Daughter of a Dixon ✔️

75: Attacked by Dwight

Men rushed out from the woods, guns raised and ready to fire at any moment. Rosita, Dad, and I drew our guns as quickly as we could, scanning the area broadly, etching to pull the trigger on anyone who stepped forward. But, there were more of them than us. A lot more of them.

"Drop 'em, now!" one of the men yelled, pointing the barrel of his gun directly at me. I wasn't going to obey him, but then I saw a blond-haired man with half of his face severely burned stepping forward, dragging someone by his shoulders alongside him.

They had Eugene.

In all honesty, I still wasn't going to lower my gun, but I saw Dad and Rosita obey the men, and I hesitantly followed suit.

The blond man chuckled darkly, and uttered out a guttural, "well, hell," beneath his breath.

My eyes drifted over to Dad, and I felt the heat of rage radiating off him intently. He was furious, and it wasn't just because these strangers had killed Denise. It was something more than that, something personal.

"You got something to say to me?" Blondie asked, raising his brow. "You know, clear the air? Step up on that high horse?"

Dad remained statue-still, breathing heavily with anger; he was trying to control himself, even though I could see he wanted to squeeze the life out of the guy.

"No," he concluded, shaking his head. "You don't talk much."

He looked back to some of his other group members, and gave them a quick flick of his head, signifying them to step forward. Three of the men obeyed his command, stepping up to us with their guns raised. Momentarily, they lowered them just enough to be able to pat us down, searching us for anymore weapons we might be wielding.

Once they finished, they returned back to the blond-headed man, who was smirking. "So, who brought this on who?" he questioned. "I mean...  I guess you'll just have to take my word on this, but she wasn't even the one I was aiming for."

He gestured down to the crossbow in his hands, which I only then realized was my dad's old one, and said, "she kicks like a bitch."

"I shoulda done it... I shoulda killed ya," Dad finally uttered, his voice a dark tone I had never heard, and never wanted to hear again.

The man merely smiled. "Yeah, you probably should've."

A silence went by, and I was about to speak up and ask the blond-man what the hell happened to his face before his loud voice filled the air.

"It's nothing personal," he started, and I saw Eugene, who looked as frightened as ever, warily looking back to a stack of old, tin barrels off to his right. My eyes followed, and my heart jumped at the sight of a head of orange hair peaking out from in between the barrels. "Look, this isn't how we like to start new business arrangements, but you pricks kind of set the tone, didn't you?"

"What do you want?" Rosita snapped, glaring at the man evilly.

"Well, I'm sorry darling, I didn't catch your name. I'm D, or Dwight, you can call me either... So, what's your name?"

Rosita crossed her arms, eyes growing harsher by the second. "Rosita, what do you want?"

"Well, Rosita," he began. "It's not what I want. It's what you, Daryl, and the little one are going to do. You're going to let us into your little complex. It looks just beautiful in there. And then, you're going to let us take whatever, and whoever, we want. Or, we blow Eugene's brains out, then yours, then hers, then his. And I hope it doesn't come to that, really. Nobody else has to die... So, what's it gonna be? You tell me."