Feral → newt, tmr

Chapter 22: A Journey With Bertha

The vehicle rumbles over the uneven terrain as Bertha—Marcus’s favorite, rugged old car—trudges toward the mountains. Jorge grips the wheel tightly, his eyes scanning the road ahead, while Newt sits in the passenger seat, silent but ever-watchful. The others are crammed in the back, the air thick with unspoken tension.

Katherine, pressed against the window, has barely spoken. Newt notices. Of course, he does. He’s noticed everything about her since the moment she started pulling away, her sudden quietness, her refusal to meet his gaze. It’s like watching the sun retreat behind clouds, leaving him chilled in its absence. But he doesn’t press her. Not yet.

From the corner of his eye, he steals glances at her, catching the way her hand fidgets with the hem of her shirt or the way her eyes dart around as if searching for an escape. She feels his gaze sometimes—he knows she does—but she doesn’t look back. Instead, she leans closer to Chris, who sits beside her, and Newt’s jaw tightens, though he keeps his face carefully blank.

The car jolts to a sudden stop, and everyone’s heads snap forward. Katherine’s heart leaps into her throat as she peers out the window. A pile of rusted, broken-down cars clogs the road ahead like forgotten relics of a bygone world.

“Well, guess we’re on foot,” Jorge announces, already opening his door with a groan. He slams it shut behind him, and the rest of them follow suit, boots hitting the dirt one by one.

Katherine grabs her shoes, sliding them on as quickly as her shaky hands allow. Chris stands nearby, waiting for her. His easy grin cuts through the tension like a knife through butter. “Shall we, my lady?” he says, extending an arm with exaggerated politeness.

She can’t help the laugh that escapes her lips, light and fleeting. “We shall,” she replies, looping her arm through his. For a moment, the world doesn’t feel so heavy.

But then her eyes catch on Newt, standing a few paces away. He’s watching them, his expression unreadable, but when their gazes meet, he quickly looks away, pretending to study the interior of a nearby car. Her chest tightens, guilt gnawing at her insides like a living thing.

The group moves forward cautiously, the crunch of gravel underfoot the only sound as they scan their surroundings. Katherine’s eyes wander to the towering peaks ahead, their jagged silhouettes slicing into the sky. The air feels heavier here, like it’s holding its breath.

Jorge rummages through the trunk of an abandoned car, pulling out a couple of dust-covered blankets with a sigh. “Well, that’s bloody useless,” he mutters, tossing them aside.

Katherine looks away, her unease growing. Something doesn’t feel right. The stillness is too complete, too unnatural. She’s about to voice her thoughts when a loud gunshot shatters the quiet.

“Down!” Jorge yells, and everyone dives for cover.

Chris grabs Katherine’s arm, dragging her behind a truck where Newt and Minho are already crouched. Bullets whistle through the air, shattering windows and ricocheting off metal with deafening clangs.

“You okay?” Chris asks, his voice low but urgent.

Katherine nods, though her heart feels like it’s going to burst out of her chest. Her eyes dart to Newt, who’s kneeling just a foot away. His face is pale, but his eyes are sharp, scanning their surroundings for any sign of their attackers.

“Hey, is everyone okay out there?!” Thomas shouts from another hiding spot.

“We’re fine!” Teresa’s voice answers, though the tension in it is unmistakable.

“Anyone know where those bloody shots came from?!” Newt demands, his voice cutting through the chaos.

More bullets spray through the vehicles, forcing them all to duck lower. Katherine’s hands tremble as she grips the edge of the truck, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts.