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

- FREED -

I make it back up the stairs.

"Just in time," Gally echoes, crouched beside the circuit box. His gloved hands snap it shut with a muted click, the small wires neatly packed back inside. The exposed board still glows faintly red from where he bridged the connection. "This'll tap Lawrence straight into WICKED's mainframe," he tells me without looking up. "And keep the cameras blind for our descending approach."

It's a sobering reminder that we're not just sneaking in - we're disrupting a system designed to catch us. "No one down there," I say, pulling off my helmet with a relieved breath. "I cleared the lower levels - looks quiet. What's the others' status?"

"I thought you took a radio?" Teresa cuts in, standing near the stair railing with arms crossed.

I shrug sheepishly. "I got distracted."

Thomas quirks a brow at me, but doesn't push it. "Hopefully they're on time."

"Less chatting, more moving," Gally barks, already moving down the next flight.

The moment breaks.

We start descending in tight formation, boots thudding against the concrete stairs in rhythm. I'm behind Newt. I can see how stiff his shoulders are, the slight tremble in his steps. His hair is damp and curling at the nape of his neck, plastered to his temples.

I reach out instinctively, stopping us behind the others, removing one glove and pressing the back of my hand to his forehead. "You're burning up," I murmur, voice low. There's no judgment in it. Just concern that's starting to simmer into fear. A fear I've gotten good at tucking away.

He doesn't flinch from the touch. Just lifts his eyes to mine and breathes, "These bloody suits."

I glance at the others ahead of us - Thomas, Gally, Teresa - none of them slowing. Their footsteps echo down, one after the other, bouncing off the sterile stairwell walls like a countdown. I keep my hand on Newt for a beat longer than I probably should. "You know, I'm gonna worry whether you lie to me or not," I say gently but firmly. It's not a threat, just the truth. My mind won't stop picking at this situation the way we pick at scabs to try and make them go away.

He blinks at me once, then gives a tired half-smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "We don't have time to worry about this, love," he says. His voice cracks ever so slightly on the word love, like the weight of it costs him something. He reaches for his helmet and slides it back on. "C'mon now."

And just like that, the moment's over.

He ushers me forward, and we fall back into motion.

We move fast. Down flight after flight. Metal stairs clanging beneath our boots, the walls narrowing with every level. The air grows hotter as we descend - thick, stifling. The lights above us start to flicker every few steps, and the hum of electricity in the walls buzzes louder than it should.

I try to keep my head in the game, but it's hard when every corner could be a death sentence. Every second Newt spends sweating through his suit is a second closer to a line we can't uncross.

I shift my focus to the gun in my hand. Safety off. Grip tight. Breathe in through the nose, out through the mouth. I move my feet with precision, not panic. Thomas is somewhere ahead, checking his watch. Gally's shoulders are tense, like he's waiting to swing a fist. Teresa's true motives are unreadable. Every step we take down this stairwell brings us closer to Minho, to the immunes, to whatever final shape this plan is going to take.

We reach the thick steel door marked Sublevel 3. The lights above flicker with the faint whine of disrupted current - Gally's earlier hack still holding steady, scrambling the cameras and triggering just enough disturbance to force someone to come check it out.