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 quickly into the house, closing the door behind her with a soft, careful click.
She lived only a few doors down from Rick, close enough that she could hear his voice when the street was quiet. But unlike her brother, she had always preferred solitude. Rick had urged her countless times to move in with him and the kids—said it would be safer, said they were stronger together—but she always resisted.
Rick thrived in the center of things. He led. He anchored people.
She survived on the edges.
Sometimes she envied him. He had a family. A purpose. A reason to keep going that didn't waver. All she had was this small, simple house—one bedroom, two baths, and a narrow patio where Carol had once taught her how to coax life from dead soil. Tomatoes. Herbs. Something green, something hopeful.
Now, even that felt like a ghost.
Inside, the walls didn't offer warmth. They held memories instead, heavy and unmoving. Her mind drifted—unbidden—to Abraham. To loud laughter and shared drinks, to terrible jokes shouted across the room. To the way his presence filled space without trying.
His absence ached like an open wound.
She shook her head sharply. There was no time to drown in grief—not with Negan's people crawling all over Alexandria, tearing it apart piece by piece.
Tessa pushed through the house toward the patio, her steps quick, purposeful. She crouched beside a familiar plant, fingers hovering for a second before digging into the soil. Grit scraped beneath her nails. Dirt packed under her skin.
Then—cloth.
Her heart hammered violently as she pulled the bundle free. Inside the wrapping, the cold weight of her hidden gun gleamed dully in the light.
Relief hit first.
Then dread.
She wiped her hands on her dress and tucked the weapon into her waistband beneath the thin fabric. It pressed hard against her hip—awkward, heavy, impossible to fully conceal. Every movement reminded her it was there.
When she stepped back inside, her chest tightened.
The Saviors had already been through the house.
Drawers yanked open. Belongings scattered. Her mattress—gone. Stripped away like everything else they'd decided she didn't deserve to keep. She sucked in a deep breath, forcing herself to stay quiet, to cage the fury boiling inside her ribs.
At the dresser, she found the photos she'd hidden beneath folded clothes.
Her fingers traced the first one—her and Damon, smiling, younger, back when life had felt simple. School dances. Promises whispered in the dark. Futures they thought were guaranteed.
She still wondered if fate had ripped them apart forever.
Then her hand brushed a small ultrasound photo.
Her throat burned.
"It's been a while," she whispered, clutching it tightly.
Memories slammed into her all at once. A life she never got to hold. A love she never got to keep. Tears blurred her vision as her breath hitched.
"No matter how much I miss you," she murmured, voice trembling, "I'm thankful you don't have to see this world." She pressed the photo to her chest, forcing air into her lungs. "I'm staying strong for you."
A voice cut through the room.
"I thought you said you'd be quick."
Tessa jumped.
Her head snapped up, heart plummeting into her stomach.
Negan leaned casually against the doorway, arms crossed, that wolfish grin plastered across his face like he'd been there the whole time.
"Jesus—you scared me," she stammered, shoving the photo back into the drawer. "I—I got caught up in the moment."
Negan stepped inside, boots heavy against the floor. His eyes swept the room lazily before locking onto her.
"That so?" he said, mockery dripping from every syllable.
Tessa swallowed hard, forcing a shaky smile. "Y-yes. Did Rick... did Rick find the guns?"
"Oh, Rick found plenty," Negan drawled, circling her slowly. "But there's still one missin'."
Her pulse spiked.
"You wouldn't happen to know where it is," he added lightly, "would you, sweetheart?"
Her stomach dropped.
She shook her head too fast, denial sharp and instinctive. "No, I don't—"
She didn't finish.
Negan's hand shot out, yanking her forward. She stumbled hard into his chest, breath knocked from her lungs. His grip tightened at her side, steadying her only so he could control her.
His other hand slid slowly down her waist.
Deliberate.
Invasive.
Tessa froze, eyes wide, every nerve screaming as his fingers traced lower—until they brushed against her hip.
Then stopped.
Right on the hard outline beneath her dress.
Negan chuckled darkly.
"Well, well," he murmured. "What do we have here?"
He lifted the hem of her dress just enough to expose the weapon and pulled it free, dangling it between them like a prize.
"I—I can explain," Tessa whispered, panic clawing up her throat.
Negan's expression hardened. Something ugly flickered behind his eyes. For a moment, the silence was more terrifying than shouting.
Then he barked out a humorless laugh, dragging a hand down his face.
"And here I thought we were finally gettin' along."
"Negan, please," she begged. "I wasn't hiding it to use against you. I—I kept it for protection. I was going to give it to you, I swear. I just... got caught up."
The words spilled out, rushed and desperate. Every instinct screamed at her not to provoke him.
Negan leaned in close, lowering his voice to a whisper that sent ice straight down her spine.
"Careful, sweetheart," he said softly. "I don't like secrets."
