It’s been six months since RightArm was attacked by WICKED. Six months since Teresa’s betrayal. Six months since Katherine’s friends were ripped away from her, screaming, fighting to hold on. Six months of working to the bone, piecing together every shattered fragment of a plan to get them back.

Now, the sea stretches endlessly before Katherine, dark and restless. The stars above are distant pinpricks of light, too far away to touch, too small to matter. Cold waves brush against the shore, leaving trails of white foam that vanish within seconds. She hugs her knees to her chest, fingers digging into her arms. The world feels too big, too empty.

A voice breaks through the silence. "Can't sleep?"

Katherine glances over her shoulder as Newt drops onto the sand beside her. He keeps a small distance between them, the way he has for months, and she hates it. The space, the silence, the feeling of something unresolved pressing between them. "Nope."

Newt exhales slowly, his breath a thin cloud in the cool night air. He’s quiet for a long moment, staring out at the waves, before speaking again. "I'm sorry."

She turns to him, startled. "Sorry for what?"

His jaw tightens. He stares down at his hands, rubbing his thumb over his knuckles like he’s trying to smooth out the guilt embedded there. "For punching Chris," he mutters. "And for being cold to you."

Katherine nods slowly. "I'm sorry too."

Newt blinks at her, caught off guard. "For?"

She hesitates, biting the inside of her cheek. The confession sits heavy on her tongue, shame curling in her stomach. "I kissed a woman at the party," she admits.

His expression doesn’t shift. He just watches her, unreadable, his soft brown eyes locked on hers. "You were drunk," he says simply. "It’s not your fault."

Katherine lets out a short, humorless laugh. "You’re supposed to be mad at me, you know? Call me a cheater or something."

Newt tilts his head, studying her. Then, a small, tired smile tugs at his lips. "How about we forgive each other and move on?"

The tightness in her chest eases just a little. "I like that idea."

Newt’s smile widens, a glimmer of warmth returning to his face. "Let’s start from a kiss. Shall we?"

Her heart stumbles, but she smirks. "You don’t have to ask."

Newt leans in, his fingers ghosting over her jaw before he finally presses his lips to hers. They’re cold, but the moment is anything but. His grip tightens, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. The crash of the waves fades into the background, the whole world narrowing to the press of his lips, the way his hands find her waist, the way her fingers tangle into his hair.

"You have no idea how hard it’s been staying away from you," Newt breathes as he pulls back just enough to look at her. His forehead presses against hers, his voice rough, low.

"Trust me," she whispers, sliding into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I do."

Their mouths crash together again, the kiss urgent, raw. She traces her tongue over his teeth, swallows his quiet groan as he tightens his hold on her. The warmth of his body seeps into hers, their movements turning frantic, desperate—six months of longing and silence unraveling all at once.

A loud, dramatic groan cuts through the night. "Oh, for shuck’s sake, this is disgusting."

Katherine and Newt break apart, snapping their heads toward the voice. Thomas stands a few feet away, arms crossed, his expression one of absolute horror.

"Seriously," he deadpans. "I already have enough trauma, and now I gotta deal with the mental image of my twin making out with my best friend? That’s just cruel."

Newt smirks, unbothered.

Katherine raises an eyebrow. "Maybe don’t sneak up on people, then?"

Thomas pulls a face, wrinkling his nose. "Yeah, well, maybe don’t shove your tongue down my best friend’s throat where anyone can walk in."

Katherine grins. "Be careful next time, Tommy. Could be worse."

Thomas gags. "Nope. Nope. I’m out. I need to bleach my brain. Thanks for that, really." He turns on his heel and storms off, muttering about how his sister is ruining his life.

Katherine and Newt burst into laughter. The sound carries through the night, mingling with the crashing waves, the rustling wind.

Eventually, the laughter fades, leaving behind something softer. They curl up together in the sand, the warmth of each other enough to chase away the cold.

For the first time in six months, Katherine falls into a dreamless sleep.

The morning air is sharp, carrying the scent of damp earth and salt as Katherine crouches low behind a boulder, her heart hammering against her ribs. The sky is barely waking, streaks of orange and gray stretching over the horizon, but every nerve in her body is already on high alert.

Beside her, Newt adjusts his grip on his rifle, his fingers tense around the metal. His breath comes in quiet, measured exhales, but she knows him well enough to sense the strain behind his calm exterior.

"Any second now," she murmurs, eyes locked on the tracks ahead.

