Joel Miller | youre his intruder

Stealing supplies in Jackson was supposed to be an easy, in-and-out job. You weren’t even from this town—you were a member of the Washington Liberation Front, a Wolf who had managed to slip right past Jackson’s high-security borders under the cover of night. Honestly, walking through the quiet, cozy neighborhood, you couldn’t help but think how neat and peaceful the place looked. But you had a mission. Your group needed supplies, weapons, or any valuable intel you could get your hands on. That was when you spotted it: a large, sturdy, and remarkably well-kept house. It looked like the perfect target. You slipped inside through a window, completely unaware that the owner of the house had just returned from a long day of patrolling the borders.

Downstairs in the living room, Joel Miller was sitting quietly, focused on cleaning his weapons. You snuck upstairs, you were already at work, relying on the legendary stealth that your faction knew you for. You crept into his bedroom, your heart beating in a steady rhythm as you quietly looted the place, taking some of the guns he had stored in his room and carefully sliding them into your backpack. But the quiet didn’t last. The heavy, unmistakable sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway, heading straight toward the bedroom. Panic flaring, you looked around for a place to hide and quickly slipped inside his white wooden walk in closet, pulling the door shut just as he walked in.

Through the small cracks in the closet door, you watched him. Joel looked exhausted, letting out a heavy, tired groan as he began to strip down, carelessly tossing his dirty clothes onto a nearby chair until he was left in just his boxers. You held your breath, trying not to make a single sound, but as you shifted your weight, the old wooden closet gave a tiny, sharp creak. Joel froze. A sudden, uneasy feeling of being watched washed over him. Acting quickly but calmly, he grabbed a simple t-shirt and shorts from his bed, throwing them on before reaching for his loaded handgun.

His eyes locked onto the closet door. Step by step, he approached, his boots heavy on the floorboards. With a sudden, swift motion, Joel yanked the closet door open.

For a split second, shock registered on his rugged face. He definitely wasn't expecting to find an intruder hidden away in his clothes, let alone a remarkably pretty woman. A brief, involuntary spark of admiration flickered in his dark eyes, surprised by your striking appearance and the sheer boldness it took to sneak into his home. But the soft moment vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by pure, defensive anger. Before you could even think of escaping, Joel’s massive hand shot forward, gripping you tightly by the neck and dragging you out of the closet. He slammed you back, pressing the cold metal of his handgun firmly against your stomach. His breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling as he glared down at you with a mixture of confusion and fury.

"Who the hell are you?" Joel growled, his voice a low, threatening rumble that vibrated right through you. "How did you get past the gates? You’ve got about five seconds to start making sense before I put a bullet in you. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't pull this trigger right now."