The vehicles roll to a stop after a tense, silent ride. The air is heavy with exhaustion, fear, and faint traces of hope as everyone climbs out. Katherine’s boots crunch against the rocky terrain as she steps down from the jeep, her eyes immediately scanning the surroundings.

Dozens of tents are scattered across the campsite, their fabric flapping gently in the cool breeze. People mill about in small groups, their voices a low hum of chatter. Some are tending to supplies, others huddled around makeshift fires. There’s a sense of quiet urgency to the scene, as if this temporary haven could be dismantled at any moment.

Harriet walks ahead of the group, her voice steady and matter-of-fact. “They’ve been planning this for over a year now. This is all for us. You guys are lucky you found us when you did. We’re moving out at first light.”

Katherine follows her, her gaze wandering through the camp. She’s taking it all in when something—or someone—catches her attention. A figure in the distance, standing apart from the crowd, watching her.

Her breath hitches. The blonde woman’s posture is familiar, her piercing gaze unwavering. She’s walking toward them now, long strides closing the distance quickly. Katherine’s heart races as recognition blooms, the memory hitting her like a shock of cold water.

Vera.

The name echoes in her mind just as the blonde’s lips part, her voice soft and tinged with disbelief. “Kat? Is that you?”

Katherine freezes, the sound of her old name drawing up emotions she thought she’d buried. Her mouth opens, the word spilling out before she can stop herself. “Vera?”

The confirmation comes in the form of a nod and a warm, radiant smile. Katherine barely has time to process it before Vera is in front of her, arms wrapping around her in a crushing embrace.

“Oh, shit,” Katherine chokes out, laughing breathlessly as Vera squeezes her like her life depends on it.

“Oh god. Oh god. This is really great!” Vera exclaims, her voice bright and full of life. “I thought you died.”

Katherine pulls back just enough to look at her, still in shock but grinning. “Guys,” she starts, turning to the group. “This is—”

“Vera,” Thomas interrupts, his tone calm but firm. He nods at her, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. “I remember her.”

Vera’s smile widens as she acknowledges him, then shifts her gaze to Teresa. “Teresa,” she says softly, as though testing the name.

“Hi,” Teresa offers with a polite wave, her expression cautious.

Chris, never one to miss a beat, salutes Vera with a cocky grin. “Hey, loser.”

Vera laughs, a genuine, heartfelt sound, before her attention shifts to the twins from Group B. “Good to see ya.”

“Chris.” Her smile is warm as she looks between the boys. “And Aris.”

Katherine’s eyes dart between them, her brow furrowed. “You guys know each other?”

“She was in our maze,” Aris replies with a casual shrug, as if that explains everything.

Before Katherine can ask more, Sonya steps forward. “Where’s Vince?”

Vera gestures lazily to her right. “Somewhere over there, I think.”

“Who’s Vince?” Katherine asks, curiosity tugging at her.

Harriet answers without missing a beat. “He’s the one who decides if you get to stay.”

Minho snorts, crossing his arms as he surveys the camp. “I thought the Right Arm was supposed to be an army.”

A voice, deep and commanding, cuts through the conversation. “Yeah, we were. This is all that’s left of us. A lot of good people died getting us this far.”

A tall man with blond hair and a beard steps out from a nearby tent, his sharp gaze landing on the newcomers. He looks them over with an air of suspicion before turning to Harriet. “Who are they?”

“They’re Immunes,” Harriet replies, standing tall. “Caught ’em coming up the mountain.”

“Did you check ’em?” Vince’s tone is cold, distrustful.

Harriet points at Aris and Chris. “I know these guys. I trust them.”

Vince narrows his eyes, his voice low and skeptical. “Well, I don’t. Check ’em.”

Before anyone can respond, Brenda lets out a sharp gasp, her knees buckling as she collapses to the ground.

“Brenda!” Jorge is at her side in an instant, crouching down to hold her trembling form. “Brenda, talk to me!”

“I’m sorry,” Brenda whispers, her voice weak and trembling. Her body shakes violently, each breath coming in ragged gulps. “I’m sorry.”

