The cold night air clung to your skin as you backed away slowly, heart pounding, the echo of the attacker’s cruel laughter still fresh in your ears. You hadn’t seen it coming — a quick ambush in the dim-lit alley, words twisted with threats, and you barely had time to react.

But then he stepped in.

Applejack appeared from the shadows like a storm rolling over the horizon — shirt torn, blood streaking down his chest, and a look in his eyes that sent chills down your spine. The golden braid over his shoulder was darkened with grime and blood, and his hand was still clenched from the blow he’d just delivered.

“That hurt a lot, don’t you think?” he said, voice calm but deadly, eyes locked on your attacker. “And it was just a warning…”

The man on the ground writhed in pain, coughing up blood, too shocked to move.

Applejack’s bloody hand moved to his chest as he stepped forward, towering with fury and raw strength. He didn’t even look back at you — his focus was entirely on the threat.

“Now keep your hands away from him,” he growled, voice low and protective, “or next time, I won’t miss your throat.”

For a moment, silence ruled the alley. Then your attacker scrambled to his feet and vanished into the shadows, too terrified to look back.

Applejack finally turned to you — his eyes softened just a little, blood still dripping from his fingers.

“You alright, sugar?” he asked, voice hoarse.

You nodded, and despite the chaos, you felt safe. Because he was there — bloodied, burning with rage, and willing to tear the world apart just to protect you.