Chapter Two
**Logan's POV**
I started walking up the ramp into the drop pod, past the stunned kids still processing what they'd just witnessed.
Then I stopped.
The air had shifted. Pressure dropping. Temperature change on the wind. A storm was coming—a big one.
I turned back to the three girls standing near the entrance.
"Who's in charge?" I asked, my voice calm and level. No point scaring them more than they already were.
The blonde girl spoke up first. "I... I guess I am."
I nodded. "Storm's coming. Big one. You've got maybe an hour before it hits." I gestured to the scattered supplies and makeshift shelters outside. "Round up your people. Get them inside the drop ship. Anything you don't want destroyed, store it now. Move."
At first, people just looked around, lost. Waiting for someone else to act.
I raised my voice.
"Listen up! Whatever station that's left up there were you came from, I don't give a damn. In less than an hour, a very large storm is gonna hit. So grab your shit and load up in the pod. NOW!"
The kids jumped. Started moving. Running to gather supplies, calling out to each other, organizing themselves with the particular efficiency that fear provided.
Good enough.
"Now," I said, turning back to the blonde. "Where's the injured boy?"
---
The blonde—Clarke, I caught someone calling her—and a taller brunette led me up into the drop ship's medical area.
A boy lay on a makeshift table, pale and sweating, a knife buried in his side.
*My* knife.
The one I'd given Lincoln years ago for his tenth birthday.
Clarke gave me a quick rundown—what she'd observed, what she thought needed to happen, why she and the other girl (Raven, she said) were trying to fix the radio. They needed her mother's guidance to walk them through the procedure.
I just nodded.
"Raven," I said. "Go fix the radio. I need to talk to whoever's in charge up there anyway."
The brunette hesitated, looked at Clarke, then nodded and moved off.
I turned to Clarke. "I need you to hold his shoulders when I say. Hold hard. Understand?"
"Yes."
I examined the wound carefully. The blade had gone in at an angle, not straight, which was both good and bad. Good because it likely missed major organs. Bad because pulling it out wrong would slice through things that shouldn't be sliced.
"Alright. Hold him down. Hard."
Clarke planted her hands on the boy's shoulders, leaning her weight into it.
I spread the wound opening with my fingers—the boy screamed, thrashing—and with one quick, precise tug, pulled the knife free at the exact angle it had entered.
No additional damage.
The boy gasped, going limp.
I pulled a container from my medical bag. "What is that?" Clarke asked, leaning closer.
"Special moss. Grows in cold, dark areas. Makes a poultice that reduces inflammation and kills most bacteria." I packed the wound carefully. "Leave this on overnight. Tomorrow, wash it clean, then you can sew it closed."
I was about to tell her he'd be fine when something hit me.
The smell.
I lifted the knife to my nose and inhaled.
Then I cringed back and cursed in at least five languages, English, Trigedasleng, Spanish, Japanese, and one dialect of Chinese that probably didn't exist anymore.
I rummaged through my bag with more urgency, found the little yellow vial, and pulled it out.
"Here." I shoved it at Clarke. "Make him drink this. All of it."
"What? Why?"
"The blade was poisoned." I met her eyes. "He needs the antidote. Now."
Clarke's face went white. She grabbed the vial and moved to the boy's side, carefully tipping the liquid into his mouth.
I stood, the knife still in my hand, rage building in my chest.
"Show me to that bastard son of mine," I growled.
Clarke's eyes widened, but she nodded.
---
Lincoln was in the upper level—wrists bound, standing with his arms spread, looking equal parts defiant and exhausted.
When he saw me climbing the ladder behind Clarke, he smirked.
Then he saw my eyes.
The smirk died.
I stepped forward, cut his hands free with the poisoned blade, then grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off the ground.
The words came out in Trigedasleng, fast and furious.
"*Chit yu don? Ai told yu hashta using feisbona. Ai told yu em ste gon cowards en cruel. Trikru might lan op em, ba nou nomfa kom Ain na. Taim ai catch yu using disha shit again, Ai na dismiss yu as Ai seken. Dula op yu understand?!*"
(What have you done? I told you about using poison. I told you it is for cowards and the cruel. The Trikru might use it, but no son of mine will. If I catch you using this shit again, I will dismiss you as my second. Do you understand?!)
Lincoln's eyes went wide. He nodded frantically, hands coming up to grip my wrist—not fighting, just stabilizing himself.
I let him drop.
That's when the boy whose nose I'd broken chose to enter. He stood in the doorway, taking in the scene—me standing over Lincoln, hand still raised, fury radiating off me in waves.
"Okay," the boy said slowly. "What did I miss?"
I sighed, turned to look at him, and saw the mess I'd made of his face. Crooked nose, swelling already setting in.
"Come here, kid," I said. "Let me fix your nose. All the girls would hate me if you stayed that ugly."
Silence.
Then the girl—Octavia, I'd heard someone call her—started laughing.
It broke the tension like a hammer through glass, and suddenly everyone was breathing again.
The boy approached cautiously, and I grabbed his face, felt the break, and with one quick, practiced motion, snapped the bone back into place.
He yelped but didn't pull away.
"There," I said. "Better."
"Thanks," he managed. "I think."
I looked around at the assembled faces; kids, every one of them Damit Becca I didn't sign up to be a babysitter, I just sighed.
"Alright," I said. "Storm's coming. Everyone inside. Now. And someone needs to tell me what the hell is actually going on down here."
Clarke stepped forward. "We have a lot to explain."
"Yeah," I said, looking at Lincoln, then at the boy I'd just fixed, then at the scared, determined faces surrounding me. "I'm getting that impression let's get everyone packed and get your people safely tucked in for the night."
Outside, the first drops of rain began to fall.