Vince steps closer, his eyes narrowing as he catches sight of the dark bruise on her leg. He grabs her jeans and pulls them up, revealing the telltale bite mark of a Crank.

“Crank!” Vince yells, his voice filled with alarm. “We got a Crank!”

He pulls his gun, the metallic click of the safety releasing sending a chill through the group.

“No!” Katherine yells, instinct driving her forward. She pushes herself between Vince and Brenda, arms outstretched to shield her.

“Step back!” Vince barks, his gun unwavering.

“Listen!” Katherine pleads, her voice trembling but strong. “This just happened, okay? She’s not dangerous yet.”

“You shouldn’t have brought her here,” Vince snaps, his anger boiling over.

“We know,” Thomas interjects, stepping forward to stand beside Katherine.

“We let Cranks in here now, the safe haven doesn’t last a week!” Vince roars, his finger hovering over the trigger.

“Step back!”

Thomas holds his hands up, desperation etched into every line of his face. “We told her you could help! There’s got to be something you can do.”

Vince’s expression hardens. “Yeah, there is.” He cocks the gun, aiming directly at Brenda’s head. “I can put her out of her misery.”

“No!” Katherine shouts, panic clawing at her chest.

“Vince, that’s enough!” A new voice pierces through the chaos. A dark-haired woman in her mid-thirties pushes through the crowd, her expression firm and unyielding. “Let them go!”

“She’s infected, Doc,” Vince argues. “There’s nothing we can do for her.”

The woman’s gaze is steely as she gestures toward the twins. “No, but they can.” Her expression softens as she looks at Thomas and Katherine. “Hello, Thomas. Katherine.”

The twins share a bewildered glance before Katherine finds her voice. “What? You know us?”

“Interesting,” the woman murmurs, a small smile playing on her lips. “It makes sense they’d put you both in the maze. Though I must admit... I was worried they’d kill you after what you two did.”

Katherine frowns. “What we did?”

The woman kneels beside Brenda, inspecting her wound with practiced hands. “The first time we spoke, both of you said you couldn’t take it anymore... watching your friends die, one by one. The last time we spoke, you gave me the coordinates of every WICKED compound, trial, and lab.”

“They were our source,” Vince mutters, his suspicion shifting to realization. “We couldn’t have pulled all this off without them.”

The woman straightens, her voice calm but commanding. “Take her to the tent. Get these guys some warm clothes.” She gestures to the twins. “Thomas, Katherine, come on. I need to get some blood from you both.”

The medical tent feels too small for all the questions rattling in Katherine’s mind. The dim, flickering light casts jagged shadows on the canvas walls as Brenda wheezes softly on the cot, her face pale and damp with sweat. Katherine’s gaze lingers on her for a moment before flicking to the woman at the table—Mary. She moves with practiced precision, hands steady as she prepares vials and syringes, the tools clinking softly in the tense silence.

"In the beginning, we were lost," Mary starts, her voice calm but heavy with something old—guilt, maybe, or regret. The words settle like stones in Katherine’s stomach as she watches the woman carefully transfer their blood into glass containers. "All we knew for sure was that the younger you were, the stronger your chances."

"You worked for WICKED?" Thomas’s voice cuts through the quiet, sharp with disbelief.

Mary pauses, her hand hovering over a flask before nodding. "A long time ago," she admits, the weight of the confession pressing down on everyone in the room. "At first, we had the best intentions. Find a cure, save the world. But it became clear—you kids were the key. Because you were immune."

"But why?" Thomas presses, his tone hardening.

Mary’s eyes flick to him, her calm exterior wavering for the briefest moment. "Eventually, we found an answer. An enzyme produced by the brains of the immune. Once separated from the bloodstream, it could act as a powerful agent to slow the spread of the virus."

Katherine stiffens. The word "enzyme" feels clinical, detached. As if it’s not their blood, their lives, being discussed. "So, you found a cure?" she asks, though something tells her she won’t like the answer.

"Not exactly," Mary sighs. "The enzyme can’t be manufactured, only harvested. From the immune. The young." Her voice lowers as she draws a pale blue liquid into a syringe, holding it up to the light. "Of course, that didn’t stop WICKED. If they had their way, they’d sacrifice an entire generation. All for this."

