Chapter 62 - Daryl

We waited all day for an opening.

Stayed close. Watched. Only one guard on duty. The Saviors were getting sloppy.

The moment came when the door cracked open and out walked dumbass himself—Eugene—his stupid mullet flapping in the breeze like it had somewhere better to be.

I didn't hesitate. Took the guard out clean, and watched with cold satisfaction as Eugene froze in horror, his eyes going wide. He turned to bolt—only to see Rosita drop the second guard in a swift, silent move.

Too late.

I grabbed the back of his wrinkled white shirt, shoved the barrel of my gun against his skull.

"Move."

He did, stumbling over his own feet as I pushed him forward, hard. No more running. We tied his hands behind his back and marched him out, away from the bullet shop and into the trees.

He started talking, of course. Because that's what Eugene does. Useless, sniveling bullshit spilling from his mouth like he thought it would make a difference.

"I understand the—uh—sentimental motivation of camaraderie, and I do recognize your decision to keep me alive thus far," he rambled, his Southern twang making every word grate on my nerves. "I've, uh, let certain things go in pursuit of—"

I stopped walking. Slid my knife from its sheath.

Spun around, fast.

I slammed the butt of my crossbow into his chest, knocking him off balance, then grabbed a fistful of his shirt, hauling him close.

"Shut your fuckin' mouth," I growled, knife raised to his face, eyes locked on his. "Say one more word, and I'll cut out your goddamn tongue."

He gasped. Backed up fast, eyes wide, breath stuttering. Coward to his bones.

"Enough!" Rosita snapped, stepping between us. She shoved me back with one arm, holding Eugene steady with the other. "We've gotta keep moving. They'll be looking for him by now."

I didn't answer. Just kept walking.

Knife in one hand. Crossbow in the other. Rage simmering just under my skin.

Eugene kept whining. Trying to explain himself. Trying to rationalize.

"It was Rick," he insisted, voice cracking. "Rick's the one who pushed us to go after the Saviors. He's the one who started all this. Forced us into this storm of chaos—"

That was it.

Rosita spun on him so fast he didn't have time to breathe. She yanked her gun from the holster and pressed it under his jaw.

"Say one more word," she hissed. "I dare you."

He froze. His breath hitched.

"You are a coward," she said, low and lethal. "You're selfish. A traitor. Shooting you in the head right here, right now? That'd be a goddamn gift to the world."

I watched him break. Shoulders trembling. Eyes glassy. Tears starting to spill down his cheeks.

"But we're not gonna kill you," Rosita went on, voice like steel. "Not because we care. Not because you deserve it. We're keeping you alive for one reason only." She thumped a finger against his forehead. "What's in here."

She stepped back, holstered her weapon, and grabbed his bound wrists.

"We're gonna toss you in the darkest hole we can find," she said coldly. "And the only time you'll see daylight is when we need you to teach us somethin'. That's it. That's your new purpose."

Then she gave him a hard tug.

He stumbled forward, crying now, quiet and pitiful.

And I didn't look back.

We made it back to the car without another incident—and, thank Christ, without another word from Eugene. A small herd of six or seven walkers had gathered around the vehicle, pawing at the doors.

"I got 'em," I muttered to Rosita, jerking my chin at Eugene. "Keep your eyes on him."

I raised the crossbow, firing quick bolts into rotting skulls. The last one dropped, and I turned back just in time to see Eugene double over.

He vomited all down Rosita's front.

She gagged violently, cursing as the stink hit her nose.

And the bastard—hands still tied—tried to run.

"Son of a—"

Rosita lifted her gun, popping shots at the dirt near his feet as we tore after him. He squirmed between some broken fence boards like the slimy little weasel he was and took off into the trees.

We searched. Called. Searched again. Nothing.

Eugene was gone.

"Slimy little fucker," I growled, slamming my crossbow back against my shoulder as Rosita and I stomped back to the car. "Let's just get the fuck home."

The ride was pure hell. Rosita bitched the entire way about the smell soaking her clothes, gagging every other sentence. I just cracked the window and let the cold air slap me in the face. Better than gagging on mullet-boy puke fumes.

By the time we rolled into Hilltop, I was done. The second the car stopped, I bailed like my ass was on fire. Straight back to our trailer. Boots off, vest off, stripped down to my boxers before my brain could catch up.

"Oh, look," Ella's soft voice teased from the bed. "A treat for me."

