Unbreakable threads

Chapter One hundred and Sixteen: Your Stuff Belongs to Negan.

Alyssa gritted her teeth, her jaw clenching as she fought against her instincts. After a tense moment, she nodded reluctantly, her hands balling into fists at her sides.

The group exited the truck slowly, tension thick in the air. Daryl immediately stepped up next to Alyssa, his presence protective and steady. Abraham positioned himself on her other side, forming a solid wall. Sasha hung back slightly, her sharp eyes scanning the group of bikers for any openings or weaknesses.

The man in front of the bikers grinned wider as he took in the sight of them. "Well, would you look at that," he said, his tone dripping with smug amusement. "Goin' great straight out of the gate. Now step too... hand over your weapons."

Daryl tensed beside Alyssa, his jaw tightening, but before he could speak, Alyssa folded her arms across her chest and stepped forward slightly. "Why should we?" she said, her tone defiant and sharp.

The man in front of the group smiled smugly, his hands resting on his hips. "Well, they're not yours," he said with a tone of condescension.

Alyssa folded her arms, her stance unyielding. "Well, who the fuck do they belong to then?" she snapped.

The man's grin widened as he stepped closer to her, his presence both casual and menacing. "Your property now belongs to Negan," he said firmly, his tone dripping with authority.

For a brief moment, silence fell over the group. The name hung in the air like a storm cloud, unfamiliar yet heavy with an unspoken threat.

The man continued, his tone smug. "If you people can get your hands on a tanker... our person wants to know. So, let's get those side arms, shall we? Right now."

Daryl tensed beside Alyssa, his jaw clenched tightly, but after a brief pause, he reluctantly handed over his gun. The man took it with a smirk, his gaze shifting back to Alyssa.

Alyssa shot Daryl a sharp look, her frustration evident, but before she could say anything, the man stepped directly in front of her. His grin widened as he looked her up and down, clearly trying to intimidate her.

"If you have to eat shit... best not to nibble," he said, his voice mockingly instructional. "Bite. Chew. Swallow. Repeat. Goes quicker."

Alyssa bristled, her muscles tensing as her frustration boiled over. She shoved her gun into his hands aggressively, her glare unwavering as the man grinned, clearly enjoying her defiance.

He stepped over to Sasha and Abraham next, collecting their weapons as well. Sasha's jaw was tight, her eyes burning with barely restrained anger, while Abraham's face was straight, his body taut like a coiled spring.

Alyssa squared her shoulders, her tone sharp as she demanded, "Who are you people?"

The man tilted his head slightly, an almost amused expression crossing his face. "I get the curiosity," he said with a smug grin. "But we've got questions ourselves. And here's the thing—we're the ones asking them. While you drive us back to wherever it is you call home."

Alyssa's jaw tightened, her fists clenching at her sides as the man continued, his grin widening. "First, though—your shit. Give it to us."

Alyssa scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You just took it."

The man laughed, a low, mocking chuckle. "Come on. Can we not? There's more. There's always more." He gestured casually to one of the men behind him. "T, take the man to the back of the truck. Check the back, work your way to the front."

Alyssa's eyes darted to Daryl as one of the bikers grabbed him roughly by the arm, dragging him toward the back of the truck. Her body tensed, and she immediately stepped forward, ready to defend him.