The fabric of the tent barely shifts before Jorge lunges forward, wrapping Katherine in a tight, bone-crushing hug. The suddenness of it nearly knocks the air from her lungs, but she doesn’t complain. She knows the emotions Jorge keeps buried far too well.

“Hermano,” Jorge mutters, his voice hoarse. “If anything were to happen to her, I—”

“You don’t have to say it.” Katherine cuts him off gently, patting his back. Her touch is light, but her words carry a quiet strength. “We know.”

Jorge steps back, his hands lingering on her shoulders before pulling Thomas into a briefer hug. "Thank you," he says, voice trembling with something close to relief. “Both of you.”

Thomas clears his throat, brushing off Jorge’s gratitude like it’s unnecessary. "You should go talk to her now," he suggests, nodding toward the tent.

Jorge doesn’t need to be told twice. His head bobs in a quick nod as he moves to pull the flap aside, but he pauses, glancing back at the twins. "Guess I owe you both now." A faint grin flickers across his face, the kind that tries to mask too many feelings. Then he disappears into the tent.

Katherine exhales, a weight lifting off her chest. “This feels good, you know?” she says, glancing at Thomas. "The freedom."

Thomas’s smile softens, genuine and unguarded. "It does."

“Let’s find the others then,” she declares, lightness creeping into her tone. But before Thomas can reply, she takes a running leap onto his back, arms looping around his neck as her legs lock tightly around his waist.

Thomas stumbles forward, nearly losing his balance. "Kat! What the hell?" he exclaims, his hands reflexively grabbing her thighs to steady her.

“You owe me a piggyback ride,” she says with a grin that’s equal parts mischievous and smug. “Consider it payback.”

“For what?” Thomas grumbles, adjusting her weight begrudgingly as he trudges toward the higher point of the camp, where the others are gathered.

“For ditching me in the maze, obviously.” Katherine’s voice is teasing, but there’s a sharp edge beneath it. “You ran off and left me with the Gladers. Ugly move, bro.”

Thomas groans, exasperated. “We’ve been over this. You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“Nope.” Katherine’s reply is instant and unapologetic.

By the time they reach their friends, Thomas is out of breath. Katherine slides off his back with a satisfied grin, plopping down next to Minho like she owns the place. Thomas collapses beside her, muttering something about sibling abuse.

“Hey, monkey,” Frypan greets, his smile easy and warm.

“Hey, Fry,” she replies, stretching her legs out in front of her.

The group lapses into a rare, peaceful silence. The camp buzzes with quiet activity in the background, but for a moment, it feels like nothing else exists.

It’s Newt who finally breaks the silence. “I wish Alby could’ve seen this,” he says, his voice quieter than usual.

“And Winston,” Frypan adds solemnly.

“And Chuck,” Thomas murmurs, running his fingers over the small wooden ornament in his hand.

The mention of their lost friends hangs heavy in the air, a reminder of everything they’ve fought for and lost. Katherine steals a glance at Newt, her chest tightening at the way his gaze flickers, like he’s balancing on the edge of old wounds.

“He’d be proud of you, Tommy,” Newt says softly, sincerity dripping from every word.

“Yeah,” Thomas replies, voice barely above a whisper.

From across the camp, Aris and Chris’s laughter cuts through the moment. They’re deep in conversation with Sonya and Harriet, their smiles brighter than the sun overhead.

“They’re good kids,” Frypan says, nodding toward the twins.

“Don’t trust ‘em, though,” Minho quips, earning a few chuckles.

But Katherine doesn’t laugh. Her gaze catches on Chris, who winks at her, and for a fleeting second, her chest tightens in a way that makes her uneasy. She glances at Newt and finds his jaw clenched, his hands curled into fists. The tension radiating off him is almost palpable.

“Newt,” she says softly, breaking his spiral. “We need to talk.”

He meets her gaze, his expression unreadable, before nodding. He stands, brushing the dirt off his clothes as Katherine rises to join him.

Before she can say anything, Chris appears, a plate of sandwiches in his hands. “Brought you food,” he says, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “Hope you’re hungry.”

“I am.” Katherine accepts the plate with a small smile.

“A kiss on the cheek would be a nice thank-you,” Chris teases, leaning slightly closer.

But before she can react, Newt steps forward, his fist connecting with Chris’s jaw in a blur of movement. The crack echoes through the camp, followed by Chris’s grunt of pain as he stumbles backward and hits the ground.

“Newt!” Katherine gasps, her plate clattering to the ground as she rushes to stop him.

Newt doesn’t stop. He tackles Chris to the ground, his fists flying in a frenzy of anger and jealousy. Chris tries to shield himself, arms raised defensively, but he doesn’t fight back.

“Newt, stop!” Katherine yells, grabbing his arm and yanking him away with all her strength. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“He likes you!” Newt snaps, his chest heaving as he glares at Chris.

Katherine’s eyes widen. “What?”

“Don’t you see the way he looks at you?” Newt’s voice rises, sharp and accusing. “It’s bloody obvious.”

Chris sits up, his lip bleeding, his expression a mixture of confusion and frustration. “I’m gay, all right?” he blurts out, raising his hands in surrender. “I like boys. Jesus.”

The revelation seems to deflate Newt instantly. His shoulders slump, and his anger melts into guilt. “I—” he starts, but his voice falters. Without another word, he turns and walks away, Frypan following close behind.

Katherine crouches beside Chris, examining his bloodied face. “I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice thick with embarrassment and regret.

Chris chuckles weakly, wincing at the movement. “Didn’t know he had that in him.”

“Neither did I,” Katherine mutters, helping him to his feet. “Let’s get you patched up.”

