Close Calls

The roar from the quarry was deafening. Thousands of walkers groaned and thrashed below, pressing against each other in a seething, restless tide of death.

The only thing keeping them contained were the trucks sealing the exits - barely. One sat dangerously close to the edge of a cliff, like the slightest breeze could send it crashing down.

I stood beside Daryl, pressing a hand against my aching side. My stitches were doing their job, but the skin around them was tight and raw beneath my shirt.

I knew he was apprehensive about me being here - his jaw had been tight all morning - but he also knew I wasn't staying behind. I needed to be here so I knew exactly how things would go down when we did it for real.

Rick was outlining the plan again, pointing to the map in his hands, when the teetering truck gave a groan of protest.

It was like slow-motion. Every pair of eyes locked onto it, faces horrified as it started to fall.

Fuck. This was only meant to be a trial run.

The crash of the large truck shook the earth beneath us. A beat of stunned silence followed - then chaos. Walkers surged forward, pouring from the quarry like a broken dam, clawing and snapping at the air.

"Shit." I mouthed to Daryl. Panic setting in.

The construction crew back at Alexandria were throwing the wall up quickly - but I wasn't even sure if it would be complete yet. We needed it to block the path of the herd... I crossed my fingers they'd been on task.

Rick didn't hesitate. "Put the plan into action! Now!"

Daryl grabbed my hand, yanking me toward Carter's bike that we'd borrowed for the trial run - Daryl's not being ready yet. "C'mon!"

I swung onto the seat behind him, wrapping my arms tight around his middle as he revved the engine. The tires screeched against the pavement as we shot forward.

The road ahead of us was lined with abandoned cars, bumper to bumper, stretching out for miles.

Daryl and I sped toward the front of the now mobile herd. My arms gripped him harder, the wind whipping against my face, pulling strands of my hair loose.

Once we were in front, Daryl slowed, keeping a steady pace, forcing them to follow.

"This is why Alexandria's been safe," I said over the hum of the bike.

Daryl grunted in agreement. "Been trapped. Ain't been able to wander in."

Up ahead, red balloons marked the rendezvous point where Sasha and Abraham were waiting in a car, engines running.

I lifted the walkie to my mouth. "Bringing 'em your way."

Sasha's voice crackled through the speaker. "We see you."

It was working. Daryl and I rode in front, Sasha and Abraham following in a car. The herd trailed behind us as planned - for a while...

Without warning, a horn came out of nowhere - a loud, blaring drone that cut through the air like a siren. I twisted my head around, my stomach dropping as half of the herd behind us peeled away from the pack, drawn toward the noise.

"What the actual fuck!?" I yelled.

Daryl's hands tightened on the throttle. "Seems like it's comin' from Alexandria."

Shit.

Rick's voice crackled over the radio, sharp and urgent. "Stay the course! Keep movin'!"

But the horn didn't stop. Long, uninterrupted, demanding attention.

"There's gunfire coming from back home." Rick's voice sounded again."

I felt Daryl's whole body stiffen.

"We gotta sit with it and hope they can handle it." Rick continued. "I think they can. They have to. We keep going forward for them. Can't turn back 'cause we're afraid."

Daryl slowed, hesitating. I felt it in his body - the urge to turn around, to go back to Alexandria - protect those of the group we'd left behind. But we couldn't leave Sasha and Abraham. We had to fulfil our part of the plan.

"We ain't afraid." I heard Abraham say over the walkie.

After a while, Rick's voice broke through static again, but I could barely hear him over the blaring of the horn. "This is for them. Going back now before it's done, that'd be for us. The herd has to almost be-"

The sound of gunfire cut him off.

I pressed the walkie. "Rick?"

Daryl took the walkie from me. "Rick? Rick?" He yelled into it.

Before I could make sense of what was happening, two trucks came screeching to a halt further down the road, metal groaning against the weight of their sudden stop.

We knew on instinct that these people weren't looking to make friends.

Daryl cursed under his breath, his grip on the handlebars tightening as he swerved hard to the right, taking us off down a side road. The motorcycle groaned beneath us as we hit a pothole, the tires screeching against the pavement as he fought to keep control.

I barely had time to react, the world tilting wildly. The screech of the tires was followed by a gut-wrenching lurch. The bike jerked violently, and I felt the ground come up to meet us in a brutal crash.

