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

- CHANGE OF PLANS -

At the word cure, Newt's eyes lock with mine - there's a flicker of knowing, a silent understanding amidst the confusion. I squeeze his shoulder. "Come on," I whisper, helping to untie his ropes.

"The choice is yours," Janson intones, his voice filling the space between us like a guillotine.

Teresa moves quietly, untying Aris. Her eyes are distant, lost in thought, as if weighing a thousand impossible decisions. "Let's go," Thomas commands, breaking the heavy silence.

We start jogging around the center of the room, our footsteps echoing off cold concrete walls. The tension is a living thing, wrapped tight around our chests, squeezing, pushing us forward into the unknown.

"Not so fast," the same blade-wielding guard from before steps forward, his voice cold and low like a warning bell. The harsh metal of his gun gleams under the dim light, and before we can even react, he points it squarely at us.

It's instinct - raw, desperate, grief-driven - that pushes me forward. My heart pounds like a war drum in my chest, urgency firing through every nerve. I shove myself in front of my friends, a fragile shield made of flesh and will.

The scramble of limbs is frantic and clumsy. I find myself behind Newt, who's right beside Thomas and Minho. They're at the sharp point of this small triangle, eyes locked on the man holding the gun with deadly intent. Because despite everything, we're just a group of young, scared kids, caught in something far bigger than ourselves. Maybe dumb, maybe reckless, but with a stubborn thread of hope still clinging tight.

"We're not trying to cause any trouble," Thomas says, his voice tense. "We just gotta get out of here."

The guard's lips curl into a cruel smile. "Is that so?" His finger twitches near the trigger, the weight of the weapon pressing down on the fragile space between calm and chaos. Suddenly, it clicks in my mind - this must be the same man from before, the one who reported us to Janson. His hand lifts the radio to his ear. "Janson, I got 'em for ya. I'm bringing 'em down-"

I push myself through Thomas and Newt, stepping forward with more boldness than I feel. "Let me talk to him," I say sharply.

The guard's gun clicks ominously as he aims it at me, his patience wearing thin. "Your kids here," he says with a twisted grin, eyes glinting with something unreadable. "Don't shoot us," he adds, and then abruptly clicks off the radio. "Come on. Let's go." He takes a step closer, gun still trained on us, the cold metal trembling with tension.

My mind races, searching for a way out. I'm thinking - maybe to run, maybe to fight - when Thomas suddenly lunges. The movement is fast, fueled by pure instinct. He grabs the barrel of the gun, yanking it aside. The sharp crack of the shot shatters the air as the bullet slams into the wall mere inches from our heads. A spray of plaster dust falls like death's whisper.

Minho leaps forward next, but the guard is bigger - stronger - and he shoots another bullet into the air, the sharp report echoing like a warning. I shout an incoherent line, grabbing my friends' shirts and yanking them backwards just as the guard's face twists into fury.

"You little bastard!" He snarls, stomping toward us, each step shaking the floor beneath.

I throw myself in front of my friends again, heart slamming against my ribs like a frantic prisoner. If this man wants to kill someone, he'll have to go through me first. I don't know if my father really wants me dead, but right now that thought is the only shield I have.

Then I hear the gunshot.

The sound rips through the room like a whip, raw and unforgiving.

I flinch instinctively, the ghost of a bullet grazing me. The boys around me jerk back in shock, but it's the man in front of us who crumples, blood blossoming across his chest like a dark flower.