The Glade is a blur of activity when Katherine, Thomas, and Minho return from the Maze. The moment they step through the entrance, they’re greeted by a small crowd of Gladers, all buzzing with tension. At the forefront, Newt storms forward, eyes narrowed, his furious gaze locking onto Katherine. His whole body radiates a restrained anger, as if he’s barely holding it together.

"What the bloody hell were you thinking?!" Newt’s voice cuts through the chaos like a knife.

Katherine gives a weak smile, though it falters under his intense stare. "Sorry, Newt."

Newt's jaw tightens, and he snaps his gaze to Thomas and Minho. "What's going on out there?"

Before Thomas can answer, Gally steps up, his posture tense and challenging. "What the hell have you done now, Thomas?"

Thomas doesn’t bother with him, his focus entirely on Newt. "We found something—a new passage. It could be a way out."

Newt’s eyebrows lift slightly, the flicker of hope mixed with skepticism crossing his face. "Really?"

"Yeah." Thomas glances at Katherine, then back to Newt. "We found a door. A place I’ve never seen before. We think… it might be where the Grievers go during the day."

The weight of his words hangs in the air for a moment, thick with implications. Chuck’s voice breaks the silence, trembling with a mix of fear and curiosity. "You’re saying… you found the Grievers' home? And you want us to go in?"

"It could be our way out, Chuck," Katherine says, her voice steady despite the nerves tightening in her gut.

"Or it could be a trap." Gally spits out, his usual disdain thick in his voice. "Thomas doesn’t know what he’s done, as usual."

Katherine rolls her eyes but doesn’t say anything. It’s the same old routine: Gally always looking for a reason to pick a fight.

Thomas steps forward, refusing to back down. "At least I did something, Gally. What about you? All you do is sit behind these walls."

Gally shoves a finger into Thomas’s chest, eyes blazing. "I’ve been here three years, Greenie. You’ve been here three days. What the hell do you know?"

"Three years, and you’re still here," Thomas retorts, frustration sharpening his tone. "Maybe it’s time we did things differently."

Gally’s face flushes with anger. "Maybe you should be in charge then, huh?"

Before the argument can escalate further, Teresa rushes into the circle, her face pale with urgency. "Hey, it’s Alby! He’s awake."

The group moves as one, rushing toward the Homestead, their earlier confrontation temporarily forgotten. They find Alby sitting on the edge of his bed, his back turned to the doorway. The air is thick with a kind of dread, an unspoken fear gripping everyone.

"Has he said anything?" Newt asks, his voice low.

"No," comes the reply from Frypan, standing by the door.

Newt kneels down in front of Alby, trying to catch his eyes. "Alby… are you all right, mate?"

There’s no response. Alby stares blankly at the floor, arms wrapped tightly around himself. His breathing is shallow, ragged.

Thomas steps in, kneeling beside Newt. "Alby, we found something. A way out of the Maze. We could be getting out of here."

Alby finally lifts his head, his eyes unfocused but glistening with tears. "We can’t leave," he whispers, voice breaking. "They won’t let us."

"What are you talking about?" Katherine asks, her brow furrowing with worry as she takes a step closer.

"I remember." Alby’s voice cracks as he looks between Thomas and Katherine, his gaze sharp and accusing. "You and Katherine… they always favored you two. Why did you come here? Why did you do this?"

Katherine’s breath catches in her throat. She meets Thomas’s eyes, and there’s a silent understanding between them—a shared fear, a shared confusion. They can’t remember anything about their past lives before the Maze, but Alby’s words hit like a punch in the gut.

Suddenly, shouts erupt from outside, yanking everyone’s attention away from Alby. The Gladers are running with torches in their hands, their faces pale with panic.

"What’s going on?" Thomas grabs Winston’s arm as he passes by.

"The doors—" Winston’s voice is breathless, frantic. "The doors aren’t closing!"

