Chapter 17

Price's POV

I arrived at Deanna's house for the so-called welcoming party. Didn't much care for gatherings like this, but it was best to keep up appearances.

Inside, I spotted the others who'd arrived first.

Glenn and Maggie were chatting with some of the locals, trying to blend in.

Carol was in the kitchen, playing the sweet and harmless housewife.

Carl and Caleb were talking to a few kids their age.

Abigail, Sophie, and Sam—Jessie's youngest—were busy with a board game, with Melina watching over them.

Abraham was by the fridge, grabbing another cold beer, deep in conversation with Davidson and his lot.

I kept an eye on that last one. Abraham had a sharp mind, but Davidson had a way of getting under people's skin, making them think he was someone worth listening to.

Across the room, Elijah, Noah, and Reg were talking—Noah looked particularly interested, nodding along. Boy wants to learn engineering, I realized. Smart lad.

Then there was Rick.

He was talking with Jessie while carrying Judith. And smiling. Really smiling. That was rare. He didn't smile like that with just anyone.

I studied the woman a little closer. That's when I saw it—bruises.

Barely noticeable, but there.

Rick hadn't noticed yet. But he would. And when he did, I knew exactly how that was going to end.

I'd let him know later.

Near the clinic's makeshift corner, Dr. Holloway was deep in conversation with Denise and Pete. That was one talk I'd want to listen in on later.

The rest of our group was scattered around. Eugene and Rosita apparently she stopped giving Eugene the cold shoulders after he lied being a scientist, which made me smirk. And the two Darius lads—still amusing as hell having two blokes with the same name.

One person missing? Daryl. Can't blame him for skipping this circus.

Then Deanna spotted me.

"Ah, Price. You finally arrived," she said with a smile. "I thought you weren't coming."

I let out a short laugh. "Didn't want to disappoint."

She offered me food and a cold beer, and I took it. Never say no to a free drink.

I ate quickly, keeping an ear on the conversations around me. People had been talking about me, learning about my background.

One woman finally asked, "You were SAS, right? What was that like?"

I gave a watered-down version. Nothing too bloody, nothing too classified. Talked about deployments, about operations that sounded impressive but weren't enough to raise suspicion.

Then another woman asked, "Do you know where the virus started?"

I took a sip of beer before answering. "Europe. A biomedical facility in France."

That caught some attention.

Rick chimed in. "We met a scientist at the CDC in Atlanta."

People quieted, leaning in.

Rick continued, "He told us the virus only restarts the brainstem. Just enough to get 'em up and moving, but everything else… it's gone. The person's gone."

His voice had that weight to it. He wasn't an expert, wasn't a scientist, but he'd seen enough to understand what death really meant.

Then Dr. Holloway spoke up, voice calm but firm.

"I also met with a virologist before and he told me one interesting fact about the virus but I want everyone to stay calm for what I'm about to reveal"

He paused, making sure people were listening.

"We're already infected with the virus."

The room froze.

Fear. Confusion. Panic. I could see it spread across the faces of Alexandria's residents—and Davidson's lot too.

Rick nodded. "We figured it out. People who weren't bitten, who just… died. They still turned."

Our group murmured in agreement, but the Alexandrians looked shaken. They hadn't had to learn this the hard way like we had.

Deanna finally spoke, "If we already have the virus… why aren't we turning?"

Dr. Holloway took a breath. "Because our immune system have adapted and holds it at bay. It keeps it dormant."

People still looked confused, so he gave an analogy.

"Imagine two opposing forces in medieval times," he said. "Same number of soldiers, same quality of weapons, and same brilliant commanders. What happens?"

Reg answered. "A stalemate."

Holloway nodded. "Exactly. That's what's happening in our bodies. The virus is there, but our immune system have adapted and is strong enough to keep it from taking over."

Then he let the second half of that analogy sink in.

"But what if one of those armies gets reinforcements? Overwhelms the other?"

Reg frowned. "Then they'd lose."

"That's what happens when someone is bitten or died," Holloway said. "Their immune system gets overwhelmed. And their body starts shutting down, piece by piece, until the virus takes over completely."

Silence.

The Alexandrians were processing it. Some of them were breathing heavier, others staring at their plates. Davidson's people stayed quiet. Our group? We already knew.

Then someone finally broke the silence.

A woman asked, voice shaking, "Dr. Holloway… can you find a cure?"

The doctor shook his head immediately.

"No."

The answer was blunt, final. No hope.

"I'm a surgeon. I understand the body. But I'm not a virologist nor a CDC scientist or any of its equivalent. The people who could've helped? They're gone or maybe are scattered around the country."

Another pause. Another silence.

Then, slowly, conversations started picking up again—but now there was something else in the air.

Reality.

