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

- WHEN THE TRUTH GETS OUT -

We're in the middle of nowhere.

And still - behind us - the faint hum of engines. The clatter of wheels on rock. Boots on sand. "They're close," Newt whispers beside me.

I nod. My heart is thudding hard against my ribs - steady, unrelenting. I feel every inch of my body buzzing with adrenaline, still high from what happened inside, still reeling from what I said, what I revealed.

Janson is my father.

God, what must they think?

No time. Keep moving.

We shuffle forward, keeping low, ducking behind every small ridge we can find. Aris is just ahead now, crouched beneath a bent, dead-looking shrub. Minho and Thomas are further right, barely visible except when the moonlight catches their backs.

Every time we crest another dune, I expect a spotlight. A bullet.

But we keep moving.

No more staying low. No more stealth. Just movement. Just flight. The sound of pounding feet behind us is growing louder.

Gunfire cracks the air. Not aimed - but close.

We dive behind another dune. My body hits the ground hard. Sand rushes into my shirt, my hair, my mouth. I spit it out, gasping. Another shot echoes. Closer.

There's a flash of movement above us. Aris waves frantically, pointing toward a gash in the hills - like a ravine or canyon, half-hidden behind a line of wind-swept dunes. A perfect place to vanish. If we can reach it. "Move!" Newt says.

We scramble up the next hill, sand collapsing beneath our feet, our hands digging in like animals. My legs feel like they're being swallowed by the earth. Every time I look back, the lights are closer. The engines louder. Shouting voices cresting over the wind.

We hold low to the ground. Waiting. Barely breathing. For a long moment, it feels as though we've actually escaped them.

The wind howls like it's alive, whipping sharp blades of sand against our backs as we scramble over the ridge. Then Teresa bolts ahead through the storm, her silhouette darting in and out of the dusty haze. "Teresa! Stick to the group!" Thomas calls, voice half-lost in the wind. He doesn't slow, but his worry lingers in the space she left behind.

I'm at the back now. Dragging behind. I tell myself it's just exhaustion - legs burning, lungs raw - but the truth sits lower in my stomach like a stone. Guilt. The kind that creeps in when you think you've done something right only to realize it might have cost you everything.

Why didn't I just tell them the truth from the start?

Why did I wait until it all went to shit?

A thousand answers scream inside me - fear, doubt, selflessness... selfishness? - but none of them matter anymore.

The wind screams louder. "In here!" Teresa's voice cuts through the storm.

I see it then - barely visible through the swirling sand - a cracked glass dome sunk into the side of a sand dune, half-buried but still standing. The entrance is jagged and dark, like a broken mouth yawning wide. "Okay! Everyone get inside!" Thomas shouts.

We scramble down the sandy incline. Winston stumbles and slides halfway. I reach out, my fist catching the back of his shirt to slow his rough descent. "I got you," I mutter, pulling him upright. He nods, panting hard. We make it through the mouth of the building. Glass shards litter the warped tile floors, and shattered windows rattle from the wind's fury, dust swirling in smoky whorls through the air like ghosts. My skin prickles. Not from cold. "Everybody okay?" I ask, brushing grit from my sleeves, voice soft and genuine.