Daryl's Angel: Saviour (Book Two)

Chapter 64: A Final Taste of Peace

The gunfire fades away, engines roar, the stench of gasoline and smoke fills the air, and I stay in place, pretending that I am part of the dirt and leaves. I keep an ear out for snarling, but there's nothing, even once the rest of the world has quieted down to a lull.

I want to get up, but I fear what waits behind those gates. I fear who else I may have lost.

Sasha crosses my mind. Was that a freak accident, like she somehow suffocated inside that coffin, or did she plan that? She was so calm back at the Sanctuary that it makes me think that she knew what she was doing. It makes everything feel so much worse. It makes her forgiveness weigh even heavier on my shoulders.

"Hope! HOPE!"

My eyes snap open. Daryl. He sounds distant, but it's him. He screams my name like he's mourning, a deep, aching pain striking me like a bolt to the heart. I have to show him that I'm alive. I have to get to him.

I force my stiff limbs to move. My dress is stained with dirt, and my ankle hurts pretty badly. When I pull my skirt up, it's swollen, starting to bruise. I brace my back against the tree beside me and use it as leverage to help myself up. Dwight didn't take me far. I can already see the road and the gate leading into Alexandria, and I force myself forward even as my ankle screams at me to stop.

"Hope!"

I'm so close to him that I can't stand it. "Daryl!"

I stumble from the treeline, knees hitting the dirt, and my breath hitches as my ankle throbs. When I look up, Daryl has his legs over the wall, hanging off the edge until he can drop the rest of the distance.

"Daryl," I gasp, trying to get back up as tears blur my vision.

I haven't fully stood up again when he's there, scooping me into his arms so tightly that it lifts me off my feet. I bury my face in his neck as he squeezes me, spinning us in a slow circle before we come to a stop. He kisses me all over my face, hands in my hair, touching my waist, drinking me in with his touch alone.

"Angel face. Hope," he says between kisses. He cups my face and presses his forehead to mine, breaths shaking. "Fuck, never do that to me again." Another desperate kiss. I feel his arms shaking.

"I-I swear, I lied. I was lying to him the whole time," I say, pleading, gripping his clothing. "It was the only way to get home. He said you were here, but I didn't believe him—"

He crushes me into another tight hug, and I cry into his shoulder. He holds me as if he'll never let me go again, and I swear I can hear his heart pounding just as fast as mine. But I'm home, and he's alive, and we're together again.

"He didn't hurt you?" he asks. He pulls away just to examine me, my arms and my face, and I realize only once his steady hand falls near mine that I'm shaking like a leaf. "The hell is this dress?"

I cover my chest with my hands as I let out a weak laugh. "I know, it's awful."

He shakes his head. "Ain't awful. You look..." Again, his eyes skip over me, at the thin fabric barely covering my breasts, and he exhales harshly as his nostrils flare. He starts unbuttoning his shirt, and I don't get the chance to ask why before he pulls it over my shoulders, covering me, and leaving him bare from the waist up.

"But, your scars—" I start.

"Everyone's got scars now," he retorts. "Come on, let's get you inside." He scoops me up, bridal style, and I cling to his neck as he carries me to the gates. He shouts, "Y'all, get this thing open!"

There are a few grunts of effort before the gate finally slides open. Aaron is the first person I see, and then my confusion gets even greater. Jerry, the tall, dark, and cheerful man from the Kingdom, is there with one of the Hilltop women, Bertie. They stand with their weapons at the ready beside Aaron and Morgan.