𝐱𝐯𝐢. 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲

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[ xvi

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[ xvi. let him die slowly ]

june 28th, 2012

➸➸➸

(warning: s/a & graphic violence)

HER HUNTER WAS HERE.

Daryl Dixon, the man that Astrid Lancaster loved most in the entire world, stood before her in the flesh and blood, a mere three feet away. Their eyes locked, unblinking. In that moment, there was nothing else that mattered but Daryl. He consumed her. Only hours earlier, Astrid had begun to accept the possibility of his death, and now, here he stood, perfectly alive and well.

The only burning question left that tormented her was why he was here—seemingly surviving amidst these despicable people.

The man who currently held Rick hostage, Joe, as Astrid's hunter had called him, ceased his countdown. His scowl, once directed at Rick, now glared into Daryl. "You're stopping me at six, Daryl," He muttered irritably.

Daryl, his gaze still locked on Astrid for a heartbeat longer, finally allowed his eyes to sweep over Rick and Michonne. Then, with deliberate slowness, he turned his attention to Joe. "Jus' hold up," He insisted.

"These two killed Lou," The man behind Astrid snarled, his fingers gripping her hair cruelly, pulling her head back to expose her throat. Her chin was forced upward. "So, we've got nothing to talk about."

Joe pursed his lips, his sigh carrying reluctance. "The thing about nowadays is we got nothing but time," He corrected. "Well, say your piece, Daryl."

Daryl swallowed hard, his voice steady as granite. "These people . . . you're goin' to let them go," He asserted. "These are good people."

Joe stared blankly at Daryl, skepticism etched across his face. It was evident that he did not buy a word of what had been said. "Now, I think Lou would disagree with you on that," He retorted. "I'll, of course, have to speak for him and all because your friends here strangled him in a bathroom."

"He tried to kill us!" Astrid blurted out, her pent-up anger overcoming her restraint. "That man deserved it! You invaded our home, took our supplies, you—"

"Shut up!" The man behind her thundered.

He raised his hand, poised to strike her, but a deadly growl from Daryl stopped him in his tracks. "You keep your hands off her," He snarled.

The man laughed mockingly. "Or what?" he challenged.

"I'll rip your fuckin' head off."

Her hunter took a defining step forward, ready to make good on his threat. But before he could advance further, Joe intervened, holding up a hand while keeping the other firmly pressed against Rick's temple, his pistol still ready to fire. "Hey," Joe warned, his eyes darting between Daryl and the man behind Astrid. "Harley, just shut the hell up. Daryl is speaking his part."

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