In a world ruled by fear, survival comes with a price.
When her brother's attempt to overthrow the Saviors fails, Tessa finds herself under Negan's watchful eye-protected, controlled, and dangerously close to the man she should hate. As violence, po...
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Blinding light stabbed her eyes the moment they flicked open.
Tessa gasped, breath tearing out of her lungs as her body jolted awake. She jerked her arm instinctively—only for cold metal to bite hard into her wrist.
Handcuffs.
Panic detonated in her chest.
She tried to sit up, muscles screaming as adrenaline surged through her, but the chain snapped tight and yanked her back down. The cot rattled violently beneath her, metal legs screeching against the concrete floor.
"What the hell?" Her voice cracked, sharp and hoarse as she twisted against the restraints. Every breath felt too shallow, her chest aching as fear pressed in from all sides.
The last thing she remembered was the van.
The road blurring past. Hands on her arms. Daryl.
Her pulse spiked.
Where the hell was Daryl?
A sick, suffocating thought lodged itself in her stomach, heavy and cold.
Negan killed him.
And now she was next.
"Hey!" she shouted, thrashing again until pain flared hot along her wrist. "Somebody get me out of here!"
The door flew open, slamming against the wall, and a man in a white coat rushed inside, hands raised in surrender like he was approaching a wild animal.
"Hey—easy. Easy," he said quickly. "You're safe. It's okay. Just calm down."
"Who the hell are you?" she snapped, yanking again even as her strength began to shake. "Get these off me—now."
"Alright, alright," he said, fumbling with a key ring, clearly rattled. "I'm taking them off, but don't even think about running. There are people everywhere."
The cuffs clicked open.
Relief flooded her so fast it almost hurt—sharp and stinging, her hands trembling as blood rushed back into her wrists. Red marks bloomed where the metal had been, raw and angry.
She sucked in a shaky breath, curling her fingers as if to remind herself they were free.
The man stepped back, giving her space.
"Name's Dr. Carson," he said gently. "Negan sent me to patch you up. You were half-starved. Dehydrated." He hesitated. "Out cold for two days."
The words landed like a blow.
Two days.
Her stomach dropped.
Two days since the lineup. Two days since Glenn and Abraham's skulls had been smashed into the dirt. Two days where anything could have happened.
"I don't care who you are," she spat, hands still shaking as she pushed herself upright. "I need to get out of here. I need to go home."
Dr. Carson's expression softened, sympathy flickering across his face—but it didn't change his answer.
"This is your home now," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."
He lifted a radio and pressed the button. "She's awake."
Tessa's breath hitched.
Her heart slammed violently against her ribs, every instinct screaming run, even though she had nowhere to go.
The door slammed open a moment later—
—and the air in the room thickened, like the walls themselves were bracing.
"Well, well..." a familiar voice drawled, smooth and venomous all at once. "About damn time Sleeping Beauty decided to wake up."
Her blood went cold.
She didn't need to look.
But she did.
And there he was.
Negan stepped inside like he owned the space, like the world bent naturally around him. The grin on his face was lazy, amused—unchanged by the wreckage he left behind.
