Two hours had passed since Daryl left to search for Spencer.
The night was settling in, cool and still. The fires had been put out, the wounded tended to, and the bodies buried—or at least covered for now. Alexandria was scarred, but still standing.
Dinner was quiet. Survivors gathered in small clusters, sharing what little food we had. Most ate in silence. No one really had the appetite, but they ate anyway—because routine gave people a sense of control, however small.
I sat at one of the long tables with Merle beside me, chewing loudly, as usual. He nudged my arm with his elbow and leaned in, his voice low and casual, like he was talking about fixing a truck.
"So… should we kill him?"
I didn't even look at him. "No, Merle. Not yet."
He snorted. "Not yet, huh? You think he can redeem himself?"
I exhaled, eyes fixed on the flickering torch in front of us. "Maybe. But honestly? I doubt it."
We didn't say anything else after that. The tension hung heavy, like a storm waiting to break.
And then, just as the food was nearly gone and the murmurs of conversation began to fade—
Daryl returned.
He came through the main gate, dragging someone behind him.
Spencer.
His clothes were dusty and torn, his face red with panic. "Stop it! Let go of me!" he yelled. "Mom! Help me! Aiden!"
But Deanna and Aiden just stood there.
They didn't move. Didn't speak. Just watched.
Gasps rippled through the gathered crowd. Then came the shouts.
"Traitor!"
"It's because of you they died!"
"Coward!"
"Kill him!"
The people surged forward, rage boiling to the surface.
I stood quickly and raised my voice. "ENOUGH!"
Silence fell again, sharp and sudden. All eyes turned to me as Daryl hauled Spencer to the center of the courtyard and forced him to his knees.
The firelight danced across Spencer's face—sweaty, bruised, and full of fear.
I stepped forward, stopping just a few feet away. My eyes locked onto his.
"Why?" I asked quietly, but the word cut through the stillness like a blade. "Why did you do this?"
He looked at me, then around at everyone—his neighbors, his friends, his family. No one came to his defense. Not even Deanna. Not even Aiden.
His lips trembled. His eyes darted wildly. He opened his mouth—
But for now, he said nothing.
And now… it was time for the truth.
I stepped closer, eyes narrowing. My voice was calm, but heavy with warning.
"Now then, Spencer… you wanna go the hard way?"
He trembled on his knees, swallowing hard. His gaze shifted between me, the crowd, and his own family. Then his jaw clenched, and the bitterness rose up in his voice.
"It's because of you guys," he spat. "You came here and changed everything. I hated it. I hated you, Rick—especially you."
Merle, standing beside me, burst out laughing. Loud and unfiltered.
"Bwahahaha! Well, ain't that something? Looks like it's your fault, Rick!" he cackled, slapping his knee like it was the best joke he'd heard all day.
I shot him a look. "Enough."
I turned back to Spencer, glaring. "People died today. Your own father is one of them. So I'll ask again—why?"
Aiden's voice cracked with fury as he stepped forward. "Why, Spencer?! Why the hell would you do this?!"
The courtyard was silent. All eyes were on the man who knelt at the heart of the community's pain.
Spencer's head dropped. His voice was small now.
"I… I didn't think it would end this way," he whispered. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this. I just wanted to create… a moment. A crisis. I thought… if I let those people in, just for a bit, I could show up and 'save' the day. Be the hero. Make everyone respect me. Trust me."
The crowd gasped.
I stared at him, stunned, before the rage boiled over."Shit," I snapped. "You moron. You selfish, arrogant—"
Merle spat on the ground near Spencer. "You damn idiot," he growled. "You nearly burned everything down just so you could feel important."
Deanna stepped forward, her face pale with disbelief. "Rick… I… I didn't raise him to be this—"
I looked at her gently and placed a hand on her shoulder. "I understand, Deanna."
Then I turned to the others. "Do we have a prison?"
She nodded slowly. "Yes. It's small, but secure."
"Good," I said. "Put him there. For now."
I turned to Graves and Scott and gestured. Daryl took the lead, dragging Spencer up to his feet, ignoring the desperate protests. His voice cracked as he begged, "Please… please, Mom…"
But Deanna didn't answer. Aiden stood still, eyes filled with shame and disappointment.
As Spencer was dragged away, I turned back to the rest of the people.
"Let's put this behind us—for now," I said. "Let him sit in that cell until he understands what he's done. Maybe he can change. But he'll earn that—not ask for it."
The people murmured in agreement, the fire of rage slowly replaced with a quiet, bitter acceptance.
I sat back down and exhaled deeply.
In truth, I'd expected something like this. In the series, Spencer had betrayed me—Rick—and I'd been waiting for a sign. But still… it stung.
I wouldn't kill him. Not yet. That would break Deanna since he already lost his husband—and Alexandria needed stability, not more blood.
Moments later, Daryl, Graves, and Scott returned. The doors to the prison had been locked. Spencer was secured.
Now, it was time.
I stood again.
"All right," I said. "It's time we talk about the plan."
"I'll be leading the attack," I said, standing before the firelight that cast long shadows across the courtyard. "But I won't be going alone. So I need volunteers."
The crowd tensed.
"If you're willing to come with us," I continued, "raise your hand. But know this—it's going to be dangerous. There's no turning back once we step outside that gate."
Without hesitation, Merle stepped forward, cracking his knuckles."You already know I'm in," he said with a grin.
Daryl gave a single nod beside him. Glenn followed, moving up to stand by my side. Then Michonne stepped forward, calm and resolute as always. Graves, too, lifted his hand.
That made six of us.
Then, slowly, other hands began to rise.
Nicholas.Aiden.
The latter caught me off guard. After everything, he still wanted to prove himself.
But what shocked me most… was Jessie.
She raised her hand without flinching, eyes locked onto mine. Behind her stood her boys, clutching each other. But she didn't hesitate. There was something in her gaze—something that said she wasn't going to stand by and be helpless again.
Then more followed.
Tobin.Scott.Aaron.Eric.Francine.Bruce.Carter.And finally… Annie.
Seventeen.
"Seventeen of us," I said aloud, letting the number hang in the air. "That's our team."
I turned to Deanna, who stood just behind the crowd, watching everything unfold with silent determination.
"Are there weapons in storage?" I asked.
She nodded. "Yeah. We've got enough rifles, a few pistols, and some ammo crates stored beneath the armory. Not much—but it's something."
"Good," I said. Then addressed everyone again.
"Tomorrow, we strike. We move early—before the Wolves can regroup or relocate. Deanna, I need you to prepare the weapons, get the gear distributed, and reinforce the camp's defenses while we're gone. Make sure the community is ready in case something happens while we're out."
Deanna straightened, nodding firmly. "We'll be ready. I'll oversee it myself."
I looked around one last time, letting my gaze settle on each person who had raised their hand. Each one of them was choosing to fight—not just for revenge, but for something bigger.
"This is our home," I said. "Let's make sure it stays that way."u