Disclaimer:

Minho: I nominate this shank to replace me as Keeper of the Runners.

Gally: *looks into hidden camera like he's in the office*

-✼-

I was running blindly.

My legs moved in no coordination with my brain. They worked on their own accord, pumping hard and clumsily so I often tripped over my own two feet. The cracked cement was more slippery than before with how my shoes seemed to slide on every loose pebble. The ruined city around me blended into a blur of lifeless color as the tears continued to stream down my face and distort my vision.

Soon, I couldn't take it any longer. I felt sick to my stomach. Every organ inside of me was threatening to implode. My heart was thudding so hard it was sending pulses of pain through my ribs and to the rest of my body. So, when I dropped to my knees, I couldn't feel it.

Newt skidded to a stop once he saw me fall. He had been the one to help Minho force me away from the building, encouraging me to stay on my feet as we ran from the rabid Cranks that Julia had set loose on us. The worry on his face as he turned to me was unquestionable. Immediately, he knelt down so he was in front of me and placed a hand on my arm in comfort.

The aching agony in my kneecaps wasn't registering in my brain- the pain in my heart was overpowering it by a tenfold. The gun I used to kill Theo was tucked into the waistband of my jeans, forever a reminder of the blood on my hands. It seemed to be digging into my skin and irritating it until an angry red mark was burned into it.

My hands were shaking uncontrollably. I didn't know what to do with them. One covered my mouth to stifle the heavy sobs that were building up like congestion in my chest, threatening to explode and break my ribs. The other stayed awkwardly outstretched with my fingers trembling violently.

Newt laced his fingers through mine. He squeezed, but I didn't look at him. I couldn't. All I could see was the vision of the bullets tearing into Theo's skin. The image of the blood blossoming through his shirt was ingrained into my memory. The Cranks were probably tearing him open at that very moment.

I killed my best friend.

My eyes snapped back into focus to see Minho crouching down beside Newt, forehead wrinkled in concern. A thin layer of sweat coated his face while his gaze flickered from Newt's pained expression to the sobbing mess that was me.

My eyes were overflowing with an endless amount of tears I thought would never cease to fall with the rate they were going. Newt wrapped his arms around me so I was nearly sitting in his lap, rocking me gently like I was a child. My legs outstretched in front of me so I could see the blood trickling down them from my fall. The fabric of my jeans had been torn open just enough for the ripped skin to be visible. I still couldn't feel the stinging sensation that it should have brought about.

"Theo was a brave man," Minho said in a means to console me, but all he did was send a fresh wave of knives to my heart when he said his name and the past-tense verb. "But he wouldn't have made it anyway, Dylan. Not with his hip." He paused, eyes seeming to see somewhere else. "He was a great Runner when he tried out, but soon as he had his injury..."

"Minho, I think it would be best if you'd shut up," Newt scolded him sternly. His grip on me tightened. "That's the last thing she needs to hear right now."

Minho nodded guiltily and sat down on the pavement in front of us. He didn't say anything else, only crossed his legs and draped his arms over his knees. His thumb scraped over the loose pebbles scattered around him. There was a look in his eyes that suggested he was thinking deeply about something- but what, I wasn't sure.

Jorge, surprisingly, allowed me to take the time I needed to grieve. He rested against the brick wall of a building with one foot propping him up. Frypan was hunched over with a sickened expression haunting his face. Aris was panting heavily with a hand on his side, treating a cramp. Everyone appeared worn out after what just happened.

"It was Maseo," Jorge said blankly. By that point, my breathing had slowed enough for it to be considered merely just unsteady pants, though my eyes and nose continued to run like crazy.

"What?" Aris asked, straightening up with a puzzled expression. His hair was unkempt from the chaos and damp from sweat.

"It had to be," the older man continued as if Aris had never spoken. His face held a faraway look on it- betrayal. "How else would Julia have known? He must've communicated with her--"

Jorge suddenly straightened as if with striking realization and screamed with frustration. He reeled his foot back and kicked an aluminum can across the street as hard as he could. His fists curled, arms tightening as his mouth twisted into a scowl. The ability of his to change moods so quickly once again showed its strength.

"What's wrong?" Aris asked. That time, he got answers.

"Maseo, Julia, and I are all part of this network." Jorge waved his hand as he searched for the word. "A...gang, if you will. It was how we survived. Those beans you ate were supplied by Julia. All my weapons are from Maseo. We have many more inside people to keep us all alive. They had never particularly liked me, always looking for an excuse to throw me out. I just never--" He paused to suck in a breath. "It was you guys. They were suspicious."

