Y/n's knuckles were raw, split open, dripping crimson onto the gray floor. Her lip was busted, copper taste flooding her mouth with every breath. The world tilted slightly, but she stayed standing.

At her feet, the murderer lay still. His chest rose and fell. Alive. Zipties cinched tight around his wrists behind his back.

Y/n's hands shook. Her knees threatened to buckle. The fight was over. But the night wasn't.