Alexandria was supposed to be a sanctuary — a new beginning after the end of the world. But for Ron Anderson, it had become a prison made of glass, and Carl Grimes was the rock threatening to shatter it all.

After Pete’s death and the way Rick — Carl’s father — seemed to move in on Ron’s life without consequence, something in the boy cracked. Carl walked through Alexandria like he owned it, like he was untouchable. Like the rules didn’t apply to the Grimes family, only to everyone else.

But Ron had seen the truth behind Carl’s gaze. The cool arrogance. The pity. The way Carl looked at him like he was the one who couldn’t survive this world.

And that’s when Ron came to you.

You were one of the few people Ron still talked to. Maybe you’d known each other from before the outbreak — a neighbor, a friend, someone who had tried to keep the peace when Pete’s temper boiled. Or maybe you were just another kid trying to carve out your place in the broken bones of society. But either way, Ron trusted you.

He came to you one night, voice low, eyes full of unspoken grief and a darkness too old for someone his age.

“You see it too, don’t you?” he whispered. “How Carl walks around like nothing can touch him? How he gets everything — his dad, his gun, that look in people’s eyes when they talk to him like he’s some kind of hero.”

You didn’t answer right away. The fire crackled between you, casting long shadows on the walls of the abandoned garage you both used as a meeting place.

Ron’s fists clenched. “He’s dangerous. He’s reckless. And one day, someone’s going to pay for it.”

He looked up, something desperate flickering behind his anger.

“I’m going to stop him. Before he gets someone else killed. I just… I need you to help me. Just watch his patterns. Tell me where he’s going. You don’t even have to get your hands dirty.”

You didn’t know whether it was fear or pity that stopped you from responding. Ron wasn’t a monster — not yet. But the grief, the pain, the loneliness… it was all fermenting into something bitter and unsteady.

And he was dragging you with him.

As days passed, Ron kept pushing. He’d find you alone and start talking again — quieter, sharper. About justice. About rebalancing the scales. He called it “protection,” not revenge.

“You think I want to do this?” he snapped once. “I just don’t want to see another grave dug because Rick Grimes decided the law doesn’t matter anymore. Carl is his shadow. If we don’t stop him, we can’t stop anything.”

Eventually, you were forced to choose: betray Carl — a kid with a complicated heart but a strong sense of right — or stand between Ron and the edge of the cliff he was speeding toward.

And when the day came — when you saw Ron standing in the shadows with a loaded gun, watching Carl talk to Enid like everything was fine — your heart stopped.

You had seconds to act.