"They want us to do what?" Jaha asked, his voice strained as he gripped the edge of a map table.
"You heard the terms, Jaha," Jason said with a flat voice.
Finn, who had been standing in the corner, looked pale as his eyes darted between Clarke and Jason.
"We are not giving him to them, Jason!" Raven said with urgency and panic. "You know what they'll do. They won't just kill him; they'll make it last. We can't let that happen!"
"You think I don't know that, Raven?" Jason snapped, turning to her with a look of exhausted frustration. "I'm the one who had to look Lexa in the eye while she said it. I'm thinking of what to do right now, but let's look at the board. For there to be peace, for an alliance that stops the Mountain men from turning us all into blood-bags, they want the boy who pulled the trigger. That's the price."
Raven shook her head frantically. "We can't. We just can't."
"That's messed up," Murphy muttered
Clarke moved toward Finn, grabbing his trembling hands and nodding to him, her eyes pleading with him to stay calm. "It's okay. We'll find a way, Finn. I promise."
"Given the current situation," Jaha began, "we have to acknowledge the reality. We need this alliance to survive Mount Weather. And we have to be honest, Finn did commit what any civilization would label as war crimes. He executed unarmed civilians."
Abby turned to him, her eyes wide with horror. "Thelonious, are you really considering this? Handing over one of our own to be tortured?"
Jaha met her gaze steadily. "Abby, we both know we have executed people for far less on the Ark. We floated men for stealing medicine and children for being born. This isn't a new moral dilemma; it's just a different sky."
"Oh, I remember," Clarke spat, her voice dripping with venom, "But this isn't space, is it? We were supposed to be better down here."
Jason rubbed his face with both hands, staring at the ceiling as if the answer were written in the rafters. He took a sharp breath and looked at Abby. "Where's Lincoln? I need to speak with a Grounder who actually likes us."
"He's in the med bay," Abby replied.
"I'll be outside," Jaha said, heading for the exit. "I'll try to keep the mob from sparking into a riot."
The Med Bay
Jason, Clarke, and Bellamy walked into the makeshift infirmary with Abby.
"Well," Jason remarked, his voice laced with a dry, weary sarcasm. "I've seen you in better days, Lincoln. I see they're still keeping the jewelry on you." He gestured to the cuffs locking Lincoln's wrists to the bed frame.
"Why is he still in cuffs?" Clarke asked, turning to the guard.
"Precaution I'm guessing," Jason answered for them. "The man just came off a high-dosage chemical cocktail that turned him into a cannibalistic rage-monster. Withdrawal is a bitch, Clarke. One minute he could be Lincoln, the next he might decide your jugular looks like an appetizer. Better safe than shredded."
Jason leaned against the wall, his eyes searching Lincoln's. He quickly laid out the situation with Lexa, the demand for Finn, the ultimatum, and the ticking clock. "What do you think? Is there a way out of this mess that doesn't end with Finn on a pike?"
Lincoln shook his head slowly, the movement pained. "Did she leave any riders outside?"
"Yeah," Bellamy said. "Two of them. Sitting there like statues."
"Why?" Octavia asked. "What does it mean?"
"They are the Gona," Lincoln rasped. "The watchers. They are waiting for you to hand over the murderer. They will not leave until the debt is settled."
Jason sighed, "I guessed as much. Lexa didn't seem like the type to forget a lunch date." He stepped closer to Lincoln. "Is there anything else? Can we offer a trial? Single combat? A trade? Anything to save his neck?"
"Please," Clarke whispered.
Lincoln looked at her with a profound, heavy sadness. He shook his head again. "For the crimes committed... for the blood of the innocents... There is no trial. In the eyes of the Commander and the Twelve Clans, Finn must answer with his blood. Jus drein jus daun. It is the only way."
"He took the lives of unarmed warriors," Lincoln continued, his eyes fixed on the middle distance. "Even if it was only two, he will have to suffer for it. That is the way of my people."
"He's our friend, Lincoln!" Octavia snapped with her voice breaking slightly, "How can you say that?" Clarke added, her eyes flashing with a mix of betrayal and desperation. "Finn was the first one to believe in you, Lincoln. He was the one who pushed for us to trust you."
Lincoln looked at her, a profound sadness etched into his features. "Yes. And it was my village he attacked. It was my people he killed." He turned his gaze to Jason, his expression becoming intensely serious. "Any act of mercy from the Commander will get her killed."
Octavia's brow furrowed, "Wait. You're saying they'd kill their own leader just for showing mercy?"
"For being weak," Lincoln corrected.
"What?" Octavia whispered, horrified.
"If death has no cost, then life has no worth," Lincoln said simply. It was a brutal philosophy.
Jason let out a long sigh. He looked at Bellamy, a silent understanding passing between them. Without a word, Jason turned and walked out of the med bay with Bellamy following a half-step behind.
Once they were outside, the cool morning air hit their faces, Bellamy caught up to him, "What's the play here, Jason? You're the one who's been in the room with her."
