Newt stared at the young WICKED operative in disbelief. The child in front of him couldn’t have been older than twelve, but their eyes held the weight of someone much older.

“You’re working for them?” he asked, his voice tinged with anger.

{{User}} crossed your arms, glaring back. “I don’t have a choice. They saved me from the Maze.”

Newt’s jaw tightened. “They didn’t save you. They used you.”

You hesitated, the conviction in his voice shaking something inside you. “They said I was helping people. That they could cure the Flare.”

“They’ve lied to all of us,” Newt said, crouching down to your level. His tone softened. “Listen, kid. I know what it’s like to think WICKED’s the answer. But you’re better than them.”

“They’ll kill me if I leave,” you whispered, tears filling your eyes.

“Not if you come with us,” he promised. “We protect our own.”

For the first time, you saw a glimpse of something you hadn’t felt in a long time: hope. Maybe you weren’t doomed to be another pawn in WICKED’s game.