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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Tessa slipped into the tight black dress, the fabric clinging to her thighs and barely brushing her knees. It felt wrong on her—too tight, too deliberate—but she didn't hesitate. Hesitation cost too much here.
In the bathroom mirror, she forced her tangled hair into something resembling order, fingers shaking as she smoothed it back. It wasn't much. But it would have to do.
If bowing her head and playing obedient meant seeing Daryl... then she'd wear the mask.
She opened the door.
Simon was already waiting, leaning against the wall like he'd been there for hours. His grin was casual, lazy—but the glint in his eyes was sharp, assessing.
"Lookin' good," he said, voice dipped in mockery.
"Just take me where I need to go," Tessa snapped.
He pushed off the wall and motioned her forward. They moved through the corridors in silence, her footsteps echoing too loudly in her ears. The deeper they went, the heavier her chest felt. They stopped in front of a reinforced steel door.
Her throat tightened.
Her pulse thudded violently in her ears.
The bravado she'd walked out with started to slip, nerves crawling up her spine like cold fingers.
Simon noticed.
Of course he did.
"Stick to what I told you," he murmured, leaning closer. "Don't push. Don't poke. Smile when he wants you to smile." His eyes locked on hers. "And things'll go smooth. Got it?"
Tessa nodded once.
Simon knocked—once, firm—then pushed the door open.
Negan's eyes snapped to her instantly.
Not a glance.
A lock.
Unlike Simon's quick once-over, Negan's gaze lingered, slow and deliberate, dragging over every inch of her like he was memorizing her shape. Like she was something newly acquired.
Her stomach clenched.
"Eyes up here," she snapped. "My eyes are up here."
A slow, wicked grin spread across Negan's face as he stood. He towered over her, presence filling the room, pressing the air tight around her ribs.
"Well, well, well," he drawled. "There she is."
He glanced at Simon. "Thank you. Now get the hell out... and go make yourself useless somewhere else."
Simon hesitated—just a fraction. His last look at Tessa was a mixture of warning and something close to pity before he slipped out and shut the door behind him.
The lock clicked.
Negan stepped closer.
His hand landed on the small of her back—hot, heavy, claiming.
She stiffened.
"Don't be shy, sweetheart." He guided her forward like he had every right to. "Sit." He nodded to the chair across from his. "You a whiskey girl?"
She sat because there was no other option.
He poured, slid the glass toward her.
Tessa knocked it back in one swallow, the burn tearing down her throat and lighting fire in her chest.
Negan chuckled. "Whoa—slow down there. Didn't peg you for the chugging type."
Her patience thinned to a thread. "Just cut the crap. Why am I here?" She gestured sharply at herself. "And why this dress?"
Negan leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes locked on hers—probing, studying, uncomfortably knowing.
"These eyes," he murmured. "They tell a story. You've been through some serious shit. I can see it plain as day." His grin flickered—almost into sincerity. Almost. "And I gotta admit... it intrigues the hell outta me."
She didn't relax.
She knew better.
"You're right," she said, jaw tight. "I've been through hell."
"Then tell me about it," Negan said softly, tilting his head like she was something under glass. "Come on, sweetheart. Don't hold out on me."
Her throat tightened.
She hated herself for answering.
But the words clawed their way out anyway.
"Before the world fell apart... I was married." She swallowed hard. "We wanted a family more than anything. Then I found out I was pregnant."
Her voice trembled—but she kept going.
"A week later, a drunk driver slammed into my car. Rick was the officer on the scene. He told me everything would be okay." Her laugh was brittle. "It wasn't."
She stared at the floor.
"I lost my baby that day. Doctors said I'd never carry another child." Her hands curled into fists. "My husband changed. Blamed me. Resented me. The man I loved turned violent."
Her voice cracked.
"Rick was the one who arrested him—after he beat me."
A tear burned at the corner of her eye. She wiped it away before it could fall.
For a moment, Negan didn't speak.
Something unreadable flickered across his face.
Then his hand settled on her knee.
Tessa jolted like she'd been burned.
"No." She stood abruptly, chair scraping loudly across the floor. "Don't touch me."
The whiskey glass slipped from her fingers, shattering at her feet.
"Easy," Negan said, rising. He reached for her—
And froze.
Tessa had snatched up a jagged shard of glass, its edge glinting as her hand trembled.
"I've lost everything!" she screamed, voice ripping raw from her throat. "And then you—you take the only person I had left!" Her chest heaved. "You're a MONSTER!"
Her breaths came sharp and broken. Her vision blurred. Panic crushed in around her ribs.
Negan moved fast.
Two strides—
And he was behind her.
His hand snapped around her wrist. The shard slipped free, clattering uselessly to the floor. He spun her, chest pressed to her back, iron grip locking her in place.
Pain flared where he held her.
"You've got fire, sweetheart," he murmured against her ear, voice low, hot—pleased.
