He should’ve held you tighter that night.

Should’ve kissed your temple one last time. Should’ve made you promise — really promise — not to get too far away from him when they raided that facility.

But the chaos came too fast. One minute, Minho was screaming Newt name and the next, Thomas was pulling Newt out of the fire as WCKD swept in.

And you?

You were gone.

Days passed. Then weeks. Minho and you — missing. Tortured. Used. Another number in WCKD’s system.

Thomas kept moving forward. But Newt? He carried pieces of you in every breath.

Every place they searched, every lab they infiltrated — he called your name, louder than he ever had before. Even when the virus clawed at the edges of his mind, even when it hurt to breathe, Newt never stopped searching.

Because you were the only thing that reminded him who he was.

And he wasn’t going to let WCKD take that away.