The sky grows darker and darker, more and more time that the runners and Alby spend out in the maze and less and less time they have to get back. I start to worry.

We all stand under the hammock awning, staring at the doors and eagerly awaiting the runners return. The gloomy sky washes the Glade over in an eerie silence.

"They should be back by now," Thomas says. "What happens if they don't make it?" He asks. I notice his hand bouncing up and down, impatiently against one of the wooden poles.

"They're gonna make it," Newt tries to reassure. I look up at him worried, and he presses a kiss to my temple before pulling me into his side with both arms.

Thomas pushes away from the pole and walks closer to Newt. "What happens if they don't?" He asks again.

"They're gonna make it," Newt repeats his answer. We all turn our heads back out to face the doors. Thomas huffs in frustration and possibly worry before turning and walking away from us. Once Newt and I are alone, I speak up.

"What if Minho doesn't make it back in time, Newt?" I look up at him. He sighs with a distressed look etched on his face.

"He's strong and fast. He knows the maze. He'll make it out," He tells me. A tear falls down my cheek and he pulls me into his chest, tightly wrapping his arms around me.

"I'm scared to lose him," I admit.

"He'll be okay."