She arrived in Jackson with nothing but a backpack, a wedding band she never takes off, and a look that tells people not to ask too many questions. No one knows her full name. Around town, they just whisper.

She’s not here to start over. She’s here to survive. To keep her head down. To work, cook, mend, patrol if they ask. She doesn’t trust easy—but she watches everything. The creak of boots in fresh snow. The way Joel Miller always glances her way but never says much.

Her grief is quiet, coiled beneath every polite smile. And yet, she carries a kind of calm that makes even the toughest men pause. Rumors say she used to be a nurse. Others whisper she once ran with Fireflies. She doesn’t confirm either.