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ㄖᐯ乇尺几丨Ꮆ卄ㄒ

She took a step closer.

"Are you serious? You're just gonna give up like that?"

Minho set his jaw, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Alby is stung. So he's dead. No one-" he looked between them, his expression unreadable, "has ever survived a night in the Maze."

Thalia stared at him.

At the defeat already settling in his bones.

She wanted to hit him.

Shake him.

Make him see what she saw.

Instead, she squared her shoulders, her voice sharp as steel.

"If you really believed Alby was as good as dead, you would've left him already. But you didn't."

Minho's jaw tensed.

Thalia stepped forward, her eyes locked onto his "We could be the first to survive so get out of your fucking shell and help us."

The words hung between them.

Then-she moved.

Without waiting for an answer, without sparing Minho another second, Thalia grabbed one of Alby's arms while Thomas took the other, lifting him up together.

And after a beat-

Minho cursed under his breath.

And he followed.

---

The Maze was alive with movement, the walls shifting, the metallic groan of gears grinding against stone filling the air as Thalia, Thomas, and Minho scrambled to lift Alby off the ground.

The vines they had found stretched high up the wall, their only chance of hiding Alby from the Grievers.

Each second that passed felt like a lifetime, every tug of the vine a battle against the weight of Alby's unconscious body.

Thomas's muscles strained, his grip burning, but he didn't stop.

Wouldn't stop.

Because the alternative was worse.

"We gotta go. We gotta go now!" Minho's voice was sharp with panic, his eyes locked on something in the distance.

Thalia gritted her teeth, ignoring him.

"No, no, just a little more, and we'll tie it off," Thomas insisted, pulling harder.

They were so close.

Minho's grip on the vines weakened, his breathing ragged, uneven.

And then-he stopped pulling altogether.

Thalia's head snapped to him, her heart dropping when she followed his frozen stare.

At the end of the corridor, bathed in shadows, stood a Griever.

Its grotesque, mechanical body shifted, metal limbs twitching, organic flesh slithering beneath its hard exterior.

Its many red eyes locked onto them.

Waiting.

Watching.

Minho's face paled, fear replacing every ounce of fight in his body.

Thalia's stomach twisted painfully.

"Minho! Just a little more, we're almost there!" she urged, her fingers raw from gripping the vines.

Minho's hands shook at his sides.

His chest rose and fell too fast.

And then-