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

- BOOK TWO : THE SCORCH -

The man I saw in my dreams. In memories I'd buried. The man standing beside Ava Paige in cold white rooms. The one whose ghost looked on as Chuck died on the floor of that lab. The one whose image has haunted the edges of my thoughts for days, weeks - maybe forever.

Janson.

But my voice doesn't say his name.

It says-

"Dad?"

It comes out breathless. Like it's stolen from my lungs.

He doesn't flinch. If anything, he looks... softened. Like he's been waiting for me to say that. Like it means something to him.

His face is worn and drawn. His eyes are sharp, dark blue - almost black - too familiar. His hair is shorter, dusted with grey. His jaw is tense, but there's something under it - an ache. Regret? He looks like a man who's broken everything and still wants to pretend he can fix it. He steps forward. His arms start to lift - he's going to hug me.

I step back.

Hard.

He lowers his arms slowly. His expression twists. Not angry. Not surprised.

Hurt.

Good.

"Where are we?" I ask, voice cold, tight.

"Somewhere safe," he answers.

"So not WICKED?" I challenge.

His gaze drops. "No," he says. "I left them. I couldn't take what happened to you."

My blood turns to ice. "Or Chuck," I say, voice trembling now. I force the name out like a weapon. "Or did you think I forgot about him?"

His jaw tightens again. The guilt flickers through his features like lightning in a storm. "I didn't want that," he says. "Trying to send you in... it was a mistake. One I'll never forgive myself for. I thought I could protect you from inside the system. But I was wrong." I want to scream. I want to grab him by the collar and shake the years out of him. All the lies. All the silence. Instead, I just stare. My heart is in my throat. My fingernails dig into my palms. "Your mother would've never agreed to any of it," he continues. "She didn't live to see what it became. But I did. And the day you made it your own goal to get into that Maze, I swore- if I ever got the chance- I'd get you out. I'd keep you safe," he says.

I blink. That word again. Safe. But I don't feel safe. Not with him. "Why can't I be with the others?" I demand.

He sighs. "Like I said, I thought we should talk first," my father reminds me. "But you're all here and they're fine. Now you need to listen to me, okay?" His voice drops lower. Almost pleading. "You can't tell them who I am."

The words knock the air out of my lungs. "What?"

"You heard me. Don't tell them I'm your father," he says.

"Why?" I blurt out.

He looks me dead in the eyes. "Because if you do... I'll hurt them."

The world tilts. My vision tunnels. I stagger back a step. "What- what the hell are you talking about?"

"It would create tension," he says calmly. Too calmly. "They'd question everything. They'd question you. And right now, that's the last thing we need. It's for your protection. For all of you."

I want to scream again. My breath is shallow. My chest rises and falls like I'm drowning. "You said we were safe," I choke out.

"You are. But safety comes with rules," he explains. "With choices. You want to see your friends alive? Then follow them."

I feel like I've been stabbed. "Newt," I whisper. "Thomas and Minho... You were watching, weren't you? Watching us get close." He doesn't answer. He doesn't have to. The silence is answer enough. My stomach twists violently. "Why are you threatening them?"

"Because this isn't a game, (Y/n)," my father says. Does he not realise that just one day ago, we were in a big Maze game? "If WICKED finds out what I've done- what I've taken- you'll all be hunted. And worse. You tell them I'm your father, and suddenly you're not one of them anymore. You're part of this. You'll tear everything apart."

Tears sting at my eyes. I grit my teeth. My voice is barely above a whisper. "So what, you want me to lie?" I ask

He steps closer again. "You don't have to call it lying," he whispers. "You just let me keep you safe. You don't say anything. Not to Thomas. Not to Newt. Not to anyone."

I stare at the floor for a long moment. And then, slowly I nod. Because I feel as though I have no choice. "Now can I see them?" I ask, voice raw.

He shakes his head. "Not yet." He waves to someone down the hall. A doctor appears - tall, masked, unreadable. "You can get cleaned up," he says. "And you'll see them later." He turns to the doctor. "Make sure she gets her meds too."

My mouth opens in protest - but it's too late. The doctor grabs my arm, firm and clinical. I'm whisked away like an object. Like a child.

And as I'm dragged down another corridor, far from my friends, far from the truth, far from whatever version of safety this place pretends to offer - I feel it.

The trap snapping shut.

~