They'd been safe behind these walls too long. They'd thought the outside world's horrors were just stories.

Now? They understood.

The night was winding down. People were filtering out of Deanna's house, returning to their homes with full stomachs and uneasy thoughts. The truth about the virus had hit them hard, and I could tell that for some, the illusion of safety had cracked.

Most of our group had already left, but Rick and I lingered. Something about this place still didn't sit right with me.

We were just about to leave when Deanna and Reg approached us, bringing along their eldest son, Spencer—and Davidson.

I immediately sized Spencer up—tall, lean, not much muscle, but there was eagerness in his eyes. Maybe too much. A young man who wanted to prove something.

Davidson, on the other hand, carried himself differently. Relaxed, but not in a good way. A man who liked control and hated being challenged.

"John Price," Davidson said, extending his hand. "We haven't been properly introduced. You can call me Davidson."

I took his hand, firm grip, but felt him press just a bit harder.

Testing me.

Amateur.

I let out a low smirk and tightened my own grip—enough to make his eye twitch.

"You can call me by my last name —Price."

He held my gaze a second longer than necessary, then let go and turned to Rick.

I watched him introduce himself, but my mind was already elsewhere. Davidson played power games. I'd seen his type before. Men who had a little authority, a little strength, and thought it made them invincible.

I'd snapped men like that in half.

Deanna spoke next, her voice carrying its usual measured tone.

"This is my eldest, Spencer."

Rick and I shook hands with the lad. His grip was steady, but there was hesitation there. Young, inexperienced. I'd seen soldiers like him before their first battle.

Deanna continued. "Tomorrow, we'll sit down and discuss everyone's jobs in the community."

Rick nodded. "Sounds good."

That's when I stepped forward, looking Deanna in the eye.

"Did Aaron tell you the circumstances of how we met?"

Deanna's brow furrowed slightly, but she nodded. "You and Daryl were attacking a hostile camp. Aaron was trailing you."

I exhaled slowly, shaking my head.

"We weren't just attacking them.

We were killing them."

Silence. Shock flickered across their faces.

Good.

I let the words sink in before I continued. "Do you know why?"

Deanna looked uneasy, shifting in place. Reg swallowed hard. Spencer stayed quiet, his eyes darting between us.

Davidson? His usual smugness was gone.

I gave them the answer.

"They called themselves the Wolves."

Another pause. I wanted to let the weight of that name settle in.

"They mark their foreheads with a 'W'. They don't just kill. They butcher. They take communities, tear them apart, leave nothing standing. Shirewilt Estates in Richmond? They attacked that place. Noah's family—Elijah, Melina, all of them? The only ones left. Everyone else was slaughtered."

Reg slowly sat down. Deanna paled.

"And before that?" I went on, my voice unwavering. "They hit another settlement. Same result. No survivors."

The room was dead silent.

"The camp we wiped out?" I continued. "Those were just the initiates. The recruits they left behind. The main group?

They relocated. Somewhere in Virginia."

Davidson shifted uncomfortably, his jaw tightening.

Good. He should be afraid.

"They could be nearby," I said. "Or they could be far. But make no mistake—" I leaned in slightly, voice lowering—"If they find out about Alexandria, they will come. And when they do, they won't hesitate."

I watched as Deanna sat down, her hands gripping the edge of the table. Spencer quickly brought her a glass of water, his face tight with concern.

Davidson looked shaken.

The bastard finally understood that outside these walls, there were real monsters.

Deanna's voice was shaky when she finally spoke. "What do you want us to do, Price?"

I exhaled, then straightened my stance.

"I want everyone in Alexandria to learn how to fight. Men, women, everyone who can hold a weapon."

Deanna nodded slowly, absorbing my words.

I continued. "Your security here is lax. No watchtowers, no proper rotations, only a handful of guards at the front gate. That needs to change. I have proposals to fix that, and we'll go over them in depth tomorrow."

She nodded again, glancing toward Reg. The older man looked thoughtful, concerned—but he didn't argue.

"For tonight," I added, "we'll set up rotating patrols within the walls and put someone in that abandoned tower as sentry. Our people will handle it. They already know how to do it properly."

Spencer, who had been silent the whole time, finally spoke up. "I want to be part of it."

I studied him for a moment. He was eager. Green, but eager.

I gave him a slow nod. "Alright. But you stay sharp. You don't take risks. You listen when I give an order. Understood?"

He straightened up. "Understood."

Deanna exhaled, standing again, her composure returning. "Thank you, Price. We'll meet in the morning."

I didn't respond. I just gave her a curt nod and turned toward the door, motioning for Rick to follow.

As we stepped outside, Rick finally spoke, voice low.

"You think they're ready for what's coming?"

I glanced back at Deanna's house, at the lights flickering through the windows.

"Not even close."