Early morning.
A cold mist clung to the ground as we gathered near Alexandria's main gate. The sky was still a faint shade of blue, just beginning to brighten with the first touch of sunrise. Birds chirped quietly in the distance—an eerie contrast to the tension settling over us.
One by one, we packed our gear and checked our weapons. The mood was quiet, focused. Everyone knew what was at stake.
Daryl slung his crossbow over his shoulder and checked the bolts on his hip. Merle was armed with his trusty Remington 870 shotgun, the pump-action polished and deadly. Glenn carried a Glock 17 pistol on his side, along with a Colt M4 carbine he'd pulled from the armory. Graves, calm and alert, strapped a FN SCAR-L assault rifle to his chest and holstered a .45 ACP sidearm. His style was tactical, precise—he was the kind of man who moved like he'd done this long before the world ended. Michonne had her signature katana, but for good measure, she also carried a Beretta 92FS.I myself was equipped with my familiar Python .357 Magnum and an AR-15 slung across my chest. The rest of the volunteers held a variety of weapons:
Tobin had a Mossberg 500.
Aiden and Nicholas both chose Colt M4 rifles, eager to prove themselves.
Aaron and Eric had matching SIG Sauer P226s, holstered at their sides.
Francine and Bruce carried Winchester lever-action rifles, reliable and easy to use.
Carter checked the scope on a Ruger Mini-14.
Annie, though nervous, held tightly onto a .22 LR pistol—not powerful, but better than nothing.
Jessie, surprisingly calm, carried a Smith & Wesson Model 19 revolver she'd trained with the night before.
Deanna stood beside me, her arms crossed, eyes scanning the group as they made their final preparations. She turned to me and placed a hand on my arm.
"Good luck," she said quietly.
I nodded. "We'll be back. Just keep this place standing."
Merle stepped up next to me, cocky grin on his face. "You hold the fort, Deanna. We'll handle the mess outside. Then we talk about the next step."
I raised my hand and signaled for everyone to gather around. Merle stepped forward, pointing toward the treeline beyond the gate.
"The Wolves' camp ain't far," he said. "Just a few minutes' walk through the forest, west side. They're holed up in an old cabin—probably think no one would dare go after 'em. Guess we're about to prove 'em wrong."
I looked at each of them—men and women who, only days ago, were gardeners, builders, and supply runners. Now? Soldiers.
"Let's move out," I said.
And with that, the gates opened.
We moved silently through the forest, the morning mist weaving between the trees like ghosts. The crunch of leaves beneath our boots was the only sound, muffled by caution and adrenaline. The cold air clung to our skin, but none of us felt it—we were too focused.
After a few minutes, we reached the edge of a clearing.
There it was.
An old, rotting wooden cabin sat crookedly in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by broken furniture, rusted barrels, and a fire pit still smoldering. Standing near the fire were five men, scruffy, armed, and unaware. They laughed and talked, completely unprepared.
Merle peered through the scope of his shotgun from behind a tree.
"There's five out in the open," he muttered. "Which means the rest are inside. Told you—fifteen total. We're seeing just the tip."
I nodded, already formulating the final steps of the plan. This wasn't going to be a frontal assault. It had to be clean, fast, and overwhelming.
I turned to the group and gave hand signals, assigning everyone to their flanking roles.
"Graves," I whispered, "take Jessie and Nicholas. Glenn will cover your team from a ridge on the far side. Flank the cabin from the backside. No engagement until I fire."
Graves gave a sharp nod, checking his SCAR-L before signaling to his team.
"Merle," I continued, "take Scott and Tobin. Circle right, keep low. Michonne, you're going left with Aaron and Eric—quiet and quick."
They all nodded and broke off swiftly, disappearing into the treeline like shadows.
The remaining fighters were:
Francine, Carter, Bruce, and Annie—I instructed them to stay behind the treeline with Glenn, providing ranged support and backup in case of ambush or escapees.
I kept Aiden near me. He had to survive—not just because of Deanna, but because the boy was trying to redeem himself.
"Daryl," I said, locking eyes with him, "we'll take the center. When I give the signal, we drop the five outside. Then we fall back and let the noise draw the rest out. The second they step into the open—everyone hits from all sides."
Daryl smirked. "Sounds like a hell of a plan."
I crouched beside a fallen log at the front of the clearing and raised my rifle.
Everyone was in position.
The Wolves had no idea they were surrounded. No idea that this time… they were the prey.
I exhaled slowly.
My finger curled around the trigger.
"On my mark…" I whispered to Daryl.
3...
2...
1...
"Now."
At my signal, I rose from behind the fallen log, Daryl to my right and Aiden just behind. We didn't hesitate.
Crack—crack—crack!
Gunfire erupted from our weapons, echoing across the clearing like a thunderclap. The five Wolves standing by the fire didn't even have a chance to scream.
The first two dropped instantly—headshots, clean and final.
A third reached for his rifle slung across his shoulder, but before his fingers touched the grip, Daryl put a bolt through his chest. He stumbled backward and collapsed into the fire pit, flames flickering against his motionless body.
The fourth was hit in the leg. He let out a guttural scream and turned to flee—but before he could even limp two steps, a bullet from Aiden's rifle tore through his skull, dropping him face-first in the dirt.
The fifth one—wide-eyed and panicking—turned toward the cabin and screamed, "They're he—"
CRACK.
The back of his head exploded before he could finish the sentence.
He hit the ground like a sack of meat, his warning dying with him.
Five down.
Ten more to go.
From inside the cabin, we heard the muffled chaos—shouts, footsteps, metal scraping. Furniture toppled as the remaining Wolves scrambled to respond. We could hear them yelling at one another in panic, completely unaware that they were already surrounded.
Ruffling, stomping, and cursing echoed from inside.