"What the shuck do we do now?" Florence asked, her voice bouncing around the walls of the crumbled building. Her eyes turned back to the warehouse, which was demolished, flooding with tears at the implication her brother may be dead.

"Hey, hermana," Jorge clicked his fingers in front of her face impatiently. Despite his action, looking at him now she could see he held sympathy for her. "I know Brenda. They're fine, trust me."

That's the only thing she could do.

Florence's eyes scanned across the room. It was an empty building, apart from the now broken zip line and the harnesses hanging down from the roof. She found Newt's face. He looked horrified, not even a little reassured by Jorge's words.

"We need to find Marcus."

Jorge set off in a determined march, leaving Florence, Minho, Newt, Teresa, Aris and Frypan all to exchange confused glances before rushing after him. Florence caught up to his pace, folding her arms across her chest.

"Who the hell is Marcus?"

Jorge glanced to her in amusement of her frustration, only increasing it. As he began to descend a cracking concrete staircase, his answer echoed around them. "An old friend. He used to smuggle kids into the mountains. If anyone knows where the Right Arm is, it's him."

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Jorge pushed open the emergency door, stepping out into the open land. The sky was beginning to lighten, the sun rising and dragging colours of pink and red up across the sky with it.

Jorge seemed to know exactly where he was going, navigating them through the fairly empty, small civilisation the warehouse was formerly a part of. For a while, the Gladers just followed him in silence, not quite knowing what to say. And then,

"Why are you helping us?" Newt asked the question quite bluntly. Jorge didn't bother in looking back as he answered, letting out a harsh chuckle beforehand.

"Brenda and I, we've been looking for a way into the Right Arm for years. You guys, you're immune. They can't turn us away."

Florence shared a knowing look with Frypan, their lost friend Winston playing on their minds. The group all silently decided not to mention the boy, knowing that Jorge could change his mind when finding out that they might not actually be immune.

No one spoke again for a while, and as day broke, Florence's attention turned to the city Jorge had led them into. They had narrowly escaped Cranks all night, and now they were safe again, in the broad daylight and the company of what seemed like many other people.

Rubbish piled on the sides of the road, unused telephone wires were hanging from eroding and decaying buildings, people were milling about the place and minding their own business. Florence couldn't help but feel out of place; she didn't know a single other person other than her friends, she didn't know what she was doing, where she was.

Nevertheless, she pushed away her confusion and continued to follow the man she had only met a few hours ago. She was pretty much trusting him with her life.

Mental note: Stop trusting people so easily. It hasn't worked out so far.

As they ventured further into the city, they came across more and more people. Florence moved closer to Minho out of anxiousness, the boy's fingertips grazing her arm as a way of telling her she would be okay.

Jorge led them towards a multi story white arched building with red hanging banners decorating its sides. Swarms of people were hanging around the front of it, sat on the steps or stood chatting to one another. There was a look of determination set in Jorge's expression as he marched over to the building, set on entering.

Florence shared an uneasy expression with her friends, having a bad feeling about what might unfold. The building had a strange aura about it; an unknown danger and thrill radiating from it that unnerved Florence.

As Jorge headed straight for the entrance, the Gladers trailed after him nervously, feeling the people hanging around the house staring at them. Before they could set foot inside, a blonde woman with long blonde hair scraped back into a ponytail, and many pearl necklaces, approached them from behind.

"You guys here for the party?" 

Florence frowned, exchanging an uncertain glance with Minho before clearing her throat to say, "No, we're actually looking for some friends of ours. And this guy, I can't remember his name..."

She really couldn't remember his name, but it didn't matter, as a man with platinum blonde hair and thick eyeliner waltzed in in front of them, a lazy smirk on his lips which told them all that he was drunk.

"Are you friends of those two kids from earli-" The man cut himself off, suddenly growing rather pale. For a moment, Florence didn't understand why, and then she saw it.

"Marcus." Jorge seethed, anger evident in his eyes. 

That's Marcus. Thank god Thomas and Brenda are alive.

Jorge clearly wasn't happy that Brenda was inside the house - despite the fact they at least knew they were both alive now - and it looked like Marcus was going to pay for it.

"Jorge!" Marcus greeted him, trying to seem as friendly as possible, but it was clear that he was terrified by the other man staring into his soul. Florence didn't blame him, Jorge was scary.

Before Marcus could make an attempt to run, Jorge had grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and yelled out that the party was over. Despite the grumbling from the people around the place, they all obliged, beginning to wander off and leave the place more deserted.

