Brenda stops abruptly by a nearby trash dumpster, her hand trembling as she pulls off a strip of cloth from her sleeve. The pain is sharp, burning, and when she glances down, she sees the dark, jagged teeth marks of the Gone Crank. Blood seeps sluggishly from the wound, soaking the fabric beneath her fingertips.

“Shit. Brenda…” Thomas trails off, his gaze fixated on the bite, his worry thick and unrelenting.

“It looks worse,” Katherine murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper, her own worry mingling with the fear that churns in her stomach.

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” Brenda snaps, covering the wound with the cloth. Her hands are steady, but her voice trembles. “Let’s just go find Marcus.”

They don’t argue. They can’t afford to. The twins follow, their footsteps heavy with exhaustion and dread. They make their way through the city, the air thick with the faint, acrid scent of death. The streets are eerily quiet, except for the occasional distant moans of Cranks echoing in the distance. They pass by groups of non-infected, healthy-looking people moving in aimless patterns—survivors who seem to have accepted the new world they inhabit.

“Try to blend in,” Brenda mutters, her voice low and steady. Her gaze flicks across the group ahead, her body tense, ready to react at a moment’s notice.

They walk forward, heads down, eyes cast low, blending into the sea of wandering figures. Finally, they come to a large white building, its once-bright facade now faded and cracked.

“Are you sure this is the place?” Thomas asks, his voice edged with doubt.

Brenda doesn’t answer right away. She just stops, staring at the building, her stomach knotting tighter by the second. Then, out of the silence, a voice cuts through the air—calm, measured, and unfamiliar.

“You here for the party?”

Katherine glances over her shoulder and stiffens at the sight of a tall, blonde woman approaching. Her icy blue eyes are sharp, and the cold intensity in her gaze makes Katherine shiver. The woman’s gaze lingers on her, as if she’s seeing right through her, reading her in a way that makes Katherine feel exposed.

“No. We’re looking for Marcus,” Brenda answers, her tone firm despite the unease rippling beneath the surface.

“This is his place, isn’t it?”

The woman tilts her head slightly, the corners of her lips curving into a faint, knowing smile. She says nothing, simply standing there, studying them. Then, as if bored by the silence, she steps aside, revealing someone else behind them—a man, middle-aged, with blond hair and a suit that looks almost too clean for the world around them.

“Are you Marcus?” Thomas asks, his voice sharp, demanding.

Marcus, or whoever this man is, raises a brow and shakes his head. “Marcus doesn’t live here anymore.” His voice is calm, controlled.

Katherine narrows her eyes, stepping closer. “Do you know where we can find him?”

The man’s lips curl into a faint smirk. “Sure, sure. He’s over in Zone B.”

Thomas and Katherine exchange a glance. The words weigh heavily on them.

“Okay. What’s Zone B?” Thomas asks, his voice low, his jaw tight.

The blonde woman steps forward now, a slow, deliberate movement. Her gaze fixes on Katherine once more, and this time, she reaches out, running a finger through Katherine’s dark brown locks. The sensation is cold and intrusive, sending a shiver down her spine. The woman doesn’t break eye contact, her gaze probing, almost calculating.

“It’s where they burn the bodies,” she says, her voice almost gentle, like she’s explaining something mundane.

Katherine clenches her jaw, her stomach twisting. She forces herself to look away from the woman, but the unsettling feeling lingers.

“Okay, look. Has anyone else been by here… looking for him?” Thomas asks, his voice firmer now, the tension in his chest tightening. “They had a girl with them. Dark hair. You know…”

The man in front of them presses a hand to his large forehead, fingers rubbing slow circles, as if trying to shake loose a memory from the recesses of his mind. “I think they might be inside,” he mutters, his voice low and distant, like he’s speaking from a foggy haze. He lifts a hand and points toward the entrance of the tent, where the faint flicker of light glows dimly beyond the fabric. His expression hardens as he produces a bottle from his pocket, rough and worn, handing it to Thomas.

“Here. Drink this,” he commands, his tone firm, void of any room for argument.

Thomas hesitates, his grip tightening on the bottle. The murky liquid inside stares back at him, dark and ominous. “What is it?” His voice is quieter now, edged with a quiet panic.

The man’s gaze hardens. “The price of admission. Drink it!” His tone is firm, unforgiving.

Brenda doesn’t hesitate. She grabs the bottle, tilting her head back and swallowing with a grimace, her jaw clenching.

Thomas gut twists, but he knows he doesn’t have a choice. He takes the bottle, his fingers trembling, and drinks. The taste is worse than anything he’s ever experienced—like something rotting deep inside him. His throat feels raw, his stomach heaving as the liquid forces its way down.

Grabbing the bottle from Thomas, Katherine takes a long gulp next, her hand trembling just like her brother’s. The liquor burns her throat, sharper than any pain she’s ever felt, but it’s not just the alcohol—it’s the sensation of losing control, of the fear crawling up her spine.