Jorge's unfinished sentence hung in the air. I just never thought they'd try to kill you.

"That means I can't trust them anymore. We're on our own till the miles are up. And, man, we've still got a long way to go."

-/-

What happened later was so intense that I could hardly comprehend it. We walked further into the town, entranced by the sound of a bass thrumming through the city and guitars pulsing beneath our feet. The sound took us closer to a sketchy club in the basement of an abandoned building.

Frypan was convinced he had seen Thomas, but there was no way to be certain. Jorge forced us to wait outside while he scoped out the inside first. This meant we had to lean against the wall awkwardly as ragged people passed and gave us funny looks. A bunch of beat-up, underaged teenagers outside of a shady nightclub was probably the most exciting thing they'd seen all day.

The flight of cement stairs that led to the door of the club were dark with shadows. The music was even louder here, so intense that I could feel it vibrating through the entire structure of the building I leaned against. And then the pounding of feet on the steps sounded, causing all of us to snap our attention to the person running. Jorge popped his head around the corner.

"Might've found them," he reported excitedly. "Caught wind of some idiota talking about two scores he caught- a teenage boy and girl."

Thomas and Brenda.

The possibility that Thomas was alive lifted a portion of the weight off of my heavy shoulders. Now I had evidence that he was still breathing instead of distant hope.

"You mean Tommy might still be alive?" Newt questioned.

"And Brenda," Jorge snapped with a glare in his direction. "Alright, here's what we'll do."

The combination of light and sound made me so out of it I couldn't remember what happened after that. There were glimpses of memories of using Aris' knife, blood - lots of blood - and the distant screams of those we were fighting. I tried my best not to kill who was trying to kill me. Jorge had taught us exactly where to hit to make a fully-grown man hit the ground instantly- I found myself using that tactic more often than the blade.

I cursed my past self for hating those fighting lessons with Sonya and Brent. They very well could have been the only thing keeping me alive at that point.

The result was horrible. Most of the men were now tied up using some rope Jorge had somehow managed to find. The majority were passed out from how battered and drunk they were, occasional groans coming from busted lips. Some bodies littered the ground that only added to the rancid stench of sweat, blood, and alcohol that was quickly invading my sense of smell.

"Guys, I think I found something," Minho announced breathlessly over the muffled music. The place in which we were standing was a separate room from the actual club, but the bass was still as mind-numbing as before.

My heart leaped into my throat as I pushed my way past everyone to see what he was referring to. Newt managed to grab my arm, stopping me from entering too far into the stairwell Minho was holding the door open to. The stairs were obviously scarcely used from how dusty they were, but the distinct shape of footprints stood out.

"It's them," I whispered hopefully. "It has to be."

"Dylan, we don't know tha—"

I paid no attention to Newt and practically flew down the stairs I was moving so fast. Someone ran after me with their feet pounding on the metal steps. Newt's hands brushed against my skin as he tried to catch me. His arms managed to loop loosely around my middle the second after I pushed open the door at the bottom— and froze.

The light was so scarce that I could hardly see in the darkness, but who I saw was unmistakable. Thomas and Brenda were tied to two separate chairs, arms and legs bound with tape over Brenda's mouth. Both looked exhausted beyond compare. Thomas' hair was matted onto his forehead with sweat, purple rings beneath his dark eyes and scratches covering his face. Brenda was in a similar shape as well, though she had a dried-up gash on her right arm.

Never before had I been so happy to see my brother, even tied-up and bruised.

I approached with cautious steps like I was afraid he would vanish the moment I got close enough. His dark eyes were filled with disbelief as he saw me approaching, finally widening when enough light fell on me for him to be sure. I knelt down and started untying his restraints as gently yet quickly as I could.

Thomas stood with wobbly legs and I immediately crashed into his arms. My face buried itself in his chest, not caring he smelled like sweat, grime, and blood, but rather the fact that he was my twin - my other half - and he was with me again. His arms tightened around me and his chin rested on top of my head as we embraced like we were each other's lifelines.

I found myself crying again, but from joy. Relief was flooding me, washing out any sense of despondency I had felt before. My tears dampened his shirt as they trickled down my cheeks. He didn't seem to mind, however, and instead squeezed me even more tightly. I didn't even know that was possible.

"I'm so glad you're alive," he mumbled, making me smile and pull back.

"Me too."

