A Broken World

Sixty-Four

Yn

The tension was thick in the truck as we pulled up to the feed store. Daryl’s knuckles were white on the steering wheel, and Rick hadn’t said a word since we left. Hershel sat beside me in the back, his face drawn and quiet. I didn’t know what we were walking into, but every part of me screamed it was a trap.

Still, we had to try.

The building loomed in front of us—worn-down, silent, and ominous. Rick gave a curt nod to Daryl, who killed the engine.

“This is it,” Rick said, reaching for his Colt.

“Let’s be smart about this,” Hershel muttered. “No one goes in hot.”

Rick opened the door. “I’m going in alone first.”

“I’m not lettin’ you go in there alone,” Daryl argued, his voice low and deadly. “We don’t know what the hell’s waitin’.”

Rick turned to him. “You’re staying outside with YN and Hershel. Watch my back.”

I didn’t love the plan, but I trusted Rick. I nodded once. “We got you.”

Rick pushed the door open and disappeared inside. I couldn’t stop the gnawing feeling in my gut. This whole place felt off. I scanned the tree line, then looked at Daryl.

He caught my eye. “Keep sharp.”

No more than a minute later, Andrea pulled up in another truck with Milton and Martinez. She jumped out and froze when she saw Rick’s group already here. Her eyes landed on me, wide with surprise.

“YN?” she said, walking toward us. “You came?”

I crossed my arms, wary. “Guess you didn’t think we’d show?”

“I didn’t think Rick would agree to this,” she admitted. “The Governor just wants to talk.”

“Does he?” Daryl muttered behind me. “Not sure he’s the talkin’ type.”

Andrea sighed and turned away. “Let’s just get this over with.”

She walked into the building with Milton and Martinez trailing her. Daryl and I exchanged a glance, then both turned our attention outward again, watching the perimeter. Every creak of wind, every rustle of brush had me reaching for my knife.

“You trust her?” I asked Daryl under my breath.

He glanced at me, jaw tight. “I trust her to fuck it up.”

I gave a short, humorless laugh. “Sounds about right.”

Time passed in quiet spurts. When Rick finally emerged, his face was unreadable. He didn’t speak right away.

“Let’s go,” he said gruffly.

Once we were in the truck again, he finally spoke. “He wants Michonne.”

The words hit the cabin like a gunshot.

“What?” I turned toward him. “He wants us to give her up?”

Rick didn’t answer right away. “Said if we give her over, he’ll back off.”

“He’s lyin’,” Daryl growled. “He ain’t gonna stop even if you hand her over in pieces.”

“He’s gonna kill us no matter what,” I said quietly. “He just wants us to make the first cut.”

Rick looked down at his hands. “I know.”

I met Daryl’s eyes in the rearview mirror. We both understood—there was no peace coming. Only war.

The engine rumbled the entire ride back, but none of us said a word.