Katherine grips her stomach as she swallows, feeling the heat radiate through her. The liquor feels like it’s seeping into every nerve, dulling everything around her. She can feel it taking control, clouding her thoughts, the alcohol washing away any clear path forward.

“Alright,” the man says with a sneer, his tone devoid of empathy. “You three, enjoy the party.”

He shoves them forward, and the tent entrance looms large, a yawning mouth of darkness. Thomas stumbles slightly as they’re forced inside, the tent swaying and shifting around them. The air is thick, heavy, suffocating, and the sound of laughter echoes from somewhere deep within.

“Maybe we should split up,” Brenda says, her voice steady despite the tremor running through her. Thomas feels her gaze on him, steady as ever, and he knows they don’t have a choice. They need to find the others—if they’re still alive. “See if we can find the others.”

Thomas nods, his vision slightly blurred from the liquor, but his mind sharp beneath the haze. “Yeah,” he says, his voice gravelly. “Let’s do that.” He then turns to his sister, flickers in his eyes, and he steps closer. "Don’t drink anything else," he warns, his voice low and steady.

"Fine." Katherine slurs, taking a turn in a different direction to search for her friends. She stumbles forward, but her steps falter as she spots a table filled with liquor. She fights against the pull, trying to resist, but her body refuses to listen.

"Screw it. It's just one more drink," she mumbles, reaching out for a bottle and downing it without a second thought, not caring about the consequences.

After finishing the bottle, she slams it back onto the table, the brief satisfaction washing over her like a wave. She almost forgets where she is as she weaves through the party, searching for her friends—searching for him. Newt. She needs him. His voice. His smile. His touch.

"Searching for anyone?" The same blonde woman from earlier appears behind her, smiling softly.

"Yeahhh. My friend… and-and my broth… err." Katherine slurs, trying to piece her words together.

"They’re enjoying the party. You should too." The woman leans in closer, whispering into her ear. "It’s just us now. Just try and relax. Let go."

Katherine tilts her head, a pout forming. "How?"

"Like this." The woman presses her against the wall, kissing her.

Katherine, lost in the haze of liquor, hallucinates it’s Newt she’s kissing. She giggles, returning the kiss, letting the alcohol take full control. Her vision blurs, and her mind isn’t clear enough to push the woman away.

That’s when a figure appears, shoving the blonde woman aside and scooping Katherine into their arms.

Katherine squints, trying to make out the person, but her vision collapses into black dots, fading rapidly. Just before she fully blacks out, she hears a voice calling to her.

"Kate!"

Her mind slips into a memory as she blacks out. The hallway around her shifts, transforming into a cold, sterile space. She’s surging forward, feet pounding against the white floor, her breath coming in ragged gasps. At the end of the hallway, Thomas stands, his expression tense.

"Is it done?" he asks, his voice sharp.

"I burned it all," Katherine replies with a smirk. "Thomas, we’ve got to get the hell out of here."

"I’ve got to tell her first," Thomas says, his gaze set.

"Teresa won’t understand, Tommy," Katherine responds.

"She will understand. I just need to explain to her what’s going on," Thomas insists.

"Fine. Meet me right here in 15 minutes from now," Katherine says, her tone resolute.

The surroundings blur and shift again, transforming into a dim, cluttered lab. Katherine stands across from a familiar figure—a blonde girl who resembles Chancellor Paige.

"Kat. Hey," the girl says with a smile, her expression lighting up at the sight of Katherine.

"Vera, hey. Did anyone see you come here?" Katherine asks, her voice tense.

Vera’s expression turns to confusion. "No, what are you talking about?"

"We don’t have a lot of time," Katherine says, urgency coloring her voice.

"Kat, what’s wrong?" Vera frowns, stepping closer.

"I just had to see you… and try to explain things before Tommy and I leave," Katherine says, the words slipping from her lips as if they were meant to be said.

"You're leaving?" Vera asks, her eyes narrowing in concern.

"Just listen to me, okay? Whatever they tell you about me, whatever they say, I need you to know I had to do it," Katherine explains, the weight of her words heavy.

"What did you do?" Vera asks, her voice trembling.

"We just couldn’t keep watching them die," Katherine blurts out, before pulling Vera into a tight hug, holding her for a moment longer than necessary, knowing they might not meet again. After releasing her, Katherine offers a strained smile. "I have to go. Tommy’s waiting for me. Thank you for everything. We’ll meet again."

With that, Katherine rushes back to the hallway, only to come face-to-face with Janson and Ava. She spins around, but soldiers block her path, forming a barrier.

"It's useless, Katherine. You’re trapped," Janson sneers.

"Katherine, you have to choose," Ava speaks calmly.

"I’d rather die than choose your side," Katherine snaps, her voice fierce, like a feral animal. Her eyes dart between Janson and Ava, filled with a quiet rage.

