Gally didn’t like surprises.

And the Box going off again barely a day after the last Greenie arrived? That wasn’t just a surprise. That was a glitch in the whole damn system.

The sound echoed across the Glade, sharp and unnatural. Gally was already jogging toward the center before the doors even finished screeching open.

The others were gathered around, faces squinting down into the shaft, murmuring questions no one had answers to. Newt stood nearby, arms folded tight, brows drawn.

“Move aside,” Gally said gruffly, pushing his way through. “Let me see.”

The Box had fully opened now.

And what he saw made him freeze.

A girl.

She lay crumpled on the floor like a discarded doll, arms at odd angles, chest rising and falling slow and steady. Dirt smudged across her cheek. Her clothes were wrinkled but intact. Her face — peaceful in sleep, too peaceful for the hell she’d just been dropped into, cheeks flushed slightly.

The Glade had never seen a girl.

Not once.

Not until now.

“Bloody hell,” Newt muttered behind him, hopping down in the box and Gally glanced at him sharply. Even he looked rattled.

And then Gally saw it — a crumpled slip of paper lying beside her.

Newt picked it up, fingers smoothing out the creases. He read aloud, voice lower than usual.

“She’s the last one. Ever.”

Silence.

No one said a word. The air was thick with confusion, disbelief… and something unspoken. As if the very ground had shifted under them.

They all knew the routine. She wouldn't remember a thing. Just like the rest of them. Just like Gally. Just like Thomas.

But still… a girl. Alone. Surrounded by twenty-something boys in the middle of a giant maze with no way out.

Waking up to this would be terrifying.

Newt exhaled and knelt beside her, placing two fingers on her neck. His face tightened as he checked her pulse.

Then his hand moved to her forehead, brushing lightly.

“She’s alive,” he said quietly, “but running a fever.”

Newt turned to Gally, concern clear in his eyes. “You’re the Builder. Can you get her out carefully? We need to get her somewhere safe.”

Gally didn’t argue. His legs moved on their own, dropping down into the Box with practiced ease. But his stomach was doing weird flips — knots forming deep and tight.

Up close, she looked even more out of place. Too soft. Too human for a place that turned boys into soldiers.

He slid his arms beneath her.

She doesn’t weigh a damn thing, he thought. Like a feather.

He lifted her easily, careful not to jostle her. Her head lolled slightly onto his chest, and his grip instinctively tightened.

“Doesn’t weigh a damn thing,” he muttered under his breath. “Like a feather.”

And then he was climbing up, careful with each step, eyes narrowing at the group of boys parting to make way for him.

Their stares didn’t matter.

Only she did.

Newt led the way as they walked quickly toward the Medbay. She needed a place to rest, somewhere quieter. Somewhere with fewer eyes.

“She won’t remember anything,” Newt said, almost to himself. “Like us.”

Gally didn’t respond. He just kept walking, her weight light against his arms, but something heavy settling in his chest. Something unfamiliar.

They reached the Medbay — a makeshift setup inside the Homestead with old cots and salvaged cabinets. Gally gently laid her down on the cot farthest from the door.

He stared at her a second longer, brushing dirt from her temple with a thumb before stepping back, scowling slightly to hide the warmth creeping up his face.

“She gonna freak when she wakes,” he muttered, more to himself.

Newt gave a small, knowing smile. “Yeah. Waking up to a bunch of boys staring at you isn’t the best welcome.”

Gally didn’t laugh. He just crossed his arms and stayed by the door, gaze never straying far from her sleeping form.

Something had changed in the Glade.

Something big.

And it all started with her.