A/N: Hi Pookies, hope you enjoy this chapter! I can't believe we're almost at chapter 50, this book was only supposed to have 50 chapters and here we are... welp. Also, I feel like this chapter is all over the place oopsie

THANK YOU ALL FOR 100K READS??? HELLO? I DON'T DESERVE YOU ALL I SWEARRR

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- Cass's POV -

"I wanted to kill him. Wring his fucking neck." Louise mutters, her anger palpable as she throws her laundry on her bed with a heavy sigh, her hands placed firmly on her hips.

Glancing up from Georgia's bed, where I'd been helping her learn how to suture, I sigh, sympathy panging through me.

"I know. I wanted to help you do it too." I murmur, watching Louise carefully as she sinks down on her bed, her expression creased with a teary frustration.

She sniffles, looking down at her knees. "Knowing he hurt him- our Carl?" she cuts herself off, letting out a dangerously slow exhale. When she slowly looks up, my stomach flips at her expression of pure rage, immediately recognizing the uncanny resemblance to her brother.

"If we could Lou-" I begin, my stomach twisting, but Louise nods quickly, rendering my words useless, her eyes momentarily snapped shut with a grimace.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Doesn't make it easier." Louise mutters under her breath, her voice barely audible. She takes a moment, collecting herself, before slowly rising from her seat and returning to her laundry basket.

No. It doesn't.

My gaze lingers on Louise's retreating figure for a moment before I turn back to Georgia, addressing her question about dressing wounds. As I begin to explain, a sudden knock at the door startles me, panic flashing through my body. Without thinking, I'm already on my feet, my heart racing, positioning myself protectively in front of Georgia.

Louise, closest to the door, swears under her breath as she adjusts her dress and strides towards the entrance, her head held high. I watch with a pounding heart, unsure of what's happening. We never get people here this late.

Approaching the entrance, Louise opens the door cautiously, and from my vantage point, I can see her tense posture immediately relax, a smile spreading across her face. Stepping back, she opens the door wider, ushering in Spencer. He enters the room with a sheepish smile that, unexpectedly, triggers a surge of irritation within me as Louise closes the door behind him.

With a determined stride, I close the distance to Spencer. He turns towards me, surprise flashing across his expression as our eyes meet. Before he can react, a torrent of frustration and anger boils over, and I slam him against the wall with all the force I can muster. Pinning him against the chipping paint, I press my forearm firmly against his neck. Spencer chokes in surprise, his eyes wide as Louise calls out to me, confusion etched on her face.

"What the hell were you thinking?" I demand angrily pressing my forearm against his neck even harder. He just blinks at me in shock, his mouth parted, no sound coming out.

Louise's surprisingly strong grasp is abruptly pulling me off him, her eyes locking onto mine with a mix of concern and disbelief as Spencer coughs, rubbing his neck. "What is wrong with you?" Louise asks, genuinely taken aback as she forces me to look at her.

Clenching my jaw, waves of anger lap at the edges of my awareness, barely being able to look at Spencer. "That idiot was supposed to dispose of the bodies. But he didn't. Did you?" I ask him sarcastically, making the both of them sigh.

"What?" I question, looking between them, my frustration and confusion reaching its peak.

"That was on purpose," Spencer manages to get out, his voice hoarse, his hand still gently touching his slightly reddened neck.

My brows draw together tightly with confusion as I meet Louise's earnest gaze, nodding in agreement to his words.

"Why would you purposefully leave those bodies out? It made Simon go ballistic, telling Negan that it was 'the mole'. How is that a good plan?" I demand, crossing my arms tightly, looking between the pair expectantly.

"Because we're gonna frame someone else for it," Louise explains, her eyes searching my face with slight concern.

I look at her for a moment, my mouth parted.

"They can tell something is going on, so we gotta put someone else on the pike for it," Spencer elaborates, making me send him a skeptical look. "Once that's taken care of, they won't suspect your little poisoning plan," he adds, causing my cheeks to blush slightly at my plans being called out.

Clearing my throat, I nod. "O-Okay. That makes sense," I mutter, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear.

"Yeah, well I didn't visit you ladies for the wonderful conversation or to be thrown against a wall-"

"-Sorry"

"-It's fine, don't worry about it. I came because... Negan wants to see you, Cass." Spencer says, fixing his hazel eyes on mine. A sense of dread tightens my stomach, and I clench my jaw, nodding once.

