The Third Dixon [The walking dead]

Chapter seven

Nathan sat tied to a metal chair in the middle of an empty room, wrists bound tight with coarse rope that bit into his skin every time he moved. The air smelled stale—old dust, mildew, something metallic beneath it all. The kind of place that hadn't heard a human voice in a long time.

Maggie and Glenn were gone.

That thought looped endlessly in his head, louder than the silence around him. Merle had dragged them off without explanation, barking orders to people Nathan hadn't even seen clearly. The last look Maggie had given him—furious and afraid all at once—was burned into his mind.

He swallowed hard and leaned forward as far as the ropes would allow, rubbing his wrists against the bindings. The friction sent a sharp burn up his arms.

Good, he thought grimly. Burn means it's working.

Measi's voice surfaced in his head, uninvited but clear.

He could be the best—or the worst brother ever. It was always either one. Never in between.

Nathan exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening. He hadn't known Merle long enough to decide which version this was—but everything so far pointed toward the worst.

He shifted again, teeth clenched as the rope scraped skin raw. Pain flared, hot and insistent, and he hissed quietly, shoulders tensing. He didn't stop. Every inch mattered. Every second mattered. If he could just loosen one knot—

The door creaked open.

Nathan froze instantly.

Footsteps crossed the threshold, slow and deliberate. He lifted his head, heart slamming against his ribs, and came face to face with Merle Dixon.

Merle filled the doorway like he owned it, metal hand catching the dim light, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth as his eyes dragged lazily over Nathan—taking inventory.

"Well I'll be damned," Merle drawled. "You look uncomfortable, kid."

Nathan didn't answer. His shoulders squared despite the ropes, chin lifting just enough to show he wasn't about to shrink back.

Merle chuckled, stepping inside and letting the door swing shut behind him. The sound echoed too loud in the empty room.

"Relax," Merle said, voice falsely easy as he circled him. "If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't be sittin' there breathin'."

Nathan tracked him with his eyes, pulse pounding. "Where are Glenn and Maggie?"

Merle stopped behind him. Nathan felt the weight of his presence before he heard his voice again.

"Safe enough," Merle replied. "For now."

That wasn't an answer—and they both knew it.

Merle leaned down until his face was close to Nathan's ear, his tone dropping. "Question is... what exactly are you to my little brother and baby sister, huh?"

Nathan's hands curled into fists against the rope. "I'm their family."

Merle straightened slowly, amusement flickering across his face. "That so?" He snorted. "We'll see about that."

The room felt smaller somehow, the silence heavier than before. Nathan forced himself to breathe steadily, even as fear crawled up his spine.

Worst brother, he thought grimly.

And he had a bad feeling Merle was just getting started.