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

- PERSUASION -

I catch up to them just outside the lobby. Thomas, Newt, Teresa.

The four of us move as a unit, stepping into the wide-open space like shadows stitched into the floor. There are people around - scientists, guards, techs in lab coats, some passing by with data pads, others deep in hushed conversation.

We keep our heads down. Eyes averted. One foot in front of the other.

I feel the weight of the uniform more than ever now - the constricting collar, the sweat building under my mask. The sound of our boots echoing too loudly against polished tile floors. My nerves buzz beneath my skin, like they're trying to climb their way out of me.

No one seems to notice us. Yet.

Thomas reaches the elevator panel first and jabs his finger against the button. We stop and stand there, trying to look casual while the pressure behind our stillness builds like a wave.

The seconds crawl.

The light doesn't change.

Newt shifts his weight beside me, and I can feel the heat radiating off his back through the suit. Thomas checks over his shoulder once, twice. Teresa fidgets with her ID card. My hand lingers near the butt of my gun.

Still nothing.

And then, finally, the doors open with a clean hydraulic hiss.

We all step inside quickly, almost too quickly. Like if we take too long, the whole thing will collapse.

Inside the elevator, the air shifts.

We pack in tight. Four of us. Teresa slides to the front and presses the floor. Thomas, Newt and I stand shoulder-to-shoulder along the back wall. Newt's between us - our arms brushing, his shoulders tense. His leg's probably screaming at him, but he doesn't let it show.

I feel the vibration in my ribs when the doors start to close.

An arm wedges between them.

"Hold it," a voice says, sharp and familiar. My entire chest locks up. The doors retract. Janson steps in. He doesn't even flinch as he sees us, only adjusts his suit collar and casually reaches out to press a different floor. "Evening," he says like we're all in on the same joke.

Teresa stiffens so visibly I think I can hear her vertebrae crack. I brace for it - for her to look back at me, to show her nerves. But she doesn't. She stares ahead. Stoic.

Janson steps forward, and he's standing directly in front of me. Practically nose-to-nose if I weren't a few inches shorter. His back's to me, but I can smell his soap. I can feel him there. Like a blade pressed to my throat.

Newt shifts. Just centimetres closer to me. So subtle, so quiet, but I feel it. His fingers brush the back of my glove. My own hand hovers closer to my weapon. I place a single finger over the trigger. Just in case. Just so I know it's there.

The doors close.

Silence. Crushed, suffocating silence.

Then Janson speaks, with the tone of someone making lazy conversation at a dinner party. "You're working late," he says it to Teresa. His voice is smooth. Almost cheerful. "See, that's what I like about you, Teresa. No matter how bleak things get... you just- well, you never give up, do you?" He chuckles, the sound sharp in the confined space. "I know I'm always talking about (Y/n), but you saw how she gave up." A pointed laugh. "So much for my little rebel child."

My jaw clenches.

I don't know what he says next. Not exactly. Something about loyalty. About who's counting on who. But it gets swallowed by the sound of my heartbeat. It's pounding so hard I swear it's going to rattle apart my ribs.