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 pounding outside finally began to fade — not completely, but enough that the trailer stopped shaking every second. The emergency light flickered, humming in the silence that followed. It wasn't peace. It was the eye of a storm.
Tessa stayed pressed against the wall, arms tight over her chest, forcing her breathing steady. Negan watched her from the floor, his posture deceptively relaxed, but his eyes sharp, too sharp. Like he was reading every breath she took.
For the first time since the arguing began... the tension changed.
It softened. Not gentler, just... quieter. Negan tilted his head, studying her in that way that made her want to rip his eyes out. Or close the distance. She hated that she couldn't tell which urge was stronger.
"You're quiet all of a sudden," he drawled.
Tessa didn't look at him. If she did, she knew he'd see something she didn't want visible.
"You finally shut up. I'm enjoying the silence."
His laugh was low, quiet, nothing like the booming bravado he used around others.
"Sweetheart... silence is when people tell the truth. Even when they don't mean to."
She stiffened. Negan saw it.He watched her a long moment, longer than she liked. Then his voice dropped to something she wasn't prepared for.
"You think I don't know what's in your head right now?"
Tessa didn't move. Didn't answer.
Negan's voice stayed low, almost... honest. "The people you lost. The ones I took. I know that shit doesn't fade. I know that."
She swallowed, barely, but enough to sting.
"And yet..." he continued, eyes narrowing just a hint, "you're still lookin' me dead in the eye like you want something from me. Hate, answers... hell, maybe even the truth."
Tessa's breath hitched in her chest, so small she almost convinced herself it didn't happen. But Negan caught it. Of course he did.
She finally turned toward him, jaw locked. "The truth is you don't know me."
Negan didn't smile this time.
"I'm gettin' there." They held each other's stare — quiet, dangerous, too intimate for the space.
Then—
THUD.
The trailer shook so violently the light flickered off for half a second. Dust rained from above. Something collapsed on the roof — heavy. Too heavy. The sounds outside surged again, louder than before.
Tessa snapped her head upward. Negan was already rising to his feet.
"That roof ain't gonna hold," she muttered.
"No shit," Negan said, scanning the corners of the room. "Lucky for us, this ain't the only way out."
He moved toward the back panel, a small hidden exit, and jammed his shoulder against it. Metal groaned. Outside, the herd shifted. Walker snarls pressed closer, scraping along the trailer walls.
Negan grunted and shoved harder.
The panel gave way.
A narrow crawlspace opened beneath them, dripping with old grime and dried blood. The stink wafted up immediately. Tessa stared down into it.
"You've gotta be kidding."
Negan flashed a sharp grin. "Oh sweetheart... this part's fun."
She glared. He loved it. Another slam hit the side of the trailer. They didn't have time.
Negan crouched and dropped into the crawlspace first. Tessa hesitated, one breath, two, then followed, boots slipping slightly on the metal ladder.
Inside the narrow compartment, the space was suffocating. Their shoulders brushed in the dark. The walls seemed to press in, the air damp and rotting.
Negan reached ahead, grabbing something heavy. A rotted walker torso.
Its stomach was split open.
Tessa's stomach flipped. "You're not serious."
"Dead serious," Negan murmured, pulling out the machete strapped to his waist. "You wanna walk through a herd? You gotta wear the right perfume."
He sliced the corpse open with practiced ease.
The air filled with the thick, wet stench of walker guts.
Tessa clenched her jaw. Negan didn't miss the way her breath stuttered.
"Come on," he said, lifting a handful of gore and starting to smear it across his jacket, "don't act brand new. You've done this before."
She had. But standing this close to him? Hearing the soft rasp of his breath as he painted himself in decay? Watching the way he tore open the corpse without flinching?
Her pulse jumped.
Negan looked up at her through the dim light — face half-shadowed, half-covered in blood.
"Your turn."
Tessa didn't move.
He stepped closer, gore still dripping from his hand.
"You want out of here alive? Then lift your damn arms." Tessa exhaled slowly and raised her arms just a bit. Negan didn't miss the trust hidden in the movement.
He stepped in — close, too close — and began smearing walker guts across her jacket, her arms, her chest. His fingers brushed her collarbone as he worked, deliberate, slow enough to make her jaw clench.
She refused to react. He reacted enough for both of them.
"Look at you," he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. "All this fire... and now you're lettin' me touch you."
Tessa's eyes snapped to his, cold as steel.
"I'm doing this for one reason," she said. "So I can get away from you."
Negan smiled — dark, knowing.
"We'll see about that."
He finished coating her clothes, stepped back, and reached for the hatch at the end of the crawlspace. Walkers moaned outside. The herd shifted again.
