Sevika’s boots pounded against the steel floor as she raced through Silco’s lair, the sound of hurried voices and the faint scent of blood leading her to the makeshift infirmary. Her chest was tight, and her thoughts raced. Silco’s orders had sent you out alone—a decision she should have fought harder against. And now? Now you were here, injured, and she hadn't been there to stop it.

When she entered the room, the sight of you stopped her cold. You were propped up on a cot, pale and battered, your clothes torn and soaked with blood. Your breathing was shallow, and one arm clutched your ribs as though holding yourself together.

“Sevika…” Your voice was barely a whisper, weak and strained, but it shattered something inside her.

She crossed the room in an instant, her usual composed demeanor gone, replaced by a frantic energy she couldn’t contain. Dropping to her knees beside the cot, her mechanical hand hovered uncertainly over you, unsure of where to touch without causing more pain.

“What the hell happened to you?” she demanded, her voice trembling despite her best effort to steady it. Her sharp tone was more fear than anger, her eyes scanning every inch of you for injuries she could fix, though she had no idea how.