According to Aris’s quick estimation, there are five guards in total, minus the one he’s already targeting. The plan feels razor-thin, a fragile thread they’re all clinging to. He’s already making his move, silent and determined, his steps precise as he weaves through the shadows. Meanwhile, Chris and Katherine remain in their hiding spot, crouched low and waiting for the signal.

The tension is suffocating. Chris’s breathing is shallow, his eyes darting between the guards and Katherine as he bounces his leg nervously. Katherine, however, seems calm—too calm, as if the weight of the moment hasn’t hit her yet. Then, she does something that makes his heart practically leap into his throat.

She begins unbuttoning the top of her blouse, her fingers moving with deliberate precision. Next, she runs her hands through her hair, tugging and mussing it into a chaotic mess.

Chris stares at her, wide-eyed, as if she’s lost her mind. “Woah. Woaah. What are you doing?” His voice comes out in a harsh whisper, loud enough to make her pause but not enough to alert the guards.

“We’re doing this the old-fashioned way,” she replies, her tone sharp, her focus unbroken.

Chris blinks, trying to process her words. “What? You’re gonna seduce them?”

“Not exactly.” Katherine huffs and leans toward him, her fingers suddenly digging into his curls. She messes them up in a frenzy, ignoring his squawk of protest. “We’re going to distract them first. Otherwise, they’ll put a bullet in our skulls before we can get close.”

Chris’s protest dies on his lips. He sighs, still watching her with a mix of bewilderment and grudging admiration. “Alright, let’s get it done,” he mutters, shaking his head like he’s resigned to whatever chaos she’s about to unleash.

Katherine smirks faintly. “We’re about to do something bad, so don’t take it personally.”

Chris smirks back, the kind of grin that comes naturally to him in moments like this. “I’ll consider it.”

And with that, Katherine bolts from their cover.

“Help! Somebody help!” Her voice rings out, panicked and desperate, cutting through the tense air.

Chris watches from the shadows, his chest tightening. He knows it’s an act, but damn, she’s good. Too good. The way her voice wavers, the terror in her cry—it’s almost enough to convince him, let alone the guards.

The guards, as expected, whirl around at the sound of her voice, guns raised, tense and ready to fire.

Katherine stumbles toward them, her breaths coming out in frantic gasps. “Help me! He tried to touch me!”

The guards exchange confused glances, lowering their weapons slightly at her disheveled state.

“Who? Are you okay?” one of them asks, stepping forward.

Katherine shakes her head frantically, her lower lip trembling as she keeps up the facade of an innocent, terrified girl. “I’m scared. Please, you have to help me!”

Just as planned, Chris steps out from behind the boxes, his expression twisted into a psychotic grin. He tilts his head, his posture loose but menacing as he walks into the open.

Katherine gasps dramatically, stumbling back to hide behind the guards. “He’s the guy!” she cries, pointing a trembling finger at Chris.

“Hands up!” one of the guards barks, raising his gun again, his stance rigid.

Chris smirks, his hands slowly rising in mock surrender. “Geez, man. I was just trying to have a little fun.” His tone is light, but there’s a dangerous edge to it that makes the guards hesitate.

“Don’t shoot him,” another guard warns. “Janson will skin us alive if we mess this up.”

A sharp, piercing shriek cuts through the air, freezing everyone in place. It’s the signal. Aris has done his part.

Katherine doesn’t hesitate. She swings her arm out with brutal precision, slamming her elbow into a guard’s shin. The man lets out a yelp of pain, stumbling before crashing to the ground with a heavy thud.

Chris is already moving, his grin widening as he dives at the nearest guard, grappling for his weapon. Katherine manages to snatch a gun from the fallen guard, her fingers tightening around the unfamiliar weight. Without missing a beat, she fires.

The room erupts into chaos. The guards drop one by one, their bodies convulsing as electrical currents from the weapon’s rounds surge through them.

Katherine’s breaths come fast and shallow as the last guard hits the ground. Her hands tremble slightly as she lowers the weapon, the adrenaline leaving her chest tight.

“Shit,” Chris mutters, looking down at the twitching guards. “You could’ve warned me about the whole taser thing.”

Katherine ignores him, her attention snapping toward the sound of footsteps. Aris appears from the shadows, a triumphant grin on his face as he holds a keycard high in the air.

“Got it, guys!” he announces, his voice brimming with satisfaction.

Chris lets out a low whistle, clapping his twin on the shoulder. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“And you love me for it,” Aris quips, his grin widening as they move toward the massive metal door.

Katherine lingers for a moment, her gaze flicking to Chris. “Not bad for your first distraction,” she says, her tone teasing but warm.

Chris smirks, the tension between them easing. “Not bad for your first con.”

The moment passes, and they focus on the task at hand. Aris steps up to the processor, swiping the keycard with a smooth motion. The device beeps, glowing green as the door slides open with a hiss.

On the other side, their friends turn to face them, expressions shifting from relief to surprise.

“Hey, guys,” Aris says casually, his grin widening like he just finished the easiest part of the plan.

“Come on!” Chris shouts, motioning everyone through the open door. The group rushes out, their footsteps echoing against the metallic floor as Teresa sprints past them.

