last time."

"Aden warned me you were crazy," Illian shook his head. "And I thought he was kidding."

"We've gotta find this shooter before he gets away." Clarke offered as she peeked her head around the corner. She was desperate to know why they killed Ontari and her guards. But more importantly, Clarke needed to ensure Azgeda didn't blame her for this. 

Unfortunately, Illian had his fill of gunfire. "Are you fucking kidding me?! We have to run!" 

"She's right," Link blissfully intervened. "If we run, Azgeda will look at us as the culprits. We end this now."

Raven and Octavia always claimed that Clarke was an adrenaline junkie. And maybe they were right. Who else runs toward a sniper who just murdered twenty people? 

Yep. She was insane. Mildly . Okay, maybe a smidge past mildly.

Lexa will freak the fuck out when Lincoln tells her what happened. Which meant Clarke was going to be on the receiving end of a lecture when she got home. Still, Clarke had to clear her name. So here they were, creeping up the stairs of an office building, looking for trouble. 

Clarke heard the gunman before she saw him. He was shuffling around, either preparing to leave or waiting for one of them to pop their heads out so he could shoot them. Thankfully, Lincoln was wise enough to suggest they split up when they reached the gunman's floor so they could flank him. 

Link was the first to attack, rushing the man and tackling him to the ground. Illian swooped in next, landing a swift kick to the abdomen before aiming his weapon at the shooter. It was all over so quickly, that Clarke's tummy twisted in knots. Too easy. Which meant shit was about to go sideways. 

"Who are you?" She demanded, only for the man to grin as if he was having the best day of his life. 

"Carl Emerson, Mount Weather Security."

"Who the hell is Mount Weather?" Link narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"No idea," Clarke turned her gaze to Carl and tilted one eyebrow up in a sharp line. "Care to explain why you murdered Ontari?" 

Emerson's face turned stony, almost inanimate. "Carl Emerson, Mount Weather Security."

They asked Carl twenty more questions, all of which he answered with his name and Mount Weather Security. Whoever Mount Weather was, he was loyal to them and he wasn't talking anytime soon.

"Now what?" Illian sighed. "Want me to rough him up a little?"

"Not here. The police will be here soon." She shook her head.

"So… we're leaving him behind?" Illian tilted his head and Clarke expelled a heavy sigh. 

"No, we can risk it. But–" her words halted as Link punched the man so hard he passed out.

"We do this by the book. Bring him to Paxton." Lincoln offered as he swung the limp man over his muscular shoulder, then nodded for Clarke to lead the way. The only blessing they had so far was that the police had yet to show up. Link stuffed the shooter in the trunk of the car, then opened the passenger door for Clarke. 

Now that the chaos had ended, Clarke's mind turned to the flash drive. What was on it? Why kill Ontari for it? Was the shooter even there for the drive? Or was it just a coincidence? Who the hell was Mount Weather? What did they want?

She knew it was bad manners to look through the drive. Rule number one of thieving: don't ask questions. You steal the shit and get the fuck out. Don't ask who the item is for or what's on a hard drive. Just steal the goods and wipe your mind clean like a dry erase board. But for some reason, Clarke couldn't follow her own rules. 

"Hey, it's me," She said as soon as Raven picked up the phone. "Are you down for some decryption?"

"Bring it on, Griff! I'm at the warehouse." Rae answered, her tone laced with excitement over a new project. 

"No one else can know about this, Rae." Clarke clarified.

"Don't worry, boss. My lips are sealed and I'm alone."

"Good. See ya in fifteen minutes." Clarke replied, then ended the call and glanced at Link. "Drop me at the warehouse."

"Will do, Princess."

She needed sleep and food desperately, yet Clarke's mind was spinning a hundred miles a minute. What was on the drive? Why kill Ontari for it? Was that even the catalyst for the attack? Or was it just Ontari's time? The answer wasn't what Clarke expected. 

With Raven–who was sworn to secrecy–by her side, Clarke poured through every file. Each new window opened caused the rabbit hole to go deeper. The data was taken from a man called Dante Wallace, who was running surveillance on every major player in the Coalition. Obviously, Lexa and her brother made the cut, though they weren't the main focus of the reconnaissance teams collecting intel. No, it seemed their main target was none other than Nia Eis and her lieutenants, including Ontari. 

Digging deeper, Clarke and Rae uncovered even more intelligence than they expected. Wallace owned a pharma company, Mount Weather. This is where the details got a bit fuzzy, forcing Raven to dig into the encrypted files. Mount Weather seemed to be working on a new drug. Their aim was to test this new drug, dubbed Red, on people living in Polis. Only this wasn't a prescription medicine. It was a narcotic. 

"Mount Weather has been working in the shadows until now. Their plan is to seize Coalition territory by force, starting with Azgeda." Raven rolled her eyes. "They call it Project Chimera, which is a stupid fucking name. According to this, Red will be flowing through the streets by the end of the week."

"That's insanity. Azgeda won't allow a new cartel to cut in on their profits." Clarke shook her head. Nia would make sure anyone who peddled Red was dead or running for the hills. But Mount Weather doesn't seem bothered by threats of violence.

"I'm guessing that's why they hired these guys," Rae pointed to her screen, with a list of dossiers of ex-military types who made up Mount Weather's security detail. "Look at this one. Carl Emerson, ex-marine. Dishonorable discharge, but the reason is redacted."

Clarke barely contained her gasp. It was the shooter. But she couldn't tell Rae about the attack. Not yet. Nevermind that Lincoln and Illian had taken Carl to an undisclosed location to question him. They were probably torturing him. Or some guy called Paxton was. Clarke was definitely not sharing that part with Raven.

"This one, too… served time for drugs… and this one… treason. These guys are all dirty in one form or another." Raven continued, her fingers gliding across the keyboard with a practiced ease. 

"Which makes them perfect for a company looking to enter the cartel business," Clarke sighed as she glanced at her watch. 

It was early, eight 'o clock in the morning, which meant Lexa would be at the tower. Clarke's mind teetered, trying to decide if it was best to go to the tower now, or save the bad news for when Lexa got home. She really needed sleep. And food. But Clarke didn't think she could rest until they had a solution in place. Lexa had to know about this as soon as possible. With Emerson being questioned, it was only a matter of time before Lexa found out about the attack. Nevermind that they were–or Mount Weather was–on a timeline that ended in five days. Finally, Clarke decided to head to the tower–which she was strictly told not to visit. 

"I'll be back. There's someone that needs to see this." she offered as she snatched the drive out of Raven's computer, gaining a skeptical glare from her friend.

"I thought this was top secret."

"It is, which is why you're not mentioning this to anyone." Clarke shot her a stern glance. 

Rae threw her hands up and waved them around. "Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you tell whoever you're seeing that I'm the badass who hacked that shit."

∞

From the ground floor, the twin towers appeared to touch the clouds. It was, after all, the tallest building on the west coast, boasting seventy-five floors. Never one to be outdone, Lexa's office sat on the top floor of the right spire. From Lexa's desk, Clarke could see the entire city. If she wasn't so wrapped up in her current crisis, Clarke might enjoy the view. 

This was the first time Clarke set foot in the tower and it was, overall, quite impressive. The tower was made up of two skyscrapers that joined at the lower floors, then extended into two spires at the halfway point. Each of the twin towers was filled with office spaces, eateries and a set of luxurious apartments for Lexa's guests to reside in on the top seven floors of the left tower. 

Lexa also had an apartment in the tower, which she used regularly prior to Clarke moving to Polis. According to Costia, Lexa's assistant, Heda rarely left the tower in recent years. But that changed when Clarke returned to Polis. Now, Heda took the weekends and nights off, which came as an enormous relief to Costia who was on call 24-7 right up to Clarke's arrival in town. 

"I'm not complaining, of course," Costia offered as she grabbed a tray and moved it along the assembly line. "I love my job. But it's gotten tremendously simpler since you moved into the mansion. No late night calls or last minute requests. I actually have a life now and it's heavenly!"

"Well, I'm glad I could help," Clarke replied, her eyes perusing the food options as they made their way down the lunch line. 

Lexa always knew precisely what Clarke needed and when. She knew Clarke's tendency to forget to eat or drink when her mind was stuck on a job. So, of course, Lexa sent Costia with Clarke to gather food for everyone. Who was everyone? Well, Clarke wasn't sure of that part yet. She only knew that Lexa trusted Costia to select the right meal for each person and Costia appeared built for the task. She rattled off several orders at the register and gathered drinks from a nearby cooler. 

"And a mango smoothie for Clarke," Costia added, gaining a surprised smile from the blonde. 

"How did you know I wanted that?" Clarke tilted her head to one side and Costia laughed. 

"It's my job to anticipate yours and Heda's needs." she grinned, her dark brown eyes glimmering in the ambient lighting of Lexa's office. 

Costia was, admittedly, a gorgeous woman. She had bronzed skin, with deep brown curls and eyes that matched her hair. She had a bubbly demeanor. Costia's smile was infectious, which was relatively annoying, given the current situation. Seriously, their world was about to crash down around them and Costia is smiling like it's fucking Christmas morning. 

The man at the register handed Clarke her smoothie, and passed Costia an enormous box filled with prepped meals, then bid the two women a good day. Of course, Clarke offered to carry the box or at least share the load. But Costia refused any help.

"No, no. It's my job to carry meals. You just enjoy that smoothie! A little blood sugar boost will do you good!"

In hindsight, it was best that Costia was carrying everyone's food. Because if Clarke had the box, it would be sent airborne the moment she spotted two traitorous bitches in Lexa's office. 

"What the hell are they doing here?" Clarke demanded, glaring at Anya and Val who sat casually on the couch in Lexa's office. Aden was there, too, leaning on the wall with a mischievous grin. 

"I asked them to come, Klark." Lexa replied, folding her hands behind her back. "You trusted me with what you found. Now I'm asking you to trust me in return."

"This doesn't concern them!"

"On the contrary, it concerns everyone in the Coalition." Lex retorted. "Anya and Val are my most loyal and skilled assassins. We will need their help if we hope to deal with this matter quietly."

"What matter are we discussing, Heda?" Val asked, careful to avoid meeting Clarke's gaze, which was smart of her. If Clarke had her way, both Val and Anya would be set ablaze with one glare. Unfortunately, Clarke had yet to prove she had the gift of pyrokinesis, so it wasn't working. 

