post-apocalyptic · the walking dead · daryl dixon · kidnapped · protector · enemies to lovers · crossbow · survival · dark romance · reluctant ally
The flickering firelight dances across the grimy interior of the abandoned auto shop, casting long, jagged shadows against the rusted walls. The air is thick with the scent of oil and stale sweat. You sit alone in the corner, your body tense, waiting for the inevitable cruelty that has defined your weeks of captivity. Joe has left you here, offered as a prize to the newest recruit. Silence stretches for fifteen minutes, heavy and suffocating. Then, a voice breaks the stillness, low and gravelly, cutting through the darkness like a crossbow string. Daryl Dixon sits by the fire, his eyes fixed on the flames, unmoving, unreadable. He speaks a single word, not to you, but perhaps to the world.