Jorge ordered them all inside, to find where Thomas and Brenda were lost inside the party; most likely off their heads from the drink they were made to take a sip of. Minho took Florence's hand, immediately weaving inside of the busy house, pushing his way through the leaving crowds and scouring the area for their friends.

Through the thick of the people, Florence could barely see a thing, so relied on Minho to pull her out of the mass of bodies and to spot Thomas and Brenda. They stood in a corner of the room, peering over people's heads in attempts to see their friends.

The crowds were thinning out, and Jorge had found a wooden chair and some rope from somewhere, shoving Marcus down on it and tying him to it. Funnily enough, no one questioned it, and Florence wondered what other weird things went on in Marcus' parties.

And finally, Florence caught sight of her brother, falling to the ground in his seemingly drunk state.

"Hey, hey, you're okay."

Teresa's soft voice stole Florence's attention and she looked away from Jorge conducting an interrogation and to where Thomas had just woken up. She nudged Newt's ribs to inform him of it, and moved over to the couch, sitting down on the end by his legs.

They had all been watching Jorge pry information from Marcus for the past fifteen minutes, brutally interrogating him to almost no prevail. Brenda woke a few minutes ago and Thomas finally woke after her, stealing his friends' focus from the  interrogation scene.

"We have to stop meeting like this." Florence heard Teresa, and she exchanged an amused look with Minho at her flirty tone.

Minho moved to loom over Thomas with a wide grin as Newt hung back a little, frowning at Teresa fawning over Thomas.

"Welcome back you ugly shank." Minho greeted, causing Florence to chuckle lightly.

Thomas barely let a smile pass his lips as he brushed Teresa's hand from his chest, shifting to sit up properly. The rims of his eyes were red; and as they discovered earlier he was clearly unlucky enough to be forced into drinking the strange concoction offered to them at the door.

"Hi Thomas." Florence said softly, her brother giving her a weak smile in return.

Newt settled on the next couch with Brenda, who was hugging her knees to her chest, and focused back in on Marcus' interrogation.

"I'm sorry, you're going to have to leave my house." Marcus said, grinning, despite the predicament he was in.

Thomas got up from where he was sat, strolling closer to Marcus tied up in a chair, stopping besides where Newt was sat on the couch. He let his eyes flicker to Thomas, feigning being unbothered.

"Looks like you've been having fun." He commented, Thomas looking back at him with a guilty look in his eyes. Florence watched curiously, somehow letting a few glances between them distract her from a literal interrogation.

"Listen. I don't enjoy hurting you, okay? Where is the Right Arm, Marcus?" Jorge repeated for what felt like the hundredth time, not looking as though he was going to hit him again.

"Wait, this is Marcus?" Thomas asked, Florence patting his arm gently at his seemingly lagging brain.

"The kid catches on quick." Marcus commented with a chuckle, almost making Florence laugh. "Are you the brains of the operation?"

Before Florence had to bite the inside of her cheek to avoid laughing, Jorge got a grip of Marcus's hair and yanked his head back threateningly. She winced before she could stop herself, hand shooting up to her own hair imagining it herself.

"I know you know where they're hiding. So you tell me, and I'll make you a deal. You can come with us."

Although you'd think it would be entertaining to watch Jorge interrogate Marcus, Florence found herself being more intrigued by Thomas's quiet whisper to Newt, "I need to talk to you." and the way he dragged him away into the corner.

"What's he talking about?" Minho questioned, the girl not realising at first he was talking to Jorge. He was oblivious to Newt and Thomas's conversation behind him. As the nosy girl she was, she couldn't relate. Florence couldn't stop her eyes from going to them, the pair speaking in hushed whispers.

"WCKD wants all the Immunes they can get. I help provide that for them. So I lure the kids in, they get drunk, they have a good time. And then, later, WCKD comes in," Marcus's eyes turned to Brenda, flickering mischievously with an unnerving knowingness. "they separate the wheat from the chaff."

Jorge caught this glance, and that's when he started to get really angry. "I changed my mind, brother. I do enjoy hurting you."

In a few swift motions, Jorge's gun was drawn and Marcus's chair had been thrown back onto the floor. 

"Talk. Talk!"

The others had all risen from their seats, taking a few warning steps forward in case it was necessary to separate Jorge from the helpless man. But then, it seemed to have worked.

"Okay, Jesus. But I'm not making any promises." He managed out between coughs, presumably having being winded by the force of the ground on his back.

"Hey can I borrow you?" Newt tugged on Florence's arm. He didn't wait for a reply, already dragging her away from the group, and letting her mind wander from Marcus's figure on the floor with Jorge's gun at his throat.