As she leads him toward the medical tent, her mind races. Newt’s outburst lingers in her head like an unanswered question, and she can’t shake the feeling that things just got a lot more complicated.

Inside, Vera is already waiting, arms crossed, eyes sharp. She’s prepped the supplies—gauze, antiseptic, a few strips of bandages—all laid out on a crate beside the cot.

"I know. I got the stuff ready." Vera says, shoving the first aid kit toward Katherine before perching on a nearby stool.

Chris lets out an exaggerated groan as he sinks onto the bed. “How’s the fight, tough guy?” Vera teases, arching a brow.

"Pretty bad," Chris admits, touching his bruised cheek with a wince. "I don’t feel my cute face anymore."

Vera snorts, but there’s a flicker of concern beneath her amusement. Katherine shakes her head as she starts disinfecting his wounds.

Then, her attention shifts. There’s something else she needs to address—something that’s been nagging at her since before the fight even broke out. And even though now isn't the best time, she can't ignore it.

"Vera?" she calls, carefully pressing a cotton swab against a cut near Chris’s eyebrow.

"Yeah?" Vera looks up, wary.

Katherine hesitates, then dives in. "How much do you remember? About life before?"

The change in Vera is instant. The humor drains from her face, replaced by something raw, something painful. She exhales slowly. “Not much,” she admits. “But the small amount I remember is enough for me to hate WICKED for a lifetime. And I do remember that my mother is the leader who brought nightmares to my friends here.”

Katherine's heart twists. She knows what it’s like to carry the weight of someone else's choices, to have a past you never asked for haunt you. She reaches out, rubbing Vera’s back in slow, comforting circles. "It's not your fault, Vera. None of it is."

"I know." Vera’s voice is quiet, almost detached. "But I was part of it once." Her hands clench in her lap, fingers digging into her knees.

"You can always talk to me," Katherine says firmly. "You know that, right?"

Vera lifts her gaze, a small smile creeping onto her lips. "I know. But I don’t wanna keep your patient from getting patched up after getting his face rearranged by your significant other. We can always hang out later."

Katherine grins, throwing a thumbs-up. "Noted."

"Alright, I’ll be outside if you need me," Vera says, standing. She casts one last glance at Chris before slipping out of the tent.

Katherine turns her attention back to him, digging through the supplies until she finds the antiseptic. She dabs at his wounds, ignoring his winces.

Chris huffs, tilting his head toward the tent’s entrance. "What about her mother?"

Katherine freezes for half a second before answering. "You don't know?"

Chris frowns. "Know what?"

Katherine meets his gaze. "Her mother is Ava Paige."

Silence. A full beat before realization slams into him like a Crank on a rampage. His eyes widen. “Shuck.”

"Yeah," Katherine mutters. "I know, right?"

Chris exhales, shaking his head. "She’s nothing like her mother, though."

"Yep." A grin tugs at Katherine’s lips as she presses a soaked cotton pad to his cheek. He hisses, jerking away.

"Shuck, Katie, warn a guy!"

"Where’s the fun in that?" she quips before narrowing her eyes in amusement. “So, what about Sonya?”

Chris stiffens, too quickly, then tries to play it off. "What about Sonya?"

Katherine smirks. "Don’t bluff, bro. You don't have to lie about the whole gay thing."

Chris sighs, shoulders sagging. "Half of me is."

Katherine lifts a brow, intrigued. "Welcome to the club."

Chris rolls his eyes. "Don’t tell Newt."

Katherine mimes zipping her lips. "My lips are sealed."

Chris lets out a laugh, light and musical. "You know, there’s always a gay twin in every pair of twins."

"Who says that?" Katherine asks, finishing the final touches of his treatment.

"Me. And I know you’re that twin between you and Thomas."

Katherine raises an eyebrow. "What makes you so sure?"

Chris leans back, smirking. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but I saw you making out with a girl at Marcus’s place even though you have a thing with Newt. That makes you Bi, just like me."

Katherine tenses. For a second, she doesn’t respond. Then she sighs, sinking onto the cot beside him. "It’s not just a thing. It’s far more than that."

Chris studies her, then nods. "How’s Aris taking it?"

Chris shrugs. "He doesn’t care about me. At least, not more than he cared for Rachel. And gotta say, you’re lucky with everything. Everyone seems cool with you. I didn’t have that at the Maze. I don’t really blame them. No girl likes positively-thinking bad boys like me. They all love nerdy brains like Aris."

"That’s not true." Katherine frowns and Chris snorts, unconvinced. She continues with an desperate attempt of changing the subject. "Talking about types—who’s yours? Anyone caught your interest from the boys?"

His mood shifts fast, grasping onto the distraction.

"Newt is cute," Chris muses, grin creeping back. "But he’s taken. Minho, though? More like my type. Just look at him. His muscles. Oh, man! How does he even manage to look so shucking godly?"

Katherine laughs. "He was a Runner for three years in the Maze. And yeah, you’re right. Minho is hot, but keep it down before Newt flips again."

Chris smirks. "Yeah, yeah. Besides, I saw Vera eyeing Minho."

Katherine’s brows shoot up. "Really?"

"Yup." Chris shrugs. Then, his gaze shifts, landing on the edge of the mountain where Thomas is standing. But it's not just Thomas. Teresa is there, too.

Katherine follows his line of sight. Teresa stands stiff, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

"She’s weird," Chris mutters.

Katherine exhales. "She went through a lot at Jason’s den. She’ll be around soon. She just needs space."

Chris nods slowly. "Yeah. I mean, she’s nice. I’d happily hold hands with her at the end of the world to face death. It’s just… I feel like something’s off."

Before Katherine can answer, a sound pierces the air. A deep, whirring noise that sets every nerve in her body on edge.

Her stomach drops.

A WICKED Berg.