The impact was unforgiving. My side screamed in protest, stitches ripping violently as the sharp, stinging pain shot through me like fire. I barely had time to process the agony before it consumed me, and my vision blurred as I fought to breathe, feeling the weight of the fall pressing down on me.

The world around became was a spinning blur.

"Ath!" Daryl's voice, sharp and panicked, cut through the fog in my mind. He was already pulling me up, one arm strong around my waist, his other hand grasping for my wrist. "M'sorry."

I tried to move, to keep myself steady, but the pain was almost unbearable. My side felt like it was on fire, the stitches torn by the jarring impact of the fall. My legs were weak beneath me, and my breath came out in sharp, uneven bursts.

"Ya okay?" Daryl's voice was low, desperate, his grip firm but gentle as his body pressed against mine to steady me.

I stumbled, feeling my knees buckle, but Daryl was there, a steady force holding me up. "I got ya," he said, his breath a mix of relief and worry as he adjusted his hold on me. His eyes never left me, scanning my face for any other signs of injury.

I forced a breath, pushing the pain to the back of my mind. "I'm... I'm fine," I managed to choke out, though I could feel the blood rushing to my head, dizzying me.

He didn't look convinced, his eyes narrowing in concern as he checked my side, his fingers brushing gently over my oozing wound. The pain flared sharply, and I hissed through my teeth, but I didn't have time to focus on it. The sound of yells, and the unmistakable clicks of guns being cocked told me there was no time to waste.

"We need to move," I forced myself to say, trying to sound steady despite the wave of dizziness threatening to overwhelm me.

Daryl gave me a quick glance, then nodded. Without another word, he reached for his crossbow, securing it quickly as he scanned the area.

I gritted my teeth against the pain. Every movement was agony, but I knew we didn't have a choice. The situation was slipping from our control quickly, and we needed to get out of there - now.

We trudged through the woods, Daryl pushing the bike in an attempt to stay quiet, not alert the herd. His eyes darted from shadow to shadow. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig made him freeze for a split second, like a coiled spring, ready to fight, ready to protect.

"Stay close," he murmured under his breath, his voice tight. He tried again to contact Rick through the walkie, then Sasha and Abraham. No response from either.

My breathing soon became heavy, uneven. The pain in my side worsening, my remaining stitches straining against every step.

Daryl grabbed my wrist, stopping me.

His fingers curled around the hem of my shirt, pulling it up just enough to see. His face darkened at the sight of the irritated wound, blood staining the gauze.

"Shit," he muttered.

"I'm fine."

He didn't seem convinced. I looked at his own sleeve and noticed blood seeping from a cut on his arm, fresh.

"We need to clean that," I told him.

He barely acknowledged my words. Instead, his head jerked up, eyes narrowing. He'd heard something.

Daryl's fingers twitched, his hand immediately moving to the crossbow slung across his back. I sucked in a breath, trying to quiet the growing panic in my chest.

Daryl's muscles were rigid, his eyes scanning every tree, every dark corner, searching for the source of the noise. Nothing. Silence. Only the slow pulse of my heartbeat in my ears.

He grabbed my wrist, pulling me behind a tree, then going back to hide the bike beneath a pile of branches.

Before he could rejoin me, two women emerged into the clearing - one slim, with dark hair and big doe eyes - the other was younger, shorter with a blonde pixie cut.

As soon as they spotted Daryl, my heart sank, and I leapt from behind the tree, rushing to his side.

"We earned what we took," one of the women told Daryl, as her and the other raised their hands in surrender.

The confusion that appeared on Daryl's face was just as blatant as on mine.

Who did they think we were?

Out of nowhere, the sound of something hitting Daryl's skull cut through the air from behind. My heart screamed, but before I could even react, I felt the rush of wind, my body moving too slow to process what was happening as the world blurred. A sharp pain exploded in my head, and then... darkness.

~

I heard voices in the distance, muffled and distorted.

When I came to, my head was spinning, my vision fuzzy, and I was on the cold ground. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear the fog.

Daryl. Where was he?

I tried to sit up, my side protesting loudly, but I couldn't. "No..." I whispered to myself as I spotted him. Daryl was slumped against a tree, bound, still unconscious. Blood stained his face and matted in his hair. Tears instantly welled in my eyes as I took is his appearance - his head wound must be bad.

I tried desperately to get to him, but I was tied tightly to a tree. I fought the ropes frantically, but to no avail.

