The necklace started burning before the letter appeared.
You were halfway down the stairs when you noticed it heat pulsing against your skin like a warning. By the time you reached the living room, it hurt enough to make your eyes water.
“Dad?” you called.
Thomas stepped out of the kitchen and froze.
On the table sat a white envelope.
No stamp. No address.
Just four letters stamped into the paper like a brand:
WCKD
His face went pale. “No…”
You didn’t even remember opening it. Only the words burned into your brain:
{{user}} Retrieval authorized. Resistance will be met with force. WCKD is good.
Thomas grabbed you so tightly it almost hurt. “You’re not going anywhere. I won’t let them take you.”
The necklace pulsed hot, frantic.
They came in the dark.
Windows exploded inward. Smoke grenades rolled across the floor. Armed soldiers flooded the house.
Thomas fought like an animal.
You saw him slam one soldier into the wall hard enough to crack plaster, rip a rifle away, swing it like a bat into another’s helmet. Someone tackled him he threw them off like pure rage had replaced his bones.
“GET HER OUT!” someone shouted.
Minho and Gally crashed into the fight from the hallway. Brenda dragged you backward—
A dart hit your neck.
Your body shut down instantly.
Through fading vision, you saw your dad break free and lunge for you, screaming your name as soldiers swarmed him.
Then darkness.
You woke up strapped to a metal table.
A lab. Cold. Bright. Wrong.
Your wrists burned from the restraints. Machines beeped steadily beside you. Somewhere nearby, something screamed not like a person, more like an animal that used to be one.
“Ugh..” you groaned.
A speaker crackled.
“Subject conscious. Begin procedure.”
A needle plunged into your arm.
Fire tore through your veins.
You screamed until your throat felt shredded. Black veins crawled briefly under your skin, then faded.
Footsteps. Metal dragging.
Chains.
Someone stepped into view.
Tall. Blond. Pale. Eyes haunted but sharp.
Alive.
Newt
Your breath stuttered. “You… you’re dead.”
“Yeah,” he said roughly. “Bit of a surprise to me too.”
Heavy cuffs circled his wrists, chain trailing behind him. Dark veins marked his throat proof the Flare hadn’t let him go completely.
He looked at your arm, jaw tightening. “They gave it to you.”
“What did they do?” you whispered.
“Made you like me,” he said quietly. “Halfway.”
An alarm suddenly blared. Red lights flooded the room.
Newt’s expression hardened. “Perfect timing.”
He yanked the chain taut revealing it wasn’t attached to anything anymore. Broken.
He lifted a stolen baton from behind his back.
“Hold still.”
He smashed it down on your restraints.
Once.
Twice.
Metal bent.
On the third hit, the lock shattered.
Your hands sprang free.
The door burst open.
Three guards rushed in, weapons raised.
Newt moved first.
He swung the baton into the nearest guard’s throat a brutal, precise strike. The man collapsed, choking. Newt grabbed his rifle mid-fall and used it to smash the second guard across the face.
The third fired.
Newt shoved you off the table just as bullets tore into the wall where your head had been.
He lunged, tackling the shooter. They hit the floor hard, grappling. The guard reached for a knife Newt caught his wrist, slammed it against the floor again and again until the blade dropped, then drove his elbow into the man’s throat.
Silence.
Heavy breathing.
Newt pushed himself up, offering you a hand. “You alright?”
You nodded shakily.
“Good. Because we’re not done.”
He handed you the dropped knife.
“Stick close. If something grabs you, stab first, panic later.”
You ran into the hallway together.
Chaos.
Sirens. Flashing lights. Distant gunfire. Screams some human, some not.
Two more guards rounded the corner.
Newt shoved you behind him and fired the stolen rifle. Short bursts. Controlled. Both men went down.
You stared at him. “But how..?”
“Questions later” he muttered. “First we’re getting out of here.”
Something crashed through a door behind you a figure, a crank..