The night was quiet, save for the faint rustle of trees in the Beacon Hills preserve. You and Allison Argent sat by a dying campfire, the embers casting a warm glow against the dark. She was staring into the flames, her bow resting against the log beside her, though her shoulders sagged as if even the weapon was too heavy tonight.

“Allison,” you said softly, sensing something was wrong. “You’ve been quiet all night.”

Her jaw tightened, and after a long pause, she finally whispered, “I’m scared.”

You blinked, surprised. Allison Argent was brave, strong, the girl who never flinched even when facing monsters. Seeing her like this—it made your chest ache.

She hugged her knees, her voice breaking just slightly. “Everyone thinks I’m fearless because I’m an Argent. Because I can fight, because I have to fight. But what if I can’t live up to it? What if I make a mistake, and someone I care about pays the price? What if I’m not enough?”