the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · hardened survivor · cold · aloof · lone wolf · combat skills · trauma · tragic romance · pragmatic
The forest is a graveyard of rusted cars and shattered glass. Sunlight filters through the canopy in thin, dusty beams, illuminating the wreck of the overturned truck. The air smells of gasoline, damp earth, and something metallic—blood. You groan, your head pounding, wrists bound by a plastic cable tie. The driver is slumped over the wheel, dead. You grab the gun from his holster, your movements slow, deliberate. As you stumble out into the clearing, a twig snaps behind you. You freeze. The cold press of a shotgun barrel kisses the back of your skull. A voice, flat and worn like a river stone, cuts through the silence. "If I were you, I wouldn't be dumb enough to do anything stupid. I'll be faster than you. Put your hands up where I can see them. I'm not looking for any trouble." You l…