I clocked one of the women, the younger looking of the two. "You." I yelled. "What the fuck? Let us go!"

She ignored me, rummaging through our packs, tossing our supplies onto the ground like they were nothing. The taller woman appeared into view, no doubt alerted by my yelling, followed by a man - skinny, dirty, with shaggy blonde hair.

That bastard had Daryl's crossbow slung over his back.

"That's not yours, asshole." I sneered at him. "Untie me. Now."

He didn't reply. Instead he neared Daryl.

"Don't you fucking touch him!" I roared, once again battling my restraints. "I'll kill you!"

He nudged Daryl with the barrel of his gun, stirring him back into consciousness. His eyes flicked open, but they were heavy, lidded... until they caught sight of me.

Instantly, he began thrashing, trying to escape the ropes tethering him to the tree opposite me.

"Ya fuckin' let her go." He growled at the skinny blonde man. "Ya hear me? Let her go!"

The man said something to Daryl. I couldn't hear what, but a glimmer of understanding graced his face.

"We ain't who ya think we are." Daryl told him firmly, his eyes flicking to me every couple of seconds.

The man pushed the butt of his gun further into Daryl's face. "Say something else. Go ahead."

"Stop!" I exclaimed. "We're not!"

The man looked at me, doubt evident in his eyes, his gun still trained on Daryl.

"You feel you gotta kneel?" He spat at me, turning back to face Daryl. "Fair enough. We don't."

"What the hell are you talking about!?" I shot back.

"D, maybe-" the taller of the two women started, but the man - D - cut her off.

"Let's get moving." He looked between Daryl and I. "If either of you try anything - you'll get to watch each other die."

The ropes bit into my wrists as they marched us through the woods, gun trained on us, the rough bark of branches scraping my arms as I stumbled over the uneven ground. My side throbbed with every step, but I gritted my teeth and kept moving. Daryl was just ahead of me, his hands tied just like mine, shoulders tense with barely restrained fury.

D - the bastard with the shaggy hair and hard eyes - led the way, keeping Daryl's crossbow slung over his back. My stomach twisted every time I saw it. That thing was his pride and joy.

Behind us, the two women followed, one of them - Sherry, I'd heard her called - glanced at me every so often. I could tell she was uncomfortable with the situation. There was a look of remorse in her eyes.

"People will trade anything for safety, for knowing that they're safe," she murmured, almost to herself.

Dwight scoffed. "Everything. So they got nothing left except... existing."

Daryl let out a quiet, bitter laugh. "Nobody's safe anymore. Can't promise people that anyhow."

Dwight shot him a look over his shoulder. "You could promise the people who want to hear it."

I clenched my jaw, swallowing the anger rising in my chest. The way D said it, like he'd seen it firsthand - people so desperate to believe in safety that they'd give up everything. Maybe he had.

Maybe he was one of them.

They were distracted, lost in their own twisted version of survival, and I knew Daryl was paying attention. Every step, every glance, every weak spot they revealed - he was storing it away, waiting for the right moment.

Then he dawdled, lagging closer to me indistinctly so they wouldn't be alerted, his fingers grazing mine for the briefest second - so fast and light that no one could have noticed. A silent signal. A question.

Ya ready?

I barely nodded, just enough for him to know.

His voice was low, meant only for me. "I'll take him down. Ya run."

I froze for half a second before shaking my head, firm and final. "No."

"Ath-"

"No," I cut in, my voice fierce but quiet. "We both go, or not at all."

"I'll get away later."

"No."

His jaw tensed, his lips pressing into a hard line, but he didn't argue anymore. He knew me. Knew there was no way in hell I'd leave him behind.

The moment came fast.

Daryl lunged.

I threw my weight into Sherry, my wrists still bound, sending her stumbling back and buying myself time. Daryl went for D, knocking him off balance. They hit the ground hard, rolling over rough earth. Daryl ripped his crossbow from D's back and pointed it at him.

I turned just in time to see the second woman reaching for her knife. Without thinking, I slammed my shoulder into her, ignoring the fire in my side as we both crashed to the ground.

Daryl was already up, already moving. The ropes on his wrists loosened where D had struggled with him, and in a single sharp motion, he broke free. He wrenched me from the floor, dragging me away by my arm.

We ran, Daryl's grip not loosening on me for a second.

Branches whipped past us, the forest closing in as we pushed forward. My breath was ragged, my side screaming, but I didn't slow down.

