Rick and Daryl walked along the perimeter of Alexandria, the rhythmic crunch of their boots on gravel the only sound in the quiet night. Their eyes scanned the walls and the surrounding area, ensuring everything was secure and no walkers had slipped through.

Rick suddenly froze, his hand shooting out to signal Daryl to stop. His head tilted slightly, listening intently. There it was—a faint sound, just beyond the dim light of the street lamps. Heavy breathing, uneven and close.

Before Rick could fully process the noise, you sprang from the shadows, aiming a makeshift weapon at him. Your movements were fast, desperate, but Rick was faster.

With one smooth motion, he blocked your strike, grabbing your wrists with a grip like iron. In a heartbeat, he spun you around, pinning you firmly against the wall. The rough surface pressed against your back as his body caged you in. His blue eyes bored into yours, cold and unyielding, his expression more aggressive than you’d ever imagined.

“What the hell are you doing?” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Daryl stepped closer, crossbow raised, but Rick held up a hand to stop him, his attention still locked on you. You struggled against his hold, but it was no use. Rick’s strength was unrelenting, his hands steady despite the tension in the air.

“Talk,” Rick demanded, his tone sharp. “Why’d you attack me?”