𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 | bellamy blake¹

↬ | chapter twenty-five

025.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━ 

   "Jasper and Maya are with Mr. and Mrs. Peters," Maggie explained off of memory, before kicking off the vent to an unmonitored hall without cameras, close to the resident corridors, "I say we go there— Maya knows where everyone'll be, unlike us."

   Following alongside her, Bellamy witnessed as the girl turned corners and marched through the level as if it were clockwork. He knew the area, but damn; she knew it like the back of her hand. Maybe she kept her priorities in order, of what had importance attached, and remembered it. "You know where they live?" 

   "They're Maya's neighbors," she briefly sent the boy a gander, spitting out the answer as if it was an atrocity he had not known, "Pick up the slack, m'kay?"

   Shaking his head ridiculously, Bellamy rolled his eyes at her words as he quickened his speed. Same old Mags, that was for sure. "Thanks for that, sunshine." 

   This time, she offered a bemused smile, eyes widening, "That nickname's new," Magnolia surmised (she didn't mind it), making a sharp left to where they wanted to be. On their right hand side was the Peters' home, and her knuckle made its' way to the doors to knock; however, the door pushed open just a crack, having already been unlocked. "The hell?" 

   Nonetheless, she crept inside first, gun tightly in hand, with absolutely zero ammunition left. Nobody was home— at least that's how it appeared. 

   Something was wrong, was what that meant. An older couple, hiding two teenagers that the mountain's guard happened to be searching for was all the more reason for their doors to be locked. Being as they weren't, though, was a large red flag. Having that level of silence thickly looming the room felt deadly. 

   Maggie soon saw what it was, that was wrong. 

   Limply lying on their tweed couch, a bullet had been put to each of their brains— in the square middle of their foreheads. Clear shots. Droplets of blood dressed the wall, splattered above their heads. Even worse, a painting was resting in a slanted manner on the floor, revealing a gaping large hole. Whatever had happened, the teenagers were gone, and Mr. and Mrs. Peters were dead. Two negatives.

   "Bell..." Magnolia muttered under her breath, him finally fully entering the room and seeing the sight, displayed right in front of their noses. "They're gone, look." 

   Face souring at the dead bodies sprawled out on the furniture, he walked up to them, then placing a finger on the blood on the wall. "It couldn't of happened that long ago," he informed rather monotone, the wet crimson now coating his fingertip. 

   "We have to go find Vincent," Maggie determined with a huff, glowering at the sight in front of her, "He'll know what to do. Besides— we can't be seen here, with them." 

   Knowingly nodding, the duo spun on their heels, and out of the home. Across the hall was the Vie residence; both Maggie and Bellamy hoped to God that the man would be there. 

   Realistically, where would they take the teens— the room they were doing the drilling? The one that the faux guards had seen Cage and Emerson secretly communicating? Stakes were rising with each step forward that was taken, to the point where they probably were about to drain the delinquents of their bone marrow.