Newt just nods, his gaze flicking to her—just for a moment, but it’s enough. A silent promise. No matter what happens, they do this together.

Then, the ground trembles beneath them, a deep, rhythmic vibration growing stronger with each second. The train barrels toward them, a steel beast slicing through the desert night, its headlight cutting a sharp line through the darkness.

"They're here," Katherine mutters, pressing her back against the boulder, peering around the jagged edge. Her heart pounds in her ears as she spots the familiar truck—Brenda at the wheel, Jorge beside her—racing parallel to the train. Another truck follows, hugging the train’s tail, dust kicking up in a thick cloud behind them.

Brenda leans out of the truck, aims, and fires. The bullet shatters the train’s driver-side window. Glass sprays, and the train jerks, but it keeps moving. At the same time, Thomas and Vince vanish into the last carriage, their figures swallowed by the steel walls.

Then—a deafening roar above.

Katherine jerks her head up as a Berg slices through the sky, its blinding floodlights flickering over them. The enemy aircraft dips low, its cannons opening fire. A hail of bullets rains down on Brenda’s truck, forcing her to swerve off course. Jorge yells something—probably a curse—as the Berg veers after them, leaving them no choice but to retreat.

A violent explosion rips through the night.

Katherine ducks as a shockwave rolls over them. The back half of the train lets out a tortured groan and lurches, its momentum dying until it slows to a shuddering halt—mere meters from their hiding spot.

"Let’s go!" Newt barks.

They move fast. Boots pounding against the dirt, weapons clutched tight, they sprint toward the train. The front half screeches to a stop further ahead, and before Katherine can even process it, guards spill out like ants from a hive, charging toward them.

"Oh, shit," she hisses. "It's gonna be close."

"This one! This one!" Thomas slams his hand against a compartment wall, his voice sharp with urgency.

Newt pulls his goggles over his eyes, adjusting the mask covering his face. Katherine watches him pull out the tool, his hands steady despite the chaos. She knows him—knows how his mind works. He’s focused, shutting everything else out as he works the lock.

Bullets fly.

Katherine doesn't hesitate. She grabs Thomas’s arm, and they haul themselves up onto the roof, Vince staying behind to cover Newt.

"Newt, how you doing?" Thomas yells, breathless, dodging the shots cracking through the air.

"Don’t rush me!" Newt snaps.

Katherine risks a glance down. Newt is a silhouette against the sparks spitting from his tool, shoulders tense, face set in stubborn determination. He’s not afraid. Not yet.

"Shit—Newt, get up here!" she shouts as her last few bullets ping against armor.

"Almost there!"

More guards. More gunfire. Vince takes out two, but three more replace them, forcing him back. Katherine feels her pulse spike. Too many. Too fast.

Then—click.

Newt scrambles up. Katherine grabs his arm, yanking him the last few inches onto the roof. For a second, their eyes meet. A flicker of relief. A promise neither of them needs to say out loud.

They turn, guns raised, covering Vince as he keeps firing, holding his ground.

"Where the hell are they?" Newt shouts over the chaos, scanning the sky.

"I don’t know!" Thomas answers, frustration biting at the edges of his voice.

And then—it appears.

A Berg. Their Berg. A beacon of salvation, its engines screaming as it hovers above them.

The metal hook lowers.

"Get it done, Tommy!" Katherine yells, covering her twin as he jumps, fingers grasping the hook. He hooks it to the roof with practiced speed.

"Go, go, go!"

The Berg lifts. Metal screeches as the train car is pulled from the tracks. Katherine feels the air shift beneath her feet as they ascend, the desert shrinking below.

"Vince, get up here! Now, Vince!" Katherine calls, voice hoarse.

Vince moves. He sprints, leaps, grabs the ladder mid-air. The guards’ bullets whiz past him, barely missing. Newt reaches down, grip firm as he helps haul Vince up.

The Berg rises.

They made it.

Cheers erupt—whoops of victory, relieved laughter. Katherine exhales hard, adrenaline still burning in her veins.

Newt turns to her, a smirk curling at his lips. "Not bad, love."

She shakes her head, grinning, and nudges him. The world below is a blur of dust and wreckage, but up here, with him, with Thomas and the others—they’re untouchable.

Disappointment. It’s thick in the air, sinking into their bones the moment they realize Minho isn’t here. Neither is Vera.

The group stands in tense silence, the weight of their mistake settling in. They fought for this, risked their lives for this, and yet—

"Here, drink this." Thomas kneels in front of Aris, pressing a glass of water into his bruised hands.