The bike wasn't far. We just had to get to it...

A low, guttural growl cut through the air.

I skidded to a stop, my boots kicking up dirt. Walkers. Fuck.

They were ahead of us, stumbling out from between the trees. More than a few, but not an overwhelming horde. Still, they blocked our path, and we had no choice but to fight.

Daryl fumbled with my bindings, and within seconds, I was free of them. Then, he was moving, sinking a bolt into the skull of the closest walker. I followed suit, unarmed, but using my bare hands with practiced efficiency.

One by one, we took them down, our movements sharp and precise. My muscles burned, and I could feel the strain in my side, but adrenaline pushed me through it.

The last walker hit the ground. I barely had time to catch my breath before I heard it - the sound of an engine turning over.

Daryl's head snapped up.

Then the motorcycle roared to life.

"Shit," I breathed, turning just in time to see it.

Through the trees, D appeared straddling Carter's bike, revving the throttle.

Daryl raised his crossbow, but at the same time, a felt cold metal pressing against the back of my head.

"You do that, and she dies." Sherry scowled.

Daryl turned his crossbow to Sherry, but D, slowing to a stop, had his gun pointed at me now also.

"We can all walk away from this." D reasoned. "Let us go, your lady lives."

I saw the fury in Daryl's eyes as he took in the two guns trained on me, but he slowly lowered his crossbow.

"Give it to me." D demanded, tipping his head at the weapon.

Daryl didn't move.

"Give it to me, or I'll shoot her right now."

Daryl trembled with rage as he handed his precious weapon over. I could see his brain working, trying to figure out a way to disarm both D and Sherry, but there wasn't one. Our only option was surrender.

Sherry climbed onto the back of the motorcycle. D slung Daryl's crossbow over his shoulder like it had always been his. My blood boiled.

Sherry tossed a few medical packs at my feet. "Sorry." She mumbled, looking genuinely regretful.

"Yur gonna be." Daryl grated out.

The tires kicked up dirt as they sped off, disappearing into the woods.

Silence fell.

Daryl scooped up the medical packs. I took a shaky breath, swallowing the frustration that threatened to boil over.

I threw myself into his arms. I was furious that Daryl had been hurt, his crossbow taken, but he was safe, we both were - and that was what mattered.

He held me tight, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "Ya okay?"

"Yeah." I lied as he released me, lifting my shirt to check my bloody side. "Are you? Your head?"

"Mhmh." He muttered. "C'mon. Let's get you back to the infirmary."

"We have to find Sasha and Abraham." I protested.

"Ath, yur bleedin'-"

"And you're holding medical packs." I countered. "We have to find them. They might still be on the route, if those men..." I trailed off.

Daryl swallowed, then nodded. "Lemme patch ya up first."

He fixed me up as best he could with the supplies Sherry had tossed, and we started moving. Hoping to find a vehicle.

The transport we found? I never would've expected it.

A big-ass fuel truck. And the keys were still inside.

Of course, there was the small issue of the walker groaning in the cab, but Daryl made quick work of it, yanking the body out and tossing it aside like garbage.

"Holy shit." I let out a breathless laugh as I climbed up, wincing slightly. Daryl braced my side, steadying me. "Cool ride."

"Pretty sweet." He smirked, but his eyes flicked to my bandage. "The bleeding slowin'?"

I lifted my shirt just enough to check. "Yeah. I'll be fine."

He didn't look convinced. His gaze lingered on the bandage, fingers twitching slightly like he wanted to double-check himself. But after a second, he just gave a small nod, shut the door, and made his way around to the driver's side.

The engine growled to life.

"Sorry about your crossbow," I murmured, knowing it how much it meant to him.

Daryl stared straight ahead. "S'just a weapon." His voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it.

"It's not," I countered. "I know how precious it is to you..."

He hesitated for a moment, then glanced sideways at me. "Ain't as precious as my wife."

A stupid grin spread across my face before I could stop it.

"We'll get it back," I promised. "We'll make them sorry, just like you told them."

"Mhmh," he muttered. "Gotta. Ya know the deal. Anyone who tries to take ya away from me..."

There was a raw frustration in his voice. He was pissed - not just about losing Carter's bike or his weapon, but about letting Dwight and Sherry get away.

"You didn't have a choice back there," I told him gently. "You couldn't have done anything different without getting me shot in the head. Tandem style."

