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 sat frozen, Negan's story echoing through her mind long after his voice had gone quiet.
Her gaze drifted to the bat propped in the chair beside him—curled barbed wire, dark stains embedded deep into the wood. Brutal. Revered. Treated like something sacred.
Lucille.
He had named that thing after his wife.
The same wife he cheated on. The same wife he failed.
If she needed more proof that he was unhinged, this was it.
Her fork hovered above her plate, forgotten, as she studied him—really studied him. For the first time since being dragged into his world, she didn't see only the monster. Didn't see just the man who laughed while killing people she loved.
She saw the broken thing underneath.
A man carrying something heavier than the bat beside him. Something he didn't know how to set down.
Her voice softened despite herself. "Lucille..." she repeated carefully. "That's why you call the bat that."
Negan's mouth twitched into a small, humorless smirk.
"Smart girl," he said quietly. "She was my world. And I failed her." His fingers tightened around his glass. "Now I carry a piece of her with me... whether I want to or not."
He leaned back, eyes drifting somewhere far beyond the Sanctuary walls—beyond the candles, the food, the carefully staged illusion of intimacy.
The cocky edge was gone.
And in its place was something worse.
Something real.
Tessa shifted in her chair, suddenly unsure of her footing. For so long she'd clung to the simplicity of hating him. Cruel. Terrifying. A single shape she could point to and say this is evil.
But this—this cracked him open just enough to be dangerous in a different way.
"You ever think about who you were before all this?" she asked quietly, the question slipping out before she could stop it.
Negan's eyes snapped back to her—sharp, unreadable.
"Every damn day," he said. "And every day I hate that man. Weak. Selfish. Hiding behind lies." He tapped a finger against his glass. "This world doesn't let you be weak. It made me who I am."
Tessa swallowed. "And who is that, exactly?" she asked. "The savior? The villain? The man who thinks everyone owes him something?"
His lips curled into the smallest, slowest smirk.
"Depends who you ask, sweetheart," he said. "To some, I'm a savior. To others, I'm the devil himself."
He leaned in, lowering his voice, thick with meaning.
"But to you..." His eyes locked onto hers. "...I'm whatever keeps you alive."
A chill crawled down her spine.
It wasn't romantic. It wasn't comforting.
It was a threat dressed up as affection.
She looked down at her bourbon, swirling the last amber drop, watching the light fracture through the glass.
"You say that like I have a choice."
Negan tilted his head, studying her—every twitch of her mouth, every breath she tried to steady, every crack she tried to hide. That stare of his—too knowing, too patient—made her skin prickle.
"Everyone has a choice, Tessa," he murmured. "You can keep fighting me every step of the way..." His smile sharpened. "...or you can learn how to survive in my world."
Her jaw tightened.
That stubborn spark inside her flared again, defiant even against the storm of emotions he'd stirred. Even against the fear curling low in her gut.
"Maybe I don't want to live in your world."
Negan's grin returned—slow, wicked, hungry.
A different kind of danger than before.
"Then," he said softly, leaning back in his chair, "we're gonna have one hell of a night, sweetheart."
The tension between them thickened—charged, volatile, dangerous.
A push and pull neither of them was ready to let go of.
