Unbreakable threads

Chapter Seventy Four: Escaping Terminus.

As Alyssa shifted back toward Rick, ready to help devise a plan, the metallic screech of the cart door flinging open made her whip around. Gareth and his men appeared like shadows against the dim light, their faces cold and methodical. Smoke bombs flew into the cart, the room instantly filling with choking white clouds that made everyone cough and splutter.

In the chaos, Gareth's voice rang out, clear and commanding. "Grab some of the men—and the girl."

Alyssa barely had time to react before rough hands grabbed her arms. She thrashed and fought, but the men holding her were too strong, dragging her out of the cart along with Rick, Daryl, Bob, and Glenn. The rest of the group—Maggie, Carl, Michonne, Sasha, Tara, and the others—were left behind, their shouts muffled by the haze of smoke as the door slammed shut again.

Gareth's men forced the five of them into the nearby building, shoving them roughly through the dim hallways. Alyssa stumbled but kept her head high, her glare sharp and defiant. She could feel Rick and Daryl's presence nearby, their anger radiating off them like heat, but it wasn't enough to comfort her. Her mind was spinning, trying to process what was happening and how to turn it to their advantage.

They were dragged into a large, sterile-looking room, its cold, clinical atmosphere sending chills down Alyssa's spine. A metal trough sat in the center, its purpose horrifyingly clear, with various bloodstains around the edges. The realization hit Alyssa like a punch to the gut: this wasn't just a trap—Terminus was eating people.

Gareth stood calmly on the other side of the room, his expression eerily composed as he looked them over. He gestured for his men to start, and they forced Rick, Daryl, Bob, Glenn, and Alyssa to kneel in a line by the trough. One of Gareth's men stepped forward, a baseball bat in hand, while another stood by with a large knife, clearly ready to finish the job.

Alyssa's breathing quickened, but her expression twisted into something dark—a mix of fury and warped humor that served as her defense. She looked up at Gareth, her voice cutting through the tense air like a blade. "So, what is this? Dinner prep? Hope you don't mind, but I Don't think I'd taste too good."

Gareth raised an eyebrow, clearly unamused. "We do what we have to survive," he said evenly, his tone calm but laced with menace.

Alyssa scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "Yeah, survival. Sure. 'Cause nothing says thriving community like bashing people's heads in and throwing 'em on the grill."

Daryl, kneeling beside her, shot her a quick look, equal parts impressed and alarmed. Rick, on her other side, stayed silent, his eyes burning with quiet, controlled rage as he stared Gareth down.

Gareth smirked faintly, his gaze settling on Alyssa. "You're a lot like him," he said, nodding toward Rick. "Makes sense. You're his kid, after all aren't you? The look is uncanny"

Alyssa bared her teeth in a defiant grin. "Yeah, and that should worry you," she snapped. "He's got a habit of making people like you regret underestimating him. Me too."

Gareth's smirk faded, his patience thinning. He gestured to the man with the bat, who stepped forward, his grip tightening on the weapon. "You talk a lot for someone who's about to die," Gareth said coolly.

Alyssa's heart pounded in her chest, but she didn't flinch, her dark humor acting as her armor. "Well, might as well keep it interesting," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Not like your cooking show's gonna win any awards."

Rick's voice cut through the tension, low and full of menace. "You're making a mistake," he growled, his gaze locked on Gareth. "You don't know who you're dealing with."

Gareth tilted his head, amused but cautious. "Oh, I think I do," he replied. "You're desperate people. Just like everyone else who comes here. But we're smarter. And we're alive."