"Klark, if you would show them what you showed me," Lexa sent a pleading glance at her lover, silently begging Clarke to handle this professionally. 

Clarke nearly stomped outside. She almost grabbed the flash drive and ran away. But Clarke had nowhere else to go with this information. Lexa was right. This needed to be handled delicately. While Clarke would rather Lex choose anyone other than Val and Anya, she needed the best. Clarke would never give them that title, given their rocky past. But Lexa had. That meant it had to be true, no matter how much Clarke hated it. 

"Go on, Princess," Aden interjected. "Show us what you found."

Clarke expelled a heavy sigh before striding up to Lexa's computer and inserting the drive. Everything on Lexa's screen was projected onto the wall, so the others could see it clearly. "My team was tasked with downloading intel from an office space in Silicon Valley. The company, Mount Weather, seems to be a front for a criminal organization, not unlike the Coalition."

Clarke pulled up a set of slides, showing the many properties owned by Mount Weather. Then settled on a photo of its owner, Dante Wallace.

"This is the man in charge … who we stole the intel from, Dante Wallace. According to the information on his computer, Mount Weather is entering the cartel business, with a newly formulated drug called Red. Based on their test runs, this drug puts heroin to shame in terms of addiction rates. Apparently, one dose is all it takes."

Clarke swallowed the lump in her throat. Her mother would be first in line for a dose, if Clarke knew Abby at all. The very thought of it made her shiver. This drug was not only addictive, it was lethal to quit. In the trial runs overseen by Mount Weather the data showed that none of the test subjects were able to detox. Nearly all who tried to quit the drug died. Those that survived, only did so because they were given another dose.

"So there's a new cartel in town. Fantastic," Anya sighed, then glanced hesitantly at Clarke. "Do we know where they plan to start selling this junk?"

"Here," Clarke pointed to the timelapsed map on the screen, showing shipment and growth plans. 

"That's Azgeda Territory," Val noted, her brown eyes wide with surprise. "Does Mount Weather think they can take on the cartel?"

"Yes. They even wrote a business plan on how to do it," Clarke moved to the next screen and Aden chuckled.

"These people really made a Power Point for selling drugs," he shook his head in disbelief. "Fucking amateurs."

Mount Weather's plan was simple. Flood the black market with Red and wait for the dough to come rolling in. In the meantime, Mount Weather's footsoldiers, all of whom have military backgrounds, would bring war to Azgeda. The intel had kill lists and watch lists. Lexa's name was on the watch list, as was Aden's and the other kingpins. But the kill list included every high ranking member of Azgeda–Nia included.

"We have to warn Azplana," Anya offered as a photo of Nia appeared on the screen and Clarke shot her a deadly glare.

"Are you fucking serious? This is our chance to end the bitch!"

"Anya's right, Klark." Lexa interjected. "Azgeda is a part of the Coalition. An attack on one of the gangs is an attack on us all."

"I came here to end that bitch!" Clarke snapped.

"And you will, Clarke. I have faith in that," Val added. "But you have to do this the right way. For now, Azplana will see you as her savior, which is good for your agenda."

A string of curses escaped Clarke's lips. This was not the response she'd hoped to hear. Nia was evil. She deserves death. Yet Lexa, Anya and Val sought to protect her.

"Val's right, Clarke. If you want an excuse to warm up to Nia, this is it," Aden offered, gaining a stern glare from his sister in return.

"Klark is not warming up to Nia." Lexa replied through a clenched jaw, then her expression softened as her gaze turned to Clarke. "But they're both right. This will distract her from any rumors of you working with the spy."

"What's Mount Weather's plan after they seize Azgeda territory?" Anya asked, blissfully changing the subject and Clarke sighed.

"Taking down the Coalition, one gang at a time."

Mount Weather's presentation even suggested they work with law enforcement to bring the other kingpins down. They were still trying to assess who in the police department was on Heda's payroll. It was a tough egg to crack. Since forming the Coalition, crime as a whole has dropped in Polis. Many police saw that as a good thing, making it difficult for Mount Weather to gain supporters in the police department. But they were working fast to identify law enforcement officers who stood against Heda and her Coalition. 

Mount Weather also had reconnaissance teams tracking movements of the Coalition leaders. Worse, they had a photo of Clarke and Lexa together at Heda's mansion. 

"I want those teams located and terminated," Lexa demanded, her gaze locked on Anya and Val.

Both women bobbed their heads in understanding. "Yes, Heda."

"I will speak to Azplana personally and apprise her of this matter," Lexa glanced at Clarke. "I assume you have more information on these Mountain Men?"

"Link and Illian are interrogating one of them now. Or some guy named Paxton is."

"Paxton McCreary?" Ahn's lips curled into a devilish grin. "Damn, Griff! You're even ballsier than I thought."

"Don't, Ahn," Clarke glared at her former best friend. "We're not besties anymore. You don't get to use nicknames."

Anya sighed, her copper eyes pleading with Clarke to let go of her anger. "I know you don't want to hear this, but I've only ever had your best interest at heart."

"Bullshit! I was a job to you. A shitty one that you hated, according to your own words. You pretended to be my friend so you could spy on me!" Clarke shifted her glare to Val. "And don't get me started on you!"

Val shrugged. "We were two consenting adults, Clarke."

"I was taken!"

"Oh, yeah? Because you sure as hell didn't mention Heda while I was going down–"

"Finish that sentence and I will cut out your tongue," Lexa snapped, her eyes blazing with barely contained rage.

Anya's expression softened. "You were a job at first. But that all changed once I got to know you. I wasn't pretending to be your friend, Clarke. You're the best friend I've ever had and I don't want to lose you. I can't."

Clarke clenched her jaw. "Then you shouldn't have lied to me." 

Lexa called after her as she spun on her heel and stormed out of the office. So did Anya and Val. But Clarke didn't turn around or even glance over her shoulder. She was so fucking done with everyone right now.

"Clarke, wait!" Anya called after her just as the blonde reached the elevator. 

Clarke rolled her eyes and hit the button to shut the doors, but Anya was too fast. She threw an arm between the sliding doors just in time to stop them from closing. Clarke crossed her arms in front of her chest, a string of whispered curses leaving her lips. She was not in the mood for this conversation. 

"Leave me alone, Anya," Clarke sternly replied, but Ahn ignored her. 

"Please, just let me get this out." Anya pleaded, drawing an exasperated sigh from Clarke. 

"Not like I have any choice," she grumbled. They had seventy-five floors to go before Clarke was free to leave. 

"Look, I get it. I lied to you and in the process I hurt you. But that was never my intention." Anya shook her head. "I've been doing this since I was a kid. I've spent my entire life following orders, because the alternative was a bullet in the head. So yeah, when Heda told me to get close to you… to watch over you, I did it without question."

"You could've told me the truth a thousand times, but you didn't."

"Because Lexa made me swear not to tell you why I was there!" Anya expelled a sigh. "And let's face it, if at any time I told you the truth, you would have run for the hills, making it impossible for me to protect you."

"Not if you told me the truth from the beginning!"

"True. But that wasn't an option, Clarke. I was following orders and at the time I didn't know you. I couldn't have known how important you'd be to me." Anya stared at the elevator wall in silence for a moment, presumably trying to find the correct words. "I wish I could go back and tell you the truth. To change things. But I can't."

"And I can't trust you."

Anya sighed. "I'm sorry, Clarke."

"Yeah, me too. You meant everything to me. But it was all a lie."

"Not all of it. Me caring for you was always the truth." Anya's copper eyes flitted across Clarke's face, no doubt searching for any sign that the blonde might forgive her. 

The fucked up part is that Clarke wanted her best friend back. She needed that friend desperately right now. But she couldn't trust that Anya wouldn't lie to her again. 

"I wish I could make this right," Anya offered in barely a whisper. "I will do anything to prove to you that you matter to me and always have."

"You broke my heart once, Ahn. I don't think I can open it again."

"We both grew up in a fucked up world, Clarke. But you were the lucky one. You had parents that shielded you from the kinda life I had growing up. My parents threw me away like trash. I only survived because I'm good at following orders. It was literally beaten into my head that disloyalty to my people would be my death. I know you loved Alexander like a second father, but he was unforgiving with his footsoldiers."

Clarke shut her eyes. She knew what Anya was saying was the truth. Watched what happened to those who crossed the Woods family. Ahn was right, there was no forgiveness for disloyalty. If you betrayed Trikru, you'd likely wind up dead or at least wishing you were. Clarke was spared from that because the Griffins were considered part of the family. Likewise, it never crossed Clarke's mind to betray the Woods. It was unthinkable. 

"I wanted to tell you the truth. There were so many times that I nearly did. My heart was torn in two. Trikru is my family, my people. But so are you. Only you won't put a bullet in my head if I lie to you, Trikru will."

"That's not—" Clarke stopped and sighed. She nearly said it wasn't true. But she knew better. If Anya disobeyed orders, Alexander would make her pay. The question is, would Lexa?

"You're asking yourself if Lex would shoot me, aren't you?" Anya smirked. "I think you know the answer."

"Shut up, Ahn," Clarke rolled her eyes, despite knowing the truth. 

Lexa wouldn't hesitate to kill someone who betrayed her. She'd be forced to murder her best friend if they were disloyal. Maybe even Aden and Clarke. Clarke didn't want to believe it, but she knew how things worked in the Coalition. If Heda showed the slightest sign of weakness, they would rise up and kill her. Lexa said it herself a few weeks ago. That's why she was so desperate to keep her relationship with Clarke a secret. 

"I can't forgive you. Not yet." Clarke shook her head.

Anya's eyes sparkled with hope. "But maybe someday?"

"I need time."

"Then I'll give it to you, as long as it takes," Anya replied, just as the elevator doors slid open. 

Clarke bobbed her head once, then stepped out of the elevator. She didn't know if she could ever trust Anya again. But she understood now why Anya lied. It didn't make the truth hurt any less, though. 

She needed to think… preferably on a full stomach. Clarke nearly went back upstairs to collect her lunch. Costia had ordered the perfect meal for her and Clarke's tummy was yelling at her for leaving it behind. But that meant facing Val, with whom she was even angrier. Nope. She'd go home and eat whatever the cooks made for her. Then she'd pass out for a few hours as she waited to hear from Lincoln and Illian.