Brenda gave a grunt as she ripped the duct tape from her mouth. She rubbed her jaw uncomfortably, nodding to Newt in thanks for untying her. He nodded back before sending Thomas a genuine smile that made my hurt curl in on itself.

"Glad you're not bloody dead, Tommy. Really glad."

"You too." But Thomas wasn't watching him anymore. His eyes were on Brenda, who was standing at the foot of the stairs with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. Not so much as a 'Thanks for rescuing us' came from her. She hardly seemed to notice I was there.

"Is she okay?" I questioned quietly so she wouldn't hear.

"Yeah, I think so," Thomas said before scratching his ear. "Man, anyone got any Asprin?"

"Let's go," Brenda urged from the stairwell. "I wanna go see Jorge."

I raised my eyebrows and let out a slow breath that puffed out my cheeks. She sure was blunt.

"C'mon." I wrapped one of my brother's arms around my shoulders to help him walk despite the fact he was eight inches taller than me and it was more of a struggle than I expected. Newt took his other arm, which made it even more difficult due to the drastic difference in height between the three of us.

We managed to stagger to the steps before Thomas insisted he could walk on his own. With great reluctance, we let him go, watching him nearly trip on the stairs about ten times. It was a relief for us all when we finally reached the hallway once more.

I stepped around Brenda, who stood off to the side at the door, and gave a nod to Jorge. He, Aris, and Minho were standing guard with their weapons out toward our prisoners. Minho flashed Thomas a sarcastic grin when he stepped into the open and cringed at the smell.

"You look dashing as always, Thomas," Minho snickered at my brother's appearance. I knew it was all a joke, but it still made me roll my eyes.

"Hey, Thomas!" Frypan shouted with a laugh mixed in. "As ugly and alive as ever!"

Thomas' eyes wandered around, silently counting the numbers of people. I could see the gears turning in his head as his eyebrows pinched in thought. "Twelve. Did everyone make it?"

Aris looked to the wall to his left. "Not everyone."

Thomas' eyes widened in realization at who was missing. His gaze flickered to me; I looked away just in time to avoid his questioning gaze. The guilt was still snapping my heartstrings until it would plunge my heart into my stomach. I chewed on my lip to keep myself from reacting in any way.

"Listen up!" Minho called out loudly to change the topic off of the fallen. "We're leaving now. Don't follow us, you'll be fine. Follow us, you're dead. Pretty easy choice, don't ya think?"

It took me a second to realize he was referring to our captives. It made me a lot less confused.

One by one, people started filing out. I turned to see Thomas standing still with a dazed expression, completely oblivious to what was happening.

I felt a hand on the small of my back. Newt appeared in my line of vision, glancing briefly at Thomas before returning his gaze to me. "He's different. I can tell."

"We all are," I respond vaguely. "You go ahead— I'll get him."

Newt nodded and patted my arm before following the others out. I approached my brother with caution, completely aware of the prisoners still around us. His eyes were unfocused and his mouth slightly open as if he was in some sort of freaky trance.

"Hey." I snapped my fingers in front of his face. His eyes went back into focus; he shook his head to clear it and looked down at me. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," he replied, scratching his ear. That was the tell-tale that he was lying- sometimes he was just too obvious for me not to catch it. However, I pretended to believe him for his sake and nodded. My arm hooked through his as we exited.

Minho, Jorge, and Newt waited outside with their weapons hot. We all gathered in the alley away from the stairs leading to the club, happy to be away from the dreadful place. I caught Thomas watching Brenda more than once. She seemed to be ignoring him to the best of her ability in our small group of sixteen.

"There's only about a mile left," Minho said. "These Cranks aren't so hard to fight after all. So let's—"

"Hey!"

The screech came from behind. I whirled around to see a middle-aged man with coarse blond hair standing on the bottom step, a gun raised and pointed at us. His arm was covered in white scars that stood out against his tanned skin. The strange combination of the lightness of his hair and darkness of his skin made for a sore sight.

My eyes only barely managed to widen before he fired, the bullet landing directly in Thomas' shoulder.

gif is thomas and brenda

------

yay!! thomas and dylan were reunited!!! finally!!

this chapter was a bit rushed because i couldn't figure out exactly what happened to brenda and thomas + how they were rescued without reading 8 chapters and nobody has time for that tbh

questions:

-are you happy thomas and dylan reunited?

-will brenda like dylan?

-do you ship trenda or thomesa?? neither??

-what was your favorite scene from this book so far?

please answer these- it makes me really happy when you do!! i've been losing motivation for this book so your comments really fuel me up ((:

-kristyn