Threads of Hope | A Newt x Reader Story

14

We ran, but the sheer speed of the Grievers made it impossible to get far.

"Keep moving!" Thomas yelled.

But the next turn led us straight into another Griever.

The Griever loomed before us, its massive form blocking any chance of escape.

Thomas stepped forward, breathless but determined, ready to fight.

Before he could even strike, a spear shot through the air, impaling the Griever in its side.

It let out an ear-piercing shriek, jerking backward just as a group of Gladers charged in, weapons in hand.

Minho.

Newt.

And others, their faces grim, their grips tight on whatever makeshift weapons they could find.

My heart stuttered. "Newt!"

I ran straight for him, slamming into his chest as he caught me, his arms coming around me in a tight, desperate hold.

"Bloody hell," he breathed against my hair, his grip like iron. "I'm not letting you slip away again."

"Over here!" Chuck's voice cut through the noise, his small figure waving us toward a nearby shack.

We ran, forcing ourselves into the cramped space, slamming the door shut behind us.

The shack shuddered under the relentless assault of the Griever outside.

We stood frozen, breath held, barely daring to breathe as the monstrous creature slammed itself against the wooden door, the whole structure groaning in protest.

The scratching of metal limbs against wood sent shivers down my spine, the sound distinct, piercing, desperate.

Then, a sudden silence.

For a brief, heart-stopping moment, everything went still.

Then—BANG.

The entire shack shook as the Griever leaped onto the roof, its sheer weight caving in the brittle wooden beams.

We screamed as dust and debris rained down on us.

Before anyone could move, a grotesque mechanical arm came crashing through the ceiling, its clawed appendage latching onto one of the support beams.

With a sickening crunch, it ripped the beam free, and the roof gave way.

I barely managed to scramble back as wooden planks collapsed all around us, nearly crushing a few Gladers in the process.

"Is everyone alright?" Newt's voice was panicked as he immediately reached for me, his hands gripping my arms as he scanned me frantically for any injuries.

"I—yeah," I stammered, still in shock.

But not everyone was so lucky.

A Glader lay pinned beneath the rubble, his terrified eyes locked onto us as he reached out desperately.

"Help me! Please!" he sobbed, struggling to pull himself free.

We scrambled to reach for him, our fingers brushing against his—

A Griever's tendril shot in through the wreckage.

Before any of us could react, the metal claw clamped around the Glader's leg and yanked him away. His screams pierced the night, raw, desperate—then they were gone, swallowed by the darkness.

A sickening silence followed.

I turned, horror-stricken, my breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

Then another deafening crash.