He turned to look just in time to see the rain start falling out as if the storm had finally decided to weep with shame for what it had done to them.

He pulled the envelope out of his pocket and ripped it open, then took out the slip of paper. The soft lights that ringed the mirror lit up the message in a warm glow. It was two short sentences: " KILL ME. IF YOU'VE EVER BEEN MY FRIEND, KILL ME.

Tomorrow," Minho added. "Somehow, some way.

Such a display of death - how could it be considered a victory?

What was the point of even having a conversation when words couldn't be trusted?

Whatever had happened to him [Newt] out there — maybe even related to his lingering ankle injury — had been truly awful.

Too bad we don't have a flashlight." "Thanks for stating the obvious, Mr. Thomas," Minho replied.