Katherine’s stomach drops. "What?" She bolts toward the Maze entrance with Thomas and the others trailing behind.

Then, a thunderous banging fills the air, a sound so loud it rattles her bones. The source is unmistakable—every one of the Maze doors is opening, grinding open with a horrible screech.

"Oh, shit," she breathes, the realization crashing down on her like a tidal wave.

Thomas grabs Chuck by the shoulder. "Get to the Council Hall. Start barricading the doors."

"Winston, go with him," he orders, voice urgent but steady.

"Got it!" Chuck’s voice wavers as he runs off, Winston following close behind.

"Everyone else, head to the forest. Hide, now!" Gally yells, his voice commanding for once.

"Minho, Kat—grab every weapon you can find," Thomas adds, turning to his twin and Minho. "I’ll meet you at the Council Hall."

But before Katherine can react, a strange sound catches her attention. It’s coming from deep within the Maze, a low, haunting whir that grows louder by the second. Her heart pounds against her ribs, dread curling like a cold fist in her stomach.

Then come the clicks—sharp, metallic clicks, like knives scraping together. It’s joined by a low, moaning howl and the clank of chains. Every noise crawls beneath her skin, makes her blood run cold.

"All right, everybody hide!" Katherine shouts, her voice breaking as chaos explodes around her.

Minho darts off toward the weapon room, and she and Newt follow. The Maze is alive with the sound of Grievers’ screeches and the desperate cries of Gladers. It’s chaos and destruction, an endless nightmare come to life.

Katherine can hardly process what she’s seeing—Gladers scrambling in every direction, some fighting back with whatever weapons they can find, others running for cover. She hears cries of pain, sees flashes of metal glinting under torchlight. People are falling, some not getting up again. The realization hits Katherine like a knife to the gut—who could create such horrible things and set them loose on a bunch of kids? Tears sting her eyes, but she forces them back, refusing to let herself break. She needs to be strong. She needs to act.

The Grievers are moving fast, their mechanical limbs clicking and grinding as they chase down anyone too slow to escape. Her heart hammers against her ribs, her breath coming in ragged bursts. She’s on the verge of panic, the weight of everything pressing down on her chest like a boulder.

Then, like a fist shoved into her mind and then let go, an idea hits her. It’s reckless, but it’s all she’s got. She grabs a spear, tightening her grip as she spins to face her friends. "Tell my brother I love him," she says, and before anyone can stop her, she’s sprinting into the fray.

“Kat, get back!” Newt’s voice cuts through the mayhem, pulling her from the haze. He’s somewhere behind her, and she can hear the raw fear in his tone, a desperation that matches her own. But she can’t back down—not now. She has to do something. She won’t just stand by and watch while her friends are slaughtered.

Then, she sees him—Aidan, cornered against one of the walls, wide-eyed and trembling. A Griever is almost upon him, its bladed appendages reaching out as if savoring the moment before it strikes. Without a second thought, Katherine charges. She leaps forward, thrusting her spear into the creature’s head with all her strength. There’s a sickening crunch as the metal punctures the Griever’s thick hide, and the beast lets out a blood-curdling screech.

But it isn’t dead. The Griever whips around, its attention now fixed on Katherine. It retracts its limbs and then springs toward her, jaws snapping. She throws herself to the side just in time, the Griever’s razor-sharp limbs slicing through the air where she’d been standing.

“Move, Kat!” Newt shouts again, closer this time, but she can’t hear anything except the pounding of her own pulse. The Griever’s eyes—dark, soulless—bore into her, and a chill runs down her spine. She feels as if the last bit of hope is draining out of her, leaving her hollow.

It screeches, a bone-rattling sound that shakes her resolve, and then swivels toward her, its grotesque metal limbs slamming into the ground. Panic surges through her, and she turns to run.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been running when she finds herself at the edge of the Deadheads. Her legs feel like they’re filled with lead, every step a battle against gravity. She barely has time to catch her breath when she hears the unmistakable sound of metal scraping against stone. It’s close. Too close.

