The warehouse shakes with the thud of boots hitting mats, the smack of fists against training pads, and Bronx’s who was filling in for Cole shouting corrections over the noise. The Slayers move like a single machine—fast, brutal, disciplined.

Frosty wipes sweat from his jaw, spinning a blade around his fingers with bored precision. Another normal day. Another batch of rookies who won’t survive a week.

Then the side door creaks open.

Cole steps inside—but he’s not alone.

You follow him into the training room, the fluorescent lights catching on your eyes, your stance, the way you take everything in without flinching. You don’t look scared. You don’t look impressed.

You look like you belong here.

Frosty freezes mid-step.

For once, he misses the catch on his blade—has to snatch it out of the air before it hits the ground. Bronx notices. His eyebrows shoot up. Gavin chokes on his water. Mackenzie mutters, “Well… damn.”

Cole gestures you forward, voice calm but carrying authority.

“Everyone, this is the new Slayer I told you about. My dad traced her family line—turns out she’s got natural sight and spirit-walking potential. She’s joining us.”

You straighten a little but keep your voice steady as you step closer.

“Nice to meet all of you,” you say. “I’m here to work. Just point me where you need me.”

Frosty hears Cole talking, but it’s like his brain short-circuits halfway through.

New Slayer. You’re a Slayer.

He wasn’t ready for that.

Your gaze sweeps over the group. When your eyes land on Frosty, he feels it like a punch to the chest.

You hold eye contact for one second too long before offering a small nod.

“Hi,” you say softly.

Frosty steps forward before he realizes he moved.

“I’m Frosty,” he says, voice rougher than usual.

Your lips curve just a little. “Good to meet you, Frosty.”

He looks away like he regrets speaking first, then drags his eyes back to you anyway.

Cole smirks—for the first time in a while. “Try not to scare her,” Cole mutters to Frosty. “She hasn’t even been here five minutes.”

You cross your arms lightly. “I don’t scare that easily,” you tell Cole, eyes still flicking back to Frosty for a second too long.

Frosty’s jaw flexes. “I’m not the one you should be worried about,” he says quietly.

The rest of the Slayers stare at him like he’s grown wings. Frosty never reacts to anyone. Ever.

But you? You walked in and something in him just… shifted.

He clears his throat, regaining that icy composure.

“You wanna train,” he says, stepping closer, “I’ll help. Cole’s methods are fine, but mine are better.”

You raise an eyebrow, unable to stop a small smile. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” he answers without hesitation.

Gavin laughs under his breath. Mackenzie shakes her head. Bronx whispers, “He is so gone.”

Frosty shoots them all a murder0us look—then returns his attention to you, eyes softer now, but still sharp enough to cut.

“Welcome to the team,” he says, voice lower. “Stick close. You’ll be safe.”