Katherine lags for a heartbeat, scanning the corridor for one specific figure. “Tommy! Come on! Let’s go!” she yells, her voice sharp and cutting through the chaos.

At the far end of the corridor, Thomas stands with his gun raised, his focus locked on Janson and the guards flanking him. Katherine’s chest tightens as her brother’s hesitation stretches the seconds painfully thin.

Thomas fires a rapid volley at Janson and his men, the shots deafening in the confined space. His aim is perfect, keeping them at bay, but he knows he can’t hold them forever. Dropping the gun, he sprints toward the closing door.

“Shut the main vault door!” Janson barks into his walkie-talkie. A loud grinding noise follows as the door starts sliding down, inching closer to sealing them in.

“No!” Katherine’s voice cracks with desperation, her heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst.

“Thomas?” Chris’s voice is tense beside her, his fists clenched as he leans forward, willing Thomas to run faster.

“Come on, Tommy! Come on!” Katherine’s voice grows frantic, her twin bond screaming at her to pull him through the impossible.

“Move! Move!” Minho shouts, panic sharpening his words.

Thomas pushes his legs harder, faster, his breaths ragged and labored. Just as the door is about to slam shut, he dives, sliding underneath it with barely a second to spare.

The group rushes to him as he lies sprawled on the floor, panting and gasping for air. Minho grabs his arm, hauling him up, while Newt steadies him from the other side. Katherine doesn’t think twice, pulling him into a tight hug, her fingers gripping his shoulders like she’s trying to reassure herself he’s really there.

“You’re a bloody idiot,” she mutters against his shoulder, though her voice wavers with relief.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Thomas replies breathlessly, managing a weak grin as he pulls away.

Through the small rectangular window at the top of the vault door, Janson appears, his expression murderous as he yells orders to his guards.

“Thomas, what’s going on?” Teresa demands, her voice clipped with urgency.

Before he can answer, Aris grabs a fire extinguisher from the wall. Without hesitation, he smashes it against the processor. The device sparks and fizzles, rendering it useless.

“Nice work, genius,” Chris says, a grin tugging at his lips. He slaps Aris on the back, the gesture full of brotherly pride.

“Did you expect anything less?” Aris quips, his grin mirrored in Chris’s expression.

Janson tries to swipe his keycard on the other side, his movements frantic. When it fails, he slams his fist against the window, glaring at the group in pure frustration.

Thomas doesn’t miss a beat. He raises his middle finger, his expression defiant.

Winston, crouched near an unconscious guard, picks up a small pistol, but it’s Katherine who steals the moment. She smirks, her eyes gleaming with defiance as she lifts her hand. She holds an invisible lipstick, twisting it open theatrically, the motion deliberate and mocking. The raised "lipstick" is none other than her middle finger, aimed squarely at Janson’s furious face.

With exaggerated flair, she pretends to apply the nonexistent lipstick to her lips, the motion slow and deliberate, every swipe an act of rebellion. She tilts her head slightly, blowing him a taunting kiss before finishing with a playful wink.

"Decency?" she drawls, her voice sweet with venom. "My ass."

Janson’s face turns red with fury, his fist slamming against the glass. “You little shit!” he yells, his voice muffled but no less venomous.

Katherine lets out a laugh—wild, feral, and utterly unhinged. The sound echoes through the corridor, making even Chris glance at her with a mix of awe and amusement.

Newt steps in, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her away from the window. His touch is firm but gentle, grounding her in a way no one else could. “Alright, love, enough. Come on,” he says softly, linking their hands as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Katherine looks up at him, her manic grin softening into something more human. For a second, she feels safe, tethered to the calmness Newt always seems to carry, even in the middle of chaos.

“Let’s go!” Minho barks, snapping them all back to the urgency of the moment.

The group takes off running, their breaths harsh and labored as they dash toward the giant double doors at the end of the room. Thomas reaches the lever first, pulling it with all his strength. The doors groan and creak before they begin to slide open, the sound eerily reminiscent of the Maze doors.

A harsh, sandy wind blasts through the opening, stinging their skin and filling their lungs with the dry, gritty air. They stagger, taking precious seconds to recover from the impact.

“This way!” Teresa shouts, her voice cutting through the howl of the wind. She gestures toward a sunken building partially buried in the sand.

“Come on!” she adds, disappearing through a broken window.

“Teresa, wait!” Thomas calls after her, his voice tinged with exasperation.

“Get down here!” Teresa’s voice echoes from below, impatient and insistent.

One by one, they slide down the sandbank, their feet kicking up clouds of dust until they land on the hard floor inside. The air is thick with the scent of decay, and the darkness presses in around them like a living thing.

Minho pulls a flashlight from the stolen WICKED bag, the beam cutting through the inky blackness. He sweeps it across the room, revealing crumbling walls and scattered debris.

“Where the shuck are we?” he mutters, his voice low and uneasy.

Katherine hugs herself, her eyes darting around as unease prickles at her skin. The place feels wrong, like a graveyard for forgotten things.

“We gotta go,” Thomas says, his tone leaving no room for argument. He motions for the group to follow, determination etched into his features. “We gotta keep moving.”

“No, Thomas, stop!” Teresa’s voice cuts through the tense silence, echoing off the walls. There’s a sharp edge to her tone, enough to halt the group in their tracks. Her eyes lock onto his, demanding answers. “Tell me what’s going on.”

Thomas hesitates, the weight of what he’s about to say pressing heavily on his chest. “It’s WICKED. They lied to us. We never escaped.” His voice cracks slightly, but he pushes on. “Me, Kat, Aris, and Chris—we found bodies. Too many to count.”

“Bodies?” Minho’s sharp voice cuts through, his brows furrowing. “What do you mean? Dead bodies?”

“No,” Katherine interjects, her voice trembling. She takes a step forward, her hands tightening into fists. “They weren’t dead… but they weren’t alive either. They were strung up, hooked to machines, with tubes coming out of them. They were… being drained.” She shudders, the memory clawing at her like a nightmare she can’t shake. Newt instinctively reaches for her hand, squeezing it gently.

“There’s something inside us,” Thomas continues, his voice steadier now. “Something WICKED wants. It’s in our blood. That’s why we have to keep running. We have to get as far away from them as we can.”

The room falls silent, the weight of his words pressing down on everyone.

Minho narrows his eyes, his voice dripping with skepticism. “Okay, so what’s the plan?”

Thomas pauses, glancing at the expectant faces around him. He exhales sharply. “I… I don’t know.”

Minho stares at him, disbelief etched across his face. “We followed you out here, Thomas. And now you’re telling us you have no idea where we’re going or what we’re doing?”

“Wait.” Chris steps forward, his voice cutting through the tension. “Janson said something about people in the mountains. Resistance, or… an army.”

“The Right Arm,” Aris says quietly, his voice steady.

“If they’re really against WICKED, they might help us,” Thomas adds, latching onto the thread of hope.

Newt scoffs, shaking his head. “Mountain people. That’s your plan? Really?” His voice drips with sarcasm, his frustration evident.

Katherine pulls her hand free from his, her voice sharp. “It’s better than being half-dead in that lab.”

“Kat—” Newt starts, his voice softening, but she cuts him off, her hand snapping up.

“No, Newt. I don’t want to hear it.” Her tone is final, the space between them widening like a chasm.

Before he can respond, Winston’s voice breaks through the tension. “Hey, guys!” He’s crouched on the sand, pointing at something. “Check this out. Minho, give me some light!”

The group gathers around, and Minho shines his flashlight over the ground. Footprints, faint but distinct, lead deeper into the building.

“Someone’s been down here,” Winston says, his voice low, a thread of unease creeping into his tone.

They follow the trail to a room behind a rusted metal gate. Dust coats the shelves, and remnants of life long forgotten scatter the space.

“Looks like people lived here,” Katherine observes, running her fingers over a dusty book. She frowns. “Where are they now?”

Thomas scans the room, pulling a worn jacket from the pile. “Pack up anything useful. We might need it. Split up and search the place. We’ll meet back here.”

The group disperses, the faint beam of flashlights slicing through the darkness. Katherine drifts toward a quiet corner, her flashlight sweeping across old furniture and scattered debris. Suddenly, a hand grabs her wrist, pulling her back. She gasps, spinning around and colliding with a firm chest.

Her flashlight flickers upward, revealing Newt’s face, his expression stormy but pleading. “You’re mad at me,” he states, his voice low.

“I have my reasons,” she replies, yanking her wrist free, her tone clipped.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper.

She lets out a cold laugh, shaking her head. “You think ‘sorry’ fixes everything? Newsflash, Newt, it doesn’t.”

“What the shuck do you want me to do, then?” he snaps, frustration bubbling to the surface.

“Nothing,” she retorts, her voice sharp enough to cut. Before he can respond, Teresa calls out from another corner.

“Kat! Found some clothes for us!”

Katherine steps away, her heart pounding. “I gotta go.” Without a backward glance, she heads toward Teresa, leaving Newt standing in the shadows, his hand falling to his side.

He sighs heavily and sinks down beside Frypan, who’s rummaging through supplies. Chris joins them, glancing at Newt’s drawn expression. “Girlfriend problems?” Chris teases lightly, trying to ease the tension.

“You could say that,” Newt mutters, his eyes straying toward Katherine, who’s now sifting through jackets with Teresa.

Frypan’s gaze lingers on the reflection of the girls in a broken mirror. With a knowing smile, Newt nudges Frypan’s chin away.

“What?” Frypan protests, feigning innocence.

“Nothing,” Newt replies, chuckling softly before returning to the task at hand.

Suddenly, the lights flicker, illuminating the room in brief, eerie bursts. The group freezes, the sudden glow casting long shadows across the walls.

“Did that just happen?” Chris mutters, his voice hushed.

Before anyone can answer, a piercing scream echoes from the direction Thomas and Minho had gone. Everyone’s heads snap toward the sound, their blood running cold.

“Thomas!” Katherine’s voice rings out, panic threading through her tone as the group scrambles to their feet, their flashlights bouncing wildly in the sudden chaos.