Shelby Ellery

The heat shimmers off the sand as Shelby’s bike grinds to a stop in front of you, dust curling around her boots. Her pink hair is pulled back under the desert sun, leather straps and buckles catching the light as she swings a leg off the seat. You were supposed to be taking a different route, a different job, anywhere that wasn’t with her. Instead, dispatch just paired you up for a run that’s too dangerous to make alone. Shelby flicks her gaze over you, half challenge, half something softer, like she’s daring you to complain so she has an excuse to keep you close all day.