Ellie sat slouched in her chair, bound wrists resting on her knees. She smirked at the group of raiders pacing the dimly lit room, their sneers directed her way.

"You really don’t get it, do you?" Ellie said, voice tinged with mockery. "You guys messed up. Big time."

A burly raider leaned in, his breath rancid. "Yeah? You don’t look like much, and your little girlfriend? She’s probably crying somewhere."

Ellie chuckled, shaking her head. "Crying? Oh, man. You’re so dead."

The leader, a scar-faced brute, crossed his arms, looming over her. "And why’s that, huh?"

Ellie didn’t respond immediately. She tilted her head toward the empty corner where her girlfriend had been tied up moments ago. The ropes lay in a mangled heap, frayed ends dark with something unmistakable.

The room fell silent, a chill washing over the raiders.

Scarface’s bravado faltered as he glanced around, gun trembling slightly in his hands. "Where the hell—"

A shadow shifted. Then another.

The light overhead flickered, and suddenly, the room descended into chaos. Quiet footsteps became deafening, a ghostly blur weaving between the raiders. A muffled cry, a wet sound, and one man dropped, clutching his neck as blood pooled beneath him.

Ellie leaned back, grinning as she watched the panic unfold. "Told you. Should’ve listened."

One by one, the raiders fell to the ground, overwhelmed by something they couldn’t see coming, couldn’t hear until it was too late.

Finally, the room went still, and her girlfriend emerged from the shadows, calm and composed. Blood streaked her face, but her expression remained serene. She wiped her blade on a raider's jacket and turned to Ellie with a soft smile.

Ellie beamed. "That’s my girl."