"You're kidding. It's nearly midnight!" Louise snaps, but Spencer just looks back at her, helpless. There's nothing he can do.

"It's okay Lou. Nothing'll happen," I mutter, patting her back before following Spencer to the door. "See you later," I say softly, turning back momentarily to wave bye to Georgia before swiftly ducking out of the door, trailing behind Spencer as he leads me to Negan's quarters.

We navigate the familiar path to Negan's room, and with every step, my heart rate quickens. I know he doesn't expect... anything. But getting called to see him in the middle of the night is not exactly my idea of fun.

"After this, I have a surprise for you," Spencer says quietly, ensuring his voice remains low to avoid unwanted attention.

I glance at him, narrowing my eyes with suspicion. "What surprise." I respond dryly, not exactly a question.

Spence cracks a smile, seeming amused by my lingering distrust. "I'm gonna help you send them a message," he whispers as we turn down Negan's hallway.

My stomach drops. "Who?" I ask, my chest beginning to heave with anticipation.

His smile broadens. "You know who," he says quietly beside my ear, before turning to the guards at Negan's door, nodding at them to knock.

I find myself gazing at the ground, grappling with the startling realization that Spencer, a man I once despised for his web of lies and deceit, is now proving true to his word of making it up to me.

Spencer gives me a solemn nod, complying with Negan's order to open the door, allowing me to enter. I step in, my usual meek facade in place as the door shuts behind me.

My posture is shrunken and my expression is torn by my carefully crafted mask of feigned concern. However, my feigned composure shatters as I come to a halt, my eyes locking onto the sight of Negan lounging on his four-poster bed, wearing only pajama pants, revealing the intricate tattoos spanning his torso.

It's a sight that sends a shiver down my spine, reminiscent of the last time he made me...

Shit.

"Hey darlin'!" he calls out, his overly cheerful tone causing my stomach to churn with disgust. I remain rooted by the entrance, fear paralyzing me in place. "Don't worry, I know the rules – no fuckin'. I just want to talk with my favorite wife," Negan grins, and I respond with a forced nod and a sharp, uneasy inhale.

For fucks sake.

Guilt twists my insides as I slowly but surely cross the room and climb onto the mattress beside him, sitting upright by his copious amount of pillows. The scent of his dark grey sheets triggers unwelcome memories, causing me to clench my jaw in an attempt to conceal the fact that I'm trembling. Negan shifts, rolling over to get closer, and I struggle to suppress a cringe as his body presses against my right side.

A potent mixture of disgust and hatred courses through me as Negan lays his head on my lower stomach. I stare down at him, wondering if I should just do it. Grab the lamp on the bedside table next to me and shatter it against his skull, over and over again.

A perverse satisfaction washes over me at the mental image of his blood and brains splattering over the ridiculous furry blanket he has draped nearby.

"What'd you think of Carl?" Negan questions, turning his head to look up at me curiously. I gulp, trying to maintain my impassive expression, pretending that I'm not daydreaming about his violent death.

"Seemed like a good kid," I mutter simply, watching Negan's smile broaden with what looks like... pride?

"Yeah, badass huh? I cannot believe the balls on that kid. You should've seen his dad when he found out- holy shit! He was pissed," Negan recalls, laughing with delight, the mere mention of Rick out of Negan's mouth turns my stomach.

Fierce jealousy floods my senses as Negan's fat head rests heavily on my lower abdomen. He got to see Rick. Lucky bastard.

"After we left you and Louise, I personally took the little shit back home," Negan explains, his fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on my bare leg. I wrestle with a strong urge to swat his hand away, each passing second of his touch fueling my growing anger.

"You should see that fucker's house. Rick has no idea how good he has it," Negan murmurs, prompting a forced hum of agreement from me. I hope he can't hear my hammering heartbeat at the situation I'm being forced into. Aching longing tugs at me, wishing I could be back there.

At our home.

With the beautiful kitchen, the cozy living room, and our bedrooms.

The room that was once Rick's but is now ours.

Was ours.

