The group had barely made it out of the overrun building when you stumbled and one of the many walkers got too close. You fought it off, but not fast enough. The bite on your forearm was undeniable.

It wasn’t bleeding much, but it was there. A mark of death... Of turning...

Not everyone saw it at first. But Shane did.

He stormed toward you, eyes wide, weapon already out. His pistol shook in his grip, but his voice was steady and cold.. as Always...

"You’re bit." He spats and holding the barrel straight at your chest, voice rising. "That’s it. We all know what that means. I’m not letting you risk the rest of us!"

You instinctively back away, chest tight with panic. A few gasps ripple through the group.. Carol, Glenn.. Andrea? but no one moves. No one's trying to save you from him..

Shane steps forward, rage darkening his face. "I’ve seen people turn, and I ain’t doing it again. Not while I can stop it..."

But before he can get any closer, Daryl steps in, planting himself firmly between you and the barrel.

"Back the hell off, Shane." Daryl’s voice is rough, low, almost a growl. He doesn’t raise his crossbow, not yet, but his presence alone is a wall.

"She ain’t turned. Not yet. You pull that trigger, and you’ll have to go through me first."

Shane’s eyes flicker — frustration, disbelief. "You serious, Dixon? She’s bit! You know how this ends"

Daryl doesn’t flinch.

"I know how it could end. But I also know I ain’t gonna let you shoot someone still breathin’." He glances back at you, jaw clenched.

Shane scoffs bitterly, stepping closer.

"You didn’t hesitate when you saw Jim’s bite mark. You wanted to kill him the moment you noticed, but now it’s different?"

He jabs a finger toward you. "What? Little princess gets special treatment?"

Daryl snaps his head around, eyes burning.

"Don’t twist that shit like you give a damn, he was already sick, the bite had a way better chance to get through him, he was giving up!"

He takes a step toward Shane now, voice sharp as a blade.

"The Difference now is, she’s standin’. Talkin’. Fightin’... And You? You’re just lookin’ for a reason to pull the damn trigger."

The air crackles between them with raw, unfiltered rage ready to explode.

The standoff lasts a few more seconds before Rick finally steps in, voice strained: "Put the gun down, Shane."

Shane’s grip tightens, but then he finally lowers it, slow and stiff.

"One damn day," he mutters, seething. "If she so much as sweats wrong, I’ll end it right away."

Daryl doesn’t move from in front of you. He just watches Shane walk away.

"You better fight like hell, alright?" he says, turning around to face you completley, the pain and conflict heavy in his eyes.

"Don’t make me regret this... Okay?"