➊ 𝐑𝐮𝐧 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 - 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐨, ᵗᵐʳ

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟑: 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭

WICKED POV'S

Janson stood alone in the observation room, his cold gaze fixed on the large screen mounted on the wall. The image flickered in and out slightly, catching interference from the surveillance systems surrounding the Glade. But it was clear enough. Subject A18—Evelyn—sat quietly by the pond's edge, knees drawn up to her chest, her head tilted just enough for her expression to remain visible to the watching eyes.

She looked broken. Quiet. Frustrated. Just Perfect.

Janson's fingers tapped absently against the control panel. He watched as she pulled a blade of grass from the ground, rolling it between her fingers, lost in thought. The soft light from the late afternoon sun fell across her face, casting long shadows across her expression.

She was alone. Vulnerable. Just as they needed her to be.

"She's resisting," he muttered under his breath. "Of course she is."

He straightened his back, arms crossing behind him, and turned slightly to glance at the adjacent screen, which showed a readout of Evelyn's vitals. Her heart rate was slightly elevated, presumably after the altercation with the Builder boy.

Still, she hadn't tried to remove the bracelet again. Not since the last time. The pain had done its job.

The chip implanted deep in the nerves of her right wrist, just beneath the skin, was only one half of the equation. The bracelet had been a last-minute addition, Ava Paige's idea. Janson had been skeptical at first, but he couldn't deny it was effective.

The chip alone caused neural pain when she disobeyed, when she hesitated, when she thought of rejecting the test. But it was the bracelet that spoke. It gave the commands. And worse, it gave those commands in a voice she trusted.

It wasn't a true robot. That would've been too easy to detect, too cold. No—this voice had been designed to mimic familiarity. Comfort. Guilt.

A friend's voice. Subject A2. Thomas.

They had run it through filters, of course, added distortion, layered tones and minor inflections to prevent her from fully recognizing it. But the subconscious would still hear what it needed to. Still obey. That was all that mattered.

Janson turned toward the far door and left the room, heels clicking sharply on the pristine tile floor. He walked with purpose through the corridor, passing walls filled with silent cameras and clipped charts, until he reached the secure wing.

He didn't knock. Just pushed the door open.

"Thomas," he said flatly, voice echoing in the quiet space.

Inside, the boy looked up from the desk where he'd been sketching something, probably another attempt to map the Maze. He pushed his chair back, jaw clenched slightly as he stood. His posture was rigid, unreadable.

Without a word, Thomas followed.

They walked in silence through the long hallways of the WCKD complex, passing a dozen other doors and rooms filled with people just like them; testers, scientists and observers. When they arrived at the recording chamber, Janson gestured for Thomas to enter first.

"We need more recordings," Janson said plainly, already beginning to set up the equipment. The console lit up under his hands, rows of dials and microphones flashing to life.

Thomas narrowed his eyes. "Didn't I already give you enough?"

"What you gave was a start," Janson replied calmly. "Subject A18 is still responsive. Still resisting. We need more layered emotional triggers."

Thomas's jaw tightened. "I thought she wasn't even supposed to survive the Maze."

"She's not," Janson said simply. "But until she breaks, the data isn't complete."

Thomas looked away, remembering the last time he talked to the girl before she got sent into the glade. She didn't want to meet Minho again after what happened three years ago and neither did she want to see Ben.

But WICKED had promised she'd forget. That they all would. The serum would take her memories, and the Maze would give her a new beginning. She wouldn't even remember him either, just a voice in her head that sounded vaguely familiar.

Thomas sat down in front of the mic reluctantly. "What do you want me to say?"

Janson didn't answer at first. He adjusted the settings and then handed Thomas a script.

"Just read it. The tone needs to sound firm, but... caring. Like you're trying to protect her. Manipulation is more effective when it sounds like passion."

Thomas said nothing, but the look in his eyes was colder than it had been moments ago.

When the recording was finished, Janson didn't thank him. He simply left, carrying the drive with him, heading to the upper level where Ava Paige was waiting. She stood in front of a glass wall overlooking the testing chamber floors, arms folded, her expression unreadable.

"She's responding," Janson reported. "Emotionally unstable, but still under control. We believe the Hawk scenario will still work."

"She'll need to break further," Ava said quietly, not turning to look at him. "She hasn't reached her limit yet."

"She's close."

Ava turned slowly now, eyes sharp behind her glasses. "And Thomas?"

"He's cooperating. Reluctantly. He still doesn't know the full plan."

"He doesn't need to," she said. "Not yet."

There was a long pause. Janson watched her carefully.

"She's not immune," he said. "Her loss won't—"

"Each subject matters," Ava interrupted, voice sharper now. "Especially her. We both know what happened three years ago. If she remembers..."

"She won't," Janson said quickly. "Not unless something triggers it."

Ava's eyes narrowed.

"Then make sure nothing does."

They both knew the truth. What had happened between Subject A7 and Subject A18 wasn't just a failed test. It was a liability. One they had buried deep. One Evelyn would forget.

Unless she remembered.

And if she ever did... no one could predict what would happen next.

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