➊ 𝐑𝐮𝐧 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐟𝐞 - 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐡𝐨, ᵗᵐʳ

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟓: 𝐑𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

I woke up with a dull, throbbing pain in my head. The kind you get when you use a rock-hard floor as a pillow. Blinking against the early light seeping through the cracks in the wooden boards above, I pressed a hand to my temple and slowly sat up. The fence behind the Pit was still cold with night, shadows stretching across the Glade.

It wasn't too late. Yet.

The sun had barely begun to rise, just a soft glow bleeding into the sky. If I moved now, I could still do what I came here to do. What I needed to do. Minho had said—half-joking, probably—that if I could run all day, he might reconsider me for a Runner.

So I would.

I moved with the quiet urgency of someone used to sneaking around. The Slammer door creaked slightly as I opened it, but I held my breath and froze, listening. No one stirred nearby. Good. I slipped into the open air, heart pounding with something more than adrenaline, fear, rebellion, hope? I didn't know anymore.

First stop: Chuck.

His usual sleeping spot was behind the garden, curled up like a puppy under a blanket. Sure enough, there he was, mouth open, snoring softly.

"Chuck," I whispered, crouching beside him and nudging his shoulder. "C'mon. Rise and shine, buddy."

He blinked awake, blinking blearily at me. "Evelyn? You're—wait, what?"

"Distract Newt," I said simply. "You know the plan."

Chuck groaned but nodded, rubbing sleep from his eyes. "You owe me breakfast for this."

"I'll even get you two."

From my hiding place behind the tool shed, I watched as Chuck shuffled toward the Homestead in search of Newt. A few minutes later, I spotted them walking toward the Bloodhouse, deep in conversation. Whatever Chuck had made up, it was working.

I ran across the yard, ducking behind crates and sprinting low until I reached the side of the Homestead. Inside, I went through a pile of old crates until I found something passable—a sports bra, a faded T-shirt, and a pair of shorts that didn't reek. They weren't mine, but no one would miss them.

I didn't bother eating. No time. Minho would be leaving for the Maze any minute now, and I had to be ready.

Once dressed, I tightened my ponytail, tied my shoes as best I could, and sprinted toward the Maze doors just as the last of the night faded from the sky.

I didn't have to wait long.

Minho and Ben emerged from the forest at a brisk pace, bags strapped to their backs. Minho looked surprised to see me standing there, arms folded.

"What do you think you're doing, shuckface?" he snapped without breaking pace.

"You said I could be a Runner if I ran all day," I shot back. "So I'm gonna run."

"I said I'd rethink it, not hand you the job like a candy bar," Minho muttered, already heading for the Maze entrance.

"You're not going in the Maze," Ben said coldly, glaring at me like I was something stuck to his boot. He didn't mean it in a mean way, but it wasn't friendly.

"Who said I was?"

And just like that, I turned on my heel and took off, running the full length of the Glade perimeter, keeping my path pressed close to the towering Maze walls. My feet hit the ground hard, steady. The wind rushed past my ears. I didn't look back.

Let them think what they want.

Let them see I could do it.

Minho disappeared into the Maze, and Ben followed without another word. Fine. I'd be here when they came back.