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 hatch groaned as Negan forced it open, the metal screaming under the strain. The night flooded in — cold, pitch-dark, thick with the stench of rot and the chorus of snarling walkers smashing against the trailer. Negan climbed out first. His boots hit mud and gore, and he scanned the yard with quick, practiced precision before jerking his chin back at her.
"Let's go."
Tessa climbed out behind him, and the icy wind slapped her gore-smeared jacket, burning her throat. The herd was everywhere — bodies shuffling, moaning, pressing in from all sides. Negan stepped forward into it like he'd rehearsed this a hundred times.
Tessa followed.
Walker shoulders bumped hers. Breath rattled close to her ear. A hand grazed her hair. She forced her breathing slow, matching Negan's steady pace.
"Easy," he murmured low, not looking back. "Stay right on me."
She did. They were only halfway across the yard when the weakened trailer roof cracked. A heavy metallic snap rang above them.
Tessa looked up—
And a full walker fell straight on top of her, slamming her into the mud.
The air punched out of her lungs. Mud splashed up her face. Teeth snapped for her throat.
Her hands scrambled for its jaw — slipping — sliding — panic clawing sharp and fast.
"Tessa!"
Negan's voice wasn't loud. It was raw. He launched himself at her. His boot slammed down on the walker's spine. Both hands gripped its skull. He ripped its head back with brutal force — bone cracking under his palms.
The walker collapsed across her, dead weight sinking her deeper into the mud. For a moment — the world dropped out.
The herd blurred. The moans dulled. Her pulse pounded in her ears like a drum.
Negan dropped down beside her, grabbing the front of her jacket and hauling her halfway upright so fast she gasped.
"Tessa—" His voice was low, tense. "Look at me."
She did. And everything stopped.
His eyes weren't mocking. Weren't smug. Weren't even angry.
They were something else.
Something sharp. Unmasked. Too real.
And it slammed into her before she could stop it—
He reacted. Not to protect an asset. Not for leverage. Not to win.
He moved because she was about to die.
Her breath caught. A tight, unfamiliar twist curled low in her stomach. Her fingers trembled before she could hide it.
