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

- CHANGE OF PLANS -

We have a plan. It's fragile, but it's something. Something to fight back with.

The ropes are tight, unforgiving. Hanging upside down like this is hell on our bodies - blood rushing to our heads, muscles screaming for release. But desperation sharpens our focus. We have to get to that lever Jorge pulled - the one that dropped us a foot but didn't free us.

Our plan is simple in theory: use momentum, push and pull each other until one of us can reach the lever again. We pick Teresa.

It's not just because she's smaller or lighter - it's because she's got longer arms than me. More reach. Easier to stretch out, easier to grab that lever and untangle.

Minho is the muscle behind it. His hands clamp around Teresa's hips, steadying her like a rock. He presses into her, using every ounce of strength to give her just enough lift and thrust.

I brace myself, legs aching, arms pulling tight against the ropes that cut into my skin. Every time Teresa moves, I sway, teetering on the edge of nausea, but I keep my balance - because we all need to work together on this.

Slowly, agonizingly, Teresa swings closer. Every muscle in her face is taut - her jaw clenched so tight I think it might crack. Minho grunts, pushing harder, pushing off of Thomas who gets momentum from me.

Finally, Teresa's fingers scrape the cold metal of the lever.

She pulls.

The whole group jerks downward with another involuntary scream - the ropes slackening just enough to make us worry. But we didn't drop. Teresa just gave herself enough slack to land on the edge.

She untangles herself swiftly, breathing ragged but fierce. Her body twists, freed from the worst of the bindings. "(Y/n)," she gasps, sweat slicking her forehead as her hand reaches toward my rope.

I finally feel the ground, limbs aching but grateful for solid footing. My hands scramble to untangle the thick ropes binding my wrists and ankles. Every second feels like a lifetime. Just as I free myself, a voice booms across the dim room, crackling from external loudspeakers.

"Good evening!" The tone is mocking, cold.

"Oh shit," I mutter under my breath, my pulse quickening as dread coils in my stomach.

"This is the World Catastrophe Killzone Department. We have your compound completely surrounded." The voice is unmistakable - Janson. His authority crushes the air like a weight.

"(Y/n), is that-?" Thomas's voice cuts through the haze of tension, his eyes flickering toward me.

"Yeah," I confirm with a hard nod, muscles tense, mind racing.

My father's voice continues, thick with accusation and power: "You find yourselves, through no fault of your own, in possession of WICKED property!"

His words echo through the room, but I barely register them fully. My focus snaps to Teresa beside me. Without hesitation, I snatch a metal pole off the ground, its cold surface slick under my sweating palm. "Grab it," I urge Newt urgently, reaching for his arm. He hesitates for a fraction before I pull him toward the rail. His fingers close around it, gripping like a lifeline.

Janson drones on: "Return them to us unharmed and we'll consider this a simple misunderstanding." I move quickly, helping Minho next, tugging at his ropes with swift determination. My mind is sharp, adrenaline roaring in my ears. "Or you can resign and every last one of you will die," my father continues, voice like ice. "It won't be long before the Flare wipes out the rest of us. The hope of a cure lies in your hands."