Aris grips it tight, lifting it to his lips and downing it in a few gulps, like he hasn’t had water in days. When he finishes, he exhales, wiping his mouth with his sleeve before placing the empty glass on the table with a quiet clink. "Took you guys long enough to rescue us," he says, his voice hoarse but laced with that familiar sarcasm.

Thomas huffs a laugh, shaking his head. "It’s good to see you too, bud." He lowers himself onto his haunches, scanning the injuries marring Aris’s face. "What happened?"

Aris exhales through his nose. "I fought back," he mutters. "Tried to, anyway."

Chris scoffs beside him. "Yeah, if it wasn’t for me, that bulk guy would’ve beaten my bravo of a brother to death."

Katherine smacks Chris on the back of the head.

"Ow! What the shuck, Kat?" He rubs the spot, pouting like a wounded puppy.

Katherine raises an eyebrow. "For being a smartass."

The others chuckle, the brief moment of levity a small comfort in the otherwise grim situation.

"You're lucky you found us at all," Sonya reveals, her tone serious. "They had us on the move a lot. It felt like something big was happening."

Newt leans forward. "Any idea where they were taking you?"

Chris runs a hand through his curls, his lips pressing into a thin line. "They kept talking about a city, but they never said anything clearly."

Thomas’s gaze flickers to Harriet, who shakes her head. "I didn’t think there were any cities left."

"That’s because there aren’t," Brenda chimes in, arms crossed. "Not still standing, anyway."

Thomas frowns, his mind racing. "Okay, wait. What about Minho? Why wasn’t he on the train?"

Aris’s expression darkens. "Sorry, Thomas. He was."

"You hijacked the wrong carriage," Chris adds quietly.

Silence settles over them like a heavy weight. The realization is like a gut punch—after everything, they still don’t have Minho.

Katherine swallows, voice steady but strained. "What about Vera?"

Chris’s lips curve into a small, almost reluctant smile. "She’s with Minho."

Katherine exhales slowly. At least Minho isn’t alone. But that doesn’t make it better.

That night, after the rescued immunes are given food and a place to rest, Thomas calls for a meeting.

Katherine stands between Newt and Brenda, arms crossed. Frypan leans against the table, next to Vince, who watches Thomas with narrowed eyes.

Thomas lays a map across the table, tapping his finger against a specific point. "There. That’s it," he says firmly. "A few hundred miles from here. Based on the railways, everything Aris told us—it has to be where they’re taking Minho." He looks up, his determination burning through the exhaustion on his face. "We take everyone who can fight. Follow the roads where we can. If we move fast, we can make it back within a week."

"A week?" Vince repeats, skeptical. "It took us six months to get here. And now we have over a hundred kids to look after. We can’t just hang around after what we pulled today." His gaze sharpens, like he’s trying to make Thomas see reason. "You want to wander off to some random point on the map? You don’t even know what’s there."

"I do." Jorge’s voice cuts through the tension, and everyone turns to him. His expression is grim. "It’s been a few years, but I’ve been there," he continues. "The Last City. That’s what WICKED called it. It was their whole base of operations." His dark eyes flick between them, warning clear in his tone. "If that city is still standing, hermano, it’s the last place you wanna go. That’s the lion’s den."

Thomas straightens, jaw tightening. "It’s nothing we haven’t done before."

Vince lets out a sharp breath. "Yeah? And last time, we had months of planning, reliable information, and the element of surprise. None of which we have now." He gestures around the dimly lit room. "You’re asking me to risk lives for one person. I won’t do it."

Katherine shifts beside Newt, arms tightening around herself. "Vince has a point," she says carefully, but Thomas hears the hidden meaning in her voice.

She’s saying not now. Not like this.

Thomas stares at her, searching her face, but before he can say anything, a crackling sound fills the room.

"Searching the grid now. A is completed. Scanning B-sector now."

They freeze.

A low whirring sound grows closer—mechanical, searching.

Thomas’s stomach drops. "Shuck."

"Hit the lights!" Vince hisses.

Jorge lunges for the lever, pulling it down with a loud clank. The lights in the building flicker, then vanish, plunging them into darkness.

Everything goes still.

Katherine steps outside cautiously, Newt at her side. Above them, WICKED Bergs sweep through the sky, their searchlights cutting through the night. They move methodically, scanning the area for any sign of life.

