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 walkers outside slammed against the metal walls, shaking the tiny trailer with every hit. The air was thick—hot, stale, suffocating—but Tessa stood steady against the far wall, arms crossed, expression stone-hard. Negan watched her from the opposite side of the cramped room, sitting casually with one knee raised, elbows resting lazily atop it. The emergency light flickered overhead, dipping the room in slow pulses of red and shadow.
Neither spoke.
Tessa refused to look at him. Refused to give him anything. Negan didn't stop looking at her.
Minutes stretched. Then more.
Finally, she snapped, voice crisp "Stop staring."
Negan didn't even blink. "No."
She turned sharply, irritation slicing through her voice. "Negan—" He stood. Slow. Controlled. A predator uncoiling, filling the room without saying a word. He crossed the cramped space in three steps. Suddenly the trailer felt too small, too hot, too full of him.
Tessa didn't move away. Wouldn't.
Negan stopped directly in front of her—close, but not touching.
"Well," he murmured, eyes drifting over her face, "ain't you just full of fire."
"I'm not playing with you."
"Good," he said softly. "Neither am I."
Another slam rocked the trailer. Metal groaned, dust falling from the ceiling—but neither of them looked away from each other. Negan leaned in just enough that she had to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes. A fraction of an inch. A tiny, involuntary adjustment. Something dark flickered in his eyes at that.
"Well now," he whispered, "that's interestin'."
Tessa's jaw tightened. "Back up."
He didn't.
Instead—slowly, deliberately—he lifted his hand and touched her chin with two fingers. Barely a graze, but enough to lock her in place. He angled her face upward, forcing eye contact. Not rough. Not gentle. Just claiming the moment.
"You ever wonder why you won't look away from me?" he said, voice low. She stared straight into his eyes—cold, composed, furious.
"I'm not scared of you." His thumb brushed the line of her jaw, a deliberate taunt.
"No," he said. "You're scared of what you feel when you're this close." Tessa knocked his hand away instantly—sharp, precise, without hesitation.
"Don't flatter yourself."
Negan's lips curled—not smug, but knowing.
"You hit harder," he murmured, "when you're avoidin' the truth."
"Truth is I'd kill you if I had the chance," she snapped. He stepped even closer—invading her space with purpose.
"No," he said softly. "Truth is, if you really wanted me dead? That knife would've kissed my throat back there." She didn't break eye contact.
"And it didn't," he added. That smile — slow, dangerous — returned.
She stayed silent.
Negan exhaled slowly, studying her.
"You didn't kill me," he said quietly. "And I got a feelin' I know why."
Tessa didn't blink. Didn't shift. Didn't soften.
"Enlighten me," she said flatly.
Negan stepped closer, voice dropping to something darker.
"You deny it," he said. "Over and over. 'Cause you know damn well what happens if Rick finds out." Tessa stayed perfectly still — but something behind her eyes flickered.
Negan saw it instantly.
He leaned in, voice dipping to a dangerous whisper "He'll disown you. Won't matter that you're his sister. Won't matter what you survived."
A beat. His breath brushed her cheek.
"You'll be nothing to him."
Tessa didn't respond. Didn't look away. Didn't give him a single word. Her silence was scorching. Negan smiled — slow, sharp, satisfied.
"That's why you don't talk about it," he murmured. "Why you don't even admit it to yourself."
Her jaw barely flexed — but it was enough. Negan's voice softened, almost dangerously gentle.
"You're scared of losin' Rick." He paused. "But sweetheart... you're even more scared of facin' what you felt with me."
Tessa finally stepped aside — not backing down, but reclaiming her space.
"You're wrong," she said, her voice cool and controlled.
Negan turned with her, never losing that edge.
"You walk away late," he murmured. "Not never. Just late."
She didn't answer.
"You think you hate me," he said. "But hate's clean. Easy. Predictable."
He angled his head again, eyes burning into hers.
"What you feel ain't clean."
Tessa's eyes narrowed.
"And that," he said, "terrifies you way more than I ever could." She didn't move. The walkers slammed against the trailer again, rattling the walls.
Still, neither of them looked. Negan finally stepped back — barely.
"We're stuck in here awhile," he said, voice low. "Long enough for you to stop lyin' to yourself."
Tessa crossed her arms again, spine straight. "Keep dreaming."
Negan settled back on the floor, arms draped over his knees, gaze still fixed on her — dark, unreadable.
