Six months.

It was six months since we had faced the wrath and ruin of WICKED. Six months since I had lost more than just my friends and six months since Teresa had betrayed us— for our group there was no stopping, no time to loose and no reason to stand at the side when horrible things happened.

There was yet one thing we had decided and it was not to let Minho suffer under WICKED any longer.

I gripped the harder surface of a rock knuckles turning white that sent some faintly noticable tingling through the skin on my hand, yet I still felt as if there was none of it, no pain or closed off feeling of numbness coursed through me— perhaps I was too focused, in a situation too serious which only would cause that state, unable to consider what was around. Unable, with mind set to finishing off our mission.

Next to me was Newt, fidgeting with a knife whose handle made of brown, faded leather had lost all its previous shine— it only served as a reminder. A reminder of my best friend. I had asked him multiple times whether he was alright, ready to continue and he did the same for me that indeed made me realise how selfish it must've been to only think of myself then— I was not the only person to have lost him.

"Don't give up yet." I whispered to myself, dropping the grip I held over that stone and resting on its cold surface, boring into my back like waves of freezing air which flowed with occasional wind sweeping over. I looked over to Newt, eyes glued to the burned down nature around us and reeking of ash, dust above which some faint bushes began to grow.

Then I heard a whistle that perked my interest, a shout following the sound. "Newt, Aria!" Thomas shouted out to us.

"Alright, let's go! Come on!" Newt signaled other people hiding with us, pushed the knife unbelievably fast in the back pocket of his trousers and began hurrying to the train, halted in the middle of the railway and surrounded with our people.

I followed shortly after, huffing in a long, hot breath which I felt stuck in my dry throat underneath the building nervousness, nag at my lungs as every shorter one I took after came to be the source of my only hope in forgetting, in fighting against myself to finish now what we had started.

At least a mile away, between dirt and sandy ground full off yellow, fading plants WICKED guards collected in many black, moving spots slowly advancing forward, their weaponry readied and steps robotically guiding them through unwelcoming territory.

I slipped next to Vince carefully, stepping over metal railroad within the ground as my sight stayed connected on the one of approaching enemies. "We don't have much time." I concluded distressingly, fiddled with a still shaky trigger of a gun in my hand which did not weight a ton like the time in Scorch, rather it was a normal thing after six months of training for this moment— it was my job on that rescue mission to keep the wagon safe until we would be able to take off.

"No," Vince replied. "Go, you're needed there!" He pointed at the wagon, Newt on its left side working and Thomas over the edge hurrying him, for we did not have time to waste at all as I broke into a small sprint toward them. I stepped on the other side, sizzling of a tool Newt worked with to my right and faint, yet approaching voices of WICKED guards following to my ears, undetected what they said under all noise we had no other option or way of avoiding.

The first one of their heavy bullets hit the side of gray metal which made the outside of our stolen wagon, sprang off of its shiny surface before disappearing within the grass awfully close to my feet, did not make me freeze like it would have if I had not been ready for anything of that measure as I aimed the gun on the next approaching guard, the one who yet stood the closest to me and as my eye followed his robotically moving figure. After just an uncounted second I pressed tightly on the trigger, setting off a whizzing bullet of whose sounds I heard nothing but a faint scream of a guard whose leg it had hit.

"Newt, get up here!" Thomas yelled out to the boy working on the other side as his worried voice then realised I was too there, engrossed in my task to notice the possible danger and completely forgotten what previously would make me reconsider ever taking such step or responsibility. "You too, Aria!"

"Almost there!" Newt shouted back as an answer.

I aimed once again, this time rather unfocused, for I did begin to grow in calculation they would soon reach us which, as stronger than ever, forced me to retreat away. "Just a second!" I replied urgently, for the last time fired in their direction and then jumped to the metal ladder leading up.

"Newt, go!" Vince yelled out over the sounds of bullets, both the ones shooting from the sky, a big aircraft settling on it and the ones coming from angered WICKED guards and their electronic voices muffled through the gear of their outfits.

"Who the hell are they?" Newt appeared by Thomas and I, stared at the advancing black dot whose owners had stepped by their side.

