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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Negan shoved the door open with a dramatic flourish, dragging Carl and Tessa into a room that felt like a different world entirely from the Sanctuary's gray, concrete halls.
Warm lamps glowed from every corner, casting everything in soft gold. Perfume hung thick in the air—sweet, heavy, cloying. Plush couches lined the walls. Music pulsed low and constant, vibrating through the floor. Women filled the space, dressed in sharp silhouettes and painted lips, heels clicking faintly against the polished floor as they shifted and turned.
It looked luxurious.
It felt wrong.
"The wives," Negan announced proudly, spreading his arms wide as if unveiling a priceless collection. "Ain't they somethin'? Gorgeous, loyal... and all mine."
Carl froze.
His fists clenched hard at his sides, knuckles whitening. His one good eye swept across the room, jaw tightening, disgust etched plainly across his face.
Tessa's gaze moved more slowly—face to face, expression to expression—until it stopped cold.
Sherry.
Her breath hitched.
Memories slammed into her without warning: Sherry standing in her room, carefully fastening the zipper of her dress. Smoothing her hair. Her hands steady, her voice soft as she spoke about Dwight, about the life they'd lost.
Now that same woman stood among the wives, painted lips pulled into a brittle smile that didn't reach her eyes.
When Sherry's gaze met Tessa's across the room, recognition flared.
And something else.
Pity.
"Ladies, don't mind our guests," Negan called casually. "Can I steal you for a minute, dear wife?"
He moved toward Sherry, hand already at her waist. Tessa watched, helpless, as he spoke quietly to her. Sherry nodded where she was supposed to nod, her posture composed—but tension lived in every line of her body.
Then Negan brushed a kiss against her cheek.
And followed it with a quick, claiming kiss to her mouth.
Heat flared sharp in Tessa's chest.
Jealousy.
It made no sense—but it was there, tangled with anger, disgust, and shame. She tore her gaze away, furious at herself.
Too late.
Negan had already seen it.
His eyes flicked to her, grin curling with cruel amusement.
He grabbed a beer from a nearby table, popped the can, and strolled back, shoving it into Carl's hand.
"Relax, kid," he said lightly.
Then his expression shifted.
His gaze slid to Amber, sitting stiffly on the couch, hands twisting in her lap.
"Amber, baby," Negan drawled. "You know I don't want anyone in here who doesn't wanna be here, right?" He crouched slightly to her level. "So if you wanna leave and go back to Mark, you can."
Amber trembled.
"But," Negan continued calmly, "what can't you do?"
Her voice shook. "Cheat on you."
"That is exactly right," he said pleasantly. "You can't cheat on me. Do you understand?"
"I—I'm sorry..."
Negan's grin returned—slow, dark. He patted her cheek twice, almost affectionate.
"Good girl. Would hate to mess up that pretty little face of yours."
Tessa's heart sank.
Amber's painted smile trembled as she forced it to stay in place, eyes glossy with unshed tears. Tessa's stomach twisted violently. Every inch of this room made her skin crawl.
This wasn't love.
It was ownership.
Negan stood and turned back toward Tessa, slinging an arm around her shoulders like they were strolling lovers. She stiffened instantly.
"Field trip ain't over yet!" he boomed. "Still more sights to see."
He dragged her and Carl toward the door, his grip firm, unyielding.
And as they left the warm glow behind, Tessa understood with sick certainty—