Chapter Text

Lexa POV

"No, no, no! Please don't!" Emerson let out an agonized wail that reverberated off the walls, not that Lexa could blame him. 

Paxton McCreary was a sadist. He enjoyed inflicting pain and learning new methods that would make even the bravest man talk. Paxton was so obsessed with inflicting pain that he painted the walls of his dungeon blood red. While Lexa wasn't overly fond of watching Paxton work, his methods were… effective. Lexa had witnessed her share of gore through the years. More than, actually. Still, it took grit not to vomit as she watched him in action. Lexa was ever grateful to her father for teaching her how to maintain a blank expression—which she somehow kept up throughout the interrogation. 

Nia, however, appeared over the moon as they witnessed the extraction of information. "Who did you say came forward with this information?" Azplana asked, her eyes never leaving Emerson's bloodied body.

This is what Lexa feared from the start. It would take everything in Lexa's power to keep Clarke out of this mess. Unfortunately, her actions brought Clarke and her team center stage. While Lexa was grateful that Clarke found this information about Mount Weather, she feared what it might mean for her lover. But she couldn't let Nia think for a second that Lexa was attached to Clarke. So Lexa maintained an apathetic tone and expression, hoping it might throw Nia off her trail. 

"A thief, hired by Ontari Winters. They're the one who brought us Emerson."

Nia's ice-blue eyes narrowed as she did the math. "So your thief was there when Ontari was killed."

Lexa fought the urge to gulp as she answered. "Yes."

"And then the thief came to you?" Nia was sniffing out any falsehoods, a gift for which she was well known. Lexa would need to stick to as much truth as she could, especially with a gaggle of Azgeda spies watching every one of Heda's movements. 

"After dropping this Mountain Man at Paxton's, yes." Lexa used every ounce of resolve to maintain a blank face. While she wanted Nia to believe Clarke was on her side, she wouldn't allow the two to meet. It was too dangerous for Clarke, especially given the blonde's need for revenge.

Nia's expression turned pensive. "Hmm, most thieves are only interested in money."

"This information wasn't given freely," Lexa lied—well, it was more like a fib. "I imagine they came to me because they knew I could afford to pay them."

"Ah, yes. That makes sense," Nia appeared impressed. "Have you paid McCreary for his services?"

"Not yet. He was told to bill me."

"I shall cover the expense instead, Heda." Nia offered, much to Lexa's astonishment. "And I'd like to pay this thief for their trouble as well."

"That won't be necessary." Lexa could not allow Nia and Clarke to meet. It would be a difficult task, no doubt. But Lexa would do everything in her power to prevent it. 

"Oh? Why not?" Nia's right eyebrow raised into a sharp line, her suspicion apparent on her face.

Lexa folded her hands behind her back. "The thief has been paid twice for the drive. By myself and Ontari. I made the argument that it more than made up for their trouble."

In truth, she fought Clarke tooth and nail to prevent her lover from coming to this meeting. Clarke jumped at the opportunity, of course, either unaware of the dangers Nia posed or uncaring. Lexa thought it was the latter. Clarke was so consumed by the need to murder Nia that she wasn't thinking clearly. Which is why Lexa sent Aden to keep an eye on her lover. Hopefully, he'd be able to keep Clarke as far away from this meeting as possible. But Lexa knew better than to count on it. Which is why Anya and Val were perched in adjacent skyscrapers, searching for any sign of Clarke.

Unfortunately, Nia was staunch on the matter. She would do anything to meet the one responsible for discovering Mount Weather's existence. Not that Lexa could blame her. 

Nia sighed in disappointment. "Very well. But at least allow me to extend further business to this thief of yours. Forward their information to my assistant. We have plenty of jobs for a reliable thief."

Once again, Lexa was forced to school her expression. "Gladly. I plan to employ them for future opportunities as well."

Nia chuckled. "This thief is smarter than most. They turned a shitty situation into a profitable one. Now they have two kingpins willing to offer them more work."

"Agreed." Lexa bobbed her head once, then shifted her gaze to Paxton as he approached. "Well?"

Paxton pulled a towel from his shoulder and wiped his bloodied hands as he answered. "It all aligns with the intel on the drive. Mount Weather wants a war with Azgeda, and they're prepared to fight."

"What does he know about this… Red?" Nia asked, clenching her jaw in preparation for an answer she didn't want to hear. 

Paxton nodded at Emerson, who was passed out at this point. "He says it turns people into mindless animals. They'll do anything to get more of the drug. Kill a friend, eat somebody… and you can't quit the shit without biting the big one. It's gonna be a nightmare on the streets."

That was the terrifying part of this ordeal. Mount Weather didn't care if people died. They only cared about profits. While it was smart to create a drug so addictive that quitting was lethal, it also posed a world of negative outcomes. The police would blame Heda when children began to die. Nevermind the inevitable war that would rage between Azgeda and the Mountain Men, making the streets unsafe. Lexa had to stop this before it began.

"Which is why we must stop production and trafficking right away," Lexa sighed. "Please tell me he's given us a lead on where to start."

"He did, indeed," Paxton shot her a proud smile. "There's a facility just outside of Polis. Some kind of bunker from the sounds of it. He says his boss is some kind of doomsday nut. My new best friend, Carl, claims it's impenetrable. Everything is locked down tight. Keycards open most doors, but some require a fingerprint or face recognition."

"Sounds like we need a thief." Nia smirked as she glanced at Lexa. "Think yours is up to the task?"

It took everything she had not to give away her swirling emotions. Lexa didn't want Clarke within a hundred miles of this mess. Already, her life was endangered by simply handing over the drive to Ontari. Lexa could only imagine how dangerous things would be at the actual facility where Red was made. But if she said Clarke couldn't do it or demanded they keep her out of this, it might make Nia and the others suspicious.

"I will speak with them once we're finished here." Lexa replied and Paxton grinned.

"I've got a few more hours in me tonight. A day, if I can score some blow."

Lexa fought an eye-roll, while Nia snapped her fingers at one of her burly escorts. "Gregor. Give Mr. McCreary the boost he needs. I want to know everything this Mountain Man can tell us."

Gregor stepped forward with an envelope in his hand, smirking at Paxton as he handed it over. "Careful, my friend. It's not cut."

Paxton chuckled. "Don't worry, bub. I'm a professional."

As they watched Paxton snort an ungodly amount of cocaine, Lexa's thoughts drifted to Clarke. How was she going to keep her out of this? Lexa knew Clarke wouldn't let it go. Her lover would be practically chomping at the bit, begging Lexa to let her infiltrate Mount Weather. Hell, Clarke was likely pouring over blueprints with her friends at this very moment. 

The more she thought about it, the less comfortable Lexa felt. She couldn't talk Clarke out of it. If Lexa forbade her to intervene, Clarke would be ten times more likely to stick her nose where it didn't belong. Her best bet was to allow Clarke to work with the Coalition to bring Mount Weather down, though the very thought of it made Lexa ill. Clarke would need more guards, of course. Ones who Lexa trusted with her life. Anya was the obvious choice, though she and Clarke were on rocky ground. Assigning Anya might make Clarke furious or reckless out of spite. 

"Well, hot damn!" Paxton shouted as he wiped his nose. "That's what I'm talkin' about! Woo!"

Lexa rolled her eyes slightly. "I take it you have what you need to continue?"

"Damn right, I do!" Paxton's face reflected the euphoric high he was on. "I'll stay up until the job's done, Heda. You have my word."

"Excellent. Call me the moment you've collected all pertinent information." She replied, then turned to Nia. "I will let you know the thief's response."

"Thank you, Heda. Have a good night's rest," Nia's smile was an icy one, which was standard for the awful woman. No doubt she would stay until Paxton was finished extracting intel. 

Lexa bid everyone a good night, then left Paxton's dungeon of horrors. She'd need a scalding shower to wipe away the filth and stress of today. While she genuinely hoped Clarke might be home, Lexa doubted it. The look in Clarke's eyes when everyone favored alerting Nia said it all. Clarke felt betrayed. Lexa could only pray her lover's mood had calmed by now. Maybe with some rest and food, Clarke would understand why Lexa had to stop this war between Azgeda and Mount Weather. But it was unlikely. 

Mount Weather's plan was brilliant, in truth. If they incited a gang war, the police would be forced to intervene. Unaware of Mount Weather's existence, law enforcement would believe Heda had lost control of the gangs. They'd have no option but to crack down on crime, making everyone's life more difficult. Meanwhile, Mount Weather's profits would be booming in the wake of Red's release on the streets. They just needed to wait until either the gangs wiped each other out or the police did it for them.

Lexa pulled out her phone as she entered the car awaiting her by the curb. "It's me. Follow us to the mansion and then sweep the grounds for any spies."

"Yes, Heda," Anya replied without hesitation, just as Lexa expected. 

Anya was her most faithful assassin. They met when Lexa was a teenager and became fast friends. Lexa trusted Ahn with her life and Clarke's despite the current rift between them. Lexa would like to say the same for Val, but things had changed since Arkadia. After Clarke and Anya entered the elevator, Lexa put Val on the spot, demanding to know why she was so combative.

"You're angry with me," Lexa noted as they watched the elevator doors close with Anya and Clarke aboard. 

"Damn right, I am!" Val shook her head, her jaw locked in place. 

Val admitted it was out of jealousy. Apparently, Val genuinely believed she and Clarke had something. In Val's mind, if not for Lexa, she and Clarke would be living happily ever after.

"Ten years, Lexa! You ignored her for ten years! I didn't mean for it to happen… to fall in love. But I did. Because Clarke's special. There's no else like her in the world and I thought maybe I could be important to her too. We were heading there, slowly. Then all of a sudden you swoop in like some fucking white knight and Clarke forgives you," Val ran her fingers through her thick brown hair and sighed. "Why'd you have to come back? Clarke and I could've been happy if not for you."

Lexa wanted to be furious. To claim that Val had no right to be jealous. But if the tables were turned, she'd probably feel the same as Val. Lexa never told Val that Clarke was hers, though in hindsight she should have. She only said that Clarke was to be protected at all times, treated like a VIP. It was possible that Anya might have shared their history, but with Lexa out of the picture for so long, perhaps Val might have stood a chance. 

