Within

forty four

Ariana's breathing was uneven as she sat on the cold concrete floor, her wrists raw from the ropes still holding her in place. She stared at the metal door, willing her mind to settle, but Negan's words haunted her like a ghost she couldn't shake.

The flickering light overhead made the shadows dance, casting long, distorted shapes across the room. It was suffocating in its stillness, her thoughts louder than the silence.

She replayed his voice in her head, his hesitant, broken confession. It wasn't the Negan she knew, the man who commanded fear and loyalty in equal measure. No, this was something else. But she couldn't decide if it was real or just another layer to his game.

Her muscles tensed with the memory of his hands untying the gag, gentle, even tender, but she couldn't allow herself to believe in his remorse. Not yet. The wounds were too fresh. Her anger surged again, tightening like a vice around her chest, and she grit her teeth, pulling at the restraints until her wrists burned.

Why now she thought bitterly. Why now, when it's too late?

Suddenly, the cell door clanged open again, and her heart leapt into her throat. Her body stiffened, but it wasn't Negan this time. Two of his men stood in the doorway, their faces expressionless beneath the dull light.

Without a word, they moved toward her, their rough hands yanking her to her feet, untying the ropes from her wrists. Her muscles screamed in protest as blood rushed back into her arms, but she barely noticed. Her mind was racing.

"Where are you taking me?" She demanded, her voice sharp and defiant despite the tremor of fear that curled in her stomach. They didn't answer, their grips firm as they led her out of the cell and down a narrow, dimly lit hallway.

Her eyes darted around, taking in her surroundings, trying to get a sense of where she was. She'd been dragged into this part of the Sanctuary blindfolded before, and now that she could see, the concrete walls and barred windows felt more like a tomb than anything else. Panic started to creep in, but she forced it down. She needed to stay focused. Stay strong.

They pushed her into a large, open room at the end of the hall, a room she recognised instantly. It was where Negan held court, where he gave his speeches, where he executed those who dared to cross him. The tension in the air was palpable, and Ariana's stomach churned.

Negan was already there, standing near the center of the room with his back to her. His leather jacket gleamed in the dim light, but his posture was stiff, shoulders tense as if he could feel her presence without needing to turn around. He stood motionless, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He didn't look at her, not at first.

Ariana's heart pounded in her chest. She wasn't sure if it was anger, fear, or the remnants of something far more dangerous that made her feel this way.

"Leave us." Negan said, his voice low but commanding, the steel back in his tone.

The men hesitated for a moment before silently obeying, their footsteps echoing as they exited the room, leaving the two of them alone.

The heavy door slammed shut behind them, and the sound echoed in the vast space like a death knell.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Negan remained with his back to her, as if he was gathering the courage to face her. The air between them was thick with tension, like a storm on the verge of breaking.

Finally, he turned, and Ariana felt her breath catch again. His face was a mask of barely-contained emotion. The vulnerability she'd seen in the cell was still there, but it was laced with something darker.