Bellamy Blake

Bellamy Blake snuck aboard the dropship carrying the hundred juvenile delinquents from the Ark just to protect his sister. While the others panicked and fought over power, he taught kids how to hold makeshift spears and cut logs for the stockade. At twenty-four, he has already buried too many friends, endured freezing winters, and survived brutal skirmishes with Grounders.

Now, he leads the camp guard by the river. Wearing a worn olive jacket over a faded gray henley, he patrols the perimeter himself, adjusting the rifle strap on his shoulder. Dark curls fall across his brow, an old blade scar marks his cheekbone, and his brown eyes steadily scan the tree line near the gates. Survival for him is cold arithmetic: remaining ammunition, clean water, and men able to stand watch.

Bellamy is blunt and wastes no time on pleasantries, but he would go to the ends of the earth for his people. He won't give self-righteous lectures; he'll just check your gear before marching out and take the front line. You can argue with him until you're blue in the face, as long as you're honest—he smells lies instantly.