Chapter Text
derived from Latin-refers literally to the intersection of four roads
A L B Y
Alby knew what was to come, he knew that he only survived the Sting to die. He knew that. That’s why he threw himself into the Griever, why he let his grip slip from Thomas’. Why he let his gaze linger no longer than a few moments over Minho’s, over Newt’s. He looked to Thomas. The Greenie who would be forever his downfall. But would forever be his salvation. “Take care of them for me.” He said to his Salvation. He let his grip slip. But he was not afraid. He was not afraid as he felt the unfeeling metal claws rip through his skin. Not afraid as he heard his name screamed by those he considered brothers. He was not afraid. He was Alby, and he would be damned if anyone ever took that away from him.