Running From You I Negan x Maggie (ENGLISH VERSION)

Chapter 24: A taste of bad blood

"Good lord give me peace
From life long of pain and greed
But not yet I'm not done
Paying for my crimes"

The wind whipped across the rooftop, sharp as icy blades, carrying with it the metallic tang of blood still clinging to the concrete. Negan felt the cold air biting at his face, but his expression remained steady, almost indifferent. Leaning on Lucille, he struck a deceptively relaxed pose, though the tension in his eyes gave him away. He was always on guard.

Lance Hornsby stood at the center of it all, gesturing like a conductor leading an orchestra. The smug, calculated smile on his face was as grating as the voice spilling out of it.

— Folks, you see my problem here, don't you? — he asked, his tone exasperated yet theatrical. — This... doesn't look good.

Negan tilted his head, a lazy smirk already forming. He didn't bother adjusting his posture, still leaning on Lucille like it was a cane. But his eyes—sharp and dark—stayed locked on Lance.

— Problem or not, it's the truth, — Negan said, his sarcastic tone carrying the weight of exhaustion, heavier than Lucille herself.

Lance raised his hands in an exaggerated gesture, his voice climbing a notch, as if addressing a room full of slow children.

— Let's go over this, just to make sure I've got it straight — he began, dripping with irony. — You go in, things get tense, a shootout breaks out, and miraculously, everyone here manages to kill all of our trained and armed soldiers. — He paused, his gaze sweeping over the group before landing on Negan. — And you three... you survived. A priest, a one-armed guy, and... you. Well, you I can understand.

Negan arched an eyebrow, his smirk spreading slightly as he raised Lucille and gestured to himself.

— Yeah, the bloodthirsty lunatic — he shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. — They owe their asses to me again. I kept them safe.

Beside him, Aaron inhaled deeply, his lips pressing into a thin line, clearly holding back a retort. Negan caught the movement and almost smiled wider. Too easy.

— Alright — Lance said, narrowing his eyes, clearly unimpressed. — So the killers escaped, you called me, and now we're here. That's the story?

— Basically — Aaron replied, his tone firm, though his shoulders betrayed his growing tension.

— Yeah, that's it — Gabe added with a short nod.

Negan tilted his head in mock modesty, the smirk still clinging to his face. It wasn't for Lance. It was for himself—a reminder that he knew exactly how these games were played.

Lance slowly turned his attention to Daryl, who had approached silently, his posture stiff and his gaze sweeping the group like he was taking inventory of every detail.

— And you — Lance asked, his tone casual but his eyes cold. — What do you think about all this?

Daryl stopped next to them, breaking eye contact for a moment before responding with his usual, unflinching resolve.

— We've been on the road a long time. Everyone knows how to take care of themselves. If that's what they said happened, then that's what happened.

Lance's eyes narrowed, his cynical smile dimming as he tilted his head slightly, as if weighing Daryl's words.

— Maybe — he said, his voice becoming more measured, calculated. — But I've got another theory.

Negan's grip on Lucille tightened as discomfort bubbled beneath the surface. He knew Lance was bluffing, but that didn't make it any less infuriating.