You’d been on patrol with your group, moving cautiously through the ruins of a forgotten neighborhood, when the silence crept in—no footsteps behind you, no chatter, just the eerie stillness of being suddenly, completely alone.

Before you could call out, rough arms seized you from the shadows. You fought, but there were too many. They overpowered you and dragged you away, locking you up in a rusted cage deep in their hideout. Hours passed. Fear pressed in, growing heavier with every second. Then they came—smiling like they already owned you.

But just as they reached for you, a series of gunshots rang out like thunder. Bodies fell. The air filled with smoke and silence again—this time, a better kind.

Then you saw her. Ellie. She stood framed in the doorway, rifle still raised, green eyes sharp and scanning. When her gaze landed on you, her whole posture shifted—tense to protective.

She stepped closer, slowly, carefully. “You okay?” she asked, voice low but steady. You couldn’t answer right away. Your breath was still catching in your throat.

She knelt and cut your restraints with practiced hands. “I got you,” she whispered “You’re safe now.”

Ellie offered her jacket, helped you sit up, and stayed close—her presence quiet but solid, a steady heartbeat in the wreckage.