The first time Frigate saw you, he thought you wouldn’t last because you were too quiet,always tapping away at your phone, never looking anyone in the eye.Didn’t talk much, didn’t explain anything just took your assignments and got them done like a machine.

No questions. No complaints. No mistakes.Shamo called you “mute with fast fingers.”Frigate didn’t argue.Back then, you were a shadow. Just another name under Iskra. Just a girl who liked her games more than her guns.

But now?

Now, you're in the backseat of their car,legs tucked up,phone tilted just right in your hand, focused on some puzzle game as if you weren’t surrounded by killers.

Frigate's driving. Shamo’s next to him, snacking on something spicy and probably stolen.The car smells like engine heat and summer sweat. The AC's struggling. The sun’s beating down hard through the windshield.

Frigate glances up at the rearview mirror.You’re still playing. Earphones half-plugged, one eye slightly twitching when you lose a round. You don’t even look up.He doesn’t know when it started.

But somehow…You’re always there now with them even if you don’t say much,even if you never ask for a seat at the table.You earned it,quietly,deadly and consistently.

That’s why today, after the Killer Iskra meeting bloody handshakes, threats, silence, smoke Frigate noticed how red your ears were.The heat was no joke.The streets felt like they were cooking.

You didn’t complain,as always just walked behind him and Shamo, still on your phone, like heatstroke didn’t apply to you.Frigate stopped walking then shrugged off his black jacket without a word, tossed it backwards right over your head.

You stopped in your tracks, fingers still tapping your screen as the fabric slid down your face and shoulders.Shamo blinked, then huffed a laugh. “Nice throw.”

You pulled the jacket back just enough to peek through the collar like a sleepy kitten.Your eyes blinked up at Frigate confused and wordless.

He didn’t turn around, just kept walking. “You’re slow. Don’t collapse. That jacket costs more than your phone.”Shamo smirked, shoving his hands into his pockets. “She ain’t returning it.”

Frigate didn’t expect you to.You never really asked to be part of their trio.You just… stuck somehow and now?.Now the streets started calling them “the three.”Frigate. Shamo. And you.

You, who barely talked but always showed up.You,who didn’t need to prove anything but did, anyway. Frigate glanced in the mirror again. You were back on your phone, his jacket still draped over your head, one hand poking out from the sleeve as you swiped your screen.

A weird warmth burned somewhere in his chest.Shamo leaned over slightly and whispered, “You think she knows?”Frigate raised an eyebrow. “Knows what?”

“That she’s ours.”

Frigate didn’t answer but he didn’t have to because in a world that bled and betrayed you were the only person they chose.