IT STARTED WITH A MAZE - Newt x Reader (F)

- A NIGHT IN THE MAZE -

"He's almost there," Thomas pants. "Come on, just a bit higher."

I nod, even as sweat blinds me. "We've gotta tie him off soon, or he'll slide right back down." My legs are quivering. I'm not sure if it's from fear or from exhaustion.

Minho stands below, bracing the vines and guiding Alby's body as we maneuver him higher. "We've got maybe thirty seconds before something hears us," he mutters. "We're loud as hell." I glance sideways at him - his jaw clenched, blood still leaking through the wrap on his arm. He's steady, focused, but there's something anxious behind his eyes.

And then-it happens.

The Maze shifts.

The grinding sound splits the corridor, louder and closer than ever before. Walls scrape against each other like grinding bones. The stone beneath our feet rumbles. I freeze, staring as the stone behind Minho begins to move - slowly closing off the corridor that leads back the way we came.

Minho jerks his head toward the shifting corridor and swears. His eyes meet mine. "We've gotta go," he says. "We need to leave right now."

I look up at Alby. He's hanging awkwardly in the vines, his arms tangled but his weight not secured. Not yet. "We're so close!" I whisper-shout back. "Just a little more and we'll tie it off." But even as I say it - even as I want to believe it - the memory of the Griever is clawing back into my mind. It's stench, its insect-like body, those mechanical limbs and jabbing needles. The echo of its growl feels like it's inside my ribs. My blood runs cold.

"Guys..." Thomas says, softer now, voice trembling. "Stay with me."

My stomach is churning. But I nod. "I'm with you." My voice shakes, but my hands don't. "We're almost there. Just a second more."

Minho doesn't respond. And that's when I know. He looks at us both, regret shining behind his storm-dark eyes. "I'm sorry, guys."

And then he's gone.

He lets go of the vines - and just like that, he's sprinting, disappearing down the narrowing corridor. His footfalls echo once, twice, and then nothing.

He's left us.

The vines jerk violently. Alby drops several feet. The sudden weight almost tears the vines from our hands. Thomas stumbles backward. I scream. "Shit- shit- SHIT!" My arms strain against the tug, my feet slipping in the muck below. I'm airborne for half a second as the weight yanks me up, before I manage to dig my heels into the wall's groves, clutching the vines with everything I have. "Thomas! Under! Thomas!" I shout.

The Griever's growl rises again, louder now, closer. My chest is caving in from the pressure of its approach. I can't see it yet, but I can feel it.

Thomas finally scrambles toward me. I grab him by the arm, dragging him down as I drop under the woven net of vines, forcing him to duck beneath with me. The vines groan above us, creaking and straining with Alby's uneven weight. We huddle beneath the wall of ivy and stone, trying to make ourselves small. I picture Alby - unconscious, tied above us.

Then I picture Minho. Gone.

We hear the Griever before we see it - metal grinding, gears scraping over stone, a wheezing, ragged breath like a dying machine struggling for air. The ground below us trembles with each step of its massive, dragging body. The light dims as its bulk blots out the corridor. I freeze. Every muscle tightens, but I don't move. A tear slips from my eye and trails down my cheek, silent but screaming inside me.

I want to stop breathing.

Not because I want to die, but because even the softest exhale, could give us away. I press my back to the cold wall, heart hammering, and feel Thomas pressed tightly beside me. We hold our breath like it's the only thing keeping us alive.