Running From You I Negan x Maggie (ENGLISH VERSION)

Chapter 16: We were born sick, but I love it

"My church offers no absolutions

She tells me: Worship in the bedroom

The only heaven I'll be sent to

Is when I'm alone with you"

Maggie kept the door ajar, her heart racing and her eyes locked on Negan. The question he'd asked still hung in the air, carrying a concern and intensity she didn't know how to face. With an almost imperceptible scoff, she responded, her voice laced with irony.

"Are you drunk again, Negan?" The question escaped her more harshly than she intended, but the sarcastic tone was the only shield she had left.

He let out a short, humorless laugh, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Not this time."

Maggie bit her lip, frustration rippling through her. Ever since she'd heard Rosita point out the realities of her reluctance and saw Negan smiling at Jess with an affection she didn't want to recognize, a part of her felt chained to him in a way that defied logic. That sight—Negan's carefree smile—ignited a rage she couldn't contain. It wasn't just anger at him but also at herself for caring so much.

"What do you want here, Negan?" Her voice came out cutting, but inside she felt like a flickering flame, ready to burn out.

Negan tilted his head, studying her with an intensity that made her feel naked, exposed. He took a step closer, close enough for her to feel his warmth invading the space between them. Maggie tried to keep her expression steady, but she knew that his closeness was breaking down her defenses in a way no one else could.

"Can I come in?" It wasn't a request, and the low, rough tone made the air feel heavier.

She wanted to say no, to push him back and lock the door. She wanted to pretend that she didn't spend sleepless nights thinking about what he represented, everything he had taken, and everything he made her body and mind crave. But since that cursed sight of Jess smiling at him, as if he were just some ordinary man, her inner conflict had reached a new level.

Maggie felt the anger simmer under her skin, but it wasn't directed solely at him—it was directed at herself for wanting something that made her feel both tainted and alive.

"It's late, Negan." The words came out in a whisper, but she knew he caught the hesitation in her voice.

She tried to close the door, but his hand intercepted it, firm and unyielding. The challenging smile he'd worn was gone, replaced by an expression that held a trace of vulnerability she couldn't ignore. He kept the door open, his chest rising and falling with a controlled yet tense breath.

Maggie felt the anger boiling beneath her skin for wanting something that made her feel sinful. Sinful and wrong.

"Don't you have anything better to do than to bother me?" she hissed, trying to sound unshakable, but her voice faltered.

Negan laughed, but the sound was softer, almost sad, and his eyes met hers with an intensity that made her hold her breath.

"No matter how hard I try, I keep ending up here," he murmured, each word weighted with raw truth. "So, Maggie... are you going to let me in or not?"

A shiver ran down her spine, and the armor she wore to protect herself began to crack. The sight of Jess with him, the words Rosita had spoken echoing in her mind—all of it made her want to explode, to burn every bridge at once. But part of her wanted to give in, to feel more of that intensity, even knowing that the guilt would eat at her later.