Carol's Daughter On The Walking Dead Novels & Stories

Tears blurred my vision and the memory of that night. My son didn't want to jump out of my lap. He had straddled my waist and hugged my neck tightly. But anyway I peeled his arms off my neck and made him sit on the seat in the back. I had told him to stay within the car. That I will come back to him after taking care of the rogues. I never did. They took my Cian before that. I followed the trail and found Carolyn instead. She was put under a tree in the Dark woods. Her parents were guarding her. In my rage, I killed them both and got their daughter.

"Please forgive me. I don't want to die. I'm scared. I need to take care of my daughter. Please don't kill me. Please." At the same time, Cara emerged from the clearing, holding her black veil. I rushed to meet her. "Cara, what are you doing here? Who let you out of the clinic?" "Leave me alone!" she yelled but froze when she saw that Xavier was still alive and that Axton was crying. She turned to face me. "What is going on? Has he changed his mind?" "I don't know," I replied. I held her close while Axton and the elders and leaders were on that tree having a close, hushed meeting.

Calla had just finished hanging up Clover's clothes and diapers when she heard the hushed chatter of a few women from her balcony. Although their voices were low, they were on the floor right below her. With Calla standing out in the open, she could hear everything clearly. "Did you hear? Carol's eldest daughter has been back at her place with a baby for quite a while now." Calla knew that voice all too well—it was Joyce, who lived just next door. "I don't need to hear about it, I've seen it firsthand! Haven't you noticed Carol going out with her basket to buy groceries every day? She's cooking for her daughter." That was Ruth, who lived across the hall.

Carol is in the kitchen, with a bottle of Jack on the counter. “My father and I didn’t see eye to eye on most things,” she starts, pouring a small amount of whiskey in a glass. “But we both cared about the girls.” She drinks the whiskey. “I’m glad Danielle has you.” “Yeah. She does have me.” Carol adds another splash of whiskey to the glass. “I…I need to make funeral arrangements. Will you stay with Danielle?” “Of course. Do you need anything?” I run my hand through my hair, not sure what I can do to help.

Emiliano tried to reason with Carlos, but Carlos shook his head and pointed the gun on Rhea's chest. “I'll kill her right in front of you”Carlos growled out the words and prepared to pull the trigger, Rhea blinked several times as her eyes closed embracing her fate because no one would save her from the monster before her “Really? Are you brave enough to kill your daughter and your grandchild?”it was Emiliano who said calmly only for Carlos to freeze not just him, but Rhea was shocked too, so was Sia who looked at Emiliano now walking to Carlos… Logan wasn't surprised because he knew the truth.

Alex called me but I ignored him. I swallowed my saliva to get rid of the sadness that was clumping in my throat. "I was the last Lycan to be killed-" "Caroline!" Alex grabbed my arm, forcing me to look at him. My gaze was still on Dad who was tensing up on the couch he was sitting on. "-who was killed by Theodore Brennan," I continued in a trembling voice. "Theodore? You mean your grandfather?" Mum asked in her soft confused voice. He looked at each of you in turn with a confused look. "I don't understand, what does that mean?"

Alden took a drag from his cigarette and asked skeptically, "Since when did you go from handling firearms to crafting charms?" "I've been making werewolf protection charms since I was a pup. Repairing one for my daughter isn't that hard." Alden smirked. "Carly's 18 years old now. Does she really still need that dainty pink protection charm? It's meant for pups." "No matter how old she gets, she'll always be my little pup." Dad stood and straightened his sleeves. "She lost her home when she was young, and then her mom, whom she loved most. As her dad, I've already failed her enough."

He, of course, couldn’t leave silence alone. “Are you Romero’s actual daughter? Blood?” he asked after a while, tone casual in a way that was far more dangerous than shouting. I stared at the passing ground. Ignoring him. We were reaching a city. I could smell more decay. The presence of more vampires. “I asked you a question.” A pause. “You have hair different from the rest of your kind. So are you really his daughter—born the same day as Prince Elio? What were you doing on this trip?”

Dorothy's daughter, a woman in her mid-fifties named Carol who had her mother's direct eyes in a rounder face, met us at the entrance. "She's been up since five," Carol said, shaking our hands. "She figured out what this was about last night. I told her someone found something at the old clinic site and she sat very still for a moment and then she said 'I knew they'd find it eventually' and went to bed." Carol paused. "She's been extremely calm about it, which with my mother means she's actually extremely moved." She led us along a covered walkway to a door at the end and knocked twice before opening it.

Then she reached to a guard at her side, drew his gun in one smooth motion, and jammed the barrel against my father’s throat. “Roland DeLuca,” she said, each word clipped and sharp, “I carried my daughter for ten months. I found her again, and on her first day home, your sons nearly killed her.” “If Yvette dies tonight, I’ll bury this whole family with her.” Kane had come down by then, Sofia at his side. The look on his face finally changed. “Mom, are you out of your mind?” he snapped. “You’re pulling a gun on us over some girl you barely know?”