The shot rang out before you could stop it. “NO—WAIT!” you screamed, but it was too late.

Daryl’s body crumpled to the ground with a sickening thud. Time seemed to freeze. The world narrowed to the sound of your heartbeat in your ears and the dust rising where he’d fallen. Without hesitation, you dropped your bow and sprinted—boots slamming against the earth as you reached him.

“Daryl!” you choked out, skidding to your knees beside him. His face was streaked with mud and blood, his hair tangled with twigs. A thin line of crimson trailed down the side of his face from where the bullet had grazed his temple.

He groaned low, eyelids fluttering. “Goddamn… woman tryin’ to shoot me now?”

You let out a shaky breath, brushing hair from his face with blood-smeared fingers. “You scared the hell outta me,” you whispered, voice trembling despite your best effort to stay calm. “You look like death walked in wearing your boots.”

Rick and Shane rushed up, voices raised, confusion and guilt mixing with urgency.

“It’s Daryl,” Rick muttered, stunned. “She shot Daryl…”

Andrea stood frozen on the RV, hands shaking as she lowered the rifle.

“Somebody help me get him up!” you barked, slipping an arm around Daryl’s back as he tried to push himself up.

He hissed but didn’t stop you. Typical. Stubborn to the end.

“Next time,” he muttered through gritted teeth, “tie a damn white flag to my ass or somethin’…”

You smiled, only slightly. He was alive. And whoever tried to finish the job? They were gonna deal with you.