Night in the quarry was never truly quiet.
Fires burned low. People slept in fragments. Every sound carried farther than it should have. Harry's group had set their camp slightly apart—not fenced off, but not open either. Minimal light. Controlled movement.
That was why the footsteps were heard immediately.
Uneven. Heavy. Sloppy.
"Someone's coming," Daryl said quietly, without turning.
Merle was already on his feet, slow and unhurried. A half-empty bottle hung loosely in his hand.
"Well," he muttered. "Looks like trouble decided to walk over."
Ed stumbled out of the darkness. His eyes were bloodshot, his movements unsteady, the stench of alcohol rolling off him in waves. He stopped a few meters away and swept his gaze over the camp—crates, weapons, people.
"So," he barked. "Done hiding?"
Harry stood calmly. He didn't reach for anything.
"You're lost," Harry said evenly.
Ed laughed.
"No," he lurched forward. "I'm here for what's mine."
"You have nothing here," Carlos replied.
"Yes, I do." Ed's eyes burned. "Food. Weapons. You think you can just roll in and take everything?"
"No," Harry said. "We think you can leave."
"Go to hell," Ed spat, stepping closer. "You all think you're better than us."
Merle tilted his head.
"Buddy," he said, "you're making a mistake."
"Shut up!" Ed roared—and lunged.
He didn't even finish the move.
Merle struck him across the temple with the butt of his pistol. Short. Clean. The bottle shattered in Ed's grip as he dropped to his knees with a strangled sound.
Before he could lift his head, cold steel touched his throat.
Harry stood behind him, sword steady, unmoving. The pressure was light—but unmistakable.
"Don't move," Harry said quietly.
Ed froze, breath coming fast and shallow.
"You—you don't have the right," he rasped.
"I do," Harry replied calmly. "In this world, right is a reason."
He leaned closer, his voice low and precise.
"Give me one reason why we shouldn't kill you."
Silence fell.
"You came here drunk."
"You demanded food and weapons."
"You attacked first."
The blade pressed just a fraction closer.
Then a voice broke the night.
"Please… wait."
Carol stepped forward from the darkness, Sophia clinging to her hand. Her voice shook, but she didn't scream. She wasn't looking at the sword—she was looking at Harry.
"Please," she said softly. "Don't kill him."
Harry looked at her for the first time.
And saw the bruise.
Dark. Fresh. Poorly hidden beneath her hair.
Merle swore under his breath.
Daryl took a step forward, his face hard.
"He do that?" Daryl asked flatly.
Carol shook her head instinctively.
"I—I fell."
No one believed her.
Harry didn't move the blade, but he didn't press harder either.
"Carol," he said evenly, "listen to me."
She met his eyes.
"If this continues," Harry said, "he will kill you."
Ed twitched.
"And your daughter," Harry added calmly. "Not tonight. Not tomorrow. But it will happen."
"That's not true!" Ed snapped, trying to move.
The sword pressed in just enough to stop him.
"Quiet," Harry said. Not loud. Not angry. Final.
Daryl's voice was rough.
"We've seen men like him," he said. "Our father was the same."
Merle gave a bitter chuckle.
"Starts with yelling," he said. "Then hitting. Then apologies. Then graves."
Carol trembled.
"He's not always like this…"
"He is," Harry replied. "Sometimes he just hides it better."
He finally eased the blade away—but kept it close.
"We won't kill him tonight," Harry said. "Not for his sake. For yours."
Carol swallowed hard.
"But understand this," Harry continued. "There won't be another warning."
Daryl nodded.
"If you stay with him," he said, "he'll kill you both. Not us. Him."
Ed stared at them, fear finally clear in his eyes.
"Get out," Harry said. "And stay away from our camp."
Merle nudged him with his boot.
"And if you lay a hand on them again," he added, "I'll find you myself."
Ed staggered to his feet and fled into the dark.
Carol didn't follow him right away. She stood there, gripping Sophia's hand.
"Thank you," she whispered—unsure to whom.
Harry sheathed his sword slowly.
"Protect your daughter," he said. "Even if that means leaving."
They watched Ed disappear.
That night, the quarry learned something new:
Sometimes the dead aren't the most dangerous thing left.
End of Chapter 15