He didn't answer. Just gripped the wheel a little tighter.

We drove in silence for a while, the hum of the engine filling the space between us. Eventually, I turned to him, my voice hesitant.

"Do you think Sasha and Abraham are okay?"

"We'll find out." He sighed.

"And Rick?"

His lips pressed into a thin line. "Rick's tough. Plus, Michonne's with 'im."

"She is a badass with that new katana."

"She's a badass even without the new katana." He shot me a sidelong glance. "Not as badass as ya, though."

I chuckled. "You don't have to say that." Then, quieter, "It's true, though."

Daryl smirked briefly, but it faded fast. "I jus' hope Alexandria's still standin'... Trial run, my ass."

"What a fucking day." I sighed dramatically. "When are we gonna catch a... Stop!"

Daryl hit the brakes before I even finished.

Ahead, on the side of the road, stood Sasha and Abraham, both of them looking like they'd seen some shit.

Wait... was Abraham seriously holding an RPG launcher?

I had questions.

Daryl pulled over, and the second Abraham spotted the truck, his face split into a wide grin.

"Jesus, Dixons," he drawled. "That is one sweet-ass ride. I need a turn at driving this thing."

Without hesitation, he settled the deadly weapon in the back of the truck, before climbing up and sliding into the driver's seat. Sasha hauled herself up next, giving us a pointed look as Daryl pulled me onto his lap.

"Get a room," she scoffed, though there was a lightness to her voice that hadn't I hadn't heard in a while.

"Only three seats," Daryl shot back, his arms locking securely around my waist.

Sasha rolled her eyes, but I didn't miss the way she smiled.

"Home please, driver... If we've still got one..." I told Abraham as the engine roared to life. "And were on earth did you find an RPG launcher..?"

~

The rumble of the fuel truck felt almost too loud against the quiet of the open road. The weight of exhaustion pressed down on all of us, but it didn't dull the gnawing unease creeping up my spine.

We were close now. Alexandria wasn't far. But with each mile, the dread grew thicker. The herd had been massive-hundreds of walkers, maybe more. And then that damn horn...

Daryl's face was set in stone, hands still gripping my waist as I perched in his lap. His eyes flicked to the road, then the side mirror, ever-watchful.

Beside us, Abraham had one hand draped lazily over the wheel, but his other was clenched into a fist on his knee. Sasha sat on our other side, her rifle resting across her lap, fingers drumming against the stock.

None of us spoke, but we all knew what was coming. We'd been gone too long. We had no idea what we were heading back to.

Just as we crested a small hill, the truck's headlights caught the outline of something blocking the road ahead.

A group of men.

Bikes lined across the pavement like a barricade.

Daryl's body tensed.

"Stop," he instructed, low and rough.

Abraham sucked in a sharp breath. "What in the holy shit..."

The figures stood unmoving, their silhouettes dark against the road, waiting.

One of the men stepped forward, casual as you like, speaking loud enough to carry over the truck's growling engine.

"Why don't you come on out?" The man called, his tone light, almost conversational. "Join us in the road."

No one moved.

He sighed, tilting his head, as if he were giving us a choice we could actually make.

"If you wanna resist, try something, I mean... it's a choice, I guess. But we will end your ass. We will split you right in two. Straight through to the sinuses." He tapped a finger against his temple, smiling. "So, come on."

Abraham's jaw twitched, but after a beat, he exhaled sharply through his nose and killed the engine.

The silence after the engine cut out was suffocating.

Sasha was the first to move, pushing open the door with slow, measured movements. I followed, Daryl right behind me. Abraham hopped down, standing tall, waiting.

The man's smile widened.

"That's great," he praised. "Doing well right out of the gate." He spread his arms, as if welcoming us. "Now step two. Hand over your weapons."

Daryl didn't move. "Why should we?"

The man's smirk didn't waver, but there was a glint in his eyes, something cold and amused.

"Well," he said, "they're not yours."

Abraham let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "What?"

The man took a few steps forward, his boots crunching against the gravel.

"See..." he started, speaking slow like he was explaining something to a couple of idiots. "Your weapons, your truck, the fuel in your truck, if you got mints in your glove compartment, if you got porn underneath the seat, change in the seats, hell, the seats themselves, the floor mats, your maps, the stash of emergency napkins you got there in your console... none of those things are yours anymore."

Sasha lifted her chin, her stance unshaken. "Whose are they?"