"I guess you can." She replied, raising her eyebrows at Minho who mirrored her confused yet intrigued expression. Once Newt had taken her a little distance away the others, he stopped.

Florence watched him glance back to the group self-consciously. Whatever he was about to say, he clearly didn't want anyone else to hear. Luckily, they all seemed to be focused on Jorge. Turning back to the girl, she could see the look of nervousness in his eyes.

"Don't tell Thomas I said this," These few words intrigued Florence and she leaned closer so Newt wouldn't have to speak too loud. "But he told me that Brenda kissed him."

What's with all the girls being in love with Thomas?

"Really?" She asked in disbelief. Of course, her brother was a nice guy, but she couldn't really understand why everyone seemed to like him. "Well, what did he do?"

That's when a smile began to tug at Newt's lips and Florence found herself chuckling at his reaction, already knowing that the story would end well for him.

"Well he didn't kiss back. And he told her it's because; 'you're not him'."

Understanding instantly, the girl clapped a hand over her mouth to stop herself from squealing. She hit Newt on the arm out of happiness for him and by now his grin could be seen for miles. Neither of them realised the action led a few of the others to stare at them, rather confused, but they were lucky that they turned away in time to not catch Florence's next words,

"So it's confirmed; Thomas is in love with you." She teased, and Newt's cheeks burned red in embarrassment.

"He's not bloody in love with me." His eyes flickered to where Thomas was stood with Minho.

Minho was chatting away animatedly, commenting on Jorge's actions, with both Newt and Florence easily telling that there was no chance Thomas was listening to a single word he was saying. His eyes wandered over the group, finally resting on Newt who he gave a shy wave.

"You guys are disgustingly adorable." The girl found herself mumbling as she watched Newt struggle in waving back without dying from his flustered state. Neither of them had a single clue on how to handle their feelings.

Newt tore his eyes away from Thomas to look back at her, a sense of determination now set in his expression. "I do need your help though."

"Fire away." She leaned back in her seat, folding one leg over the other and locking her hands together behind her head.

"How do you tell someone you love them?"

Her eyebrows shot up at the bluntness of Newt's question. She could feel her heart swelling with joy for her friend. He was certain he loved Thomas. However, what left her mouth was,

"Should I really be the person you're asking this?"

"Why not?"

Newt's face took on a confused expression, and she chuckled at his obliviousness. Did he miss what happened with Minho?

"You're asking the girl that didn't tell the guy she loved that she loved him until she thought he was dead."

Of course he wasn't actually dead, but the only reason Florence said it was because she thought he was. She would've held off on it if she knew she would have more time to tell him.

"I uh-" Newt faltered and cleared his throat. "Yeah I kinda forgot about that. I was just asking you because you've at least said to him you love him." Florence rolled her eyes at the reasoning Newt gave.

"Just, give me some advice. Please?"

She couldn't refuse his puppy dog eyes. And besides, she was already planning on helping him out, even though she hadn't followed the advice herself.

"Fine."

He perked up, straightening up in his seat and moving closer to Florence to listen intently. She let out a heavy sigh, actually thinking about it properly.

"There's no point not telling people things, not in the world we live in. There's too much risk of being struck by lightning, or bitten by a Crank for us to be scared to open up to people."

She paused to let herself look over Newt's expression. She couldn't tell a thing from his blank face.

"So just tell him everything. Absolutely everything you feel, before it's too late and you regret saying nothing." She said simply, and Newt arched an amused eyebrow.

"So, the opposite of you?"

She scoffed, shoving his arm playfully before folding her arms across her chest. Her eyes flickered back to Minho still talking away to Thomas.

"You know it's good advice." He hummed in agreement, sitting back again thoughtfully.

"How do I know what I'm supposed to say?"

She shrugged. Only Newt would be able to find the right thing to say to Thomas. She couldn't help him with that.

"If it helps, write it out in a letter - as if you're writing to him."

Newt's eyes lit up and a smile found his way onto his face as he looked at the girl gratefully. "That's a great idea."

"Hey guys," Minho beckoned them back over and they joined him to hear the last of Jorge's conversation with Marcus.

"Where's Bertha?" Jorge asked, and a flash of horror passed over Marcus's face at the mention of whoever 'Bertha' was.

"Not Bertha." He replied, almost whimpering in reluctance. Jorge looked triumphant now, and Florence guessed he had some sort of plan on how they would get to the Right Arm. All she could wonder is,

"Who the hell is Bertha?"