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 hours since Rick left with Daryl, Tara, Aaron, Michonne, and the others. Tessa had spent most of the day pretending to keep busy — repairing shelves, sorting bullets, updating lists for the armory — anything to keep her mind off the guilt sitting like a stone in her chest. She knew Rosita and Sasha were gone.She knew why.
And she had lied to Rick about it.
The sun was low when Rick approached her earlier that morning, face tight with worry.
"Tessa," he'd said, "you sure you don't know where they went?"
Her pulse had hammered so hard she thought he could hear it. But she kept her expression calm, steady.
"No," she lied. "I don't know anything."
Rick had searched her face for a long moment — then nodded once and turned away, gathering the others, heading toward Oceanside for guns.
The guilt stayed with her long after they left.
⸻
The gates creaked open, and Tessa stepped out of the pantry with a clipboard in her hand. She wasn't expecting them back so soon. Her chest lifted with relief when she saw Rick walk through first, tired and dirt-streaked but safe.
She moved toward him without thinking — she just wanted to see that he was okay, wanted to tell him she was sorry for earlier, wanted to—
"Tessa," Rick started, softening a little when he saw her waiting. She opened her mouth to speak—
But Rosita's voice cut sharply through the street.
"There's someone here."
Tessa froze. Rosita stood near the guard tower, arms stiff at her sides, face blank in a way Tessa had never seen before. Not angry. Not frantic.
Just... hollow. Rick turned fully toward her. "What?"
Rosita didn't look at Tessa. She didn't look at anyone except Rick.
"He's in the cell," she said quietly. "Come on."
Rick exchanged a tense glance with Daryl. The whole group stiffened, every muscle ready for a fight. Tessa swallowed, staying close behind them as Rosita led the way across the street toward Rick's house.
She walked straight past the living room, down the hall, toward the makeshift cell — the one Morgan built long ago. Tessa stayed a few steps behind Rick, heart climbing into her throat. She could feel something wrong in the air, something heavy and sharp, even before Rosita stopped at the door.
She stepped aside, jaw tight.
Rick inhaled once, bracing himself, then pushed the door open.
Tessa stood behind him, breath held.
And there he was.
Dwight. Sitting on the floor of the cell, hands clasped, shoulders tense but unmoving. The dim light caught the burned side of his face. His expression was unreadable — tired, resigned, maybe even determined.
Daryl lurched forward, fury ripping through him, but Rick stopped him with an arm across the chest.
Dwight didn't move. Didn't flinch.
His eyes drifted for the briefest moment toward Tessa — a flicker of recognition, regret, or guilt — then lowered again.
Rick's voice came out low, dangerous:
"Why are you here?"
Dwight lifted his head slowly.
"I want to help," he said.
Rick didn't blink. "Why?"
A long, tense silence.
Then Dwight answered exactly as he did in the show:
"I want Negan dead."
Tessa felt her breath leave her. Her hand tightened around the edge of the doorway. Hearing those words — from him — made her pulse stutter, memories of the Sanctuary slamming into her all at once.
Rick stared at Dwight, fury and confusion twisting in his face.
Daryl growled low in his throat.
Rosita crossed her arms, eyes like stone.
And Tessa stood there silently... knowing everything was about to change. Negan wasn't the only threat anymore. Now the inside was starting to crack, too.