The syringe gleams coldly, and Katherine feels a chill crawl up her spine. She watches as Mary kneels by Brenda, injecting the serum into her arm. The effect is almost immediate. Brenda’s labored breathing steadies, her chest rising and falling with a newfound rhythm.

Thomas exhales, stepping closer. "How long will that give her?"

Mary looks at him, her face a careful mask. "It’s different for everyone. A few months, maybe. But that’s the catch, isn’t it? She’ll always need more."

The words hang in the air, suffocating. Katherine’s jaw tightens as she shifts her weight, trying to process everything. Mary moves to a nearby table, rummaging through a black backpack until she pulls out a sleek, pen-like device.

"I have something that belongs to you two," Mary says, holding it up. Katherine’s eyes narrow as she studies the small tube of light green liquid inside. It’s mesmerizing, almost glowing, and it sends a shiver through her.

"You two conducted an experiment with your blood," Mary explains. "It worked—to an extent."

Katherine steps forward, suspicion and curiosity battling in her mind. "What is it?"

Mary doesn’t hesitate. "This is the only remaining sample of that serum. It can neutralize a Crank, keeping them asleep for a week. But during that time, it weakens them… until death."

"A killer serum," Katherine mutters, her lips curling in distaste.

"For a certain extent, yes. But the serum interacts with immune blood and the Flare. It’s not a cure—only a temporary solution." Mary extends the device to Katherine. "It’s your creation. It’s yours."

Katherine shakes her head, recoiling slightly. "I don’t want it. You keep it."

Mary chuckles softly, shaking her head. "You gave it to me for safekeeping. And now you’re here, asking questions again. Aren’t you?"

Thomas steps in, taking the device. He studies it, turning it over in his hands as if it might give him answers. "You said this is the only sample. What happened?"

Mary’s expression darkens. "You didn’t trust WICKED. Before Thomas handed me the coordinates, Katherine burned everything—labs, research, everything."

"That’s manic," Katherine mumbles, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Even for me."

Mary’s lips twitch with a faint smile. "That’s what Janson said. He thinks you’re insane."

Katherine chuckles dryly. "For once, the bastard’s right."

Thomas hands her the device, and she pockets it with a reluctant sigh. The weight of it feels heavier than it should. Questions swirl in her mind, clawing for answers. She presses her fingers against her temple, trying to ground herself.

Mary watches her carefully. "Is there something bothering you, Katherine?"

Katherine hesitates, her throat tightening. She picks one question, the one that’s been gnawing at her. "Why are they using twins as a single subject?"

Mary’s expression softens. "The same reason they use twins as leading subjects. Immune twins are rare. Most twins aren’t born immune." She pauses, letting the information sink in before continuing. "Separately, your blood is less powerful than a normal immune. But together? Your combined biology creates a new level of resistance to the Flare. Your brains are interconnected in a way that’s… unique. That’s why WICKED keeps twins together. No matter what, you must stand together."

Thomas and Katherine exchange a look, unspoken understanding passing between them. Katherine feels the familiar weight of her brother’s presence—a tether, a lifeline.

"So, the trials," Thomas starts, his voice strained. "They’re about us?"

Mary shakes her head. "No. WICKED is chasing the cure. If one method doesn’t work, they try another. They don’t care how much damage they cause." Her gaze shifts between the twins. "But twins like you? You’re their most valuable subjects. You’re rare."

Katherine feels her pulse quicken. "And our specific roles?" she presses.

Mary nods knowingly. "Thomas—your brain is more advanced with technology. And you, Katherine… you’re the fighter. Unpredictable. Uncontrollable."

"And crazy," Katherine adds, a weak smile tugging at her lips.

Mary’s voice is firm. "Not crazy. Resilient. It’s your strength, even if you don’t see it." She glances toward Brenda, her tone softening. "Thomas, you know she can’t come with us, right?"

The words hit like a hammer. Katherine watches her brother’s shoulders tense, his eyes fixed on Brenda’s fragile form. Without thinking, she reaches out, placing a hand on his arm.

"We’ll figure it out," she whispers. "We always do."

And for a moment, despite the chaos, they stand together, two halves of the same whole.