In a world ruled by fear, survival comes with a price.
When her brother's attempt to overthrow the Saviors fails, Tessa finds herself under Negan's watchful eye-protected, controlled, and dangerously close to the man she should hate. As violence, po...
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The gates groaned open as a truck rumbled into the yard, tires crunching loudly against gravel. The sound echoed off the concrete walls of the Sanctuary, drawing attention immediately. The Saviors were loud as always—voices raised, laughter sharp and careless as they gathered to unload the latest haul. Cigarettes dangled from their lips, smoke curling into the air as jokes and jeers bounced between them. Crates were dragged down from the truck bed and slammed onto the ground with dull, heavy thuds.
Tessa stood off to the side, arms folded tight across her chest like armor. Negan had pulled her from her cell that morning, declaring she "needed some fresh air," his grin telling her it was never really about kindness. Now she lingered near a knot of Saviors, their laughter scraping against her nerves, every sound too loud, too close.
Her gaze wandered the yard despite herself—
Then froze.
Across the concrete, half-hidden in the shadow of the truck, Daryl worked with his head down. Sweat streaked through the grime on his dirt-caked skin, tracing paths along his neck and collarbone. A ragged shirt clung to him, torn and stiff with old blood. His movements were heavy and mechanical, shoulders hunched as he lifted crate after crate, like each motion cost him something he didn't have left to give.
Her stomach twisted painfully.
Daryl Dixon—the man who had once fought tooth and nail beside her, who had watched her back without question—reduced to forced labor under watchful eyes and raised guns. She wanted to call out to him, to run to him, to remind him he wasn't alone.
But she knew better.
One wrong move, one wrong word, and they'd both pay for it.
Before she could look any longer, the first shot cracked through the yard.
A Savior dropped instantly, blood blooming across his chest as he hit the ground. For a split second there was stunned silence—then chaos. Shouts erupted. Curses filled the air. Another bullet fired. Another man fell, screaming as he collapsed onto the concrete.
Panic rippled through the yard.
A boy leapt down from the back of the truck, rifle braced tightly in his hands. His jaw was set, rigid with determination, his good eye blazing beneath the brim of his hat. Tessa's chest seized so hard it hurt. For a moment she thought she was hallucinating—her mind reaching for something impossible.
But no.
It was him.
Her nephew.
"Carl..." she whispered, her voice trembling, swallowed whole by the chaos around her.
"Stay back—drop your weapons! I only want Negan. He killed my friends. No one else needs to die," Carl said as he swept the rifle toward the nearest Savior.
The yard froze.
Men hesitated, unsure whether to laugh or run. Guns lowered just a fraction. Fear and confusion clashed in the space between breaths.
Then Negan's whistle cut through everything.
Sharp. Commanding.
The crowd split instantly as Negan strolled forward, boots crunching against gravel, his grin wide and hungry like he'd just been handed a gift. "You are adorable."
Without warning, he reached out, grabbing Tessa by the arm and yanking her tight against his chest. The sudden force knocked the breath from her lungs as his arm locked around her, pinning her in place.
"Did you pick that gun because it looked cool," Negan chuckled, "You totally did, right?"
Carl's eye widened, the rifle jerking ever so slightly.
Tessa stiffened in Negan's grip, her heart hammering so violently she thought it might break through her ribs. She met Carl's gaze across the yard, silently begging him not to fire. Not like this. Not with her in the middle.
Negan felt it.
His grin only grew.
He kissed the side of Tessa's head theatrically, loud and deliberate, then looked back at Carl. "Kid, I ain't gonna lie, you scare the shit outta me."
In a blur, Dwight surged forward.
He grabbed Carl by the shoulder, wrenching the rifle from his hands and shoving the boy hard onto the ground. Carl hit the gravel with a grunt, his hat tumbling loose as dust puffed up around him.
"Kid!" Dwight barked, pressing a boot to Carl's back, the muzzle of his gun digging into the boy's shoulder.
"No!"
The word tore out of Tessa before she could stop herself—raw, desperate, full of terror. She jerked against Negan's grip, but his arm only tightened, locking her against him like a vise.
"Dwight, back off," Negan said casually as he held out his arm toward Carl, like he was offering help instead of violence. "Is that any way to treat our new guest?"
He tilted his head, grin curling with delight. "Come on, kid. Your beautiful aunt and I will show you around."