"Woman," I grumbled, dragging a hand through my hair. "You don't even wanna know the fuckin' smell I just sat in for the last half hour."

Her laugh broke the tension in my chest. "Eugene smells that bad?"

"No," I sighed, collapsing down beside her, shoulders heavy. "The bastard got away."

Her smirk slipped into a frown. "Shit. That's not good."

"No it fuckin' ain't." I let my eyes slide closed, the quiet of the trailer wrapping around me like a blanket. Too quiet. I cracked one eye open, suspicious. "Where's the kids?"

"Maggie's got Ian on garden duty. Enid took Gracie and Ruby." Ella shifted closer, her eyes warm with mischief. "So that means..." She leaned in, pressing a slow kiss to my bare chest. "...Mommy and Daddy get some alone time."

A low groan slipped out of me as her lips trailed higher. "Woman, don't tease me now."

"Who, me?" Her voice was pure silk as she straddled my hips, her kisses grazing up my neck. "I'd never tease you, baby."

My hands clamped to her hips, squeezing tight. A growl rumbled in my chest as I rocked her against me. "You're a filthy liar."

Her giggle was like fire in my veins.

"You live to tease me," I rasped, dragging her closer, needing her like air.

"Maybe I do," she whispered against my lips, brushing them but not giving me what I needed. Her hips rolled slow, lazy, making my pulse hammer in my throat.

"Ella," I growled, my patience gone to hell. My fingers dug into her hips, holding her still when she tried to grind again. "You keep teasin' and I'll—"

"You'll what?" she taunted, her voice soft, dangerous, the corner of her mouth tugging up.

"I'll flip you over and show you," I shot back, my tone low enough to make her shiver.

Her eyes darkened, her body shuddering over me. "Maybe I want you to."

That was all the permission I needed.

In one move I had her on her back, my body pressing her into the mattress, my mouth on her throat. She let out a gasp that turned into a whimper when I bit down gently at the curve of her neck.

"God, Daryl," she panted, clutching at my shoulders. "We don't... we don't have long."

"I'll make it count," I promised, my hands roaming lower, sliding beneath the waistband of her pants. "Always do."

Her laugh was breathless, desperate, cut off when I caught her mouth with mine, deep and messy. She tasted like home, like the only good thing left in this broken world.

She arched into me, fingers tangling in my hair, pulling, urging me closer. My control snapped, every part of me aching for her, needing her.

"I missed you," I groaned against her lips. "All day, all I could think 'bout was gettin' back here, back to you."

"I'm right here," she whispered, her words shaky as her hands slid down my chest, tugging me closer until there was no space left between us. "Always."

I kissed her harder, swallowing the sound she made as I pushed us past teasing, past playful. No more slow burn—this was fire, wild and consuming.

The kind that could burn the whole damn world down.

Her laugh cut off in a gasp when my hand slid under her waistband, fingers slipping through her slick heat.

"Already drippin' for me," I growled against her throat, biting at the skin just enough to make her arch. "Goddamn, woman—you're gonna ruin me."

She bucked into my hand, nails digging at my shoulders. "You drive me insane, Dixon. Always have."

I shoved two fingers inside her, curling hard, making her whimper, her hips jerking like she couldn't help herself. I watched her face the whole time—those parted lips, that desperate little frown when I hit just right.

"Daryl," she begged, voice breaking. "Please. I need you—now."

That was all I needed. I tore her pants down, yanked mine low, and drove into her in one hard, brutal thrust. She cried out, head snapping back, and I swallowed the sound with my mouth, kissing her like I'd never let her breathe again.

"Fuck," I snarled, slamming into her again, deeper, harder. "So tight, so goddamn perfect. Mine."

Her legs locked around my waist, dragging me closer, and she met every thrust like she was starving. "Don't stop," she gasped, scratching down my back hard enough to sting. "Don't you dare stop."

I gritted my teeth, sweat sliding down my spine as I pounded into her, rough and relentless. The trailer walls rattled, the sound of skin and breath and broken cries filling the space. She clung to me like she'd fall apart without me, and maybe she would. Maybe I would too.

Her voice rose, higher and higher, until it broke into a scream. "Daryl—I'm—"

"Let go," I ordered, fucking her harder, deeper, chasing the way her body clenched around me. "Give it to me, baby. Give me everything."

She shattered in my arms, back bowing, walls squeezing me so tight I saw stars. I growled low and filthy, burying myself deep as I came with a violent shudder, losing everything inside her.

