Bloodlines.

Chapter Twenty Two: Alyssa helps Sherry Escape.

The truck rumbled along the uneven road, the air inside thick with tension. Negan lounged back in his seat, Lucille resting across his lap, while Dwight drove in silence. Eugene sat stiffly, his eyes fixed on the floor, too scared to look up or engage. Alyssa sat across from Eugene, her gaze sharp and unwavering as she kept flashing him pointed looks, but he refused to meet her eyes.

Dare she say it, Eugene looked almost... okay with this situation. Too okay. Alyssa clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she watched him squirm but otherwise remain compliant. Her mind churned. Was he scared, or was he rationalizing this? Did he actually think he could survive—thrive even—by playing along with Negan?

Unable to hold her tongue any longer, Alyssa hissed under her breath, "Haircut."

Eugene flinched at the nickname but still didn't look at her. His face flushed, but his mouth stayed clamped shut.

Alyssa leaned forward slightly, her voice cutting through the awkward silence. "You think you're safe now? Sitting here, nodding along, making his bullets? You think he's just gonna let you off the hook?"

Negan chuckled from his seat, glancing between the two of them with mild amusement. "Ooooh, I love this. Little miss grimes, stirring the pot. Let's hear it—what's on your mind, sweetheart?"

Alyssa ignored Negan, her eyes still locked on Eugene, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "This isn't safety, Eugene. This is a leash. And the second you stop being useful, he'll string you up just like the rest of us."

Eugene opened his mouth, but no words came out. His hands fidgeted with the hem of his jacket, and his gaze darted to Negan, who was grinning like a cat with a trapped mouse.

"Alyssa, sweetheart," Negan drawled, dragging out the words with a smirk. "You really need to work on your pep talks. Haircut here's a genius! A valuable asset to our little operation. He's gonna make me all the bullets I need. Ain't that right, Eugene?"

Eugene nodded quickly, his voice trembling. "Yes, sir. That is correct."

Alyssa scoffed, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms. "Enjoy your leash, then."

Negan's grin faded slightly, replaced by a sharp, scrutinizing look as he turned his full attention to Alyssa. Lucille tapped rhythmically against his knee, the sound echoing in the tense silence of the truck.

"You see Haircut here?" Negan gestured to Eugene with the bat, his voice calm but laced with a dangerous edge. "Now he's got the right idea. He's got a service. I'm taking it from him. And look at him—he's being useful. Knows his place."

Eugene's head hung low, his hands fidgeting nervously in his lap. Alyssa, on the other hand, sat rigid, her jaw clenched as she stared straight ahead, refusing to give Negan the satisfaction of a reaction.

Negan leaned closer to her, the grin returning to his face but not his eyes. "You, miss grimes? You should take a page outta Haircut's book here. Because let me tell ya, you're gonna have to fill a role of your own real soon."

He straightened up, resting Lucille across his shoulders as he looked her up and down, his voice dropping to a more menacing tone. "My patience with you? It's wearing thin. You wanna keep acting like a rebellious little shit, fine. But there's only so long you can go without being useful to me. And trust me, when I pick that role for you? You're gonna wish you'd made the choice yourself."

Alyssa finally turned her head toward him, her glare ice-cold. "You think I'm afraid of you? You think I care what role you have in mind? I'm not Haircut. I'm not here to serve you, and I'm sure as hell not here to make your life easy."