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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It had been days since Rick and Michonne left. Days since they came back—tired, scraped up, carrying more guns than anyone expected.Alexandria felt lighter after their return... but somehow Tessa didn't. Every morning she woke up with the same knot in her stomach, the same echo of that awful moment in the pantry. Rick hadn't brought it up again, but that didn't mean she'd forgotten the way he looked at her—worried, protective... like she might break if someone breathed too hard near her.
That shame hadn't left.
Tessa dragged herself out of bed, boots hitting the floor with a dull thud. She had slept horribly again. Every night she closed her eyes, she saw flashes—Negan leaning over her, his shadow too close, the Sanctuary gates slamming shut, the way her body froze yesterday without her permission. Rick being back didn't stop the noise in her head.
She went downstairs, stepping out onto the porch. Alexandria was humming with activity—people securing the walls, cleaning weapons, preparing for whatever fight Rick was planning next. Rick waved at her from across the street as he spoke to Tara and Aaron. She lifted her hand back, forcing a small smile. He didn't push, didn't bring up anything, didn't question her. Which somehow made the guilt worse.
She turned away, heading toward the pantry to keep herself busy, when—
"Tessa."
She recognized the voice instantly. Rosita stood a few feet away, arms locked tight across her chest. Sasha stood beside her, steady and silent.
Sasha stepped forward, voice calm but carrying weight. "You were inside the Sanctuary. You saw how they run things. You know the layout."
Tessa's stomach dropped.
Negan's voice flickered uninvited in her mind—low, teasing, too close. She blinked it away, jaw clenching.
"This is about him," Tessa said quietly.
Rosita's eyes hardened. "We're not asking you to fight. Just tell us what you remember."
Sasha added gently, "We're going to do this, Tessa. With or without help. But we'd rather not go in blind."
Tessa swallowed, heat burning under her skin.Rick had just gotten home. Alexandria was barely holding together. And now Rosita and Sasha wanted a path straight into the one place Tessa swore she would never go back to.
"Tessa," Sasha murmured, "just talk to us."
Tessa looked between them—at Rosita's fury, at Sasha's steady determination, at her own shaking hands she hid behind her jacket. Days had passed. Rick was home. Things were supposed to feel better. But somehow everything inside her still felt on the edge of breaking. And standing in front of Rosita and Sasha, hearing the unspoken word—Sanctuary— Tessa realized something: The war hadn't even started yet.
Tessa exhaled slowly, bracing herself.
"Fine," she murmured. "Let's... just talk somewhere quiet."
Rosita jerked her head toward the pantry, already moving. Sasha followed. Tessa stepped in after them and shut the door behind her, though the half-cleaned mess made her stomach twist.
Rosita leaned against a shelf, arms crossed, impatient but listening. Sasha stood straighter, steady, absorbing everything. Tessa kept her hands in her jacket pockets so they wouldn't see them shake.
"You want a way in," she said. "There isn't one. Not really. The whole place is locked down."
Rosita's jaw twitched. "There has to be something."
"There's not," Tessa repeated. "Negan has guards everywhere. Shifts rotate every couple hours. The front courtyard is the only main entrance—big metal gate, lookout tower, snipers. They see you before you even get close." Sasha nodded slowly. "What about side doors? Maintenance access? Anything?"
Tessa shook her head. "Everything is chained or bolted. And even if you got inside the fence, the factory floor is crawling with Saviors. They move in groups, even when they pretend not to."Rosita's voice cut in, sharp: "You were alone with him, though. In his room. What about that hallway?"
The mention of his room made Tessa's pulse stutter. Images flashed— Negan's smile, his boots pacing behind her, the echo of metal doors shutting, the smell of leather and cologne, the way he always stood too close.
She forced herself to stay steady.
"That hallway only leads to his quarters and the wives' lounge," she said tightly. "It's deep in the private wing. You can't reach it without going through the factory floor first."
Sasha pressed gently, "How many guards?"
Tessa swallowed. "At least two at the door. Sometimes four. And Negan always has someone posted on the catwalk above."
Rosita's frustration simmered hot. "There's gotta be something."
"There is one thing," Tessa said quietly.
Both women went still.
Tessa hesitated—her heart hammering, shame crawling under her skin. She didn't want to admit it. She didn't want to revisit any of it. But if she was going to tell them the truth...
"Negan... doesn't like crowds," she finally said. "Not when he's in a mood. Sometimes he kicks everyone out of the main room. Makes the floor go quiet. Those moments are your only openings. But you won't know when they're happening unless you're already inside."
Sasha nodded, thinking through it. Rosita scowled.
"So basically," Rosita said, "you're telling us there's no clean shot."
"I'm telling you," Tessa said, voice low, "that walking in there with one bullet and a prayer is suicide."
Rosita's jaw clenched. "I don't care." Tessa's eyes snapped to hers. "Then you'll get killed. Both of you."
Silence. Sasha looked down. Rosita looked furious—but also scared beneath it.
Tessa's voice softened just barely.
"I'm not saying don't fight him. I'm saying... don't go in blind. I barely made it out once. If you go inside that place with no backup, you won't."
Rosita stepped closer, face tight. "Then what do we do? Sit here and wait for Rick to get more guns? For Negan to come back and take someone else?" Tessa didn't answer immediately. Because she didn't know.
Because part of her still felt that cold grip on her waist, the breath against her ear, the way her body had frozen without her permission. Because she was terrified for them. And because no matter how hard she tried to forget, she remembered exactly what it felt like to be at the Sanctuary—and she wouldn't wish that place on anyone. Especially not these two.
