New World (D.Dixon) ~rewritten~

•chapter 26• <rewrite>

                  **The Enemy's Lair**

<Rewritten Version>
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Alessia's POV.

The Next Morning

The morning after the shootout was unnervingly quiet. The usual chaos of the prison seemed to have settled into an eerie calm, as if everyone was still processing the events that had transpired the day before.

Daryl was still fast asleep in his cot. Alessia found herself smiling as she glanced over at him. The hunter's broad back rose and fell with each steady breath, his tousled hair spilling over his forehead. His features, usually so hardened, were relaxed in slumber. It was rare to see Daryl so at peace, and Alessia cherished the moment, appreciating the softness that came with his sleep. His blue eyes, normally so alert and full of resolve, were shut tight, and in that moment, he looked just like any other man who had managed to survive the brutal world they lived in.

She slowly crawled out of the cot, careful not to disturb him. The creaking of the old mattress beneath her was the only sound in the otherwise silent room. As she stood, she tiptoed around the small space, making sure her movements were as quiet as possible. There was a strange sense of peace to the early hours, when the world felt like it hadn't yet woken up to the threats and struggles of the day.

Once out of the cell, Alessia quietly made her way down the narrow stairs, the sound of her footsteps barely audible on the worn wooden floors. It was still early—most of the others were likely still asleep, or at least not fully awake. She could feel the weight of the silence around her, the calm before the storm that was sure to come.

She reached the kitchen and paused, spotting a familiar face. Merle was already sitting at the table, his calloused hands wrapped around a cup of coffee. He hadn't noticed her yet, and for a moment, Alessia just stood there, watching him.

"Hey, suga," Merle said, breaking the silence as he glanced over his shoulder, a smirk curling on his lips.

Alessia smiled softly. "Good morning, Merle. What's got you up so early?"

"Just thinking," he said with a raspy voice, the weight of an early morning still lingering in his tone.

"About what?" she asked, moving toward the counter to make herself a bowl of instant oatmeal—the kind that tasted like wet rocks but was still better than nothing.

Merle shrugged, his broad shoulders rising and falling beneath his sleeveless shirt. "How we're all gonna die."

Alessia sat down beside him, offering him a look of quiet resolve. "Don't underestimate us, Merle. We're a strong bunch. We've been through a lot."

"Yeah, well, we ain't all gonna survive it," he said with a grim expression, his eyes lingering on the coffee cup in front of him as though trying to read something in the dark liquid.

Alessia scooped some of the oatmeal into her spoon, the texture making her grimace slightly as she chewed. "Not if you keep thinking like that."

Merle's eyes flicked up to hers, a slight chuckle escaping his lips. "Well, I guess I'm on the negative side, huh, suga?"

"You don't have to be the odd man out, Merle," she said softly, her voice almost tender. "I can tell you've got some good in you."

Merle raised an eyebrow at her, his smirk still in place. "Yeah, well, this old man's bad to the bone, doll."

Alessia placed a hand on his arm, her touch gentle. "You don't have to play that act. You could be with us, Merle. Be one of us."

His smirk deepened, but there was something else in his eyes—a flicker of something unfamiliar. "Well, ain't you a peach."