Daryl's Angel: Saviour (Book Two)

Chapter 62: Broken

I have no concept of time inside this cell. I have no idea whether it's day or night. I can only guess at how much time has passed between visits. It doesn't feel like it's been long since Dwight left when I wake to gunfire and shouting that echoes through every exposed pipe in the Sanctuary. It sets my teeth on edge, but for a moment, I wonder if Alexandria somehow mounted an attack against the Saviours.

The chaos ends far too quickly, dashing any hopes of rescue. I hear ruckus down the hall, but things fall quiet again without telling me anything of note.

I slump back to the floor and shut my eyes, hoping that I'll be able to sleep again. I'm still restless, and my hunger pangs continue to assault me, but I know from experience that eventually, the pain will leave and I'll be left in a brain fog that will make everything more tolerable. Not comfortable, but tolerable.

I must be nearing rock bottom if I'm starting to look forward to when starvation sets in.

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I swear that I hear people talking, but I can't make out any words between the distance from my cell and the thickness of the walls. Footsteps pass by intermittently, but no one comes to speak to me.

Maybe Negan has officially given up. I'm glad, but I hate the brief disappointment that grabs at me. At least when he was trying to shmooze me, he was feeding me, too. I wouldn't even mind a few more hours with the wives in their lounge.

When the lock disengages next, defeat strikes me in the chest. I know that I can't let myself be defeated, but I feel it. I want to fall asleep on a real mattress under a warm blanket, cuddled in Daryl's arms, safe from everything. I want a batch of Carol's acorn and beet cookies. I want Tabitha's meaty head on my lap and the scent of Elliot's garden surrounding me.

I want to go home.

I hug my knees to my chest as best I can in my stupid tight dress, head in my arms, trying to hide the sudden influx of emotion that chokes me as the door swings open. If I'm going to cry, then I need to use it, but I don't know how. I don't know what my visitor is about to ask of me.

"Time's up, Hopey-girl," Negan croons.

I lift my head, tears turning into tight little tracks on my cheeks. What time is up? Is he going to kill me? Have I outlasted some weird test he set for me? Is his offer of marriage officially off the table, taking with it the last bargaining chip I hold?

I look up at him. "What are you gonna do to me?" I ask. My voice is thick from sorrow, but I don't try to clear it. I have to wield my pain.

"A little birdie told me that Rick and the rest of your people are up to no good," he says. My eyes widen, just enough to show surprise, hoping that it won't make him think I know anything. "Daryl is first on the chopping block. I promised you a front row seat."

If Daryl is first on the chopping block, then does that mean that they know where he is? Ezekiel promised that the Saviours wouldn't come inside the walls of the Kingdom. I trust him. That means that Negan is lying, but he can't know that I know that.

"You..." I suck in a terrified little breath. "You found him? Where?"

He chuckles. "Where else? Home sweet home," he says.

Negan has been surprisingly truthful with me. The idea that he would start lying now means he's desperate. What I hate is that I believe him for a moment, because Daryl didn't want to stay in the Kingdom, and leaving sounds like something he would do. I hope that Daryl did stay, if just for me.

I let out another choked sound, gripping my arms tightly as I look away, staring in horror at the floor. I can feel Negan's stare.

"Big changes are coming," he says matter-of-factly, sick joy still leaking into his words. "Did you hear the commotion last night? Your friend Sasha went full kamikaze. The size of the nuts on that woman is mind-blowing, and I'm nothing if not a man of opportunity. She...is gonna be a big help."