Lexa sighed. "It was never my intention to… get in the way of Clarke's happiness. Or yours. But–" 'If you don't get over my girlfriend soon, I'm kicking your ass,' she nearly said, but Val cut her off. 

"She's happy with you, I know she is," Val grumbled. "It just… I got my heart broken, okay? It's nothing personal."

"I understand," Lexa bobbed her head once. "And I'll give you time to adjust. But I need to know if you and I are going to have a problem."

"Only if you break her heart," Val was careful to meet Lexa's gaze. "I'm loyal to Trikru, Lexa. To you. I'd die to protect you. But if you hurt Clarke, after everything she's been through–"

"If that happens, I'll release you from your duties. No longer will you be bound to serve me or Trikru," Lexa replied, gaining a slight smile from Val in return. 

"Then we have a deal. Her happiness is all that matters to me. In the meantime, I'll serve you faithfully. Just… don't ask me to be all cheery every time you two make googly eyes at each other." Val rolled her eyes.

"That's fair."

Knowing it would be a slap in Val's face to ask her to watch over the mansion and possibly witness something that might agitate her, Lexa gave the assassin a different task. Instead, Val was assigned to watch Nia and ensure Mount Weather didn't assassinate her. Val seemed pleased with her assigned duties, so Lexa sent Nia a text letting her know she'd be followed but that her assassin would remain unseen until a threat arose. Nia seemed glad for the extra protection, despite having a few dozen Azgeda guards.

With that matter dealt with, Lexa's focus returned to Clarke. Would she be home? Or at the warehouse? Was Clarke still fuming about Nia and her conversation with Anya? Or had she cooled down? Lexa prayed it was the latter, because she could use a few hours of domesticity with her girl tonight. Maybe they could watch TV. Something silly and non-violent. 

As the car pulled in the driveway, Lexa smiled seeing Clarke's motorcycle was present. That meant she was home, or Lexa hoped it meant so. Aden's car was gone, meaning he trusted Clarke not to do anything reckless. Lexa sent him a text, hoping to gauge Clarke's mood before she stepped inside. Aden replied that Clarke had cooled down after a hearty meal and some time in front of the television with him. He left when Clarke was too tired to continue their movie marathon. 

Content with her brother's response, Lexa bid Gustus and Ryder a good night, then casually strode inside. Lexa moved throughout the mansion, looking for signs of Clarke, but found none. Well, the cooks said Clarke ate an army's worth of food earlier in the day, but they hadn't seen her since late afternoon. 

Finally, Lexa searched the bedrooms, going first to Clarke's assigned room–which she never used–then their shared one. A smile crept up on her face as her eyes fell on the blonde sleeping soundly in their bed. Clarke's hair was a mess and it looked like she hadn't bothered changing clothes from earlier. Lexa moved through the room as silently as possible, discarding her suit and blouse, then stepped into the shower.

The scalding water was just what Lexa needed to soothe her conscience and tired muscles. She stepped out and threw on her favorite robe. It was velvety soft and offered the precise comfort Lexa had hoped for. As she toweled off her hair, she padded back into the bedroom. It was only then that Clarke stirred in bed, her eyes half open as she searched the bedroom. 

A groggy smile tugged at the blonde's lips when her gaze landed on Lexa, sending a wave of relief through her. "You're home. What time is it?"

"It's late. Go back to sleep, love," Lexa quietly offered. As far as she knew this was the only sleep Clarke had in two days. Clarke didn't come home the night before, which Lexa expected. The thief's gig was last night and Clarke never slept until the job was done and money was in hand. 

But Clarke had other plans as she patted the empty space in the bed. "Come cuddle me."

Lexa's lips curled into a bright grin. "Gladly, love," she replied, crawling into bed beside her lover and opening her arms so Clarke could snuggle into her chest. 

Clarke let out a content hum once they were settled. "I needed this."

"Me too." Lexa kissed the tangled mess that was Clarke's hair. It must have been a restless sleep. 

"Is Paxton as creepy as Aden says?" Her lover asked after basking in Lexa's warmth for several moments.

Lexa let out a sigh. "He would have fit right in with the Spanish Inquisition."

"Yikes, that bad, huh?" Clarke worried her teeth over her bottom lip for a moment. "Was it a bad idea to bring Carl there?"

Lexa shook her head. "Not at all. We gained valuable information today. Your actions today won over Azplana and the other kingpins. I doubt you'll have trouble finding work going forward."

"Just as long as they pay fairly and don't pull a gun on me when the job's finished." Clarke gazed up at Lexa with a smirk. "I'd like a job to go as planned for a change."

"You could always come to work for me," Lexa offered, hopeful that Clarke might agree. This would be Lexa's preference, but she knew Clarke needed some freedom to be happy. 

Clarke tilted her head, her face turning pensive for a moment before she replied. "I don't want any special favors. No inflating your rate on my account."

"You have my word."

Clarke smiled. "Then consider me on Heda's payroll. Not exclusively, though. I go where the work is."

"I'd prefer it if you didn't work for Nia," Lexa replied in a flat tone and Clarke laughed.

"Like she'd ever hire me!"

Lexa almost lied. Almost. But she knew it would only end poorly for her. Clarke was still angry that Anya and Val had lied–to the point of wanting nothing to do with them. Nevermind that Lexa had promised her lover to never lie to her. So, though it felt like she had a knife to her throat, Lexa opted for the truth. 

"She mentioned it today, actually." Lexa's breath hitched as the words left her lips. She'd do anything to avoid Nia and Clarke meeting. But Nia's offer would be difficult to decline, at least for Clarke. Azgeda was known to pay better than most gangs. 

Clarke sighed. "And I suppose you want me to say no?"

Lexa thought carefully before answering. "I won't tell you what to do. But I'd prefer it if you didn't do jobs for Azgeda. They aren't known for their forgiveness, should a job go awry."

She held her breath, praying that would be enough to steer Clarke clear of Azgeda. Those who failed Azplana met with an agonizing end. Lexa had to shield Clarke from that and do so without issuing commands or ultimatums. Thankfully, a hearty meal, good company and some rest had somewhat sated Clarke's desire to go after the Ice Queen. Or, at least it appeared to be the case. 

"I'll… consider it. Right now, I have my hands full with this Mount Weather snafu." Clarke shifted in her arms so she could meet Lexa's gaze. "Raven found more… about their facilities, specifically where Red is produced. We have to stop them Lex. If this shit makes it onto the streets… my mom will be the first in line. And that means what… death? I can't let that happen to her… to anyone."

Lexa's heart sank. It shouldn't be a surprise, not really. She knew Clarke wouldn't let go. Hell, sometimes Lexa felt it was more a case of couldn't than wouldn't. But the decision was made for her. If Clarke insisted on chasing down Mount Weather, then Lexa would have to support her. 

"We shall work together to bring Mount Weather down, then." Lexa replied, the corners of her lips curling upward when Clarke's sapphire eyes lit up. 

"You're not banning me from chasing them down?" Clarke's eyes flitted across Lexa's face, no doubt searching for any hesitation. 

Lexa shook her head. "We both know that would be counterproductive. You would only become more determined to involve yourself."

Arms swung around Lexa's neck and Clarke pressed several kisses along her jawline before capturing Lexa's lips, smiling brightly as she pulled away. "Thank you, Lex. I swear I won't let you down."

"I know you won't," she replied, though her heart ached thinking of the dangers involved. But it would be more perilous to let Clarke do this on her own, Lexa knew that. At least this way, Lexa had eyes on Clarke and could rescue her if needed. 

"Now I'm wide awake! How about a movie marathon? Aden and I were watching the Underworld series," Clarke suggested, unwittingly causing Lexa to grimace.

"I love those movies, you know I do. But… I need something less violent tonight."

"Rom-coms, then?" Clarke tilted her head. "Like we start with The Sweetest Thing , because it's my favorite, then move on from there?"

Lexa wriggled her eyebrows playfully. "Do we have time for a movie montage?"

Clarke laughed. "Hell yes, we do!"

∞

Chapter Text

Clarke POV

"So that's it. That's the plan," Clarke crossed her arms and gazed around the table trying to gauge her team's overall mood. 

She'd just dumped a shitstorm in their laps and gave them a ridiculously short timeline to work with. The plan was simple; they'd break into Mount Weather, disable their security and destroy every last drop of Red. Okay, so it sounded simple. In truth, it was a monumental task, based on the blueprints of the bunker where Red was being produced. All they had on their side was Carl's keycard, which may or may not be deactivated by now. 

"So… the Coalition is relying on us to stop a gang war, destroy an experimental narcotic, and dismantle a new cartel by the end of the week." Raven rephrased an hour long meeting in a mere sentence, then shrugged. "Awesome. Sign me up."

"Count me in," Bellamy offered.

Octavia bobbed her head. "I'm down for some hardcore infiltration."

"Guys, this is insanely dangerous," Monty looked around the table, his brow etched with worry. "If we get caught, we're not going to prison… we'll be dead."

"I won't force this decision on anyone," Clarke shook her head. "If you want out, say the word and you can walk out that door. All I ask is discretion. You can't tell anyone about this job or about Mount Weather."

"And… Azgeda is paying for all this?" Jasper piped in, his face torn between fear and amusement. "Like the Azgeda?"

"All of the kingpins are chipping in," Anya corrected. "Essentially, we're on the Coalition's payroll for this job. If this goes well, then your futures in Polis are set."

"Don't take this wrong, Cheekbones, but why are you even here? Don't you have a boxing club back in Arkadia to run?" Raven asked, drawing all eyes to the assassin.

Anya sighed. "I have a personal stake in this. Polis is my home. I grew up on Grimes and Fourth. I know the people and the streets better than any of you. If Red makes it onto the streets, good people will die. Kids will watch their parents become mindless junkies. Hell, it could be a child that OD's on Red or worse, gets murdered in a gang war. I can't let that happen."

Clarke fought the urge to shudder. Grimes and Fourth was as rough as it got in Polis. The very definition of slums. Nearly everyone there was either an addict or a dealer. Clarke thought back to what Anya said in the elevator. Her parents threw her away like trash, which meant they were probably addicts. That would explain why Ahn was so protective of Clarke when it came to her mother. She knew what it was like to be the child of a junkie. 

