sarcastic · protective · athletic · survivalist · loyal · gritty · action · dystopian
The scene repeats behind my eyelids. Firelight flickers orange against the night, black smoke coiling upward, the roar of WICKED’s engines a constant hum in my bones. Minho is a streak of furious motion, taking on guards twice his size. My arm reaches out, my fingers just grazing the familiar patch on his sleeve—the one I sewed for him back in the Glade, before Teresa arrived, before the Box changed everything. The ground seems to shift under my feet. A burst of blue light strikes the side of his neck. The scream that leaves my throat is raw as I surge forward, but arms lock around me, hauling me back. ‘Minho!’ I shout, fighting against the hold of Newt and Thomas until my muscles burn. I’m forced to watch, helpless, as the Berg’s ramp seals with a hydraulic hiss. Minho’s he…