THE DULL THUD OF THE TRUCK'S TIRES ON GRAVEL RATTLED THROUGH MARCIE'S BONES.

But it was the silence inside that clawed at her worst.

Daryl was slumped against the metal, the dark stain spreading across his shirt glaringly obvious even in the dim light. Blood seeped slowly from the wound, a quiet, deadly reminder that time was slipping away. The blanket across his shoulders doing nothing to keep the tension away.

She bit her lip, eyes locked on him, heart pounding in her chest like a war drum. She needed him to stay conscious, to stay with her. She squeezed his hand tightly, hoping the pressure would say what words couldn't: I don't blame you.

Even if she wanted to.

She wanted to so badly.

Glenn sat across from them, his hands clenched into fists on his knees, jaw tight. The worry in his eyes was raw—Maggie was back in Alexandria, waiting for him.

Michonne leaned against the wall, eyes scanning every shadow that passed like a predator ready to strike.

Rosita was next to her, sat opposite, her face showing no emotion.

The air was thick with unspoken fear.

They all knew where this was going.

They were being delivered into the lion's den, and every second brought them closer to whatever nightmare awaited at the end.

Marcie's mind raced—what was the plan? Was there one? Or had Daryl's recklessness just doomed them all?

She stole a glance at him, his breathing shallow but steady. He caught her eye for a flicker, a silent apology in the depths of his gaze.

She swallowed hard, anger and fear twisting inside her.

We shouldn't have been out there, she thought bitterly. But I'm not ready to lose you. Not like this.

The truck came to a sudden stop, jolting her forward. Marcie closed her eyes, bracing herself for whatever came next.

The engine cut out.

They soon heard the whistles, and the sound of Rick's voice made her heart drop.

Footsteps echoed outside and the doors opened. Marcie jumped in front of Daryl, trying to protect him. "Come on. You got people to meet."

They were shoved out of the truck, rough hands gripping arms and shoulders. The cold night air hit Marcie's face like a slap, stealing the warmth the cramped truck had given her.

She stumbled, catching herself on the rough gravel as they tossed her onto the ground next to Daryl.

She glanced around. Glenn was first, the grief etched deep into his face was impossible to miss — the silent agony of a husband powerless to help his wife.

Rosita knelt next, her face unreadable, eyes fixed on the gravel in front of her.

Daryl lowered himself carefully, wincing but steady. He caught Marcie's eye and gave her a faint, determined nod.

She followed, dropping to her knees beside him, heart pounding, breath shallow.

Michonne knelt after her, sitting up straight with a controlled calm that belied the terror Marcie knew she must feel inside.

Abraham was next, the tension in his broad shoulders barely contained.

Maggie knelt next, fragile but unbroken, the pain evident on her pale face. Something was wrong, Marcie knew it.

Rick came after, sweat and tears staining his face. His eyes were full of failure and he glanced around at his group that he led to the slaughter.

Sasha kneeled beside him, her hands clenched tightly at her sides with no weapon to hold, but every inch of her radiating fierce resolve.

Aaron knelt next to her, his calm demeanor shaken but determined to hold it together.

Marcie's heart stuttered at the sight of Carl, his blue eye burning with rage as he stared forward.

Vivian kneeled next to him, gripping the boy's hand, her protective instincts still blazing despite everything.

Finally, Eugene knelt at the end, looking beaten up and was silently sobbing.

Marcie's fingers flexed at her sides, itching to fight, to run, to do anything but kneel there like a lamb awaiting slaughter.

Her eyes flicked over to Daryl.

"Alright." The man smirked and walked back towards the RV, "We got a full boat. Let's meet the man." He knocked on the side of the vehicle.

The knock echoed like a gunshot.

And then, silence.

Even the night seemed to hold its breath.

The RV door creaked open, and out stepped the man behind it all.

Tall. Confident. Smiling like this was just another damn barbecue and he was the host of the year.

He wore a black leather jacket that caught the moonlight with every confident stride, scuffed boots crushing the gravel beneath him, and wrapped around his throat like a war banner was a blood-red scarf, vivid and bold, as if he dipped it in the lives he'd already taken.

Dominance.

This was the man they had heard whispers of.

Negan.

He strolled into the center of the lineup like he was taking a victory lap. Not hurried. Not anxious. Just pleased. So pleased.

"Pissing our pants yet?" Negan smirked, his eyes dancing with delight, "Boy, do I have a feeling we're getting close." He paced slowly in front of them, "Yep. It's gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon. Which one of you pricks is the leader?"

"It's this one." The other man, his right hand-man, pointed to Rick, "He's the guy."

