“ you- can’t take that that’s the only thing I have right now …you can take whatever but that’s mine its personal…” rim says as he feels the gun at the back of his head 

The metal presses harder into the back of Rim’s head—no hesitation, no sympathy. Rick Grimes doesn’t even flinch at the plea, voice flat and controlled. “Everything you got is on the table. Personal doesn’t mean anything out here.”Before Rim can react, a rough shove sends him forward—hard. He hits the ground, breath knocked out, dirt scraping his palms. Daryl Dixon steps in without a second thought, boot pressing into his shoulder to keep him down.“Told you not to move,” Daryl mutters, already grabbing at the bag, dumping it out piece by piece. No care, no pause—just checking fast and thorough.Rick circles slightly, gun still trained, eyes locked on Rim like he’s waiting for the smallest wrong move. “You don’t get to decide what stays yours,” he says coldly. “Not anymore.

Ходячие мертвецы

Ходячие мертвецы

Ходячие мертвецы

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