“I don’t see what the problem is!” Minho protested, his voice sharp with frustration.

“I get it, Minho, but she broke the rules,” Alby replied, calm but firm.

Minho crossed his arms. “Oh, you mean the rules she didn’t even know existed?” He looked around confidently, as if daring anyone to disagree.

“Shut up, shank! You’re only defending her because you want her for yourself!” Gally barked, his voice echoing off the walls. His eyes shot daggers at Minho, making the tension in the room unbearable. Your wounds throbbed painfully as you stood there, barely able to tolerate Gally’s presence.

Alby raised a hand, trying to deescalate. “Calm down, Gally.”

“I think Minho’s got a point,” Newt chimed in. “She didn’t break the rules on purpose.”

He turned toward Gally. “You, on the other hand, purposely hurt another Glader.”

Gally scowled, disbelief washing over his face. “Me? I didn’t do anything! She’s a shuckin’ liar! She’s gonna get us all killed!”

“That’s enough, Gally!” Alby slammed his hand on the table, rattling the room. “How do you explain her wounds, then?”

Gally shot me a dangerous look, eyes narrowing. “I didn’t stab her.”

Alby’s expression changed—serious, calculated, as if he had the final piece to the puzzle. “Funny thing, Gally. I never told you where she was stabbed. Only me, Newt, Minho, Clint, Jeff, and she knows that.” He leaned forward, eyes locked on Gally. “And it just so happens, it was your knife.”

The room went silent as Alby’s words hung in the air, his furious gaze fixed on Gally.