Negan stared down at him and sighed, "Hi. You're Rick, right? I'm Negan. And I do not appreciate you killing my men." His tone was light, like this was a misunderstanding. A joke.

But his eyes were lethal.

"Also, when I sent my people to kill your people for killing my people, you killed more of my people. Not cool. Not cool. You have no idea how not cool that shit is. But I think you're gonna be up to speed shortly. Yeah. You are so gonna regret crossing me in a few minutes. Yes, you are. You see, Rick, whatever you do, no matter what, you don't mess with the new world order. And the new world order is this, and it's really very simple. So, even if you're stupid, which you very may well be, you can understand it. You ready?"

Marcie felt the warmth of Daryl's arm brush against hers and held her breath like it would keep him alive a moment longer.

"Here goes. Pay attention." His bat covered in barbed wire fell from his shoulder and hovered near Rick's face, "Give me your shit... or I will kill you." He grinned and began to pace once again, "Today was career day. We invested a lot so you would know who I am and what I can do. You work for me now. You have shit, you give it to me. That's your job."

Negan's voice rolled like theater. Showy. Controlled. Calculated. He was performing—and loving every second of it.

Marcie wanted to spit at his feet.

"Now, I know that is a mighty big, nasty pill to swallow, but swallow it you most certainly will." He stopped in front of Rick again, "You ruled the roost. You built something. You thought you were safe. I get it. But the word is out. You are not safe. Not even close. In fact, you are pegged, more pegged if you don't do what I want. And what I want is half your shit. And if that's too much, you can make, find, or steal more, and it'll even out sooner or later. This is your way of life now. The more you fight back, the harder it will be."

Negan approached Vivian, smiling down at her, "So, if someone knocks on your door..." He stopped in front of her, "you let us in. We own that door. You try to stop us and we will knock it down." He turned back to Rick, "You understand?'

Vivian swallowed hard, her throat burning. She kept her grip on Carl's hand even as his nails bit into her skin. She could feel his fury, white-hot and blinding, and all she wanted was to pull him into her arms, shield him from this—from the world.

She'd promised Lori she'd keep him safe.

And now she's failing.

And Rick—Rick hadn't said a word.

He was always the one who could talk them out of a corner. Could bluff, threaten, charm, beg—whatever it took.

But now he just knelt there, eyes hollow, mouth half-open like he wanted to speak but forgot how.

The silence from him was worse than anything Negan could've said.

"What, no answer? You don't really think that you were gonna get through this without being punished, now, did you? I don't want to kill you people. Just want to make that clear from the get-go. I want you to work for me. You can't do that if you're dead, now, can you?"

Marcie's breathing had gone shallow. Daryl hadn't moved beside her. He looked like he was about to pass out, and all she could do was sit there and listen to this psycho talk like this was a boardroom deal.

Every muscle in her body begged to spring forward—to do something.

But she stayed still. Because this man... this monster... would make her pay for even the smallest mistake.

"I'm not growing a garden. But you killed my people, a whole damn lot of them. More than I'm comfortable with. And for that, for that you're gonna pay. So, now... I'm gonna beat the holy hell outta one of you."

Vivian could feel it in her bones. This wasn't just punishment. This was a show. This man wanted to break them before he even swung that bat.

And Rick... Rick wasn't stopping him.

She turned her head slightly, just enough to see Rick's face.

He looked shattered. Like a man watching his world collapse one brick at a time.

And it was collapsing.

Negan swung the bat around a little, "This... this is Lucille, and she is awesome." He held her gently, almost lovingly, like it wasn't just a bat.

"All this, all this is just so we can pick out which one of you gets the honor."

He stopped in front of Abraham, who didn't break eye contact and sat up straighter. His own version of defiance.

He wasn't afraid to die, at least, he wasn't showing it. Marcie was jealous, because she was terrified.

Negan smirked down at him, "Huh." He ran his hand over his beard, "Ugh, I gotta shave this shit." He muttered casually, as if he wasn't about to take a life in one of the most brutal ways possible.

He moved onto Carl, and he motioned to Vivian's hand which stayed clutching the younger boys, "No, no, none of this shit." He used the bat to scratch at their skin, causing Vivian to break contact with Carl.

"You got one of our guns." He kneeled in front of the boy, who glared at the Saviour, "Whoa. Yeah. You got a lot of our guns." Carl didn't move, "Shit, kid, lighten up. At least cry a little."

He stood up and went down the line, stopping when he saw Maggie, "Jesus." Marcie tensed up,  "You look shitty.I should just put you out of your misery right now."

Before she could move, Glenn did it for her, "No! No!"

