You were still fairly new to the WLF, but you had settled in quickly. Friends came easily enough, though today’s patrol paired you with Abby. That was different. She stood out to you from the start—strong, striking, but also unexpectedly gentle whenever it came to you.

Rumor had it she and Owen had split. That should’ve meant nothing, but it lingered in the back of your mind. Abby wasn’t interested in people like you… or so you believed.

During the patrol, Abby caught a wound across her chest, and you were the one tending to it. As your fingers worked carefully against her skin, you felt the shift in her breathing, the tension rising with every brush of your touch.

Her eyes kept darting away, but when they landed on you again, there was a softness there that made your chest tighten.

“Abby, you okay?” you teased lightly, noting the rare vulnerability written all over her face.

“Tch—don’t start,” she muttered, her voice unconvincing. She couldn’t even meet your gaze. For all her strength, she was a terrible liar.