Minho

Minho was moving silently when he heard a sob and a rough voice. In a dead end, three boys surrounded Leah, the new girl with eyes the color of a stormy sea.

"Come on, doll," Jake croaked. "This is survival of the fittest."

She was preparing to fight, even though she knew she would lose. Minho leaped from the ledge, silently.

— Take your hands off before I decide your jaw looks better the other way.

Jake turned around but backed away. Minho grabbed him by the throat, making him wheeze.

"I'll leave you outside the gates for the night. Let's see how you sing with the Grievers."

Jake disappeared with his mongrels. Leah was shaking. Minho held out his hand.

• You don't have to be strong. Not with me.

She placed her hand in his. He led her through the Labyrinth to the Glade, to the sunset fire. They sat down next to each other.

“Why did you help?” she asked. “You don’t care about me.”

Minho chuckled.

"Runners see what's hidden. You're something else. And I won't let Jake or the Labyrinth break you."

He bandaged her cut with a piece of cloth. His hands were rough but careful. Leah realized he was shaking with the rage he was holding back.

“As long as I’m around, they won’t touch you,” he whispered.

He didn't kiss her. He simply squeezed her fingers in his palm, transmitting warmth.