Katherine glances over her shoulder and sees it—the Griever she thought she’d shaken off, still coming for her. It’s relentless, clawing its way forward, each movement more terrifying than the last. She has no choice. She plunges into the maze, her instincts driving her down corridor after corridor, turning at random.

The maze stretches endlessly in every direction, the walls rising up like an impenetrable fortress. The echoes of the Griever’s pursuit bounce off the stone, making it impossible to tell where it is. Katherine’s vision blurs as exhaustion sets in, her body screaming for her to stop, to just lie down and give up.

But she can’t. She can’t give up—not when Thomas is still out there, not when her friends are counting on her.

Thomas. She can almost hear his voice in her mind, the way he’s always pushed her to keep fighting, no matter what. They’ve always been in this together, even before they ended up in the maze. Growing up, they had each other’s backs no matter what, and that bond hasn’t faded, even with their memories lost. The thought of her brother gives her strength she didn’t know she had left.

Rounding a corner, she skids to a halt. Her heart lurches when she sees them—three more Grievers, rolling toward her, their spikes scraping against the stone.

She’s trapped.

A sickening dread clenches in her chest, and her last shred of courage falters. But she refuses to give up. With a wild scream, she charges the Griever that had been chasing her, diving to the right at the last second to avoid its attack.

The creature zooms past her, momentum carrying it too far to stop. It screeches again, metal limbs clanking against the ground as it pivots to face her.

She has a chance—just one—so she runs again, faster than she thought she could. The other Grievers are following now, their pursuit a chilling chorus of clicks and growls. It’s only a matter of time before they catch her, but she pushes herself, clinging to the fading hope that she might survive this.

Suddenly, two hands grab her, yanking her sideways into a narrow passage. Her body reacts on instinct, struggling against the hold until she sees Newt’s face inches from her own. His expression is a mix of anger, relief, and sheer terror.

"Newt, what are you—" 

"Since you’ve got a bloody death wish, I figured I’d come save your sorry arse! Now shut up and run!" Newt’s voice is rough, his eyes cold with frustration.

A sob of relief escapes her, but she swallows it down as he drags her along, limping heavily. The screeches grow louder behind them, and Katherine feels the walls closing in, literally.

"Keep moving!" Newt's voice is strained as he pushes them forward, his limp slowing him down, but not enough to stop him. They stumble through the narrowing gap just as the wall slams shut behind them, the force of it sending a gust of air rushing past. Katherine collapses into Newt's chest, her body trembling with exhaustion. The faint thud of the wall closing is a brutal reminder of how close they'd come to being crushed—or worse.

Newt's arms wrap around her instinctively, holding her so tightly she can feel his heart pounding against her own. His breath is ragged in her ear, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Bloody hell, Kat… I thought I’d lost you." There’s a tremor in his tone, something raw and broken that she’s never heard before.

She clings to him, burying her face in his shoulder, her fingers digging into his shirt as if she could anchor herself in him, keep herself from falling apart. "I’m sorry," she murmurs, her voice cracking with the weight of everything she’s just been through. "I’m so sorry." The words tumble out over and over, a desperate plea for forgiveness she isn’t even sure she deserves.

Newt’s hand finds the back of her head, pressing her closer as if he could somehow shield her from the world. "Don’t—" He chokes out, his voice rough with emotion. "Don’t do that again. You scared me half to death, you silly girl."

Katherine pulls back just enough to look up at him, her vision swimming as the world seems to tilt beneath her. A strange dizziness washes over her, and her legs wobble as black spots dance at the edges of her sight. She tries to blink it away, but the darkness is creeping in faster than she can fight it.

She tightens her grip on Newt, a last attempt to stay conscious, but it’s like trying to hold onto smoke. "Newt—" she whispers, her voice faint. Then the world goes black, and she surrenders to the darkness, the last thing she feels being Newt’s arms catching her as she falls.