Bloodlines.

Chapter Thirteen: Time to get Daryl back.

The atmosphere in Alexandria grew heavier with each passing second as Negan's presence loomed over the group like a storm cloud. The Saviors stood silently, their weapons at the ready, watching every movement like hawks. The Alexandrians gathered around Rick, their expressions a mix of fear, confusion, and anger.

Negan, casually leaning on Lucille, tapped the bat lightly against the ground as he addressed Rick. "You better find me those missing weapons, Rick. Because I am not leaving here without them. And trust me, you do not want me to get creative on how I'll find them."

Rick trembled, his hands shaking at his sides. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out.

Before he could muster a response, Alyssa stepped forward, her jaw tight and her gaze blazing. "Rosita and Michonne are on a run," she said, her voice sharp. "They've got weapons with them."

Negan turned to her, a smirk curling across his lips. "Oh, sweetheart, I'm sure they do. But not that many weapons. Don't try to play me, Miss Mouth. You and I both know someone here is holding out." He spun around dramatically, pointing Lucille at Rick. "Now, Rick the Prick—here's the deal. You're gonna step up, address your people, and make this right. Because if you don't..." He let the threat hang in the air, a sinister grin on his face.

Rick swallowed hard, glancing nervously at Alyssa before stepping forward. His voice wavered as he called out, "Everyone, gather around. Now."

The Alexandrians slowly approached, their murmurs dying down as they noticed Rick's trembling form. Alyssa stood slightly behind him, her arms crossed tightly as she bristled under the weight of the situation.

Rick cleared his throat, his voice cracking. "Look... I'm not in charge anymore." He hesitated, his gaze darting to Negan, who raised an eyebrow as if daring him to stop. "Negan is."

The crowd erupted in whispers and gasps, their disbelief palpable.

Rick raised a hand to silence them. "Please... if you're hiding weapons, give them up. Now." His voice was desperate, pleading. "We can't—" His words faltered, and he glanced at Alyssa again before finishing. "We can't fight him."

Negan clapped his hands mockingly, stepping forward to stand next to Rick. "Now, that's a man who knows his place," he drawled, spinning Lucille in his hand.

The tension in the air thickened as Alyssa's sharp words cut through the silence like a blade.

"He's not in charge anymore," she said, her voice firm and unwavering as she glared at Negan.

Negan tilted his head, leaning casually against Lucille with an exaggerated smirk. "And you are?" he asked, his voice dripping with amusement.

Alyssa didn't flinch. She stepped forward, standing directly in front of him, her fiery gaze locked onto his. "Yeah. I am."

The Alexandrians exchanged nervous glances, their eyes darting between Alyssa and Negan. Rick remained frozen, his trembling hands betraying his fragile state.

Negan straightened up, his smirk faltering for just a second as he looked Alyssa up and down again. His mind raced. This couldn't do. He didn't want her taking charge here—she was a loose cannon, unpredictable. And more importantly, he wanted her at the Sanctuary. But he couldn't make his intentions obvious. Not yet. Doing so would ignite a war before he was ready. No, he'd have to break her in other ways, make her bend to his will.

His smirk returned as he drawled, "Well, alright then, Leader Grimes. You find me those weapons. Right now."

Alyssa shrugged, her expression unreadable. She spun on her heel and stalked off toward the east wall, her pace brisk and determined. The Alexandrians murmured amongst themselves as they watched her go, unsure whether to feel hope or dread.