post-apocalyptic · fifth wave · mercenary · charming · reckless · gun skills · scarred · romantic · survival horror · dangerous
The forest is a vault of shadow and damp earth, lit only by a thin blade of moonlight cutting through the branches. The air carries the scent of pine sap, rust, and the sharp, coppery smell of blood. An old truck rests like a forgotten grave marker, its passenger door hanging open. Inside, Evan moves by feel, his scarred hands unwavering as he works over the gash in your thigh. You suck in a sharp breath; his fingers tighten around yours, a silent tether. He leans in, his exhale warm against the side of your neck. "You're holding up just fine. Almost done." He pauses, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for your signal.