TMR - Thomas x X-reader fanfiction

Chapter Four

Thomas' POV

I stood there, gasping for breath, my hands on my knees. My pulse pounded in my ears, and sweat dripped down my face.

It was over.

At least for now.

The forest was silent again, save for the soft rustle of leaves underfoot.

"Thomas, you coming?" Minho asked, helping Newt hobble toward the path that would lead back to the glade.

I hesitated, my eyes drifting back toward the cleft. "Go ahead. I'll catch up later."

Minho frowned. "What are you—"

"I want to check out the griever," I said quickly, cutting him off.

"Are you insane?" Minho's voice rose, but Newt placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Leave him," Newt said, his voice strained. "He's made up his mind."

Minho shook his head but didn't argue further. "Fine. Don't get yourself killed."

I watched as they disappeared into the shadows, their footsteps fading into the distance. Then, with a deep breath, I turned and made my way toward the cleft.

The sight of the fallen griever sent a shiver through me. Its massive body was crumpled at the bottom, mechanical limbs twisted unnaturally. Sparks flickered faintly from its shattered frame.

I climbed down carefully, each step slow and deliberate. The smell of scorched metal filled the air, mingling with the earthy dampness of the cleft.

A faint beeping caught my attention. I crouched down, searching the wreckage until I found it—a small, blinking device embedded in the griever's chest.

"What is this?" I murmured, crouching to examine it. The device was no bigger than my palm, glowing faintly with strange symbols etched into its surface.

I hesitated before prying it loose, holding it up to the dim light filtering through the trees. Whatever this was, it felt important – Y/N might know what to make of it.

Clutching the device tightly, I climbed back up and started heading for Y/N's cave. My thoughts raced as I ran. The griever was gone, but the danger wasn't. Something about this blinking light felt important—too important to ignore.

I reached Y/N's cave and hid the device under a loose rock in the corner. Then, without wasting another second, I sprinted back toward the glade.

Y/N's POV

The walk back to the glade was heavy with silence. Minho supported Newt, who winced with every step, while I trailed behind, my thoughts racing.

Back then it stopped, like it recognized me.

The though now echoing in my mind, louder with each step.

I had been so focused on surviving that I hadn't let myself think about it until now. But the truth was, it wasn't the first time it had happened.

The first time had been weeks ago, in the maze. I had ventured out alone, determined to chart a new section. It was reckless, I knew, but the maze had been tugging at something deep within me, as if it were calling me.

The memory surfaced vividly. The air was cool, the faint hum of the maze's shifting walls surrounding me. My makeshift map was tucked under my arm as I pressed on, turning corner after corner with no clear destination.

And then I heard it—the metallic rattle of a griever. My blood ran cold as I froze in place, my back pressed against the wall. It appeared from the shadows, its grotesque limbs moving with an unnatural grace. Its glowing red eyes locked onto me, and I felt my breath catch.