Clarke's heart clenched at the thought, despite wanting so badly to hate her best friend. Correction: former best friend. Regardless, Ahn was right. Clarke was the lucky one. They grew up in the same world, but under vastly different circumstances. In Anya's childhood survival was the only option. To survive Grimes and Fourth, you had to join a gang. The alternative was to wind up with a needle in your arm. Not that Clarke felt sorry for Anya. She didn't. Okay, maybe a little. Fine, a lot. Dammit!

"Anya knows Polis and how the gangs work better than any of us. That's why she's on point with me." Clarke added. She may not be on good terms with Anya, but they would need her help if they hoped to stop Red from reaching the streets. 

"Okay, but we're talking about infiltrating a fucking bunker with next level security. The guards are all ex-military. Killing is what they do. Are you sure you're up for that, Ahn?" Raven clarified, her dark eyes scanning Anya for any sign of hesitation. Not that Clarke could blame Raven for having reservations. As far as the others knew, Anya was a boxing club owner, not a trained assassin.

Anya merely smirked. "More so than any of you."

"Fine but if your brain gets splattered, it's on you." Rae replied, then looked around the table. "This won't be a walk in the park and we don't have time for practice runs. We get one shot at this, so if you're in, pay close attention."

Raven went over the blueprints in detail, noting every air duct and pathway throughout the bunker. Clarke had already memorized the entire facility layout and prayed the others would too. It would be the difference between life and death. 

She didn't normally get nervous before a job. But this one was different from the others. The guards wouldn't hesitate to shoot first. There would be no cops called if they were caught. No back up to rescue them if things went wrong. A part of Clarke was glad Ahn would be at her side during this mission, despite their differences. They made a great team and were always in sync in a fight. The assassination attempt in Arkadia proved that. 

Raven, Monty and Jasper would be outside the facility, watching them on the security feed and hacking Mount Weather's systems. The rest of the team would infiltrate the bunker and destroy every last drop of Red. Octavia, Clarke and Anya were on point. They would destroy Red and incapacitate the facility. Bellamy, Lincoln and Illian would be inside, too, though they were the backup plan. They'd remain in place in the air ducts in case the rest of the team was caught or captured. If that happened, Bellamy, Illian and Lincoln would swoop in to rescue them with guns blazing. 

"You would pick me to stay in the air ducts," Bellamy grumbled.

Clarke shrugged. "You've proven to be able to stay there for days at a time. It won't be fun… none of this job will be. But I'm relying on you three to save us if things go to shit."

"So, how do we break inside an impenetrable bunker?" Link asked, his eyes searching Clarke's and the blonde smirked.

"Easy. We hitch a ride."

It was a tight timeline. Already, Mount Weather was preparing to transport Red into the city. That meant a steady flow of trucks going in and out of the facility. The team would sneak aboard one of the transports and let Mount Weather Security drive them inside the underground garage. 

"From there, we enter the bunker through these sets of air ducts," Clarke pointed at the location on the blueprints. It was a risky move. No doubt Mount Weather had dozens of workers in the garage, as it was the main entry point for the bunker. 

"Thankfully, we have loads of new toys, courtesy of our benefactors," Raven added with a bright smile. She was on cloud nine and who could blame her?

This job came with a near limitless budget, thanks to the urgency of the situation. Lexa and the other kingpins were relying on Clarke's team to end a gang war before it officially began. Every kingpin chipped in to make this work. Which meant anything Raven listed as necessary equipment was at their fingertips. 

"As Anya suggested, this gig will make or break our careers," Clarke offered. "If we pull this off, we not only save lives, we guarantee a steady income going forward."

"Sign me up!" Jasper replied with a bright smile, then nudged Monty. "We can trade our studio apartment for a penthouse."

"And save lives in the process," Monty bobbed his head, then shifted his eyes to Clarke. "I'm in, Griff."

"Then let's get to work. Starting by memorizing every detail of the bunker. We're gonna need to improvise, so the more informed we are, the better chance we have of getting out of this without being seen."

The next several hours were spent pouring over blueprints, learning to use the new tech at their disposal and working through dozens of scenarios. Clarke tried to think of anything and everything that might go wrong, so they had a plan in place to combat any hiccups. They had main and secondary fall back points. 

While the original plan was to use chemicals to render Red innate, they'd also bring charges to detonate the labs and warehouses storing the drug. Raven, Monty and Jasper would delete all of Mount Weather's research to prevent anyone from starting over from scratch. They'd also be running interference on radio channels, sending incorrect data in case the infiltration team was spotted while also keeping security teams in areas where Clarke and the others were not. 

By midnight, the entire team was lying on the warehouse floor, bouncing ideas off one another. Empty pizza boxes, soda bottles, and take out bags were strewn across the warehouse. Scribbled notes and sketches littered the walls and work benches. They were exhausted after nearly twenty hours of work, but the team knew they only had one shot to get this right. Each of them would work through this until they felt certain they'd covered every angle. 

"Fuck, I wish we had a sample of this junk!" Jasper offered, tossing a cheeto into the air and catching it with his mouth. "If I knew the chemical structure, I could make an antidote in case of accidental exposure."

"Your nerd is showing, Jas." Raven teased. "But I like where your head's at. Let me hack a bit further into their systems and see if we can't get you what you need."

"Do we have time for that?" Clarke asked, glancing at her watch. They had two days until Red was on the streets.

Raven cracked open an energy drink and took a big gulp before answering. "I'll make time. Jas is right, if we can create an antidote for this shit, I'd sure as hell feel safer."

"I know someone who can help with that." Anya offered, fishing her phone out of her pocket and hurriedly tapping her screen. "He's on Azplana's payroll. His job is perfecting drugs for the cartel, but he started out as a brilliant chemist."

"Ya know, for someone who runs a gym, you sure know a lot of people in Azgeda." Rae shot her a scrutinous glance and Anya shrugged. 

"I don't judge my clients. If they have money and wanna learn how to fight, I will do business with them."

"Yeah, in Arkadia. But this is Polis." Raven narrowed her eyes.

Rae had a point. Nearly all of Anya's contacts were on Azgeda's payroll. Funny, considering that up until three months ago, Anya was just a regular civilian. Nevermind that Trikru only did business with Azgeda begrudgingly. Or at least the ones Clarke knew did. 

Anya let out a heavy sigh. "Do you want to find an antidote, or not?"

"Ahn's right," Clarke interjected, despite the wheels in her mind spinning out of control. "We need all the help we can get on this. It doesn't matter what gang they're from, if they can keep one of us from an accidental overdose."

Clarke shuddered at the thought. If they were caught, the easiest way to dispose of the infiltration team was to dose them with Red. They'd be so high or fiending for their next dose, that Clarke's gang couldn't warn the others. It was her worst nightmare–becoming a junkie like her mother. Nevermind that an antidote would help prevent chaos on the streets, should the team fail their mission and Red was spread to the masses. 

Anya's phone notification sounded, suggesting she had an answer. "We've got an extra pair of eyes. He said to send over whatever you find and he'll work through a solution."

Raven's fingers pecked at her keyboard with lightning speed as she searched for the components that made up the drug. It would be the final piece of the puzzle, should shit hit the fan. Within the hour, Rae had everything the chemist needed and sent him the files.

Knowing they had all their bases covered, Clarke finally allowed her brain a moment's peace. They all needed a good night's rest if they hoped to complete the job without any sloppy mistakes. So she decided it was time to let the team take off for the night… or day, rather. 

"Get some sleep and clear your minds. We'll meet back here tomorrow morning to head out Mount Weather." Clarke dismissed them, noting the relieved expressions on her friends' faces. 

In truth, Clarke doubted she'd get much rest, if any at all. She always had trouble sleeping before a heist and this one, especially, had her on edge. There were so many outlying factors that could result in failure. What if one of her teammates was injured or killed? What if Clarke was killed? Or worse, inadvertently addicted to Red because of a mistake on her part?

Seeming to read her thoughts, Anya's brow wrinkled with concern. "Are you okay? With this? Me being here?"

Clarke expelled a heavy sigh. She wanted to stay angry with Anya, but that did them no good on this gig. Clarke would be relying on Anya once they were inside the bunker. She knew without a doubt that Ahn had her back. So really, what was the point in harboring anger towards her best friend? 

"Honestly? I'm glad you'll be there. You're better prepared for this mission than any of us and I'm counting on you to have my back if things go to shit." Clarke admitted and Ahn smiled slightly. 

"I always have your back, Clarke. Even if you hate me."

Clarke shook her head. "I don't hate you." She didn't and never did, despite herself. 

Anya narrowed her eyes. "Are you sure about that? Cuz I wouldn't blame you if you did."

Clarke was quiet for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. Anya was her best friend for ten years and it wasn't until today that she heard anything about her friend's childhood. It made her wonder what else she didn't know. So much of their relationship was based on lies. If they truly hoped to start over, then Anya needed to open up. 

"Did you really grow up on Grimes and Fourth?" She asked, noting the way Anya's expression fell.

"Yep. Which, as I'm sure you've concluded, means you and I have something in common."

"We have junkies for parents," Clarke sighed and Anya's gaze fell to the floor as she clenched her jaw.

"It wasn't always that way. I think… I think for a while things were good. But I was so young when they threw me away that most of my memories of them are bad." Anya's lips curled up at the edges. Not exactly a smile, but the ghost of one. "When I was six, my mom and dad took me to Disneyland. It was before they… you know. But I remember how much fun I had. That's the only good memory I have of them."

"What… what happened to them?" Clarke was almost afraid to ask. She didn't want to make this harder on Anya, but Clarke also wanted to get to know the real her. 

Anya sighed and pointed at Clarke's pocket. "Can I bum a cigarette?"

Uh-oh. That meant something bad. Anya never smoked. Still, Clarke handed one over and lit it for Anya. 

"I was eight when my parents sold me for drugs," Ahn offered after she took a long drag. "I spent years hating them. As I trained to become a killer, I often thought of all the ways I might hurt them… or even kill them. I was a bad ass by the time I came home and I told myself then that I'd finally get revenge. But… I never could stomach seeing or even asking about them."

"So you never saw them again?"

"No, I did. But not until I turned twenty-one… I found out something that changed everything for me."

