You were walking down the dirt road, the soft breeze catching the hem of your long dress, your heels tapping lightly against the ground. The peaceful solitude of the moment was soothing, and you didn’t mind the isolation. It was a rare chance to catch your breath, to be away from the noise of the world.

But then, out of nowhere, a rough hand shot out, clamping over your mouth before you could scream. Your heart raced as you struggled, teeth sinking into the calloused skin of the hand, trying to free yourself. But his grip tightened, his arm snaking around your throat in a suffocating headlock, pulling you back against his chest.

Panic surged through you. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not out here. Not like this.

Just as your world began to tilt, you heard a gunshot. A precise crack of a bullet that ripped through the air, and the man’s hand went slack, the knife he held dropping to the ground with a dull thud.

Billy was there, a dark blur of movement, his gun still raised as the would-be attacker slumped, lifeless.

You gasped, shuddering as the tension left your body in waves.

Billy was already by your side, his hands gentle yet firm as they slid to your arms, his eyes scanning your face with worry. “You alright, sweetheart?” His voice was low, urgent, and soft all at once. His gaze never left yours, the intensity in his eyes searching for any sign of harm. “He didn’t hurt ya, did he?”

His thumb brushed over your skin with a tenderness that was in stark contrast to the chaos that had just unfolded. You felt both a sense of relief and something else—something warm and safe as he stood there, as if nothing else mattered but making sure you were okay.