"I’ve told you, Dr. Paige. She’s insane," Janson says, his face twisting in horror as he looks at Ava. "She’s fucking crazy!"

"You asked for crazy. I’m gonna show you crazy," Katherine retorts, cracking her neck as she advances, fists clenched. One by one, she takes them down.

As expected, Janson hides behind his men, a coward, as Katherine fights back, her adrenaline-fueled strength carrying her through the chaos. She has to find Thomas.

A gunshot pierces the air, making Katherine falter. She spins around, her eyes locking onto the source.

"Give up fighting, Katherine," Janson calls, his voice dripping with malice. He holds a gun to an unconscious Thomas’s head, two soldiers gripping him tightly. "Or your brother won’t live to see another day."

Katherine’s eyes widen, the world narrowing to a single point of fear and desperation. She freezes as the soldiers inject a serum into her neck, darkness claiming her once more.

"This shouldn’t have gone this way if you and your twin brother didn’t betray us, Katherine," Janson’s voice echoes in her mind as the void takes hold.

Back in reality, Katherine snaps her eyes open, her vision blurred, only to be greeted by Newt’s familiar brown eyes staring down at her.

"You okay?" His face is flushed with anxiety.

Katherine quickly looks away, a wave of guilt crashing over her. The memory of the kiss at the party looms heavily in her mind. She cheated on him, and now here he is—after everything. Does he know?

Without answering, she sits up on the mattress she’s lying on, her gaze shifting to Chris and Thomas, both kneeling beside Newt.

"Hi," Chris greets with a smug smile. "We have to stop meeting like this."

"Here." Thomas hands Katherine a glass of water, which she gladly accepts and chugs down, her dry throat craving it.

"Looks like you’ve been having fun," Teresa comments, eyeing her messy appearance with a slight frown.

Minho walks over, leaning against Thomas’s shoulder with a smirk. "Welcome back, you ugly shank."

Katherine snorts. "Have you ever looked at your reflection in a mirror?"

"She’s fine," Thomas laughs, and Katherine’s gaze falls on Brenda, Frypan, Teresa, and Aris, sitting on a dusty couch and chairs, watching silently.

Jorge approaches the group, his fists clenched, standing over the blonde man from the party who’s tied up in a chair, his hands and legs bound by rope.

"I suggest that you talk! You son of a bitch!" Jorge growls.

The man laughs, blood oozing from his nose, his right eye swollen shut, his face bruised.

"Damn it! I'm sorry… you're going to have to leave my house," The blonde man spits out through his laughter.

The others retreat back to the couch, and Katherine cuddles into Newt’s chest, still feeling lightheaded. His muscles tense in surprise, but he wraps an arm around her, pulling her closer and placing a small kiss on her head.

"Listen. I don't enjoy hurting you, okay? Where is the Right Arm, Marcus?" Jorge demands, his grip tightening on the chair.

Katherine raises an eyebrow at the blonde man. "Wait, this is Marcus?"

Marcus chuckles, blood dribbling from his mouth. "The kid catches on quick. Are you the brains of the operation?"

"Nah. He’s the genius." She points at Thomas. "I’m his backup."

Marcus narrows his good eye, studying her. "You're twins?"

She shrugs. "Not the only twins in this room."

Marcus’s gaze shifts through the group until it lands between Aris and Chris. "You two."

"Pleasure meeting you, sir." Chris smirks mockingly.

"Hope you enjoyed the break. Now, how about we resume the talk about the Right Arm?" Jorge grabs Marcus’s head, yanking it backward. "I know you know where they’re hiding. So, you tell me, and I’ll make you a deal. You can come with us."

Marcus giggles, his head tilting back. "I burned that bridge a long time ago. Besides, I made my own deal. You taught me, never miss an opportunity."

"What's he talking about?" Newt asks, his voice low, tension radiating from him.

"I'm talking about supply and demand," Marcus explains smugly. "WICKED wants all the Immunes they can get. I help provide that for them. So I lure the kids in… they get drunk, have a good time. Later, WICKED comes in… they separate the wheat from the chaff."

"I changed my mind, hermano. I do enjoy hurting you." Jorge lifts his leg, kicking Marcus hard in the chest, sending him crashing to the ground with a thud.

Jorge takes a gun from his waistband and presses it to Marcus’s throat, pressing the barrel firmly. "Talk! Talk!"

"Okay! Jesus!" Marcus yells, his fear evident in his voice. "But I’m not making any promises. These guys like to move around."

With the help of Chris, Jorge pulls the chair Marcus was sitting on upright and forces him to continue.

"They have an outpost in the mountains. But it’s a long way away. You’ve got half of WICKED on your ass. You’re never gonna make it." Marcus pants, his chest heaving.

"Not on foot," Jorge grins, leaning down, his face inches from Marcus. "Where’s Bertha?"

Marcus’s face contorts into a scowl. "Not Bertha."

"Who the hell is Bertha?" Katherine asks, looking between the two men.