Imagines || shows and movies characters x reader

The cost of the chase || Colter Shaw [Tracker]

Colter Shaw stood on the outskirts of a small town, the faint hum of traffic from the nearby highway breaking the silence. His eyes scanned the landscape with the precision of a hawk, searching for any sign of movement. Beside him, Y/n leaned against their truck, her sharp gaze mirroring his.

Both of them were in the same line of work: finding missing people, hunting down criminals, and collecting rewards. But they weren't detectives or law enforcement. They had no badges to flash, no sense of duty to uphold—just the promise of cash at the end of a successful chase. And they were damn good at it.

Today's target was a dangerous one. Daryl Harkness, a man with a violent criminal history, had gone off the grid after killing two people during a robbery. There was a hefty bounty on his head—dead or alive. Colter and Y/n knew what kind of people they were dealing with, and they knew the risks. Neither one shied away from it.

"I heard he's holed up in that old cabin," Y/n said, nodding toward a worn-down shack hidden by trees. Her voice was calm, but there was a tension in the air—one they were both used to.

Colter checked his pistol, the weight of it familiar in his hand. "You ready?"

Y/n smirked, her own weapon already drawn. "I've been ready my all shitty life. Let's do this."

They approached the cabin with practiced stealth, each step deliberate. The wind carried the scent of damp earth, and the sky was clouded, darkening with the promise of rain. It was the perfect setting for what they were about to do.

As they reached the door, Colter motioned for Y/n to take the back while he kicked open the front. The door splintered under his boot, crashing open with a deafening crack. Inside, the air smelled of sweat and blood—a warning of the violence that had already taken place here.

Daryl was waiting. A gunshot rang out, the bullet grazing Colter's arm as he dove for cover. Blood seeped through his shirt, but the pain was a distant sensation. His focus was on survival.

Y/n burst in from the back, her pistol firing two quick shots. Daryl ducked behind a table, knocking it over as he returned fire. The cabin was small, and the space quickly filled with the sound of gunfire, each shot echoing in the confined area.

Colter moved swiftly, his arm burning from the wound but his aim steady. He fired, hitting Daryl in the leg. The man howled in pain, collapsing to the ground but still clutching his weapon.

"Drop it, Daryl!" Y/n shouted, stepping closer, her eyes cold and unwavering. "It's over."

But Daryl wasn't done. With a snarl, he raised his gun, ready to take one last shot. Y/n didn't hesitate. She fired, the bullet striking him square in the chest. He gasped, blood bubbling from his mouth as he collapsed, his body twitching before finally going still.

The room fell silent except for the ragged breaths of Colter and Y/n. Blood pooled around Daryl's body, the sight of it eerily calm after the chaos of the gunfight. Colter wiped sweat from his brow, his arm throbbing but otherwise functional.

"You good?" Y/n asked, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her.

"Yeah," Colter replied, glancing at the blood-soaked bandage he'd hastily wrapped around his arm. "Just a scratch."

They both stood over Daryl's body, the tension between them palpable. They'd done this a hundred times before, but each kill still left a mark. The reward was waiting for them, but there was always a cost—one that wasn't measured in cash.

Y/n knelt beside Daryl, checking for any sign of life. There was none. She glanced up at Colter, her expression unreadable. "He didn't give us a choice."

"He never does," Colter muttered. His voice was rough, but there was no regret. This was the life they had chosen, and they both knew the rules.

They moved quickly, dragging Daryl's body outside and loading it into the back of their truck. The bounty required proof, and they weren't about to leave empty-handed.

As they drove back toward town, the weight of the job settled over them. The adrenaline had faded, leaving behind a familiar emptiness. Y/n stared out the window, her fingers tapping restlessly on the dashboard.

"You ever think about getting out of this?" she asked suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Colter didn't respond immediately. His eyes were focused on the road, but his mind was elsewhere—on the lives they'd taken, the blood they'd spilled. "Sometimes."

Y/n turned to look at him, her expression serious. "It's all we've known, but... there's gotta be more than this. Right?"

Colter shrugged. "Maybe. But right now, there's a reward waiting for us. And that's all I care about."

Y/n sighed, leaning back in her seat. "Yeah. I guess that's all that matters."

But the doubt lingered, unspoken between them as they drove into the fading light. They were killers, bounty hunters, driven by the promise of money. Yet, somewhere deep down, both of them knew they were chasing more than just rewards. They were chasing purpose, meaning in a life filled with violence and blood.

And in the end, they both wondered if they'd ever find it.