The Third Dixon [The walking dead]

Chapter sixteen

The room smelled like metal and old water, concrete sweating in the dim light. Measi sat rigid in the chair, wrists bound tight enough that every small movement burned. Her jaw was set, teeth clenched so hard they ached.

The Governor paced.

Back and forth.
Boots scraping.
Breathing uneven.

He wasn't calm anymore.

"No," he muttered, shaking his head, rubbing at his face like he could wipe something away. "No, no, no—you don't get it. None of you ever do."

Measi didn't answer. She stared straight ahead, refusing to give him her eyes.

That only made it worse.

He stopped in front of her so suddenly the air shifted. She felt him there before she saw him—too close, invading what little space she had left.

"You know," he said softly, almost conversational, "I had a vision. A future. Order. People where they belong." His voice cracked on the last word, and he laughed—a sharp, humorless sound. "And they keep taking things from me."

She swallowed but didn't look away.

"You," he continued, crouching slightly so they were eye level, "are not supposed to be afraid. That's what's wrong. Everyone else breaks. Begs. You?" His smile twitched. "You look like you're waiting."

"For what?" she asked, voice hoarse but steady.

His eyes flicked over her face, her bruises, the rope burns. Something ugly flashed there—envy, maybe. Or anger that she wasn't giving him what he wanted.

"For you to understand how special you are," he said. "How rare."

He stood abruptly and slammed his hand into the wall beside her head. Measi flinched despite herself, breath hitching.

"There it is," he whispered. "That."

She forced herself to meet his gaze now, eyes blazing. "You're not special," she said. "You're just loud."

The Governor froze.

For a moment, Measi thought he might hit her.

Instead, he laughed again—louder this time, unhinged, pacing away as he dragged a hand through his hair.

"Martinez!" he snapped suddenly. "Why isn't Martinez back yet?"

No answer.

He turned back to her, eyes wild now, focus slipping.

"They're supposed to break you," he said, almost to himself. "That's how this works. Everyone breaks eventually."

Measi's voice dropped, quiet but lethal. "You already lost."

That did it.

His face twisted, rage boiling over as he leaned down until his forehead nearly touched hers.

"If they come for you," he hissed, breath hot and shaking, "I will make sure there is nothing left for them to save."

He straightened abruptly, backing away like he couldn't stand being near her anymore.

"Lock it down," he barked to someone outside the room. "I don't want her moved. I don't want her touched. She's mine to deal with."

The door slammed shut, plunging the room into a heavier silence.

Measi sagged just a fraction against the ropes once she was alone, chest rising fast. Fear clawed at her—but beneath it, something steadier burned.

They were coming.