( 28. I still hate her)

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ELLIE PACED between the wooden pews, her footsteps echoing off stone walls. Her fingers traced the rough wood, catching on splinters as she moved. The waiting was always the worst part. Finally, the heavy wooden doors creaked open, and Thomas appeared with Gally, half-dragging a hooded figure between them.

The group gathered near the altar as Thomas and Gally forced Teresa into a chair. Ellie's hand instinctively went to her knife, and she felt Brenda tense beside her. The hood came off, and Teresa blinked in the candlelight, her eyes adjusting to the dim lights. When her gaze landed on Gally, genuine shock crossed her features.

"Gally?"

Gally stepped forward, his scarred face made more intimidating by the dancing shadows. "Here's how this is gonna go. We're gonna ask you some questions, and you're gonna tell us exactly what we need to know." His voice carried in the church's acoustics as he sat down in a chair in front of her. "We'll start off simple. Where's Minho?"

Teresa's voice shook slightly. "You guys don't seriously think—"

"Don't look at him," Gally snapped as Teresa's eyes drifted to Thomas again. "Why are you looking at him? Look at me. He's not gonna help you." Gally moved closer, forcing her attention. "Now, we know you have Minho in the building. Where?"

The silence stretched for a moment before Teresa answered, "He's with the others in holding. Sublevel three."

"How many others?" Newt demanded from his position near a broken confessional.

"28."

Brenda straightened beside Ellie, and they exchanged a look that spoke volumes. "We can make that work," they said almost simultaneously. Ellie felt a flutter of satisfaction at the fear that flashed across Teresa's face.

"No. No, you guys don't understand," Teresa protested, leaning forward in her chair. "The whole level's restricted. You can't get in without a thumbprint ID."

"That's why you're gonna come with us," Thomas said. He stood apart from the others, half in shadow near a towering stone pillar. Ellie could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he was trying to maintain distance – physical and emotional – from Teresa.

The sound of metal scraping against wood drew everyone's attention. Gally had picked up a knife from the makeshift table they'd set up, testing its edge with his thumb. "Well, I don't know. We don't necessarily need her. Right? Not all of her." The candlelight caught the blade as he turned it. "We just need her finger."

"Gally, back off," Thomas warned, taking a step forward.

"What, are you squeamish?" Gally's laugh was cold. "I guarantee you she's done a lot worse to Minho."

"That's not the plan. Back off."

Teresa lifted her chin, some of that old defiance showing through. "It won't make a difference. Do whatever you want to me. You still won't get through the front door. The sensors will pick you up the—"

"We know," Thomas cut her off. "We're tagged. Property of WICKED. You're gonna help us with that, too."

୨ৎ

Teresa worked methodically, the metallic smell of blood mixing with the musty air. When it was Ellie's turn, she approached the chair with reluctance, every muscle tense.

"Try to hold still," Teresa said softly. "This is gonna sting."

It was silent while Teresa worked carefully to remove wickeds tag from Ellie's neck. It felt weird knowing all this time they were being tracked, they had never really escaped. Even when they thought they had during the scorch.

Suddenly, the sharp pain of Teresa's slip drew a hiss from Ellie. "Sorry," Teresa murmured.

"Sure you are."

"Ellie, come on. You have to understand—"

"I don't have to understand anything," Ellie snapped, twisting to face her. The movement made the wound sting more, but she didn't care. "You let those bastards take my best friend from me. That's all I need to know."

Teresa fell silent, and Ellie caught Thomas watching them from across the room, his expression unreadable.

After her tag was out, Ellie joined the boys near a set of broken pews, watching as Thomas took the chair for his turn. "I still don't like her," she muttered, pressing a hand to her bleeding neck.

"You and me both," Gally agreed from beside her.

When Newt asked Frypan for help with something in the main church, Ellie found herself alone with Gally.  She started to turn away, to find somewhere else to be, anywhere else, but his voice stopped her.

"I'm sorry."

The words seemed to hang in the dusty air between them. Ellie froze. "What?"

"I'm sorry... about Chuck."

Her hand flew to her knife. "If you want another cut lip, you're headed that way," she warned, her voice shaking with suppressed emotion.

"Just let me talk," Gally pleaded. When she remained silent, her hand still on her weapon, he continued, "I know it isn't excusable, what I did, but I would have never hurt him—"

Ellie's laugh was harsh, bouncing off the stone walls. "You taunted my brother every day. Sorry if that's hard to believe."

"Well, you can believe it or not, I don't care," Gally said, and something in his voice made her really look at him. "But I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry, and that if I could take back what happened..." He swallowed hard, his next words barely audible. "I would've gone too."

The weight of those words seemed to press down on Ellie like a physical thing. Before she could process them, could decide how to respond, Newt and Frypan returned. Gally stood abruptly, his attention drawn to where Thomas and Teresa stood by the altar, tension visible in every line of their bodies.

୨ৎ

The goodbyes came too soon. Ellie stood before Thomas, trying to mask her frustration at being separated again, at having to go with the Brenda instead of straight into WICKED.

"I should be going with you," she said softly, adjusting the straps of his armor for the tenth time, anything to keep her hands busy.

"Brenda's gonna need you," Thomas replied, catching her restless hands in his. "And we need that bus for the others. For Minho."

She nodded, knowing he was right but hating it all the same. When Thomas pulled her into a hug, she went willingly, breathing him in, memorizing the feeling of his arms around her. They'd said too many goodbyes already – in the Glade, in the Scorch, at the Right Arm camp. Each one felt like tempting fate.

"I love you."

The words were quiet, meant just for her, but they might as well have been a thunderclap for how they stopped her heart. Ellie pulled back just enough to see his face, to search his eyes in the dim light. "Really?"

A small smile touched his lips, soft and sure. "Yeah, really."

She kissed him then, pouring everything she couldn't say into it. When they separated, she pressed her forehead to his. "Bring Minho home."

After Thomas, she moved to Frypan, pulling him into a fierce hug. "Stay safe, Fry."

"You too, shorty," he murmured, pulling away.

Newt was last, and something in her chest ached at how warm his fever still burned. "You better be alive when I see you again," she whispered.

"Not getting rid of me that easy," he replied with a shadow of his old smile.

They split up then – Thomas, Newt, Gally, Fry, and Teresa heading one way while Ellie followed Brenda down another way through the drainage tunnel. The darkness swallowed them whole, their footsteps echoing off concrete walls. They took a different turn than the boys had, heading toward their own crucial part of the mission.

"Where's Jorge?" Ellie asked as they navigated the tunnel system, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Gone to get the Berg," Brenda replied, checking another junction before motioning Ellie forward.

"Will he make it in time?"

A smile touched Brenda's lips, confident despite everything. "He's always on time."

They pressed on through the darkness, each step taking them closer to their goal. Somewhere above them, Thomas and the others were doing the same. Somewhere above them, Minho was waiting.

And this time, WICKED wouldn't know what hit them.

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