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

- A MAN BUILT ON LIES -

They grip my arms again, though less violently this time - like I've already given in.

We move fast down the corridor.

There are four guards ahead of us, rifles clutched tight, gear loaded, steps heavy with the weight of armor and certainty. I walk in the middle, Janson holding me like I'm his trophy, or worse - his tool. He doesn't let go.

We round corners, pass locked doors, security checkpoints, blinking red lights overhead. The facility is on alert. I can feel it in the air, like it's humming, aware. The guards scan every hallway like my friends could jump out at any second.

They're close.

I know it.

I know they're still running.

And when Janson's hand presses at my back, urging me forward, I feel it - cool and metallic - the outline of a pistol tucked into his waistband. Hope flares in my chest like a match. But I don't move. Not yet.

Every step echoes. Every breath feels stolen. My wrists burn from where the restraints dug in earlier, and the guards surrounding me move in tight formation like they're guarding a bomb - because maybe that's exactly what I am to them now.

We reach a long corridor, sterile white, humming with a low electric buzz overhead. At the far end - barely visible through the harsh artificial light - I see them. My friends. All of them pressed against a sealed metal door, trying desperately to open it, pounding on the keypad that won't budge.

My heart spikes.

"Shout and I'll shoot them," my father whispers low into my ear. His voice is calm, almost tender. It makes it so much worse. His grip is tight. Controlled. The way a scientist might hold a specimen. Not a daughter. We turn the corner, and I instinctively try to hold back, to delay the inevitable, but his hand clamps harder on my arm until I'm forced forward. He raises his other hand, signaling to a nearby guard. The armed man steps forward and grabs me. "Thomas!" My father calls out across the corridor. His voice booms with confidence.

The others whip around.

I can see Thomas react immediately, gun clenched in his grip. He moves forward with purpose, protectiveness and rage etched into every line of his face. "Open this door, Janson!" Thomas shouts.

We keep walking forward. I'm positioned behind the guards, and I don't think they've seen me yet. My heart pounds against my ribs like it's trying to escape my chest. "You really don't want me to!" My father calls back evenly.

Thomas raises the gun another inch. "Open the damn door!"

I try to move. Try to push forward or step out from behind the guards. But the one closest to me notices the shift in weight and shoves the barrel of his rifle into my ribs. I freeze. "Listen to me!" My father shouts, addressing Thomas and the others. "I'm trying to save your life." There's a beat of silence. "The Maze was one thing - but the Scorch?" My father scoffs. "You wouldn't last a day. If the heat doesn't get you, the Cranks will."

That's when Thomas spots me. Our eyes lock, and for the briefest second, the world goes silent. "Let her go!!" Thomas roars. Every ounce of rage and fear and desperation explodes in his voice.

Newt's head snaps around. "What do you mean?"

"He has (Y/n)!" Thomas shouts.

Everything turns to chaos.

My feet are shoved forward again, and this time I'm forced to the front - to be put on show. One of the guards yanks me into the open, gripping me by the shoulder like I'm a shield. My father keeps his hands raised in some twisted display of control. "Stop right there!" He calls out as Newt moves instinctively forward. The guard next to me jabs the rifle tighter into my side. Newt stops cold. "It's okay, Thomas," Janson lies.

"Really?" Thomas snaps. "Let me guess - because WICKED is good?"

My father falters. Just a crack in the mask. The secret is out. Thomas sees it. Everyone sees it.

"You need to get out of here!" I shout.

"We won't leave you, (Y/n)!" Thomas contradicts.

I see the worry in his eyes - in Newt's gaze, too. They won't leave because they fear for my safety. Fair enough, right now I have a gun in my side. Yet I know the truth. "He won't hurt me!" I call over. Janson's head whips towards me with a scowl plastered on his face. Yet I speak with confidence.

"We don't know that?!" Newt yells, still hovering near Thomas's side.

My mind switches back and forth between what to do. My gaze lands on Newt. On the quiet words we would share by the radio. On his morals. On my own morals. "He's my father!" I choose shout back.

The silence that follows nearly kills me.

All of them halt. My words ripple through them like a shockwave. Minho's eyes go wide. Frypan stares like I just told them the world was ending. Jack takes a step back. Newt's jaw clenches. And Thomas - he doesn't say anything. His gun wavers slightly in his hands. The betrayal, the confusion - it's all over his face. He doesn't understand. How could he? My father lets out a soft laugh. "Bold choice," he mutters under his breath, looking sideways at me with a much more satisfied grin.

Then the door behind the others beeps.

The light above it flashes green. It lifts open with a mechanical hiss. Winston and Aris stand on the other side, wild-eyed, clutching gear and waving frantically. "Come on, guys!" Winston shouts. One by one, the others sprint for the opening.

Newt doesn't move at first. "Go!" I scream. "Don't wait for me!"

He stares at me, pain in his eyes, then starts backing toward the door with slow, reluctant steps. They come to a strict halt with a shake of his head. "No!" Newt decides.

"Newt, please!" I choke out, throat burning. But he stands his ground.

Thomas, torn between covering him and forcing him back, uses one hand to push Newt behind him, keeping the gun trained forward. "Thomas! Newt! Hurry!" Frypan calls from the other side.

My father lowers his arms slowly, as if not to spook Thomas. He reaches for his radio and brings it to his lips. "Close the main vault door," he says. The door at the far end begins to descend.

No hesitation.

I move.

My hand dives into my father's holster and grabs the pistol I'd seen earlier. The second I have it, I spin out of the guard's grip and raise the weapon to the sky.

Three shots echo down the hallway, loud enough to startle the guards to duck.

"RUN!" I scream.

Thomas and Newt hear. They don't wait. Thomas fires back twice, hitting the wall and forcing the guards to continue covering themselves.

I sprint. The adrenaline floods me so fast it blurs the edges of my vision.

Newt ducks under the door just in time. Thomas follows. The door's already half closed by the time I reach it.

I dive.

Slide hard on my side, the floor scraping through my shirt, pain tearing across my ribs. The door slams shut inches behind my feet with a massive metallic clang.

Everything is still.

For a moment, no one breathes.

Then Aris runs forward and smacks the control pad with his palm. "Locked," he confirms. "They can't follow us now."

Frypan grabs my arm and yanks me up. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I pant, heart still hammering, lungs on fire. "We have to go."

Minho grabs a rifle from one of the fallen guards and takes note of the ammunition. "We're armed. Let's move."

I turn and look back at the small window in the metal door. My father is standing just behind it. Arms still at his sides. Face blank. Then his lips move. "Big mistake, (Y/N)," he mouths.

And somehow that's worse than any shout.

"Come on," Minho urges. So I don't have anything to do but run.

~