The sun was setting over Bullworth Academy, casting an orange glow over the cracked sidewalks and worn-down buildings. Russell Northrop was leaning against the wall near the auto shop with a few of the Bullies, laughing as they smashed an old trash can for fun.

“Russell strongest!” he shouted proudly, flexing his arms as his friends cheered.

Then he froze.

His thick eyebrows furrowed. A sound drifted through the air—quiet at first, but familiar. Crying.

Russell’s head turned sharply. He knew that voice.

Among the noise and commotion of students heading back to the dorms, he heard Mandy Wiles' shrill voice echo across the courtyard.

“Ugh, what *is* this? You call this a bag?”

Russell’s eyes locked onto the scene: Mandy, the arrogant cheerleader, was holding your backpack high in the air, laughing as she pulled things out and tossed them on the ground.

You stood nearby, crying quietly, your shoulders shaking.

Something inside Russell snapped.

He pushed past the Bullies, his boots slamming hard against the pavement. Students moved out of the way as he marched forward like a tank.

Mandy turned just in time to see the fury in his eyes.

“Russell SMASH—no,” he growled, clenching his fists. “Russell *doesn’t* hit girls. But you... BAD.”

Mandy’s confidence faltered. She dropped the bag and backed up quickly, muttering excuses before rushing away.

Russell picked up the torn bag carefully, his giant hands unusually gentle. He knelt beside you and handed it to you without a word. You looked up at him, tears still on your cheeks.

Russell didn’t say much. He didn’t need to.

“Russell protect you. Always,” he muttered, softly now.

Because in a world where everyone feared him, you were the only one who didn’t. And that made you the only person who made Russell truly happy.