Our W.I.C.K.E.D Fate (The W.I.C.K.E.D Girl sequel)

11

Emily came to her senses with a gasp for air. The surface beneath her back was cold and tough, and there was a distant echo of pain iradiating from her calf. Moans got to her ears before she could make out her surroundings; the rest of the group was sprawled on the floor around her.

Emily cast a wary glance towards her leg, the memory of the aircraft and its clawed cable coming back to her. However, when she pulled up the hem of her pants, she found her skin to be intact, bearing no trace of an injury.

"You guys okay?" asked Newt, bringing himself to stand.

"Yeah," everyone chorused, inspecting and helping each other up.

Isabelle then posed the question on everybody's minds. "Where are we?"

Emily shifted her gaze from the group to her surroundings and discovered, neatly inscribed into the white wall to her left, the one word she'd come to dread.

"W.I.C.K.E.D," she murmured.

Two of the boys simultaneously shouted the same foul word.

"What's this?" asked Ella, whom Emily had forgotten about completely.

"We . . . " Thomas began, rubbing anxiously at his jaw, "we escaped from this place, ages ago."

Newt's mouth was set in a hard line. He met Emily's eyes, took in her baffled and enraged expression.

Ella was persistent, even as the group started moving. "Is this some kind of lab?"

"Yeah," said Minho.

"And how come you ended up here? Were you held hostage?"

"Could you please"—Emily spun on her heel, her tone razor-sharp—"just stop that?"

The boys of the group seemed taken aback by Emily's sudden outburst, but none of them intervened. 

Ella didn't speak again.

After a short, tense silence, Chuck quietly piped in. "What do we do now?"

Minho ran a hand over his face, looking utterly exhausted. Beside him, Thomas reached out and grasped Chuck's shoulder in a reassuring manner. "Don't worry, Chuck. We made it out of here once, we'll make it out again."

Emily clicked her tongue, thus getting the group's attention. "I don't think we should try to leave," she said, then, noticing the boys's expressions, quickly added, "at least, not right away. Maybe there are some answers to be found here."

Newt's words tore through the uncomfortable silence settled over the group. "She's bloody right," he said, earning a small, grateful smile from Emily.

After a couple minutes, in which everyone agreed to keep an eye out for food and a safe place to sleep, the Group started their search for answers.

* * *

The last time Emily had seen a window, the burning shades of sunset had been smeared upon the sky. 

But that had been a long while ago. 

Dread hung thick in the air, as heavy and foreboding as a storm-grey cloud. Nobody spoke except for when it was truly necessary, and Emily could feel the tension coiled within the boys; it was the same tension lying beneath her skin, prickling, urging her to escape the maze of pristine corridors as fast as possible. 

But she'd been the one with the idea to stay—so she took a sharp left and continued down yet another hallway, farther into what could have, for all she knew, a trap she'd led them into.  

The W.I.C.K.E.D laboratories were  seemingly empty. As they advanced, the state of disarray became more and more obvious, growing from a few unruly folders on a desk to a full-blown storm of documents and papers scattered everywhere in one of the larger offices. The high-tech glass of the desks—which had served more purposes than just furniture, Emily assumed—had been shattered, the sea of shards crackling underneath their soles. It appeared as though the people working in the labs had fled in a hurry. However, Newt's sharp and scrutinizing gaze backed up Emily's assumption that everything had been staged.

When Chuck complained about his aching feet, the group agreed to take a break. Everyone was on edge, and it had started to show—Minho had snapped at Thomas, who in turn snapped at Ella, which got Minho riled up again. If it hadn't been for Newt's swift intervention, Emily was certain a proper fight would have broken out—a fight which, judging by the gleaming look in her eyes, Isabelle would have been more than glad to bear witness to. 

"I understand," Newt said quietly, hands braced on Minho and Thomas's shoulders. "I get it, shanks, really. I'm tired and starving and pissed as hell, too. But turning against each other isn't going to help anyone, alright?"

Minho averted his gaze, his anger giving way to embarrassment. He apologised, and so did Thomas, to both him and Ella. 

Newt ran a hand over his face, let out a very long breath. "I think it's past one o'clock by now. Do you guys want to stay here for the night?" 

"But we haven't even found anything yet," Isabelle said, arms folded at her chest. "No map, no food, no supplies, no exit."

The look on Newt's face signalled he was very, very close to losing his shit. Emily grabbed Isabelle's elbow and cautiously said her name, which got the girl to back down.

Before long, the group had laid out their sleeping bags. Chuck was already snoring by the time Thomas proposed he take first watch. He was toying with his pocket knife, and Emily watched the blade dance through his long fingers, rapt. Upon catching her curious glance, a smile bloomed in the corner of his lips. 

Emily was retying her ponytail when Isabelle asked if she was coming to bed. "Not right now," Emily replied. "But you can go ahead, don't wait up."

As soon as Isabelle was out of sight, Emily moved to where Thomas was sitting. "Do you mind?" she said.

Thomas tilted his head, a gesture that meant she was more than welcome to join him. "Can't sleep?" he inquired as Emily sat. 

"Not here, I don't think I can."

Thomas nodded. Emily had no doubt he knew exactly what she was talking about. "Me neither. The boys probably won't, either. Chuck's only a kid, and Ella doesn't have a clue what's happened to us here."

"Lucky them," Emily sighed.

Thomas went quiet for a few moments, the blade stilling in his hands. "Well, actually, lucky us," he whispered.

Enily turned her head to meet his gaze. "Why?"

"Because," Thomas said slowly, "I think each and every one of the Group A shanks would go through it all again if it meant having you here."

Emily's breath caught in her throat. Thomas was so close she could count the freckles on his forehead, his cheeks, above his lips . . . Her heart was pounding, and Thomas was so warm she could feel it through her blouse where their shoulders touched. He reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, smiling all the while. Thomas opened his mouth as if to say something, but Emily drew back slightly, tearing her eyes off him. "On a second thought, I think I'll crash," she said easily.

Thomas nodded, avoiding her glance. "Of course. Goodnight, Em."

Emily quickly found Isabelle. The raven-haired girl didn't so much as stir when Emily lay beside her, though something told Emily she wasn't sleeping. Her backpack beneath her head and her jacket draped over her in lieu of a blanket, Emily closed her eyes and allowed herself to wonder, just for a moment, what would have happened had she stayed.