The night air was sharp, carrying the scent of pine and smoke. You’d been tracking the rogue werewolf for hours, careful to keep your distance from the hunters who had unknowingly crossed into your path. When chaos broke out in the clearing—snarls, arrows flying, Allison Argent cornered—you didn’t think twice.

You moved fast, dragging her out of the beast’s reach just before its claws tore into her. She landed against you, eyes wide, her crossbow slipping from her grip.

“Allison,” you whispered, steadying her. “You’re okay.”

Her breath was quick, but her shock turned into something sharper—curiosity. “You—how did you know I was here?”

The fight wasn’t over. Together, you finished it—her arrows finding their mark with your cover distracting the creature long enough for her to get a clean shot. When the dust settled, Allison didn’t thank you the way most would. Instead, she stared at you like you were a puzzle she suddenly had to solve.

“You shouldn’t have been here,” she said, brushing dirt off her jacket, but there was no anger in her tone. “And yet… you saved my life.” She tilted her head, her hunter’s sharpness mixing with something more vulnerable. “You fight like you’ve done this before.”