He leapt towards his wife, but Dwight was there, pulling him back and punching Glenn to the ground before pointing Daryl's crossbow in his face,

"Stop it!" Maggie screamed,

Negan turned and scratched at his face before shaking his head, "Nope. Nope, get him back in line."

Dwight dragged him back as Glenn called out for his wife, "No.No." He got back into the kneeling position and sobbed, "Don't. Don't."

Marcie's heart broke for him. Just the thought of loosing any of them made her want to crash out.

Her knuckles were white on her thighs. Daryl hadn't looked up in minutes. His blood had soaked through the blanket.

Her entire body was shaking—but it was silent. Invisible. Rage, terror, grief—all crashing together in a storm she wasn't allowed to show.

Because if she did, she didn't know what would happen.

Negan smiled and Marcie wanted to punch it off his face,

"All right, listen. Don't any of you do that again. I will shut that shit down, no exceptions.
First one's free. It's an emotional moment, I get it." He pointed at Glenn, that stupid grin still on his face, before turning back to Rick, "Sucks, don't it? The moment you realize you don't know shit."

Megan's eyes landed on Carl again, "This is your kid, right?" He pointed at him with the bat, "This is definitely your kid."

"Just stop this!" Rick finally spoke,

"Hey!" His voice sent a chill down Vivian's spine, "Do not make me kill the little future serial killer. Don't make it easy on me. I gotta pick somebody. Everybody's at the table waiting for me to order."

He began to do that whistle, the one that will haunt their dreams for the rest of their lives, "I simply cannot decide." Negan smiled, "I got an idea."

Negan pointed the bat at Rick, "Eenie....

Vivian reached out again for Carl's hand like it's the only thing tethering her to the earth. Her entire body is tense, breath caught in her throat as Negan circles them like a shark. Using a child's game to choose which one of them would be dying.

She's not afraid of dying—not really—but she's afraid of failing.

Of not making it back to Alexandria.

Of leaving Judith and Liam without her.

Of breaking her promise to Lori... to Jillian.

Her eyes flit across the lineup, silently counting every person she loves. Her stomach clenches when she sees Maggie, who was struggling to stay upright. When she sees Rick, face hollow and full of fear. When Carl's eye burns with hatred, she squeezes his hand tighter—not to calm him, but because she's just as angry.

"... meenie..."

She keeps her chin lifted, refusing to look away from Negan, even as her whole body trembles.

If she dies tonight, he will see her.

She won't die a ghost in the dirt.

But inside, Vivian is screaming.

Because she knows someone is going to die.

And she has no power to stop it.

"Miney... mo..."

Marcie can barely feel her knees on the gravel. Her entire focus is narrowed to the man beside her.

He's too pale. His shirt is soaked. And he looks like he's going to die before Negan even swings the bat.

Her heart is racing so hard it feels like it might explode in her chest.

Not from fear, though it's there, but from rage.

This isn't how it's supposed to be. They came out here to put a stop to this. To save Hilltop and Alexandria. And now they're on their knees like livestock waiting to be picked off.

She wants to scream, to lunge, to do something... but she can't.

She doesn't dare move, not with Daryl beside her, wounded and vulnerable. 

"Catch... a tiger... by... his toe...."

Her eyes dart to Glenn, and her stomach flips.

He's looking at Maggie like it's the last time.

And Marcie realizes—there's no plan. No hope.

This is happening.

She looks at Daryl, barely holding himself upright. If he's picked, she wants to be right there. If she's picked, she wants her last sight to be his face.

But more than anything, she wants to go back.

Back to before the tracks. Before Dwight.

Before this goddamn nightmare.

"If... he hollers... let him go."

The bat swung in front of Vivian, and her body tensed. All she could think about was protecting Carl if the bat landed on him.

She didn't realize she was holding her breath until Lucille moved on.

 "My mother... told me... to pick the very best one..."

When Negan paused in front of Marcie, her spine locked. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears.

Take me. I'll take it. Just let the rest of them live. She thought

Then Lucille moved on.

 "...and you...are... it."

Her eyes widened, glancing over at Lucille's next victim.

He raised the bat high, and Marcie's stomach turned. Negan's face lit up like a child smashing a piñata.

"Anybody moves, anybody says anything, cut the boy's other eye out and feed it to his father and then we'll start. You can breathe, you can blink, you can cry."

The tension cracked like lightning through the night. Abraham's chest rose once, twice—he knew. And he didn't flinch. He didn't cower.

He raised his hand and sent a peace sign towards Sasha while looking Negan straight in the eye.

"Hell, you're all gonna be doing that."

Then came the swing.