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

- PARTY COMPOUND -

He doesn't answer right away. Newt watches him carefully, eyes narrowing just a bit. Thomas shakes his head slowly, as if clearing a fog. "I remember... something," he says finally, voice low.

My heart skips. "What?"

But he doesn't elaborate. He just stares ahead, jaw clenched.

I glance at Teresa, still seated on the cushions, watching us now. Her expression is unreadable. Newt looks from her to Thomas, then back to me. His gaze lingers for a heartbeat too long, and I feel the tension thread between the three of us like a wire pulled tight.

Brenda coughs from the couch, the sound wet and rasping. Jorge shoots her a look. Marcus wheezes, too, blood bubbling in his nostrils. His head droops forward, chin slick with red, mouth twisted in something between a smirk and a grimace.

Jorge stands over him, fists clenched, eyes burning. His voice is deceptively calm as he says, "Listen. I don't enjoy hurting you." The lie tastes like smoke in the air. Marcus chuckles - an ugly sound that rattles in his chest. He tries to speak, but coughs hard first, spitting blood onto the floor between his boots. "Where is the Right Arm, Marcus?" Jorge asks.

Thomas shifts beside me, straightening up like something's just clicked. "Wait - this is Marcus?" He asks, blinking rapidly, still groggy but clearly catching on.

"The kid catches on quick," Marcus croaks, lifting his head with effort. His good eye glints with something foul. "Are you the brains of the operation?" He says it like a joke, but it lands sharp. I see Thomas's jaw tighten.

Jorge doesn't bother with words this time. He grabs a fistful of Marcus's greasy hair, yanks his head back until his neck is bare, exposed. Marcus grunts in pain but doesn't fight it. "I know you know where they're hiding," Jorge hisses. "So you'll tell me. And I'll make you a deal." He leans in close. "You can come with us."

Marcus barks a harsh, short laugh that ends in a wince. "I burned that bridge a long time ago," he says.

"Then maybe I'll build a new one," Jorge mutters. "Over your broken bones."

But Marcus shakes his head slowly. "I made my own deal." His good eye swivels, finds me across the room. Locks on. "You're the one who taught me-" he rasps to Jorge, blood trailing down his chin. "Never miss an opportunity."

The air shifts. My stomach turns. I stare at him, unreadable, but I can feel Newt go still beside me. "What's he talking about?" Newt asks, eyes flicking between us.

Marcus doesn't look away from me. "I'm talking about supply and demand," he says, as if he's lecturing a classroom instead of being tied to a chair with a busted face. "WICKED wants immunes. Wants all of them... some more than others. So I help provide that. I lure the kids in... they get drunk, they dance, they lose their edge..." He smiles, blood in his teeth. "And then WICKED comes in. They do the sorting. They separate the wheat from the chaff."

I don't fully understand the phrase - but I don't need to. Every word makes it clearer. "You sold them out," Minho growls.

"He sold us out," I say, rising from my spot on the floor.

Marcus shrugs. "Opportunity."

Jorge exhales, low and dangerous. "I changed my mind, hermano." He steps forward. "I do enjoy hurting you." Then he kicks Marcus in the chest. The chair topples backward with a crash, Marcus's breath whooshing out of him in a choked gasp as he slams into the floor, still tied down. Dust explodes up around him. "Talk!" Jorge roars. He drops to one knee, planting it right in Marcus's sternum, pinning him.

Marcus thrashes. "Okay! Okay! But I'm not making any promises!" he squeals, voice cracking. Jorge pulls the chair back upright, slow and deliberate. Marcus gasps, blinking hard through pain and blood. "The Right Arm doesn't give exact position-" Jorge hits him again. "Fine!Fine!"

"Where are they now?" Jorge demands.

"There's... an outpost," Marcus pants. "Up in the mountains, near a place called Redwater Ridge. Remote. Hidden. Fortified. But it's far. Real far."

"And WICKED's already looking for them," Thomas states, his voice low but intense.

Marcus nods. "You got half of WICKED crawling up your asses. You think you're gonna make it there on foot?" He laughs - high, shaky, unhinged. "Not a chance."

Jorge takes a slow step closer. Places both palms on Marcus's knees and leans in. His voice drops to a whisper. "Where's Bertha?"

Marcus freezes. He blinks up at Jorge, blood trailing down his cheek. "Not Bertha," he pleads, suddenly much smaller.

The change is instant. Fear.

Everyone looks at each other - Newt, Minho, Thomas, even Teresa. No one says anything. I glance at Jorge. His mouth is a thin line. "Who's Bertha?" I ask. But Jorge's already dragging Marcus forward again.

And he gets the location out of Marcus the hard way.

~