𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐫 {𝐧𝐞𝐰𝐭 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫}

sixty two: the hornet's nest

Y/N's POV:

Following Gally felt stupid in retrospect.

We left this boy to die; Minho had thrown a spear that pierced him right in the chest, and he crumpled to the ground. No one rushed to his side, or checked that he was even alive – so what would he gain from helping us now?

What would he get out of helping the person who almost killed him? It almost felt more fitting to leave the person who tried to take your life away behind to rot. In my mind it did, anyway.

I wouldn't hesitate to leave someone who tried to kill me; leave them behind to become someone else's problem. Perhaps Gally didn't see it that way; if he helped Minho, maybe he could finally return the favour.

He could help save the boy, make him believe he was safe and finally free from those who had kept him captive, and stick the spear right through his chest.

Piercing the heart with a wooden spear, probably sounded like tit for tat.

I thought Gally would think of it that way – maybe he wasn't the person I thought he was.

"After the maze, I got picked up by a group headed to the city. They realised I was immune, stitched me up and nursed me back to health, and then brought me here to Lawrence."

The boy turned the corner, the rest of us hot on his tail. "This group's been at war with Wicked ever since they took over the city. They took control, and gave nothing in return when we gave in and gave it to them. But they can't hide forever, they'll get what's coming to them soon enough."

Gally came to a halt slowly, swivelling on his heel to turn to the rest of the group. We looked up at him like lost puppies, as he rubbed the back of his neck hesitantly.

"Uh, he doesn't get a lot of visitors, so let me do the talking, okay? And, don't stare, it's rude."

Newt shot me a look over his shoulder, confusion written between his brows. I shrugged, filing in behind the blonde as Gally opened the door. I walked into the room, and as soon as my skin touched the air, I shivered.

The temperature had dropped about ten degrees, and I was now regretting not wearing a jacket. The others piled in, rubbing their arms to keep warm, huddling together to maintain body heat.

Upon entering, you would notice that the room was rather bare; the windows were glass, concealed by black tape and newspapers. The shelves were cluttered with decaying plants, each with soil that over filled the pots and petals that seemed to accumulate more on the floor than on the actual flower itself.

But a man stood in the corner, huddled over one thing in particular. Guards were stationed around the room, giving us all hesitant and angry looks. They didn't seem pleased to see us.

The man was tall, rather dishevelled and whispering to himself. The mumbling under his breath came to a sudden halt when he heard our footsteps, and I watched as his head rose, still not turning around.

"Gally," He said, without even needing to look at the boy, "Glad to see you back. Jasper told me what happened."

Gally stepped forward, swallowing. "It was a slaughter. There's never anything we can do against those guns."

The man's attention seemed to have shifted from the thing before him, to what the boy had just said. Very slowly, the man took a hold of the thing next to him, and turned around.

For the first time, I was able to look at his face.

I didn't even know how to describe it.

It was as if it was falling apart – his face was decaying, and the man wasn't even dead yet. I understood what the thing next to him was now. The IV was the one thing keeping this man alive.