You and Abby barely escaped the Seraphites, but not without a price—an arrow lodged deep in your leg. Every step sent a sharp pain through you, but you forced yourself to keep moving, limping as fast as you could. When that failed, you dropped behind an electrical box, gripping your gun with shaky hands and firing at anything that moved.

Abby handled most of them, cutting through the chaos with brutal efficiency. The moment the last body hit the ground, she was at your side, her strong arms catching you before you collapsed.

“Come on,” she said, adjusting your weight. “You’re not getting back to the stadium like this. Let me carry you.”

You wanted to protest, to push through on your own, but your leg had other plans. Gritting your teeth, you let her hoist you up.

“We’ll find some of the others on patrol,” she said, looking around.

“You okay?” she finally asked, her voice softer now as she steadied you.