Feral → newt, tmr

Chapter 12: I Miss Her

A guard leads them down a corridor to a dark room, shoving the group inside before sealing the door behind them. The lights flicker on, revealing a long table piled high with food, an unexpected sight after the desperate struggle outside.

For a moment, the room is still, then the survivors rush forward, ravenous. Plates clatter as they grab anything they can reach, shoveling food into their mouths like it’s their first meal in days. Katherine piles her plate high, her stomach growling, but she hesitates, scanning the room for Thomas before settling down beside him.

As the minutes stretch into an hour, the frantic eating dies down. The group scatters around the room, exhaustion settling in as people slump to the floor, sharing quiet conversations. Katherine glances at Thomas, who lies beside her, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"You think we’ll see mom again?" she whispers, her voice trembling.

Thomas turns his gaze toward her, his brow furrowing slightly. "I don’t know," he replies softly. His uncertainty pierces her, deepening the ache in her chest.

Katherine swallows hard, the memory of their mother’s face flashing vividly in her mind. "She looked beautiful… before everything went wrong." Her voice cracks, and she hates the way it sounds—so small, so vulnerable.

"Yeah, she did," Thomas murmurs, reaching out to grasp her hand. His grip is firm, a lifeline in the darkness.

She squeezes his hand back, but a tear escapes despite her efforts. She brushes it away hastily, catching Newt's gaze from across the room. He leans against the wall, watching them with an expression that seems almost… sad.

The door clicks open, cutting through the stillness, and a man with short gray hair steps in, his eyes sweeping over the group. They settle on the twins, a glint of amusement flickering behind his smirk. "You kids doing all right?" His voice carries a casual confidence that grates against the tense atmosphere. "Sorry about the fuss. Had ourselves a bit of a swarm out there."

The group warily rises to their feet, keeping a fair distance from him. Thomas steps forward, a protective instinct pulling him slightly in front of Katherine. "Who are you?"

The man’s smile widens, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. "I'm the reason you're all still alive. Name’s Janson. I run this place—think of it as a sanctuary. Safe from the horrors outside." He gestures for them to follow as he heads toward the hallway. "Come on now, let’s get you squared away."

They trail after him, filing out into the corridor. Sparks fly from metal railings where workers saw away, and Janson barks out, "Watch yourselves," as they pass.

"Does that mean you're taking us home?" Katherine blurts out, her voice hopeful.

Janson doesn’t miss a beat, but his tone shifts slightly, a hint of something patronizing slipping in. "A home of sorts. Sadly, there wouldn’t be much left of wherever you came from." His gaze flickers over her, then away. "But we do have a place for you. A refuge, outside the Scorch, where WICKED will never find you again."

Katherine’s heart sinks at the words—not home, just somewhere. She glances at Thomas, who gives her hand a reassuring squeeze, but his eyes are shadowed with doubt.

After a quick swipe of Janson’s card at a door sensor, they step into a gleaming white hallway. "First things first," he says, flashing them a grin. "Let’s do something about that smell, all right?"

Later, Katherine emerges from the shower, her hair still damp as she dries it off. She stares at her reflection in the mirror, noting the familiar features that match Thomas’s so closely. It hits her then—how much they’ve both changed, how much this world has taken from them.

"Admiring yourself?" Newt’s voice startles her, and she spins around to find him leaning casually against the wall. He’s dressed in fresh clothes, a towel draped around his neck. There’s a playful gleam in his eyes, though beneath it lies something deeper, something that sends a thrill through her.

She feels her cheeks warm as she fumbles for words. "I wasn’t… admiring," she mutters, brushing a stray lock behind her ear.

Newt’s smirk widens, clearly enjoying her embarrassment. "Sure you weren’t, love." He pushes off from the wall, stepping closer, and she finds herself backing up until her shoulders hit the cold tile.

Her pulse races as he leans in, his breath warm against her neck. His touch is gentle when he cups her face, his lips grazing the delicate skin at the base of her throat. The warmth of his kisses blooms like fire under her skin, and her breath hitches. She feels alive, every nerve tingling, every moment drawn out in aching anticipation.

Newt pulls back slightly, his dark eyes tracing the contours of her face. His gaze softens, a tenderness breaking through the boldness. Then he tilts her chin up and captures her mouth in a kiss, firm yet unhurried, his hands tightening at her waist, holding her close. She loses herself in the moment, in the warmth of his lips, the safety in his touch—until a loud whistle splits the air.

"Get a room!" Minho’s voice breaks the spell, a cheeky grin plastered on his face. Beside him, Thomas shakes his head, a smile tugging at his lips.

Katherine pulls away, her cheeks burning. Newt just laughs, a low, rumbling sound as he runs a hand through his damp blond hair.

"So... it is true," Thomas says, a hint of amusement lighting up his face.

Newt lets out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck as his fingers run through his blond hair. "Guess the secret’s out," he murmurs, glancing at her with a look that’s equal parts amusement and something else—something that makes her feel like the ground is shifting beneath her feet.

"I told you I’m never wrong," Minho remarks with a satisfied nod toward Thomas, his pride unmistakable, just as Frypan steps out of the stall, glancing around with a puzzled expression.

"Did I miss something?" he asks, frowning at the scene before him.