"Oh and d'you know Rick kept a secret from me?" Negan asks suddenly, making me still, a wave of terror coursing through me. Negan shifts, positioning himself to look up at me, his expression filled with amazement as I struggle to compose my own.

My stomach is wrenching with vivid fear that this whole thing is some elaborate trap to get revenge. That he knows the truth- that he's had the woman Rick loves held captive this entire time.

Is he toying with me before killing me?

"Rick has another kid!" Negan reveals, and immediately- my blood runs cold. I remain frozen, my eyebrows raised slightly, blinking back at Negan, blinding terror coursing through my veins. "Her name's Judith. Cute little kiddo," he says casually, readjusting so his head is on the side, no longer looking at me.

He-

I continue to stare at the back of his head, my left eye twitching slightly as he rambles on. "I got to hold her and everything, took her downstairs, and made 'em spaghetti," he mumbles, his hand still caressing my leg. I clench my hands into tight fists, attempting to contain the trembling rage surging within me.

The very idea of this monster touching my baby, my Judith, sets every fiber of my being ablaze. My jaw clenches so tightly that I fear I might crack a molar as I glare down at the back of his head, the vivid fantasy I entertained earlier now taking on a much more intense and tantalizing form.

"It got me thinking of this one," Negan remarks, his hand lingering on my lower abdomen, sending waves of nausea through my body. "I haven't had a baby in a while, but I'm lookin' forward to it," he mumbles, his voice unnervingly soft.

Anger contorts my expression as I continue to glare down at his head, pure hatred flooding through me. I want desperately to tell him it's not his. That under no circumstances will it ever be his.

"It's my first time," I say softly, somehow maintaining composure despite the parental rage surging within me. My hormones aren't exactly helping, either.

Finally, Negan gets off me, propping himself on his elbows before sitting up, and studying my face. "You're going to be a good mother. You're a bit... quiet, but you're smart. And our baby's gonna be one hell of a looker," he grins shamelessly, prompting me to muster a weak smile in response as I reluctantly meet his hazel eyes.

My child will look nothing like you, you insufferable prick.

Enduring another hour of Negan's incessant rambling, I lose count of the times I've resisted the urge to strangle him. Eventually, he releases me, declaring that I 'clearly need some beauty sleep.' Spencer meets me at the door, his face a sight of relief that I eagerly follow, wanting to distance myself as far as possible from Negan. As we walk, we pass another wife, someone I don't know well, being escorted towards Negan's suite.

Guess one wife really isn't enough for him.

About halfway through our walk, Spencer wordlessly grabs my arm and pulls me into a room to the side. Panic surges through me as I initially resist, but he silences me with a shush, closing the door behind us and flicking on the light. We enter a dimly lit studio, with a kitchen reminiscent of mine, Louise's, and Georgia's room.

His room is slightly smaller than ours, with just one bed and a table accompanied by a couple of chairs on the other side. His double bed is adorned with dark blue sheets, and the rest of the room, though neat, lacks any distinctive features. I take note of the potted plant on the table, strategically placed to catch the light he must get from the small rectangular window on the opposite wall.

Lucky fucker gets a window.

"Here," Spencer says, interrupting my thoughts as I take in his room. I turn to him, to see him offering me a paper and a pen.

"Wha-"

"For the note. Make it quick and brief," Spencer urges me, his eyes widened slightly and eyebrows raised. I blink at him for a moment, before nodding.

I place the paper on the table, bending over as I quickly scribble out a message to Rick. It's brief and somewhat vague, but seeing it written out in my loopy handwriting, makes my throat tighten with emotion.

After signing it with my name, I cap the pen and fold up the note. Holding the faded paper between my fingertips, I gaze at it for a moment, finding it hard to believe that I'll be able to 'talk' to Rick in some way.

"Ready?" Spencer inquires, making me turn to meet his curious gaze, my attention shifting down to the paper in my hands. I nod, blinking past my welling tears. After I hand him the note, I step forward, looping my arms around his neck and hugging him tightly for a moment.

Spencer staggers back slightly, but after a second, I feel his hands tentatively reciprocating the hug.

"Thank you," I whisper into his shoulder, fighting against the lump in my throat that threatens to stifle my words. "Thank you," I repeat, not being able to help the tear that manages to escape, despite my efforts.

