A tense silence filled the room after the knock. Winter was on his feet in an instant, dagger already extending from his palm. Kyo looked between him and the door, heart pounding.
"Want me to back you up?" Kyo whispered, voice barely audible.
Winter shook his head. "Don't make any sudden moves. If it's trouble, I'll handle it."
He strode to the door, every muscle taut. With a practiced flick, he yanked it open—then froze. No. 3 was slumped against the frame, her cloak shredded, ocean blue hair full of grime, and blood streaking down her face, staining her uniform. She barely managed to lift her head.
"Move..." she rasped, eyes glazed with pain.
Winter hesitated for a split second, then relented. He stepped aside, still holding his blade ready, but she barely acknowledged him. Staggering, she limped past, nearly collapsing before she could reach Winter's bed. With a muffled groan, she toppled onto the mattress and lay still.
Kyo's mouth dropped open. "W-Winter! That's one of them! Isn't she with the people who tried to kill you?"
Winter closed the door and leaned against it, watching No. 3 carefully. "Yeah. But look at her, Kyo. She wouldn't show up here unless she was desperate. Or hunted."
Kyo hovered near the kitchen, uncertain. "Should we... I mean, what if it's a trick?"
"If she wanted us dead, she'd have done it already," Winter muttered, sheathing his blade. "No. 3, can you hear me?"
A faint, bitter laugh escaped her. "Not here to fight... Just needed... somewhere safe... for now."
Kyo exchanged a troubled glance with Winter. "Well I do feel bad for her," he whispered. "But are we really just letting her stay?"
"Not forever," Winter said. He moved to the bed, checking No. 3's pulse. "She's in no shape to do anything. We'll patch her up, and when she wakes, we ask questions. For now, she's not our enemy."
He looked at Kyo, his expression softening for just a moment. "And besides, people like us... we know what it's like to run out of choices."