New World (D.Dixon) ~rewritten~

•chapter 15• <rewrite>

**Prisoner of the apocalypse**

< Rewritten Version >

Word Count — 5689

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Alessia's POV.

Alessia sat at the dinner table, the dim light from the overhead lamp casting long shadows over the worn wood. The house was quiet, save for the soft clinking of silverware and the murmurs of those gathered around. It should have been comforting—a brief moment of peace amidst the chaos—but there was a heaviness in the air that no one could shake. They were all here, in this place that had once felt like a home, trying to hold onto whatever semblance of normalcy they could. But every conversation, every decision, felt like it was pulling them further from the lives they used to know.

Rick's voice broke through her thoughts, steady and calm, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of doubt. "We couldn't just leave him to die. We'll drive him out, give him a canteen. He'll at least have a fighting chance."

Alessia nodded, a part of her agreeing with Rick's sentiment. It made sense. The man they'd found—Casper, was it?—was hurt, abandoned by his group, and left to die alone. She couldn't imagine doing that to anyone. Not after everything they'd been through. She felt a pang of sympathy for him, even though they knew so little about who he really was or where he came from.

But then, of course, Shane had to open that gigantic mouth of his. He always had a way of twisting everything into something darker, turning the smallest decision into an argument.

"We're just gonna let him go? He knows where we are. He could bring his whole crew down on us," Shane's voice was sharp, his tone full of suspicion, as usual.

Alessia's fingers tightened around her fork, her jaw clenching at the sound of Shane's words. The man was relentless in his cynicism. She didn't blame him, not completely—this world had made everyone paranoid, made them second-guess even their most basic instincts. But sometimes, she wished he would just shut up for a moment.

Rick, though, was unfazed by Shane's barrage of doubts. He had a way of holding steady, his voice always calm even when the situation didn't warrant it. "He was blindfolded the whole way here. In and out due to his leg. His group just left him there. There's no way they're gonna come back looking for him."

Rick's words were logical, practical. He had a point. Whoever left Casper behind had to have been done with him—he was no longer a part of whatever twisted plan they were running. It was a painful truth, but it was the reality they had to face.

Still, the tension at the table grew thicker with every passing second. Shane's eyes flicked to Rick, challenging him, but it was clear that Rick had already made up his mind. He was the leader, for better or worse, and no amount of Shane's objections was going to change that.

Alessia felt the weight of the decision pressing down on her chest. She didn't like the idea of just letting someone go, especially after everything they had survived. Was it naive to think he deserved a chance to live, to find his own way? But Shane wasn't wrong either. They couldn't afford to trust anyone too easily—not in this world. Every move had to be calculated. Every person had to be evaluated for their potential threat. And yet, her gut told her that sending him off into the wilderness alone wasn't the right answer.

As if reading her thoughts, Owen, who had been quiet up until now, shifted in his seat beside her, his hand subtly brushing against hers. She glanced over at him, surprised to see the softness in his expression, the flicker of something unspoken behind his eyes. His presence had become a quiet anchor for her over the past few days, offering her a brief respite from the chaos swirling around them. But even he seemed to understand the gravity of this decision. He wasn't offering his usual playful smirk or teasing comments, just a quiet understanding.