Bloodlines.

Chapter twenty: Negan Lets Alyssa out.

Negan sat at the long table in his office, Lucille resting on his shoulder as he stared at the reports Simon and Dwight had given him about Alyssa's time in the cells. His jaw tightened as he skimmed the details. Six days, and she was still holding out. No sleep, minimal food, and yet she hadn't broken. He thumped Lucille against the table, his frustration boiling over.

"This girl," he growled, leaning forward. "She's tougher than half the assholes working for me. But you know what? She's starting to piss me off."

Simon chuckled nervously, but Dwight kept his head down, avoiding eye contact.

"Boss," Simon ventured, "maybe it's time to cut our losses. She's a liability. Keep pushing her, and she might go the other way—make us regret keeping her around."

Negan's glare shot to Simon, and he tilted his head, a dangerous smile creeping onto his face. "Oh, Simon. Do I look like the kinda guy who gives up when shit gets tough? Do I?"

Simon backed off, muttering a quick, "No, sir."

Negan rose from his seat, pacing the room as his thoughts churned. Alyssa wasn't like anyone else he'd encountered. Most people either broke under his boot or joined his cause, eager to survive. But her? She was a different breed.

He ran his hand through his hair, pausing by the window to look out over the sanctuary courtyard. She reminded him of himself in some ways—unbreakable, relentless, stubborn as hell. It infuriated him and fascinated him at the same time. Deep down, he knew why he hadn't physically harmed her yet, but he wouldn't admit it to anyone, not even himself. Something about her resilience, her fire... it sparked something in him.

He turned sharply, slamming Lucille against the wall. "I need a new angle," he announced, his tone sharp and decisive. "We tried breaking her physically. We tried messing with her mind. Clearly, the kid's got guts. But everyone's got a weakness. Everyone."

Dwight glanced up cautiously. "What do you want us to do next?"

Negan's grin returned, slow and sinister. "Let's take her out of the cell. Put her somewhere... nicer. Let her see what she's missing by not playing ball. Make it seem like we're giving her a choice—freedom or loyalty."

As he left the office, Negan couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he was walking a fine line with Alyssa. She wasn't just any prisoner. She was a challenge. And one way or another, he was determined to win.

Dwight stood in the hallway, exchanging a brief glance with Simon.

"You getting her, or am I?" Dwight asked, clearly irritated.

Simon shrugged dismissively. "I have better things to do," he snapped before storming off without another word.

Dwight rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath before turning to head toward the cells. His footsteps echoed down the cold corridor as he approached Alyssa's door. With a resigned sigh, he unlocked it and stepped inside.

Alyssa was slumped against the wall, looking gaunt and pale. The six days in confinement had taken their toll, but her sharp eyes still burned with defiance. Dwight wrinkled his nose at the stench in the room.

"Get up," he grunted, grabbing her arm and hauling her to her feet.

Alyssa groaned but didn't resist. "What's the matter, Dwight? Got sick of your dog food sandwiches?" she snapped, her voice hoarse but laced with sarcasm.

Dwight tightened his grip, his nails digging into her arm. "Be smart, Alyssa Grimes. This is your opportunity," he hissed through clenched teeth as he dragged her down the corridor.