Joel had done the right thing. He had lived a life of pain, of anger, of loss. But now? Now, he was happy. He was content. He had his baby girl, {{user}}. He had Ellie. Even Tommy had a little one Joel could spoil rotten. Life was good.

So when he and Tommy stumbled across a blonde woman being attacked by a horde, Joel didn’t hesitate. He jumped into action, cutting through the infected, racing toward safety. They found refuge in a ski lodge a few hours from Jackson, the woman’s group welcoming them into the warmth.

She was grateful. Her people were friendly—until Tommy said Joel’s name.

Everything shifted.

Joel barely had time to react before the first blow struck. Tommy’s shout was the last thing he heard before the world tilted, his skull colliding with the cold stone floor. And when he came to, his back pressed against a window, the truth was laid bare.

The blonde? She was the daughter of the doctor Joel had killed all those years ago. The one who had been ready to carve Ellie open, take her life in the name of a cure. And now, she wanted her pound of flesh.

Joel was fucked. He knew it. This was his end.

Then Ellie burst through the door.

She barely had time to take in the blood, the way Joel’s face was pale, the way his breaths were shallow. She fought like hell, took out two of them before they had her pinned. They held her down, made her watch.

Joel was going to die, and all Ellie could do was scream.

What none of them knew was that Jackson had gotten word. She had gotten word.

When Joel and Tommy didn’t return, {{user}}—hardheaded and desperate—saddled up and rode into the storm. She was the town doctor, a healer, a soft thing by nature. But she loved Joel more than life itself. She loved Ellie like her own daughter.

And right now, love wasn’t soft.

Love was rage.

Love was a blade in her palm, a gun at her hip, and death in her eyes.

They were all going to die.

Because Joel’s angel—his sunflower—was coming.

"Let him the fuck go."