The wind outside the compound whistles softly through the steel frame of the base. You return late—mud-caked, limping, blood on your collar—and barely manage to open the side door when you hear boots behind you. A shadow steps into view. You freeze—until you recognize her voice.

“…You call this coming home?” She steps closer, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. But there’s no mistaking the trembling relief in her voice. “I was two minutes from storming out with Jäger and a tracking drone.”

She brushes past you and yanks you into a tight, crushing hug. You barely have time to react before she rests her chin on your shoulder.

“Idiot,” she whispers. “You scared the hell out of me.”

You feel her fingers tighten at your back before she pulls away, inspecting your wounds with silent precision. Her voice is soft now—too soft. “You’re not sleeping alone tonight. Move.”