We collapsed together, bodies shaking, slick and tangled, hearts still hammering like we'd run through fire. I kept her caged to my chest, still buried inside her, like I couldn't stand to let go.

Breathless, I kissed her damp skin, tasting sweat and her sweetness all mixed together. "Still think we're stoppin' at three?" I rasped against her ear.

She groaned weakly, smacking my chest without much heat. "Shut up. I can barely handle two and being pregnant."

I smirked, still pulsing inside her, refusing to move. "Guess I'll just have to keep convincin' you."

I was still buried inside her, both of us panting, skin slick with sweat. Her chest heaved against mine, hair stuck to her damp face, but her nails were still digging into my back like she didn't want me going anywhere.

"Fuck," she whispered, voice wrecked, trembling under me. "You... you wreck me every time."

I smirked against her jaw, biting down hard enough to leave my mark. "Good. Then you know how it feels." I shifted my hips slow, dragging out of her just to slam back in deep. Her whole body jolted, a broken cry ripping out of her throat.

"Daryl—" she gasped, clutching me tighter, like she couldn't decide if she wanted to push me away or pull me deeper.

"Yeah, baby," I growled, rolling my hips, grinding into her until she whimpered. "Can't get enough of you. Never could."

Her legs locked harder around me, trying to match me thrust for thrust even though her body was already shaking from the last orgasm. I groaned at the way she still clutched me, hot and greedy.

"You're insatiable," she whispered, nails dragging down my sweaty shoulders.

"Look who's talkin'," I shot back, thrusting harder just to hear the way her breath hitched. "Cryin' for more when I ain't even done emptyin' myself in you."

She whimpered, her voice gone high and needy, and that sound damn near undid me all over again.

I braced my hands on either side of her head, sweat dripping from my temples as I drove into her, over and over, until her back arched and she fell apart again, her cries muffled against my chest. I followed her right over the edge, shoving in deep and holding her tight as my release tore through me a second time, leaving me raw, drained, but still unwilling to let her go.

We stayed like that—messy, sweaty, clinging to each other in the dark. My breath rasped in her ear, hers shaky against my chest. My hands roamed her body like I had to memorize every line, every curve, every mark.

"Still mine," I muttered against her skin, half a growl, half a vow.

"Always," she whispered back, pressing her lips to my throat.

I rolled onto my side, pulling her with me so she stayed tucked against my chest. Both of us were sticky with sweat, breathing uneven, but I couldn't bring myself to let go. My hand traced lazy circles over the curve of her back, my lips brushing her damp hair.

"Think we broke the damn bed," I murmured, my voice rough but warm.

She let out a sleepy laugh, pressing her smile into my collarbone. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"Won't be the last," I said, kissing the top of her head.

She hummed, snuggling closer, her palm sliding over my chest until it rested above my heart. "It's still racing," she whispered. "Like it's trying to catch up."

"Can't help it when you're lookin' at me like that," I teased, tipping her chin up with my finger. She was flushed and beautiful, hair a tangled halo, eyes soft and heavy with exhaustion.

"You make me crazy," she admitted, voice quiet, raw. "Even after everything. Even when I'm tired. Even when I feel like the world's falling apart. You... you make me feel safe."

My throat tightened, the words hitting me deeper than I expected. I brushed my thumb over her cheek, catching the edge of a dried tear I hadn't noticed earlier. "Ain't nothin' in this world gonna take me from you. You hear me? Not Negan. Not walkers. Nothin'."

She nodded, eyes glassy, and pressed a kiss to my chest, right where her hand rested over my heart. "I know," she whispered. "That's why I can breathe."

We lay there in silence, the kind that wasn't heavy but soft, like a blanket wrapped around us. My hand found her belly, resting there gently. She covered it with her own, and I felt her thumb rub slow circles over my knuckles.

"Our little chaos-maker," she murmured, smiling faintly.

"Kid's gonna be trouble," I said, half chuckling, half serious. "Already is."

She tilted her head up to kiss me, soft and lingering, nothing like the frantic heat from before. Just love. Just us.

We were still tangled together when the distant sound of little voices hit my ears. I groaned softly, burying my face in Ella's hair.

"They're back," I muttered.

Ella sighed, pressing one last kiss to my chest before rolling out of bed. "We should probably... y'know."

