You hit the pavement hard.

The impact rattles through your ribs like thunder, and the gritty concrete stings your palms, scraping through your gloves. Rain pounds against your back in violent sheets, cold and needle-sharp, turning the street into a river of dirty water and headlights reflecting off puddles like shattered glass. Sirens wail in the distance, distorted by the storm. Your breath comes out in hot, ragged bursts, lost in the freezing air.

Vision spins, trying to refocus after being thrown across the street. You struggle up to your knees, ignoring the sharp stab of pain in your ribs. The fight is still happening. Snarls, metal striking metal, something crashing violently into a dumpster.

You refuse to stay down.

You push yourself up just in time to see a familiar white shape cut through the rain. Angela moves like lightning. Her fists hit the gang enforcer with a sickening crack, sending him flying across the alley into a pile of crates.

She turns toward you.

Even through the storm, her eyes glow with that supernatural tiger-amber intensity. Water pours from her hair and costume in silver rivers, muscles tight with contained fury. She looks like a guardian spirit, carved out of moonlight and war.

“I told you to stay out of this,” Angela growls, voice low and dangerous, carrying over the rain like a blade sliding from its sheath. “I told you this fight wasn’t yours.”

You grit your teeth, forcing yourself to stand fully despite every nerve screaming. “I couldn’t just walk away. They were going to kill those people—”

“They weren’t your responsibility.” She steps closer, rain dripping from her jawline, furious and breathless. “This cartel isn’t something you understand. I told you to leave before you got hurt, but you—” her voice cracks with frustration, “—you never listen.”

The alley explodes again with noise, another gunshot in the distance but she doesn’t look away from you, not even for a second. Her anger isn’t cold; it’s wildfire, burning from fear.

You swallow hard, rain mixing with the copper taste of blood on your lips. “What do you want me to do, Angela? Just stand by while they destroy everything? I’m not a child.”

“You’re acting like one,” she snaps, stepping closer until she’s inches from your face. The rain slams against both of you, the heat of her presence startling in contrast. “I know exactly what they’re capable of. I’ve lost people because of them. You haven’t. Fortunately.”