Unbreakable threads

Chapter Seventy- Two: Journey Too Terminus.

Alyssa shook her head, her pace quickening. "Just drop it, okay?" she snapped, more harshly than she intended.

Rick frowned but didn't push further. He could tell something was eating at her, something she wasn't ready to share, but he also knew better than to force it. "Alright," he said finally, his voice calm but heavy with concern. "But whatever it is... you'll have to face it eventually. You always do."

The group moved silently along the tracks. Alyssa trudged alongside Rick, the two of them mirroring each other in stride. Their holsters sat tightly on their hips, their movements deliberate and tense. From behind, it was uncanny—father and daughter, the same resolute walk, the same subtle sway of their hips, and the same intensity radiating from their postures.

Behind them, Michonne, Carl, and Daryl followed, their steps quieter, their movements more cautious. Michonne's eyes darted between Rick and Alyssa, her usually calm expression shadowed by concern. She leaned slightly toward Daryl, her voice low but firm as she whispered, "This isn't good. What happened back there—this isn't good."

Daryl nodded without looking at her, his face grim and lined with worry. He kept his eyes on Alyssa and Rick, their shared intensity practically radiating off them like heat. "I know," he muttered, his voice rough and tinged with guilt. "It's the prison all over again." He paused, his hands flexing at his sides. "When Rick lost Lori. When Alyssa saw Shane."

Michonne's gaze flicked to him, her brow furrowing slightly. She hadn't been there to see that.—Rick descending into a feral state after Lori's death, tearing into the prison walkers like a man possessed. And Alyssa, just a girl back then, wide-eyed and shaking, claiming to have seen Shane's face when she first laid eyes on Judith. Both of them had slipped into something dark, something dangerous, and it had taken everything to pull them back.

"Rage makes 'em reckless," Daryl murmured. "Makes 'em dangerous. To themselves, to the group... to anyone in their way."

Michonne nodded, her grip tightening on her katana. She glanced at Carl, who walked beside her, his eyes flicking nervously between his father and sister. He was quiet, too quiet, the weight of what he'd witnessed back in the clearing pressing down on him.

"We need to watch them," Michonne said quietly, her voice firm. "If they keep slipping, this could get worse."

Daryl gave a small nod, though his heart ached at the thought. But he'd seen it before, and now he feared he was watching history repeat itself—only this time, the stakes felt even higher.

Alyssa kept her eyes forward, her boots scuffing against the railroad tracks as they followed the signs for Terminus. Her anger simmered just beneath the surface, her focus singular: find Beth, find Judith. But the farther they walked, the more unease crept into her chest. Terminus sounded too good to be true, and her gut told her they were marching into trouble, not safety. The signs promising "sanctuary for all" felt more like bait than salvation.

Her thoughts twisted with doubt and rage. Then, as she squinted down the tracks, the world seemed to shift. Her vision blurred at the edges, and when she blinked, he was there—Shane. Not the sneering, mocking version that had haunted her before, not the one that was shouting at her earlier, but Shane as she remembered him from Atlanta, back when everything was just beginning.

He stood a few paces ahead of her, his arms crossed, his expression calm but serious.This was the Shane she'd first met—the man who had been kind to her, who had taken the time to talk to her when she was struggling to bond with Rick, the father she'd only just found in the apocalypse. Back then, Shane had been the one to make her feel seen, to acknowledge how hard it was for her to navigate her new reality.