"I don't know." Thomas answered, grazed the handle of his gun tightly again as he aimed at following guards still quick to approach. I did the same, firing bullet after bullet, one try more successful than the other when out of a sudden the sight of movement at my front seemed to freeze— guards have spotted the aircraft.

"Aria, cover us!" Thomas said to me quickly, noticed the imagines of unmoving guards abruptly changed to moving ones again as he and Newt grabbed a hook coming from the aircraft which offered us help.

"I'm almost out, but I'll manage!" My shout came back, something rather forcefully nudging my shoe...that something being a gun Thomas had slipped toward me, I gripping its cold handle and pointing it at the guards. Every shot I fired came out ringing stronger than the other, each sound louder than floating, faint voices I heard on each side.

"Vince, get up here!" Newt's yell was stronger than my halted firing as I out of a sudden noticed our wagon was being lifted up forcefully, which brought my hand wavering to a stop and in the end drop at my side as a small smile spread through my lips, remembering, celebrating the successful mission we had condoned as fainter and fainter the sight of WICKED guards grew to being just a few black spots. 

I smiled a genuine smile then, wrapping an arm over Thomas's middle while his went over mine in an instant, relaxation and happiness radiated from both of us as his embrace grew stronger.

Eventually he pulled away, smiling back at me.

•

We were back at our sanctuary sooner than expected, unlocking the stolen wagons and eagerly running to finish everything before the nightfall— before the time, now that we had rescued our friend, to leave WICKED and suffering behind. I walked through streets of broken cement, buildings more huts which lined to the entrance of an empty plot whose most space had taken the wagon, captured and put in it by WICKED, Minho and new friends we had made such months ago, only people we needed desperately back so we'd be able to leave.

By the time I neared its entrance Thomas rushed past me furiously, with ferocity and fire tingling in his eyes and fueling his steps as he disappeared withing the few buildings. Newt was walking slowly behind, lagging and as if unable fo process anything that was happening— just by a look on his features I have realised...we did not rescue Minho.

I approached him, biting the inside of my cheek rather quickly. "He's...not there?" My voice wavered, uncertain as the blond boy only shook his head at me disappointedly. A sharp tingle of pain went through my chest, arising to something truly a hundred times worse which nagged at the pit of my stomach, created a hollow feeling of something missing within my heart and forced me once again to let go of all thoughts that made me believe we would leave that day.

I bit on my bottom lip, let out a disappointed, sad sigh which blew through the silence between Newt and I like a mace, shattered it as my hand wordlessly rested atop his shoulder in comfort. Newt gave me a curt nod, slipped away minute before I did and leaving for another building as I went in search for Thomas.

I finally found him near a wall, arms crossed and focused on a speech Vince was giving. "WICKED thinks you're worth sacrificing to find the cure." I listened intently, leaning by Thomas, watching his yet another unfocused gaze that marring his features.

"Hey," A hand that previously laid by my side, gripped his shoulder comfortingly. "We'll find him. Whatever it takes, remember?" I tried to sound convincing, as if wishing to even convince myself it was that way underneath the sinking feeling of loss which pushed back my only happy thoughts and twisted them into shadowy ones.

He tensed up, still stayed in the wake of blue sky, watched the waves shift over the cemented shore as through his conflicted eyes passed a trace of uncertainty. "It won't be easy," Thomas pursed his lips tightly, turned to look at me. "And I don't even know what to do." He suddenly gained a hurt look, near the edge of tears his tired, brown eyes brimmed with as he blinked rapidly not to show them falling or appearing near his lashes.

I felt myself break too, silently inside of me something tore apart at what I was seeing, at the rememberance of what we had lived and suffered through and how much hoping had we all, especially Thomas put in this.

I couldn't do anything else, but to hug him and at least hope there was anything...anything small, faint yet something we could do.

(A/N):

hiiiiii!!!

if you don't notice i am so freaking excited for this, so so so freaking excited you don't even know, i just might burst!!

my heart is already aching so yup, that's in a few words how i feel about the last part of this series.

hope you're as excited as i am for the actual continuation! so thank you all for reading this!❤️❤️