"That wasn't long before you and I met… I was still in Polis then." Clarke's mind did the math. Ahn was only a few months past her twenty-first birthday when they bumped into each other. "What happened?"

"I…" Anya expelled a heavy sigh, then took another drag from the cigarette. "I want to tell you everything, Clarke. But if I do, I'm afraid you'll hate me."

Clarke assumed that meant Ahn had killed them. Or maybe it was something worse. Seeing as how they were starting over, Clarke decided it was best not to push. They were on the eve of a gig that could end horribly and Clarke didn't want there to be any hard feelings between them. She needed Anya to have her back and vice versa. 

"Maybe it's best to wait until after the job's done." She suggested and Anya took a hard gulp, then bobbed her head. 

"Agreed. Then, if we're not dead, I promise to sit down and tell you everything… even the stuff you won't like."

"We've got a deal. Now go. Get some rest." Clarke insisted.

Anya chuckled. "We both know you won't."

"Probably not, but I'll try to squeeze in a few hours of sleep… If I can."

"I know someone who could wear you out," Anya smirked, prompting Clarke to roll her eyes and shake her head.

"We both know Lex is busy. She always is." 

It was the truth. Even on a slow day, Lexa had tons of meetings. Her lover never took time off. She was always working, even at home. Yes, Lex would take small breaks here and there. Nights and weekends off were still new to Lexa. Like Clarke, she was a workaholic. Not that Clarke was complaining. If anything, she respected Lexa more because of her work ethic. 

If Clarke timed it right, she'd get home just as Lexa was leaving for her workday. As much as Clarke longed to spend the day with her lover, she knew it wasn't in the cards. No doubt Lexa was formulating backup plans in case Clarke's team failed their mission. 

"Don't count her out yet, Clarke." Anya offered. "Yes, she's Heda, and as such, Lexa has a busy schedule. But you are always the priority."

Clarke smiled at her friend. Yes, she was considering Ahn her friend again, which is mostly thanks to them working side-by-side for a week. She and Anya made a great team. So Clarke was hopeful their relationship might mend itself with time. 

"Thanks, Ahn. Now try to rest. We'll need all the sleep we can get."

"See ya tomorrow morning," Anya waved goodbye and headed toward the entrance, leaving Clarke alone in the warehouse. 

She nearly kept working. After all, chances were high Clarke wouldn't sleep–even after nearly twenty-eight hours since her last slumber. She was pondering her next move when her phone rang. A glance at the screen brought a bright smile to Clarke's face. 

"Hey, babe."

"Good morning, love. Anya said you gave everyone the day off?" Lexa asked, causing Clarke to shake her head in disbelief. Leave it to Anya to text Lexa the moment she left. Not that she was upset. In fact, Clarke secretly hoped Lexa wasn't too busy today. Because if anyone could distract her from tomorrow's gig, it was Lexa. Maybe they could spend the day in bed together… 

"Yep. I told them to get some rest before our big day."

"Would you like some company? I don't have any meetings today and I'd like to spend some time with my girl." Lexa's grin was apparent in her voice and it was infectious. 

Clarke's smile brightened. "That sounds amazing, babe. I'll be home in twenty minutes." She made a mental note to thank Anya when she saw her tomorrow morning. 

∞

Lexa POV

"Oh, fuck yes!" Clarke exclaimed with a debaucherous moan as Lexa thrust mercilessly into her. 

It turned out to be a perfect day. When Anya texted her that Clarke was giving everyone the day off, Lexa didn't hesitate. She knew her lover was in desperate need of a distraction, so Lexa sent the staff home to give her and Clarke some privacy. They rarely had the house to themselves and Lexa looked forward to defiling every inch of the mansion. 

As she waited for Clarke to come home, Lexa lit candles throughout the space and put on Clarke's horny playlist. (Yes, that was the playlist's name.) Then Lexa traded her suit for the sexiest lingerie in her closet and waited for her lover by the door. A smug smile adorned her lips when Clarke entered the house and immediately began drooling over her lover. 

"Damn, babe! If I knew you were wearing that, I would have driven faster," Clarke offered with a smirk as she dropped her backpack by the doorway. 

Lexa didn't waste any time. She rushed forward and seized her lover's lips. Clarke moaned into Lexa's mouth as greedy hands roamed over her hips and grasped her ass, pulling her closer. Her tongue swiped those perfect lips with a lustful growl before plunging into the velvety warmth of Clarke's mouth. Soon, Clarke's back was pressed against the door as eager hands wandered to the hem of her t-shirt, tugging it over her head in one fell swoop. Nimble fingers then moved to remove Clarke's jeans next, fumbling with the zipper in her haste. 

Clarke threw her head backward with a content hum as her lover licked and sucked at Clarke's neck. Lexa scraped her teeth over Clarke's jugular, eliciting a debauched moan as she kneaded her lover's ass and hips with her fingers. Her mouth claimed every patch of skin, nipping and sucking her way down the blonde's torso, pulling Clarke's jeans down to her ankles.

She tossed the garment over her shoulder then peppered kisses up the inside of Clarke's thighs. Lexa gazed up at her lover with a smirk. "Still thinking about work?"

Clarke shook her head. "No, I'm thinking about your head buried between my legs."

"Patience, love." Lexa replied with a mischievous grin, giving her mound a playful nip before hooking her thumbs in Clarke's underwear and inching them downward. 

Clarke frowned. Sort of. Lexa loved dragging things out as long as possible, working Clarke into a tizzy before finally granting her the relief she seeks. It was kinda evil, in truth. But Clarke secretly loved it. Or at least her pussy did. By the time Lexa was finally ready to dive head first into Clarke's cunt, it would be drenched. And there was nothing sexier than Clarke begging to be fucked. 

"You suck," Clarke grumbled, gaining a soft laugh from Lexa.

"Not yet, love." Lexa replied, her lips trailing down her collarbone as she palmed Clarke's breasts in each hand. "But I will, if you're a good girl."

That elicited a whimper from Clarke, prompting Lexa to puff up with pride. Usually Clarke was the patient one. At times it was almost a battle of willpower, seeing which of them would crumble first. But today, it seemed Clarke was feeling impatient. Good. 

Lexa raked her fingers through Clarke's damp curls, smiling at how her lover's hips bucked on their own accord. A lustful groan escaped Clarke's lips as Lexa's mouth wrapped around a pert nipple and flicked it with her tongue. Every suck and swipe drew a string of filthy moans from her lover. Occasionally, Lexa would lower a hand to tease Clarke's cunt, but only for a second. It was just enough to drive Clarke crazy. 

"I swear to fucking god, Lex! If you don't eat me out soon, I'm gonna—" Her words cut off with a yelp as Lexa lifted Clarke by the ass and carried her to the nearest couch. 

Mirthful laughter rumbled in Lexa's chest. "Someone's impatient today."

"Shut up and fuck me." Clarke grumbled into the crook of Lexa's neck, giving the flesh a sharp bite to make her point. 

Lexa plopped down on the sofa, with Clarke straddling her lap. The blonde gazed down at her with hooded eyes, no doubt believing she would finally get her way. But Lexa had something else in mind. 

"Ride my abs. Show me how much you love them." She leaned back in her seat and grabbed Clarke's hips, giving them an encouraging squeeze. 

Clarke didn't waste any time doing as she was told, though normally the blonde would fight Lexa for dominance. She rolled her hips back and forth, coating Lexa's abs with the evidence of her lust. Clarke tossed her head back and moaned, gaining a bright smile from her lover.

"That's a good girl. Cum on my stomach."

"Fuck, Lex!" Clarke was already panting for breath as she escalated her pace, each pass of her hips sending shockwaves through Lexa. 

Fuck, she loved watching Clarke come undone. Lexa kneaded her lover's ass with her hands, encouraging her to move faster and gaining a chorus of lustful moans. She sucked and nipped at Clarke's breasts as the blonde worked herself into a frenzy, Lexa's own groans of pleasure joining in the melody of her lover's jumbled utterances. None of it made sense. Clarke was too wrapped up in her own pleasure to speak properly. But Lexa wasn't complaining. In fact, she was rather proud of herself at the moment. 

Clarke's head was always locked in work in the days leading up to a job. She couldn't focus on anything else. Still, Lexa had somehow managed to distract her lover from what would undoubtedly be the most difficult heist Clarke had agreed to. But Lexa shook herself. Now wasn't the time to think about that. All that mattered was the woman writhing in her lap as she cried out Lexa's name. 

"Fuck, yes!" Clarke shouted up at the ceiling, her eyes screwed shut and lips parted in a silent cry as a flood of cum coated Lexa's abs.

Lexa smirked. God, this was sexy! The way Clarke's body shook as she came undone in Lexa's lap was almost enough to have her tumbling over with her lover. Her panties were soaked just thinking of all the ways she'd make Clarke cum. 

Finally, Clarke's body collapsed onto her lover's, her muscles shuddering with aftershocks. Lexa moved a hand between them, grinning at the slick coat drowning Clarke's pussy. "That's my good girl." She praised as her fingers parted Clarke's folds. 

"Mmm, too soon, babe." Clarke whined, but it didn't deter Lexa one bit. 

"C'mon, love. You can keep going. We've only just begun." Lexa offered as she carefully slid a digit into her lover's cunt, grinning at the way Clarke's walls shuddered around her finger. 

"Fuck me, babe," Clarke panted, gaining a chuckle from Lexa. 

"That's the plan."

She started slow and gentle, coaxing out the remnants of Clarke's first orgasm before adding a second finger, using the pad of her thumb to run lazy circles around her clit as she thrust into Clarke. Soon, her lover was moving her hips to match each plunge of her fingers, her moans escalating to match Lexa’s cadence. She curled her fingers to press against the spongy tissue of her front wall, drawing a filthy moan from Clarke. 

Oh, how Lexa loved feeling Clarke clench around her fingers! Each groan of pleasure made Lexa ten times wetter. Clarke's hot breath kissing the nape of her neck and the hands clutching at Lexa's shoulders was intoxicating. Soon they were moving at such a pace that Lexa's muscles burned. Knowing it was Lexa bringing her lover such pleasure was more than enough compensation, even if Clarke never touched her. 

"Oh, fuck yes!" Clarke cried out, her walls fluttering around Lexa's fingers leading into a crescendo of debaucherous utterances of Lexa's name as she came undone once more. 