"The play?" Jason asked in a low voice, "They want one of ours in punishment for two of theirs. It's a simple, bloody equation."
Bellamy stopped, looking at the line along the perimeter. "Can you blame them? Honestly, Jason... if you hadn't been there, if you hadn't tackled him when you did, how many would have been killed? Ten? Twenty? The whole village?"
Jason stared into the darkness. "I know, Bell. I know the math. But are we really just going to hand him over? Open the gate and throw him to the wolves?"
Before Bellamy could answer, Jason's head snapped toward the treeline. His senses caught a sound in the air, a low thrumming that was getting louder.
"Hear that?" Jason whispered.
Bellamy tilted his head, straining to listen. "What? I don't—" Then, it hit him. A faint, haunting chant drifting on the wind, growing more distinct with every second.
"Jus drein jus daun... Jus drein jus daun..."
"Blood must have blood," Jason translated with an icy voice, "Oh, boy."
They moved toward the main gate, the chant now a deafening roar coming from the shadows beyond the tree lines. The two Grounder riders had moved closer, their horses standing perfectly still just outside the reach of the spotlights.
Jason and Bellamy walked to the gate, standing shoulder to shoulder. Jason looked at the guard in the watchtower with a raised eyebrow. The guard hesitated, then pulled the lever, and the heavy steel door groaned open just enough for them to step through.
The two riders stared down at them locked eyes with Jason.
"Where is he, Butcher?" the rider demanded,
Jason stepped through the gate with a steady, unhurried pace. He looked toward the dark woods, the faint glint of sunlight reflecting off hundreds of spear tips.
"Wow," Jason remarked, a dry, dark smirk playing on his lips. "Quite the welcoming committee. I'm flattered, really. I didn't realize we were worth the overtime."
Despite the joke, his eyes were like chips of ice. He ignored the rider's question entirely, walking calmly toward the lead horse. The animal shifted, sensing the stranger in its space, but Jason reached out and stroked its snout with a gentle, steady hand.
"He's a beautiful beast," Jason murmured with a gentle voice, "It is such a shame he has to carry a rider who doesn't know when to be quiet."
He looked up at the warrior, his smile widening just enough to be terrifying. "I've made an appeal to your Heda, and the situation is being handled with the 'finesse' it deserves. But handing over one of my own? That's just not a habit I'm looking to start today. It's bad for morale, you see."
The rider opened his mouth to retort, but Jason leaned in, "You know, I once hunted a few of your people. They had my friends tied to the back of their horses, dragging them through the dirt like refuse. It was quite a mess to clean up. How unfortunate those riders aren't here today to tell you how that ended."
He patted the horse one last time and took a step back, his expression turning instantly bored. "Leave. Now. Before I decide your presence is an eyesore."
The riders lingered for a heartbeat before they yanked their reins and galloped back into the tree line.
Bellamy stepped up beside Jason, exhaling a breath he'd been holding. "Was the threat really necessary, Jason? We're trying to stop a war, not initiate one, remember?."
Jason looked over his shoulder, his eyebrows arched in mock innocence. "Oh, was that a threat? My bad. I thought it was a warning. I must be losing my touch."
"What the hell did you just do?"
Abby and Jaha hurried toward them, their faces etched with panic. Jaha looked at the retreating dust cloud with disbelief. "Jason, you cannot antagonize them when we are on the verge of a massacre! Did you just drive away the only link we have to the Commander? What have you done to our chances of survival?"
Jason gave Abby a dazzling smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I gave them a polite suggestion, Abby. They chose to leave before offering a counter-proposal. Grounder etiquette is surprisingly lacking."
"You're going to get us all killed," Jaha snapped, "Bellamy, why didn't you stop him?"
"Stop him?" Bellamy countered, crossing his arms and looking out at the woods. "The 'Butcher' just cleared the gate without firing a shot and sent their scouts packing. I'd call that a win for now. Besides, they're the ones who brought an army to our front door."
Suddenly, a guard in the tower shouted, "Incoming! Movement in the treeline!"
Jason's smile vanished, replaced by a sharp, tactical frown. "What, back so soon?" he muttered sarcastically. "Are they back with an answer to my polite suggestion already? How efficient." He squinted into the bright morning light, his hand ghosting over the hilt of his blade.
But then, a voice drifted from the shadows, a voice that made everyone freeze.
"Don't shoot! I'm unarmed!"
Jason's eyes widened, a rare flicker of genuine surprise crossing his face. "Kane?"
Emerging from the bright green gloom of the woods, looking battered but very much alive, was Marcus Kane. He walked with a steady, exhausted gait, his hands raised as he crossed the threshold into the camp's clearing.
Abby gasped, rushing forward, while Jaha stood frozen, watching his former rival return from incarceration. Jason just tilted his head as a dark chuckle escaped from his throat, "Well... the plot thickens. Welcome back to the party, Marcus. I hope you brought a very good explanation for why you're not in a cell."