Bloodlines.

Chapter Thirty Four: Alyssa Forms an Allegiance with Dwight.

Jesus drove the van down the familiar road toward Alexandria, the soft hum of the engine the only sound for most of the ride. In the back, Daryl sat close to Alyssa, their hands intertwined. He wasn't letting her go—not now, not ever. The connection between them felt stronger than it had ever been, and there was no way he was parting from her.

Rick might have something to say about it, but Daryl didn't care. He was hers, and she was his, and Rick would just have to swallow it.

Alyssa squeezed his hand gently, her thumb brushing over his knuckles. Daryl glanced at her, his expression softening. It wasn't a time for words, but the silent understanding between them said enough.

As the van pulled up outside Alexandria's gates, the tension returned. The gates opened, and Michonne stood there, her eyes wide with surprise.

"Daryl? Alyssa? Jesus?" she said, her voice carrying a mix of relief and confusion.

Alyssa jumped out of the van, still clutching Daryl's hand. Her gaze immediately flicked to the small group gathered just behind Michonne. Rick, Tara, and Rosita stood there, their expressions wary but curious.

"Why are you all standing here?" Alyssa asked, her brow furrowing as she took in their tense stances.

Rick cleared his throat, stepping forward slightly. His face was guarded, his tone measured as he spoke. "There's someone here," he said carefully.

Alyssa stiffened, her hand tightening around Daryl's instinctively. Her posture became rigid, her eyes narrowing. "Who?" she asked, her voice sharp with suspicion.

Daryl stepped closer to her, his protective instincts kicking in as he glanced at Rick and the others. The group exchanged uneasy glances, but no one answered immediately. The silence only heightened the tension in the air, and Alyssa's unease grew.

"Who is it?" she repeated, her voice firmer this time, her gaze locked on Rick.

Rick hesitated for a moment before finally speaking, his tone quiet but serious. "You need to see for yourself," he said.

Alyssa exchanged a glance with Daryl, her heart pounding. Whoever it was, it couldn't be good. She nodded slowly, her grip on Daryl's hand never loosening as she braced herself for what was to come.

Rick gestured for them to follow, his expression unreadable. Tara, Rosita, Michonne, and Jesus flanked Daryl and Alyssa, creating a tense procession as they moved through Alexandria. Daryl's grip on Alyssa's hand was iron-tight, his protective instincts in overdrive. The tension in the air was so thick that no one even commented on them holding hands.

Rick led the group to the basement of one of the houses where Morgan had built the cell. The dimly lit space felt colder than it was, the silence amplifying the anxiety swirling in the room. Inside the cell, a shadowed figure sat still and quiet.

Alyssa stepped forward cautiously, her heart pounding in her chest. The figure moved, stepping into the faint light.

It was Dwight.

The moment Daryl saw him, he exploded into motion, lunging toward the cell. His rage was palpable, his voice a low growl as he surged forward. "You son of a—"

"STOP!" Alyssa shouted, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

She threw an arm out, holding Daryl back with surprising force. Her eyes locked on his, pleading for him to stand down. "Don't."

Daryl's fists clenched, his jaw tightening as he reluctantly held back. His body vibrated with restrained fury, his glare fixed on Dwight.

Rosita stepped forward, her voice calm but pointed. "He says he wants to help us."