The couple panted for breath as Lexa tapered her thrusts. Clarke leaned forward so her forehead rested against Lexa's, their heated breaths mingling as they slowly recovered. Lazy kisses came next, first on the lips, then trailing down Clarke's shoulder.

"I love you, Lex." Clarke breathlessly offered and Lexa grinned up at her lover. 

"I love you, too, Clarke." Lexa replied, nuzzling her nose in the crook of Clarke's neck. 

They stayed wrapped up in each other for several minutes, allowing Clarke time to recover. 

Lexa held her lover close as she contemplated Clarke's job tomorrow. She didn't want to ruin this moment, but Lexa was beyond worried. What if Clarke was injured or killed? Had they thought of every potential outcome and made a plan for it? Or was Clarke's team winging it?

Lexa shook herself. Clarke wouldn't have taken the day off unless she had every base covered. Still, Lexa couldn't help worrying about what tomorrow might bring. 

"Hey! No grumpy thoughts." Clarke scolded, immediately drawing Lexa's gaze. 

"Sorry, love. I'm just—" she shook her head.

"Worried I'm about to get myself murdered?" Clarke raised an eyebrow and Lexa took a hard gulp before nodding. 

"Promise me you won't take any unnecessary risks." She pleaded, only for Clarke to smile and cup her cheeks. 

"I didn't spend twenty hours planning for every possible outcome for nothing, babe." Clarke gave her lips a soft kiss, her thumbs brushing Lexa's cheeks as she pulled away. "My backup plans have back ups, I promise."

Lexa nodded. "I know. I just… I can't lose you, love. I only just got you back."

"I know, babe." Clarke kissed the tip of her nose, then her forehead. "I have Anya and the whole team at my back. We couldn't be better prepared even if we had another week to plan for it."

Lexa expelled a heavy sigh. "If I don't hear from you tomorrow…"

"You'll run to my rescue?" Clarke smirked.

"With an army of hardened criminals," Lexa continued and Clarke chuckled. 

"That'll be pretty badass to witness. I may bring popcorn, just so I can watch you kick Mount Weather's ass."

Lexa rolled her eyes. "You would, too."

"Damn right, I would. Then I would ravish you on top of the corpses," Clarke's eyebrows wiggled suggestively, drawing laughter from her lover. 

"I don't think I'm up for sex on a pile of corpses."

"Don't knock it until you try it, babe," Clarke teased, then leaned in for a lingering kiss. "Enough shop talk. I need my girlfriend to wear me the fuck out so I can sleep."

Lexa smirked. "And I recall promising to bury my head between your legs."

"Promises, promises…" Clarke muttered before letting out a yelp as Lexa flipped them so her lover's back was on the couch cushions. 

As Lexa kissed her way down Clarke's body, she willed her mind to forget the dangers of tomorrow. All that matters is this moment. Soon, any thoughts of Mount Weather faded into the ether as Lexa brought her lover to new heights of pleasure.

∞

Chapter Text

Clarke was having a Murphy day and the timing couldn't be shittier. Things started off so well… But you know Murphy's Law: anything that can go wrong will. 

The team infiltrated Mount Weather's facility with next to no trouble at all. They sneaked aboard a transport, hiding behind empty barrels covered in tarp. No one searched the cargo hold or even came close to finding the thieves. Clarke recalled grinning like a love sick high schooler at how simple it was. The truck driver parked his vehicle at the docking bay and left it completely unguarded, allowing Clarke's team ample time to vacate.

But their luck ended as soon as they slipped out of the transport.

In their defense, Mount Weather was practically spilling over with security guards—many of whom were stationed in the garage. Raven tried to divert their forces to the opposite side of the carport. For a full minute, Clarke was certain it had worked. But then one of the guards spotted Bellamy, who was last off the truck.

"Intruders!" Someone shouted, prompting the entire facility to erupt into chaos.

It turned out their assumptions about Mount Weather security were correct. They were the 'shoots first, asks questions later' type of guards. Bullets whizzed past Clarke on all sides as she and the gang scrambled for cover. They settled behind the very transport that carried them inside, cursing their poor luck.

"Are you fucking kidding me? We just got here!" Clarke grumbled as she and Anya returned fire.

The team came prepared for live ammunition, but they also brought non-lethal weaponry. Clarke's original goal was to minimize casualties, but Fate had other plans. While tranquilizer darts worked perfectly in stealthy situations, they weren't very effective against a dozen guards armed with assault rifles and riot gear. So they opted for live ammunition.

Octavia, Link and Illian crept around the edges of the garage, in an attempt to flank the soldiers. Thankfully, it worked and the team incapacitated the first wave of guards within minutes. But the damage was already done.

"Raven, talk to me," Clarke barked into her earpiece as flashing red lights strobed through the garage.

"The whole facility is about to go on lockdown, Griff. Nevermind the shitton of guards heading your way." Raven replied, her fingers tapping away at her keyboard in the background. "Whatever you're gonna do, do it fast."

"Stick to the plan. We use the ventilation shafts to move through the facility." Clarke glanced at her team and bobbed her head. "We knew this would be tough."

"Yeah, and now they know we're here," Bellamy replied with an exasperated breath.

"Which is why we stay in the air ducts until we reach our destination." Clarke replied. "Rae, can you shut down the alarm?"

"Working on it now." Raven answered. "Monty and Jas are sending out conflicting radio chatter, sending security teams in opposite directions. But it's only a matter of time before they notice it's a farce, so I suggest you move your arse."

Octavia rolled her eyes. "You've been sitting on that joke for a while, haven't you?"

"Damn right, I have!"

"Guys, focus. We need to move, now!" Clarke demanded, leading the way to the main ventilation shaft and unscrewing the bolts.

"Guards are officially heading in the opposite direction. It should be smooth sailing from here on out, my friends. Everyone is heading to the garage. Inside, not a guard in sight, which is kinda bad form on their part." Raven responded, prompting Clarke to grit her teeth.

"Don't you dare jinx us!" she replied.

Looking back now, Raven had indeed jinxed them. Rule number two of any job: never comment on how easily you might bypass an obstacle. If you do, there's bound to be trouble waiting to strike.

But bad luck didn't show its ugly face right away—the garage incident aside. Instead, it waited until the job was nearly completed. Well, they completed every part of the gig—with some improvisation. They just didn't make it to the 'escape the bunker' part.

But Clarke was getting ahead of herself.

Once in the ventilation shaft, it was, as Raven put it, smooth sailing. They crawled past dozens of junctions as the team made their way to the first fallback point on level one. It was there that Lincoln, Bellamy and Illian set up camp inside the air ducts. Clarke had to admit, she didn't envy the boys one bit. There was no telling how long they'd be stuck in the vent shaft and it was unbearably muggy and hot in there. Nevermind that there was no room to move. But the boys promised Clarke they'd be okay until Clarke called for an evacuation or emergency.

Clarke, on the other hand, was uncomfortable as fuck in the ventilation shafts. It was dark, tight and left no room to breathe. But, it was their best option to avoid capture, so the team stuck to the air ducts until they reached their first objective—the control room.

Every square inch of Mount Weather was under surveillance. Well, all but the air ducts, which is why they were cramped in such a tight space. Seriously, crawling on your belly through a maze of ventilation veins was trying Clarke's patience. It didn't help that Octavia nearly kicked her in the face twice as she scrambled through the tight tunnels.

They reached the control room and immediately breached the vent, using tools that reversed the screws holding the vent cover on. Heavy duty magnets kept the cover from falling and announcing their presence.

Anya was the tallest and most lethal of the three, so she was the first down. With catlike grace, Ahn dropped nine feet and landed squarely on her toes without alerting the two guards gazing at a wall of security feed. She shot each man with tranquilizer darts, knocking them unconscious before Clarke or Octavia had time to drop down to the room. Anya was tapping away frantically at the computer for a half-minute before she announced the feed had been hacked and was on a loop.

"I thought that was my job, Ahn," Raven said over comms. "Also, where the fuck did you learn to do that?"

Anya smirked. "Azgeda assassin school," she replied and Clarke wasn't sure if she was joking or telling the truth.

They were now free to roam the halls of Mount Weather without being detected. Well, not entirely. They still had to worry about the staff recognizing the trio as not one of them. But Clarke came prepared for that. Every one on the team wore Mount Weather security uniforms. All-black riot gear, minus the helmets—which Clarke stole from the lockers in the control room. Posing as Mount Weather Security, the trio navigated the maze-like corridors reaching the production line right on schedule. But they weren't prepared for what they found.

"Holy shit! That's a lot of Red!" Octavia whispered as her green eyes scanned the massive room.

Level six was the size of an industrial warehouse, with enormous steel vats on one end. Each of these tanks had a tube that filled small metal vials with Red. There were conveyor belts lining the room with workers in hazmat suits packaging the vials in tiny red boxes. There were a dozen rows, each with eight or more workers lined up. A quick head count was at nearly a hundred packaging agents, if not more. At the end of each conveyor belt, were stacks of large boxes marked for transit. They had enough of the drug to dose every man, woman and child in Polis.

With a quick glance at Anya and Octavia, Clarke pulled out a set of gas grenades and flung them across the room. Ahn and Octavia did the same, flooding the warehouse with red smoke. Using rebreathers, the trio of thieves were able to move freely, while the workers collapsed on the ground. With the packaging agents unconscious, the three women were able to work unnoticed. They dragged every last vial and box to one side of the room, then set charges. This was the dangerous part, as they were unsure how Red worked if it went airborne. They debated moving the workers, but decided their hazmat suits would protect them from airborne Red.

"Rae, tell me how to deal with the tanks filled with Red." Clarke said over comms.

"Okay, there should be controls next to each barrel. Look in the menu for emergency protocols. There should be an option to neutralize the chemicals in the vats."

"Found it. Ahn and O move on to the labs while I destroy the tanks." Clarke suggested, gaining a skeptical glance from Anya.

"I don't think we should split up." Ahn replied, her hesitation apparent in her face and tone.

Clarke nearly told her it was fine. To go on without her. But one look at the many tanks throughout the facility had her changing her mind. There were dozens of them and it would take some time to disable each one. Anya was right. It was wisest to stay together.

"Fine. We each disable the tanks, then move to the labs together." Clarke conceded, noting the relief in Anya's eyes.

