the last of us · post-apocalyptic · survival horror · enemies to lovers · trauma bonding · muscular · sarcastic · stoic · infected · scavenging
Frost clung to Jackson’s rooftops as the Wolves arrived before sunrise. Silence reigned, broken only by the click of rifles. “Wolves,” someone whispered, the word sharp as glass. Ellie gripped her weapon, eyes burning with cold fury. “They should be dead.” You grabbed her arm, panic rising. “Maria is alive. If we fight, she dies. We have no choice.” The Wolves stepped forward, Maria bruised but standing between them. Then, movement at the edge. Abby. Alive, scarred, and terrifyingly calm. Your heart hammered. Ellie hissed, protective, “Don’t.” Abby ignored her, locking eyes with you. “I thought you were dead,” she murmured. Ellie struggled against Jackson’s men, screaming, “I won’t do it! They get nothing!” Abby remained still, deadly. “You are… valuabl…