New World (D.Dixon) ~rewritten~

•chapter 16• <rewrite>

**Live Or Die**
Rewritten version

Word Count — 5366
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Daryl's POV.

Daryl's fingers tightened around the handle of his knife, his grip so fierce it was almost painful. He stood over the kid Rick had brought in, the one who was supposed to know something about the group that had been scouting them. The boy's face was bloodied, his eyes wide and scared. Good. Daryl wasn't here to offer mercy.

He threw the first punch, a brutal hit to the kid's jaw, sending a spray of blood splattering against the barn wall. The anger inside him swelled, like a storm ready to break. He wanted answers. Desperately.

Another punch landed, harder this time, and the kid let out a strangled gasp.

"I told you," the kid groaned, clearly trying to hold himself together.

"You ain't told me shit!" Daryl growled, his voice low and deadly. His hand gripped the boy by the collar and slammed him against the barn wall. He wasn't going to stop until he got what he needed. He needed to know who these people were, what kind of threat they posed.

"I barely knew them, man! I met them on the road, that's it!" The kid's voice was shaky, desperate. He was trying to defend himself, but Daryl wasn't buying it.

Daryl's eyes burned with fury as he pulled out his knife, the blade catching the light for just a second. The kid's eyes flicked to the knife, and he began to tremble harder.

"Where? Where are they?!" Daryl barked, his breath coming in harsh, controlled bursts.

"I don't know! I don't know!" the kid cried, his voice a panicked whisper. "I didn't stay with them long enough to know where they were! We moved all the time—never stayed in one place more than a night! I swear!"

The desperation in his voice made Daryl pause for just a moment. But only a moment.

He drove the knife into the floor next to the kid's leg, pinning it there with a quick, violent movement. The kid screamed, but Daryl's eyes didn't leave him for a second.

"How many?" Daryl demanded.

The kid's throat tightened, panic rising in his chest. "Th-thirty," he stammered. "Thirty men. I swear, that's all I know."

Daryl stepped closer, keeping his knife at the kid's side, his voice a deadly whisper. "Where?"

The kid shook his head, eyes wide with fear. "I don't know, I swear! They kept moving. I—I never stayed with them long enough to find out."

Daryl's anger flared, boiling over. His fist came down hard on the kid's knee, and he yanked the scab off the wound. The kid screamed, his body jerking in pain.

"Tell me, damn it," Daryl growled.

"They—they were scouting the area!" the kid yelled, his voice breaking. "Staying local. That's all I know! Please, man, you gotta believe me!"

Daryl could feel his control slipping, but he forced himself to stay focused. There was no time for mercy. Not when the lives of the group were on the line.

"You ever pick off a scab?" Daryl asked, his voice calm but icy.

The kid's eyes were frantic now. "What? What does that—"

Daryl grabbed the kid's leg and shoved his knife into the wound. The kid yelped, tears streaking down his face.

"You start slow," Daryl muttered, his eyes never leaving the kid. "You start slow, and before you know it, you just gotta rip it off."