Newt exhales slowly, fingers brushing Katherine’s. She grabs his hand, gripping it tightly. They have to stay hidden. They have to.

Behind them, Vince mutters, "They’re getting too close."

Thomas steps up, his voice low but sure. "You’re right. We can’t stay here."

Vince exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. "We’ll talk in the morning." He turns and disappears into the building.

As soon as he’s gone, Katherine glances at her twin. "So… when are we leaving?"

Thomas looks at her, his face unreadable for a moment. Then—

"Midnight."

Katherine grins, winking. "Okie dokie."

The night is still, thick with the quiet hum of sleeping bodies. The tension of the day lingers in the air, curling around the corners of the darkened base like smoke. Everyone is exhausted—worn out from the escape, the planning, the weight of hope that clings too heavy on their shoulders.

Katherine lies still, wrapped in the warmth of Newt’s arms. His steady breathing brushes softly against her neck, and for a moment, she allows herself to stay there, safe. But Minho and Vera are out there, trapped, waiting. She can't just lie here while Thomas sneaks off into the night alone.

Carefully, she peels herself away, moving inch by inch, her breath caught in her throat as Newt stirs. His arms slacken, and she slips free. The moment her feet hit the cold ground, she moves quickly, pulling on her jacket, sliding into her boots.

"What are you doing?"

Her stomach lurches. She whirls around to see Newt rubbing his eyes, his voice thick with sleep. The suspicion in his hazel eyes is enough to make her heart pound. She scrambles for an excuse. "Ahm. Just going for a midnight snack."

Newt cocks an eyebrow, and for a second, she swears he's about to call her bluff. But then he lets out a soft exhale, too tired to push further. "Okay." He leans forward, pressing a drowsy kiss to her lips.

Katherine lingers for just a second, soaking in the warmth of him before whispering— "I love you."

A slow, tired smile tugs at his lips. "I love you too."

The second he turns back into sleep, she’s gone.

Katherine slips into the storeroom, her heart still hammering against her ribs.

Thomas is already there, shoving supplies into a backpack with sharp, precise movements. His expression is set, determined. This isn't just a rescue mission to him—it's a promise. He slings the bag over his shoulder as he turns to her. "Ready?"

She grins, hands on her hips. "As long as you're up for a piggyback ride."

A smirk flickers across his face before he turns his back to her, crouching slightly. "Hop on."

Without hesitation, she tosses the bag over her shoulder and leaps onto his back, wrapping her arms around his neck. Thomas grips her legs, adjusting her weight as they move. The moment is light, fleeting, a brief reminder of the days when things were simpler—before the Trials, before the betrayals, before WICKED tore their lives apart.

"You think we’ll find Minho and Vera?" Katherine murmurs as they step carefully through the base.

"I hope so," Thomas replies, voice low. The doubt creeps in, but neither of them dares to say it aloud.

They slip through the dimly lit halls, their footsteps barely making a sound. But as soon as they reach the pitch-black garage, the overhead lights flick on.

Both twins flinch at the sudden brightness, a sharp breath catching in their throats.

"And where do you think you two are going?" Newt's voice is steady, but there's something knowing in his gaze, something that says he’s not the least bit surprised.

"Newt…" Thomas starts, but Katherine is already sliding off his back, her heart sinking.

"Don't be a twat about it. I'm already in."

Thomas shakes his head, frustration flickering in his eyes. "Come on. No. No, not this time. Look, even if we find Minho, there's no guarantee we’ll make it back from this."

Newt takes a step forward, voice steady, resolute. "Well, you’ll need all the help you can get then, won’t you?"

A deep chuckle echoes from behind them.

"Well, we started this together. May as well end it that way, too."

They turn to see Frypan, leaning against the wall with a smirk.

Katherine exhales, something warm settling in her chest. This is what they are—family. No matter what happens, they face it together.

Thomas lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. "Okay. Let’s go get him back."

As the group piles into the jeep, Katherine lingers behind with Newt. The guilt is already gnawing at her. She looks up at him, biting her lip.

"I see you brought a bag of midnight snacks, love."

The teasing in his voice makes her wince.

"I’m sorry, Newt," she murmurs, guilt settling deep in her stomach.

Newt sighs, then pulls her into his arms, his touch warm, grounding. His lips graze her neck, a whisper of a kiss.

"Shuck it," he mutters. "You owe me a bloody good time, Kat."

A laugh bubbles in her chest, light and real. "That, I do."

And with that, they climb into the jeep, driving straight into the unknown—together.