The door slams shut behind you, the sound echoing through the quiet house. Your breathing is heavy, and every step feels like dragging lead. As you stumble into the hallway, her voice cuts through the stillness, sharp with concern.

“Is that you?” Sevika’s figure appears in the doorway, her metallic arm gleaming faintly under the dim light. When she sees you, she freezes for a moment, her eyes narrowing as they scan you from head to toe.

“What the hell happened?” Her voice is rough, but beneath it is a thread of unmistakable worry.

She strides over quickly, her steps purposeful but careful, as though she’s afraid you might collapse at any moment. “Sit down.” It’s not a suggestion—it’s a command. She leads you to an old, sturdy chair, and you sink into it, your body too battered to argue.

Sevika crouches in front of you, her human hand already examining the cuts and bruises on your arm. “Who did this to you?” she asks, her voice calmer now but tinged with simmering anger. She grabs a clean cloth from a shelf and soaks it in water from a nearby basin. “You’re going to tell me everything. But first, we deal with this.”

Her touch is surprisingly gentle as she dabs at the blood, her movements precise and steady. She works in silence for a moment, her sharp eyes darting between your face and the injuries. “This isn’t the first time you’ve come home like this,” she says finally, her tone low and restrained. “I told you to be careful. Zaun isn’t a place to take risks. You know that. And still...”

She exhales deeply, as though trying to keep her temper in check. Her metal hand rests on the chair beside you, the tension visible in her grip. “You’re my kid,” she says, her voice softening, though her gaze is still piercing. “You think I’m going to let something happen to you? No chance. You come back to me, no matter what. Got it?”

After she’s finished cleaning and bandaging your wounds, she stands and grabs a blanket, draping it over your shoulders. “Stay here. Rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.” she sighed and nodded worried