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Raven and Carl reached the north fence just as the cluster of walkers slammed against it. They pushed their weight into the barricade—Carl gripping the metal beside her, jaw tight, like he was ready to physically shield her from the dead.
Daryl jogged up seconds later, crossbow raised, taking out the closest walkers with deadly accuracy. Even in chaos, his eyes kept flicking to Raven—checking that she was still breathing, still standing.
Then a shout cut through the air.
"RAVEN?!"
Raven froze.
Carl stopped mid-push, turning sharply toward the voice.
Daryl lowered his crossbow, brows knitting together.
Out from the treeline stumbled a man—filthy, gaunt, but unmistakably familiar. Familiar in a way Raven's bones recognized before her brain did.
Her heart dropped into her stomach.
"...No," she whispered.
The man limped closer, tears streaming down his dirt-streaked face. "Rae... it's me."
Carl instantly stepped in front of her, body stiff, hand on the grip of his pistol.
"Stay back," Carl warned, voice cold.
The man looked between Carl and Raven. "You don't recognize your own brother?"
Raven's breath hitched. She had mourned him. Buried him in her mind. This wasn't real.
"You're dead," she said numbly. "I watched the house burn—I saw—"
"You saw what they wanted you to see," he snapped—too sharp, too defensive.
Daryl moved closer, subtly positioning himself between Raven and the stranger. His voice was low, dangerous. "Start explainin'."
The man swallowed, gaze darting.
"That fire? That wasn't an accident. Our parents—they weren't who you think they were. They made deals. Dark ones. They traded people. Kids." His voice trembled. "They tried to trade us."
Raven's blood ran cold.
Carl's grip tightened on his gun. "Raven, you don't have to listen to this—"
"No," she said, voice shaking but strong. "Let him talk."
Her brother nodded gratefully. "They didn't die in that fire. They ran. And they sold me off to the group that torched the house." He looked at her, eyes swimming with guilt. "They wanted you too. But someone bought you first."
Raven's stomach twisted. "Who?"
Her brother hesitated—too long.
Daryl stepped in, tone sharp. "Who bought her?"
The man's eyes flicked between them before he whispered:
"...The man with the bat."
Carl's entire body jolted. Daryl went rigid, jaw clenching so hard a vein popped at his temple.
Raven felt the world tilt.
Negan. The bastard who had smiled at her years later like he was seeing a prized possession. Like he knew her. Like he owned a part of her she didn't understand.
Carl moved so fast Raven barely saw it—he was suddenly in front of her brother, pushing him back.
"You expect her to believe you?" Carl barked. "After leaving her? After letting her think you were dead?"
Her brother's face twisted. "I didn't leave—I was taken! And she doesn't need protection from you."
Carl shoved him again. "I'm not letting you near her."
The man reached like he might hit Carl.
And that was it.
Daryl was on him in a second—shoving the guy back so hard he hit the dirt.
"You wanna swing at someone?" Daryl growled, stepping between him and the kids. "Try me."
Raven's brother glared up at him, breathing hard. "She deserves the truth."
Daryl's voice dropped to a lethal whisper. "And she'll hear it. But you ain't gonna yell it at her."
Raven stepped forward, shaking but steady.
"Look at me," she said quietly.
Her brother did.
"Why did Negan want me?"
He looked like he wished she hadn't asked.
"Because," he whispered, "you were adopted."
Raven blinked. "What?"
"You're not their daughter. You're not my sister by blood." He swallowed hard. "You belong to someone else. Someone dangerous."
Silence hit the clearing like a bomb.
Carl stared at Raven, heart breaking open in real time.
Daryl stared at the stranger like he might kill him.
And Raven... Raven felt her entire identity split clean down the middle.
