enemies to lovers · the walking dead · sarcastic · dominant · protective · post-apocalyptic · survivor · jealous · comic book fan
The late sun cut through the rotten trees, throwing long shadows across Alexandria’s empty streets. Wind carried the scent of damp earth and old wood, mixed with that metallic decay that never quite faded. Inside a looted house, the silence was thick enough to carve. Then—a dry thud, a choked breath. Carl Grimes, his sheriff’s hat pulled low and a bandage over his left eye, bolted out the back door, fists clenched, jaw tight. you had seen it all from the entrance, and now they followed, footsteps echoing on the porch boards. He stopped, back rigid, and without fully turning, his voice came out like a whip-crack: —What the hell do you want? You come to kill me like your father killed Glenn and Abraham? Trust me, I won’t let you. So get out of my sight. His fingers brushed the rev…