𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝔽𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 | Daryl Dixon

87 | THE KINGDOM

"No! No way in Hell!" Gregory's tone, though loud, held no real power around the room.

His mahogany office with books lining every shelf was almost overcrowded with the group from Alexandria. Tori sat on the edge of a small side table, comforted by the feel of Daryl's hand rested softly on her shoulder as he stood behind her. She rolled her eyes as Gregory began to pace behind his desk, waving his hands around as he talked.

"You people swore you could that the Saviors out, and you failed." His gaze was fixed on Rick, the sheriff glaring back with an unsettling calmness. His frustration bubbled beneath the surface of his skin, his jaw tight as the old man ranted on. "So any arrangement we had is now done," Gregory bit. "Null and void, hm? We aren't trade partners, we aren't friends, we never met. We don't know each other."

Rick was ready to fight. He was done trying to play the long game, trying to make things work until he could gain enough trust to take the Saviors down quietly. He needed them out of his way, out of his family's lives. It was why he'd brought his people to the Hilltop – in the hopes the community would join the fight, and finally stand up against Negan.

He only wished he had made the decision sooner. When he first walked through the gates of the Hilltop, when he'd seen Tori walk out of the medical trailer with Daryl's hand in hers, it had taken everything in him not to just break down in guilt. Guilt for not being the one to get Daryl out of that place, guilt for not believing that Tori would pull off the rescue alone. Guilt for driving her out of Alexandria, guilt for fighting against her during those days where she needed him more than ever.

And that guilty conscience was amplified by Carl. Rick's son hadn't so much as looked at him since that morning Tori left, much less actually said a word to him. Even when Rick went to tell the boy that he was ready to put up a fight, all Carl had done was walked out to the gates, ready to leave when everyone else was.

And now, with everyone spread out around the old-fashioned office, Rick saw the way his son gravitated straight to Tori. The teenager stood close to her side, arms folded across his chest as he avoided his father's glances.

Rick knew he had a lot to make up for, a lot of apologies to make. But first, he needed people. He needed the Hilltop to join them if they were going to have any chance of winning against the Saviors.

Gregory dropped onto his leather chair, clasping his hands together in his lap as he stretched his legs. "I owe you nothing. In fact, you own me for taking in the refugees at great personal risk."

"Oh, please," Jesus folded his arms with a dull scoff. He stood close beside Jake, the two men leaning against the bookshelf close to the window. "Since Maggie and Sasha arrived, you've barely been seen outside of this house."

"And where has that gotten me, huh?" Gregory shot back, his beady eyes shifting over to Tori. "Oh, yeah. Constantly having to put up with the irritating wailing of that baby of yours."

Tori's eyes narrowed, a threatening stare looming in her gaze. "That's funny, she thinks the same about you."

Carl snorted, covering his mouth with his hand as he looked at the ground. Tori felt Daryl's hand smooth down her lower back, then gently tug the hem of her shirt so he could feel her skin on his palm. His expression stayed flat, eyes shooting daggers into the old man at the desk. Though, Daryl did bite his tongue, a small smile threatening to curl the corners of his lips.

"Gregory," Rick pinched the bridge of his nose before stepping forward, trying to keep his cool. "We already started this."

The grey-haired man shook his head. "You started it."