"Yeah," I said, forcing myself up. My muscles protested, the sweet ache of her still clinging to me. I tugged on my boxers and grabbed my jeans off the floor. Ella pulled my shirt over her head—it hung loose and long enough to cover her thighs, and I had to bite back a grin.

"Don't look at me like that," she whispered, smirking.

"Can't help it," I said honestly, dragging a shirt over my head just as the door banged open.

"Dad!" Ian came barreling in full speed, almost tripping over his own feet in his rush.

"Careful, boy!" I barked, catching him before he could plow straight into the dresser. He giggled like a little maniac, all wild energy and flushed cheeks.

Behind him, Enid stepped in, balancing Gracie on one hip and Ruby on the other. "Sorry," she said, looking a little frazzled. "He got away from me."

"No shock there," Ella chuckled, moving quickly to take Ruby from her. "Thank you, Enid."

"No problem." Enid adjusted Gracie and passed her over too. "Both girls were good. Just hungry."

Ella settled into the chair by the crib, both babies in her arms, while Ian clambered up onto the bed and sprawled across it like he owned the place. Judith and Carl trailed in behind, Carl looking tired but amused.

"See?" Ian beamed at me, kicking his legs. "Told you I'd be faster than Enid."

I raised a brow, crossing my arms. "You keep runnin' off like that and I'll tie bells to your shoes so I can hear you comin' a mile away."

He groaned dramatically, but Ella laughed, shaking her head as she got the babies settled.

And just like that, the trailer was full again—kids climbing, babies fussing, Enid and Carl talking over each other. Chaos. Loud, messy, perfect chaos.

I caught Ella's eye across the room. Even with Ruby tugging at her shirt and Gracie whining, she gave me the smallest smile. Soft. Secret. The kind of smile that said she was just as grateful as I was that this was ours.

~

The trailer felt too damn small with all of us crammed inside, but it was the best kind of crowded.

Judith was the first to stir the pot—she toddled over to Ian, climbed right up onto the bed beside him, and snatched the pillow from under his head.

"Mine!" she declared, blonde hair falling into her face.

"Hey!" Ian shouted, grabbing it back. "No, it's mine!"

Next thing I knew, they were wrestling like a pair of wild cats. Ian had the advantage, being bigger, but Judith had teeth and no sense of mercy.

"Don't you dare bite him!" Ella barked from her chair, bouncing Gracie on her knee while Ruby fussed in the crook of her other arm.

"I didn't!" Judith screeched, baring her teeth anyway.

"Ian Samuel Dixon, if you make Judith cry, you're sleeping outside with the chickens." I warned, leaning over to yank the pillow from both their hands.

"Unfair!" Ian grumbled.

"Life's unfair," I said, tossing the pillow to Carl. "You two—bed patrol."

Carl snorted but kept the pillow, dropping down beside Ian. Judith immediately climbed into his lap like she'd never once been a terror. "See?" she cooed, kissing his cheek. "I'm sweet."

Carl rolled his eye. "Sure you are, Judy-bug."

I moved to help Ella, swapping Ruby into my arms so she could focus on feeding Gracie. Ruby fussed for a second, then burrowed right into my chest with a sleepy whimper. My heart damn near melted.

Dinner was a mess, but we managed. Carl helped me keep the older two in their seats long enough to eat without throwing food across the trailer. Ian poked at his beans, Judith shoved half of hers up her nose, and I swear Carl had to physically hold her still while Ella fished the mess back out.

By the time the babies were changed and in the crib, the big kids were still going strong.

"Story!" Judith demanded, bouncing on Ian's bed.

"No, sword fight!" Ian countered, swinging a stick he'd smuggled in from outside.

"Both of you—teeth brushed, bed. Now." Ella's voice cut sharp, the Mom Voice making both kids freeze.

They groaned in unison but obeyed, scampering to the corner where their little cups and brush sets were. Carl helped wrangle them through the routine, grumbling the whole time about how he wasn't the one who should be babysitting.

Finally—finally—the lights were dim, the kids piled into bed. Judith curled against Carl, Ian sprawled half across his legs like a puppy. The babies were out cold, soft little snores filling the crib.

The trailer went quiet except for Ella's sigh as she sank into bed beside me.

"Think we survived the night," she murmured, laying her head on my shoulder.

"Barely," I whispered back, pressing a kiss to her hair.

But as I looked around—at the mess, the kids piled up everywhere, the crib full of soft little breaths—I knew I wouldn't trade a damn thing. Not one.