She wasn’t one for blackmail. Not usually. But desperate times called for desperate measures, and while she didn’t normally care about other people’s business, when she went hunting, she usually found what she was looking for and as it turned out, Octavia Blake wasn’t the only one in camp with a grounder to protect. 

So she slipped into the room quietly, warned for the fourth time in the last three minutes that she had to be extremely quiet and that the guard would knock when her time was up. 

She hadn’t expected the extent of the injuries. She’d braced herself for him to look worse, skinnier, bruised, defiant. She hadn’t expected so much dried blood, so much obvious pain in the way he held himself, and she felt her infamous tamper flare dangerously, taking a second before she even trusted herself to speak without screaming for Pike so she could beat him with the nearest blunt object. 

Once she was confident she wouldn’t reveal her being here, she fell next to him, reaching out to touch one of the only unbruised or bloodied parts of him that she could see. “What did they do you?” She whispered, her voice horrified.