The man stopped walking. Smiled wider.

"Your property now belongs to Negan."

His voice was almost too casual, like this was just some friendly business transaction. Like we were all supposed to nod along and hand over everything we had.

But we weren't about to roll over.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I glanced at Daryl. His jaw was tight. Abraham's nostrils flared. Sasha was unreadable, her lips pressing into a thin line.

Who the hell was Negan?

And could this day get any fucking worse?

"Take the redneck," the leader suddenly ordered, flicking his fingers toward Daryl. "Check out the truck."

One of the goons, a scraggly-looking guy with a rifle slung across his chest, nodded and grabbed Daryl by the arm. I instinctively shifted, muscles coiling, but he gave me a subtle shake of his head.

Not yet.

I clenched my fists, watching as he was led toward the back of the truck. His shoulders were tight, his steps careful. He was looking for a way out.

Sasha, Abraham, and I stayed where we were, standing in the middle of the road as the leader turned back to us, his smirk widening.

"Now, where were we?" he mused, rubbing his chin.

Sasha squared her shoulders. "Who the hell is Negan?"

The man chuckled. "Oh, honey... you'll find out."

Abraham snorted, unimpressed. "You know, you're doing a lot of talkin' for a man standin' in the middle of the road like a dumbass."

The leader tilted his head, amused. "You see, usually, we introduce ourselves by just popping one of you right off the bat," he explained, tapping a finger against his temple. "But you seem like reasonable people. I mean, you're sportin' dress blues, for Christ's sake." His eyes flicked to Abraham's military uniform before sweeping lazily over Sasha and I.

I forced myself to stay still, breathing slow, waiting.

"And, like I said, we're gonna drive you back to where you were." He grinned, flashing too many teeth. "I mean, do you know how awkward it is carpooling with someone whose friend or friends you've just killed? Oof."

Abraham's jaw flexed. I flicked my eyes toward the back of the truck, where my husband was.

The leader sighed dramatically. "But I told you not to ask questions. And what does this ginger do?" He tsked, shaking his head. "So that's that. I don't want you to get the wrong impression of me."

Then he pulled out his pistol and levelled it at Abraham's head.

My breath caught. Sasha stiffened.

"Wait! Wait," she snapped, voice sharp.

The leader barely looked at her, his aim steady.

"You don't have to do this," she tried again, her voice low, coaxing.

Abraham stood his ground, his expression calm. Unshaken.

The leader huffed a short laugh and pulled out a second pistol, aiming it at Sasha this time. "Shut up," he muttered.

I tensed, shifting slightly, looking for an opening, anything.

Sasha held her hands up slightly. "I am talking to the man."

The leader cocked his head, eyes gleaming.

"No, you're not," he said simply.

The click of the hammers was deafening.

Shit.

His finger twitched on the trigger.

Then the world erupted.

A massive explosion tore through the night, sending flames and debris flying. The shockwave hit me hard, making my ears ring as I staggered back. The bikers were screaming - those who were still alive, anyway. The leader's body crumpled like a ragdoll, his head engulfed in flames.

I blinked, trying to get my bearings, heart hammering in my chest.

What had just happened?

And where was Daryl?

Daryl stepped out from behind the truck, the RPG launcher Abraham had found in hand. Smoke curled lazily from the barrel, the firelight flickering in his narrowed eyes. Behind him, the biker who had escorted him was a motionless heap on the ground.

He barely spared the bodies a glance.

"Sumbitches" he muttered, lowering the weapon.

Sasha exhaled sharply, still gripping her rifle. Abraham was staring at the burning remains of the leader, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

"Nibble on that," he muttered, shaking his head.

I let out a shaky breath, adrenaline still surging. Daryl made his way back toward us, and I immediately grabbed his arm, eyes scanning him for injuries.

The biker behind the truck had put up a fight.

"Son of a bitch was tougher than he looks," Daryl admitted, wiping at a cut on his cheek.

Sasha stepped closer, brow furrowed as she noticed blood seeping through the back of his shirt. "Did he cut you?"

"A little. What a bunch of assholes.

I inspected his wound. "Looks nasty. You okay?"

Daryl nodded, but his gaze flicked back to the burning wreckage."We should get the hell outta here."

No argument there.

We climbed back into the truck and left the smouldering remains behind us, heading for Alexandria with the weight of what had just happened settling heavily in my chest.

A/N: Thank you for your votes and comments! ❤️