Turns out, Ahn had a sixth sense or something. Because not ten seconds later, five guards strolled into the production facility. They took one look at the sleeping workers and raised their weapons at Clarke, Anya and Octavia. There was no talking their way out of this one, so the trio opened fire—with non-lethals. They had live ammunition, but it would have the whole facility on alert if someone heard gunfire. So, they relied on tranquilizer darts, which was a bit tougher against men in riot gear.

Of course, Anya struck her mark with a single shot each, downing two of the guards. Octavia and Clarke struggled a bit. Yes, the darts hit their targets, but landed in the flak jackets, rendering the toxin inert.

"Call for back up!" One man shouted as he aimed his laser sights on Clarke, only for him to fall into a lump when her second dart struck him in the neck.

The other two nearly opened fire, but Ahn saved the day. She rushed forward, barrelling into one man and using him as a shield as she struck the other man in the neck with a dagger. The man in Anya's grasp struggled to get free, but she had him in a headlock. With one swift motion, Anya snapped his neck.

"Who knew Anya was a secret badass?" Octavia smirked.

"What can I say?" Anya smiled brightly as she pulled out one of her knives—she had like a dozen of them on her—and spun it around on one finger. "These fuckers won't even know what hit them."

"Let's finish up with these tanks then move to the labs." Clarke said, moving to the first vat on the row.

"One little note on that, guys," Monty interjected. "The Red tanks are hardwired into the alarm system, which means—"

"As soon as you activate emergency protocols, every guard in the facility will be heading your way," Raven finished for him.

"Shit." Clarke sighed and glanced at her watch. They had twenty minutes before the gas grenades wore off and one of the workers woke up. If they wanted to get out of Mount Weather unnoticed, they had to fit in thirty minutes of work in a twenty minute time frame.

"We bomb the tanks and labs." Anya suggested, gaining a glare from Clarke. "We brought enough charges for both."

"Yeah, but there's civilians in the labs."

"Civilians that created a drug that kills people." Ahn retorted. "Would you spare the people that made the heroin your mom shoots up?"

Clarke nearly argued that it was different. But Anya knew how Clarke felt about heroin. Hell, Ahn hated the junk too. Red was ten times worse and the people in the labs knew what they had created. They tested it on people and animals to verify that it couldn't be detoxed. How many innocent lives were taken before they got the formula right? Did they even care that Red was about to hit the streets and lay waste to Polis?

"We bomb the labs." Clarke bobbed her head, despite the conflict in her heart. "Which means we set charges here and in the labs then get the fuck out. Rae, Monty… tell me you wiped the data already."

"It's done, Griff."

"And the fire suppressants?" Clarke bit her bottom lip.

"Disabled," Monty replied with a heavy sigh. With the fire suppressants down, the entire facility would erupt in flames.

"Let's get to work." Clarke led the way, setting explosives on each tank, trying desperately to ignore her conscience.

Her original plan was to minimize casualties, but this upped the body count tremendously. There were three hundred employees in the facility, nearly all of which were about to be collateral damage. Only the workers in the garage would be clear of the explosion.

"You're having second thoughts." Anya noted and Clarke sighed.

"I know it's our best option, but—"

"You don't want that many lives weighing on your conscience. Lex is the same way. We live in a brutal world, but if there's an opportunity to avoid bloodshed, both of you will take it. Still, you're not afraid to make the tough choices," Anya smiled. "It's why I know you're the one who'll bring down Azplana when the time comes."

Clarke set the final charge and sighed. "Yet you're the one who talked me out of killing her."

"If you went in guns blazing, you'd get yourself killed, Clarke. Azplana is smarter than you realize. She plays the long game. If you want to defeat her, you have to be patient." Anya smiled. "I know you'll end her one day, and I plan to be at your side when you do."

Clarke narrowed her eyes. "What do you have against Azplana? Aside from her leading Azgeda?"

Ahn rolled her eyes. "That's a long list, beginning with a major case of childhood trauma. But now's not the time for that discussion."

Now that they were finished in the warehouse, the three women moved to the labs on level five. That put them back in the ventilation shafts. A peek through the vents had Clarke's heart hammering in her chest. There were dozens of guards lined up along the corridors leading to the laboratories. If they wanted to reach their goal, they'd have to take every last one down. It would be messy and likely cost their lives.

Clarke shut her eyes and inhaled slowly as her fingers reached for the gun on each hip. Their best bet was to spread out and drop down from the vents simultaneously, then open fire. There would be no do-overs or take backs. People were about to die and Clarke wasn't going to let it be her or Ahn and Octavia.

Slowly she unscrewed the bolts, using magnets to keep them from landing in front of the guards. Then Clarke lowered one edge of the vent and took a sharp breath before hopping down. She landed on her feet, which was a blessing, and opened fire. Behind her, Octavia and Anya did the same.

It was chaotic. An absolute shitshow of gunfire and frantic shouts. Clarke didn't blink or hesitate or even check in with the others. She just popped off one bullet after the next until all the guards were down. Only when they were all dead, did Clarke look back. She expelled a relieved breath as her eyes fell on O and Ahn.

Octavia had a few scratches, as did Anya. But overall, Clarke couldn't see any signs of serious injury. At least they had that.

"Guys! Whatever just happened has the whole facility freaking out! Get the fuck outta there!" Raven frantically demanded, sending Clarke running towards the laboratory doors.

She snatched a key card off one of the more important looking guards, then scanned it at the reader. The light turned green and Clarke waved at the others to grab their gas grenades. As soon as the doors opened plumes of red smoke filled the space. Clarke heard people coughing and shouting for someone to call the guards, but it was over fairly quickly. She opened her bag of explosive charges and took a sharp breath before striding inside.

Clarke tried not to look at the scientists, knowing they'd soon be dead. At least they were unconscious and wouldn't feel any of it. Still, each step forward felt more burdensome, as if someone had injected concrete in her legs. A hand on her shoulder, drew Clarke's gaze to Anya.

"Let me do it." Ahn said as she picked up the bag of explosives and brushed past Clarke.

Anya made quick work of setting the charges, then led the others out. They climbed back in the air ducts and scrambled toward the garage level. Only when Clarke spotted Bellamy, did she finally breathe easy. The rest of the escape seemed to go smoothly. They exited into the garage and Clarke fished the detonator out of her pocket with a heavy heart.

Ahn took her hand, once again drawing Clarke's gaze. "We do it together."

Clarke bobbed her head and set her thumb on the button. At the count of three, she and Anya pressed the detonator, sending shockwaves through the garage and floors below. It was done. The mission was a success. Still, Clarke thought of all the people trapped underground as flames poured out of the air duct they had just evacuated.

"Let's go home, Griff." Anya offered and Clarke wordlessly bobbed her head. It would be months before the faces of the dead stopped haunting her.

The team would leave the same way they got in, only this time, Link was driving. Or, that was the plan…

Flash bangs went off and the garage filled with white smoke as red laser sights aimed at each of their chests. However, it took everyone a few moments to realize just how screwed they were. Clarke blinked away the spots in her vision, trying to gather her surroundings. She spotted the three dots on Bellamy's chest first and rushed forward to shove him out of the way. That earned her a sharp sting in her left arm, but Clarke brushed it off as she tackled her friend.

She and Bellamy hit the ground, and Anya jumped into action. Knives flew in every direction, hitting several of the soldiers. Gunfire came next, bullets whizzing past Clarke as she crawled towards the nearest truck for cover. Link was struck in the arm by a bullet, but he kept firing as if it were a bee sting. But it was no use. The team was surrounded and trapped in a corner with no way out.

"I want them taken alive!" A man exclaimed and Clarke grit her teeth.

There wasn't a chance in hell she'd be Mount Weather's prisoner! With a renewed purpose, Clarke emptied her magazine and immediately replaced it with another. The team gave their all, but eventually they ran out of bullets. Gas grenades were useless against these guards, as they each had rebreathers on. Soon, the team was out of ammo and many of them were bleeding.

"I'm not going out without a fight," Anya growled as she crept out of cover, only for her to be struck by a dart.

Ahn stayed on her feet for an impressive thirty seconds, giving Mount Weather every ounce of fight she had in her. Clarke was at her back, pummeling the nearest guard when she, too, felt a sting in her neck. Only she didn't last as long as Anya did. She fell to her knees, grasping the dart in her neck and blinking slowly. Around her the others were fighting their own battles with the tranquilizer.

Clarke tried to fight it. She tried to stay awake. But the drug was too powerful. As soon as her face hit the floor, her world turned black.

∞

"Clarke… wake up." Anya's weary voice dragged Clarke back into consciousness.

"Ahn? Where are we?" she groggily asked. Her head was throbbing, ears ringing and vision blurry.

"Mount Weather. Now snap out of it, so we can break outta here." Ahn replied brusquely, prodding her friend with two fingers.

Clarke glanced around immediately realizing the source of her ringing ears. They were surrounded by animals—dogs, cats, gerbils and the like—all of which frantically trying to escape their cages. The dogs were barking hysterically, and the cats howling. Worst of all, Clarke and Anya had been stuffed in a tiny cage as well. Their bodies folded over so Clarke's knees were tucked under her chin.

"What the fuck?" Clarke's eyes were wide, feeling suddenly alert as her mind trailed through her most recent memories. "Fuck me!" They'd been captured.

"My feelings exactly," Ahn grumbled as she fiddled with a pad lock on the other side of the cage door.

"Where are the others?" Clarke glanced around the room. There were hundreds of cages, spanning two levels.

"Bellamy's over there." Anya used her head to motion at a figure hanging upside down at the center of the room. "Not sure about the rest."

Bellamy's face and body were bloodied and swollen so badly he didn't look like himself. "Shit, they tortured him!" Clarke gasped, gaining a frown from her cagemate.

"We're all going to be tortured, I think." Ahn expelled a heavy breath. "I know I won't break and you're too fucking stubborn… but the rest of the team… I don't know, which is why we have to get out of here."

Clarke glanced around, taking in her surroundings. The chances of escape were slim… impossible if they couldn't break the lock. There were footsteps approaching from their right, meaning they were about to be face-to-face with their captors.

Her gaze returned to Anya. "Tell me you have a plan."

"I do. Just follow my lead and be prepared for a fight."

∞