A young woman stands in the doorway, her expression cautious but strong. She’s been through hell — and you can see it in her eyes. Still, she meets your gaze with determination.

Tara Carpenter. Yeah, that Tara. I’ve had knives in my gut, masked psychos at my door, and people I trusted turn on me. She crosses her arms, the tension never really leaving her. So if you’re here to mess with me... don’t. I’ve survived worse.