Bloodlines.

Chapter Ninteen: Alexandria Without Alyssa

Back at Alexandria

Tension was suffocating the community like a heavy fog. The group was low on food, their cupboards bare, and their once impressive arsenal had been reduced to knives, axes, and Daryl's crossbow. Anxiety rippled through the streets, whispers of fear and uncertainty lingering in every conversation.

Tara had returned from her two-week run with Heath, but she came back alone, her face haunted and worn. Rick and the others gathered around her as she stood at the gates, trembling as she explained what had happened.

"Heath's gone," she said, her voice breaking. "We got overrun. I—I fell off a bridge, got washed downriver, and ended up on some shore. There was this community—Oceanside. They had guns, but... they didn't trust me. I don't know if they will ever be an option"

Rick stepped forward, filling her in on everything that had happened while she was gone: Negan's arrival, the murders of Glenn and Abraham, Daryl's capture, and how Alyssa had sacrificed herself to save him. Tara's face turned pale as the weight of the news hit her.

"Alyssa?" she whispered. "She's... she's at the sanctuary?"

Rick nodded grimly. "She gave herself up for Daryl. We haven't heard anything since."

Tara's hands balled into fists, her heart aching at the thought of Alyssa in Negan's clutches. "We have to get her back," she said fiercely.

Rick's expression darkened. "We can't. Not now. We're barely hanging on here. We don't have food, weapons, or people. If we make a move, Negan will destroy us."

Meanwhile, Daryl wandered the streets of Alexandria like a ghost, his face pale and his eyes hollow. He couldn't shake the images of Alyssa being dragged away from him, her defiance masking the pain she must have felt. He felt like a failure, consumed by guilt.

He was plotting. That much was clear. But he knew the truth: he couldn't go back to the sanctuary. Not unarmed, not without backup. Charging in alone would be suicide—and Alyssa's sacrifice would mean nothing.

Carl, however, didn't share Daryl's restraint. He stormed through the community, furious that his sister was at the sanctuary, and even more furious that no one seemed to be doing anything about it.

"How can you all just sit here?" he snapped at Rick one night. "She's your daughter! She's my sister! And she's with that psycho while you're out scavenging for him like a dog!"

Rick's face tightened, his voice low. "You think I don't want to go after her? You think I don't care? If we don't keep Negan happy, he'll wipe us all out. We don't have a choice."

Carl stormed off, slamming the door behind him, his anger boiling beneath his skin.

At the hilltop, Maggie was still recovering under Dr. Carson's care, her face pale but her resolve strong. Sasha stayed by her side, and Enid had joined them to help. None of them knew about Alyssa's capture. To them, the last update was that she was holding Alexandria together, keeping everyone safe.

Back in Alexandria, the tension grew thicker by the hour. Carol was still missing, and Morgan hadn't returned from searching for her. The community was fracturing under the strain, each person struggling with the weight of Negan's iron grip.

And though no one said it aloud, the absence of Alyssa—a force of will, a source of strength—was felt by everyone.

{Morning of the Fifth Day since Alyssa left with Negan }

The sun rose over Alexandria, casting a warm glow across the community. Inside the church, Rick stood at the front, his face drawn and tired. The pews were filled with a mix of familiar faces—Eugene, Rosita, Gabriel, Aaron, Eric, Carl, Daryl, Michonne, Tara, Tobin, Olivia, and other Alexandria residents—all listening intently. The air was heavy with worry and tension.