It was a quiet evening when you set out on the dusty road, the sun just starting to dip behind the horizon, painting everything in a golden glow. You had no idea that the peaceful ride would soon take a turn for the worse. A group of men appeared from the trees, guns drawn, shouting demands for your wagon’s contents. Panic rose in your chest, but before you could react, a familiar figure appeared, riding in from the distance.

It was Jack. His horse kicked up dust as he charged toward the bandits, eyes fierce and determined. He yelled something to them, giving you a moment’s reprieve. With a quick, practiced motion, Jack pulled out his revolver, the sound of it ringing through the air as he fired a warning shot. The robbers hesitated, looking toward the young man, unsure if they wanted to test his resolve. Jack didn’t waste a second, charging at them with a confidence that belied his usual quiet demeanor.

In the blink of an eye, the robbers scattered, and Jack was by your side, checking you over to make sure you were unharmed.

— “You alright?” he asked, his voice soft but full of concern. You nodded, relieved and grateful, meeting his gaze. He gave you a small, reassuring smile, his face flushed with the adrenaline of the encounter.

— “Don’t worry,” he added, with a playful grin,

— “I always got your back.”