INTO THE SHADOWS. Negan

SEVEN

"That...that's the look I wanted to see," Negan said, grinning wide as he swept his gaze across the broken group. His eyes lingered on their bowed heads, their shaking hands, their silence. "We did it. All of us. Hell, even the dead guys get the damn spirit award today. Now that was a productive damn day!"

He leaned on Lucille like a preacher with his bible, resting his weight against the bat as if delivering a sermon.
"And I hope, for all your sakes, that you finally understand how things work. Whatever little game you had going on before, that's done."

Tessa's stomach twisted violently. A cold dread spread through her chest, slow and inevitable. She knew what was coming before he even said it. She could feel it in the way Negan's smile sharpened, in the way Rick wouldn't meet her eyes.

"Dwight, Simon—load 'em up."

The words hit harder than any blow.

Simon grabbed her arm in a crushing grip, fingers biting into muscle. Tessa fought, kicking and jerking wildly, panic flooding her limbs, but it was useless. His strength barely faltered as he dragged her forward.
"Let go of me!" she screamed, her voice raw. "Rick! Please don't let him take me!"

Her brother's eyes met hers—wide, devastated, burning with grief and fury—but he didn't move. He couldn't. If he did, more people would die. She saw the truth written all over his face, saw the moment he broke trying to choose between her and everyone else.

Simon hauled her toward the van. At the same time, Daryl was shoved in beside her, silent, seething, his jaw clenched so tight she thought it might crack.

Negan's voice boomed behind them, loud and cruel.
"He's got guts, not like some little bitch I know. And I'm taking sweet little Tessa here with me. Little leverage never hurt anybody, right? We'll... except for her."

He laughed, delighted with himself.
"I like 'em tough. Especially her. She's mine now. They've got guts. Not a little bitch like someone I know. You still wanna try something? 'Not today, not tomorrow?' Not today, not tomorrow, I will cut pieces off of Tessa and... hell, what's his name?"

"Daryl," Simon responded.

Negan's grin sharpened, eyes lighting up.
"Now that sounds about right. I'll cut pieces off of Daryl and Tessa and drop 'em on your doorstep one by one. Or better yet, I'll bring them to you and have you do it for me."

His laughter echoed like gunfire through the clearing, bouncing off the trees, impossible to escape.
"Welcome to the new world, you sorry shits! I'll leave you a truck to use. Haul in the crap I want. We'll be back for our first delivery next week. Until then... ta-da."

The van doors slammed shut.

Darkness swallowed them whole.

The engine rumbled to life beneath their feet, vibrating through the metal walls. As the van lurched forward, Tessa shifted instinctively toward Daryl, clinging to him like he was the only solid thing left. He tightened his arms around her, holding her close, trying his best to comfort her even as his own body trembled with restrained rage and guilt.

"It wasn't your fault," she whispered, pressing her forehead against his chest, knowing the weight in his eyes. "Rick will come for us. He has to."

Daryl didn't speak. He only nodded, once.

She forced herself to sound certain, clung to the words as if belief alone could make them true. But deep down, terror gnawed at her relentlessly. She had no idea what awaited them at the Sanctuary—no idea what Negan planned to do with them once the doors opened again.

Still, exhaustion overtook her like a wave. The rocking of the van, the darkness, the sheer emotional wreckage of the night finally dragged her under. With Daryl's arms still around her, Tessa drifted into an uneasy, fractured sleep—haunted by blood, laughter, and the promise of a world that had just taken everything from her.