Just as swiftly as I hugged him, I step back, hastily wiping the tear from my cheek. Spencer looks at me for a moment, his expression softened. "You're welcome. When I told you I wanted to make it up to you- I meant it," he assures me sincerely, making me nod, pressing my lips together to stave off further tears.

"Alright, let's get you back," he says, opening the door to his room and guiding me out and then back to my room.

As I fall asleep that night, curled up in my small bed, a tentative smile pulls across my face at the prospect of being able to get that message to Rick. Of, after four months, being able to speak to him.

___

___

- Rick's POV -

"Oh, there's a good girl," I whisper, tenderly patting Judith's back as I lift her into my arms, her chubby fingers clutching onto my shirt while her innocent babble fills the room.

Tossing her recently changed diaper in the small trash can of her nursery, I step out the door and descend the stairs, drawn by the sounds coming from the kitchen.

Rounding the corner, I realize the sound is laughter, surprising me slightly. I look up to see Carl and Nathan, standing by the kitchen island, both of them laughing. My eyebrows raise slightly, my smile pulling across my face seeing their interaction, the large window basking them in the warm morning sunlight.

As I approach, the laughter subsides, and both of them turn to acknowledge my presence. Carl's mischievous grin lingers, and Nathan, with a twinkle in his eye, greets me warmly. "Morning," he says, the joy of the shared moment lingering in the air.

"Morning. What's going on?" I ask curiously, making the pair turn to me as I walk into the kitchen, handing a still-sleepy Judith to her older brother, who accepts her happily.

"Hey, Dad. I was just telling Nathan about when we were at the prison and you yelled at me for having a crush on Cass when you definitely had one on her yourself," Carl declares, a grin of mischievous pride pulling across his face, making my stomach twist.

Little shit.

A breathless chuckle escapes me as I navigate around the island to pour a cup of coffee. "Is that right?" I respond dryly, sparing only a brief glance at Cass's father, who smiles warmly in acknowledgment.

"Hey, Rick?" Nathan interjects, causing me to pause, my hand on the handle of the coffee pot, my heart quickening its pace. Slowly, I turn to face him. "Thank you," he expresses, his green eyes crinkled with happiness, his smile wide and contagious.

I gulp, a lump forming in my throat. "For... what?" I ask slowly, shifting uncomfortably on my feet.

"Everything," Nathan responds simply, and a wave of guilt floods over me, constricting my throat.

Quickly averting eye contact, I look down, nodding half-heartedly as I fill my coffee cup, my face burning.

I don't deserve thanks. Especially not from the father of the woman I love, who I didn't protect. The woman I failed.

Before I know what's happening, my eyes are stinging and I'm blinking rapidly, clearing my throat, attempting to gather myself. Placing my mug down swiftly, I lean on the counter with both of my hands, ducking my head.

"Rick?" Nathan's voice carries a soft concern, but I respond with a silent shake of my head. I can't bring myself to accept gratitude—it feels undeserved, hollow.

I don't deserve this. Any of this.

"Don't. Don't thank me for anything. I-" I pause, cutting off my own words with a sharp inhale. My voice wavers, a manifestation of my internal turmoil.

You're embarrassing yourself.

"I didn't protect her. Y-You should hate me. It's my fault she's there with that-" I can't bring myself to say the words out loud. Shaking my head once again, I fix my gaze on the cupboards before me.

"Dad-" Carl attempts to interject, but he falters.

"Rick, Carl told me what happened. It's not your fault," Nathan asserts, his voice calm and rational. His words, meant to reassure me, only intensify my frustration.

Abruptly, I pivot to face him, stifling the overpowering surge of emotions welling up inside me. "It's my job to protect her, and she's..." I let the sentence trail off, the weight of the situation pressing on my heart like an unbearable burden.

"If I know my daughter, and I do, I know there's nothing you could've said to convince her to stay," Nathan interjects, his raised eyebrows conveying a sense of understanding. Meeting his eyes, so much like hers, I find sincerity reflected in them. Nathan cracks a smile, his features softening. "I'm sorry. She gets her stubbornness from me," he breathes, his face crinkling with fondness.

I release a slow, controlled breath, acknowledging his words with a nod as I look down. There's something about seeing so much of Cass in him after having so little of her around for so long. It's almost surreal.

"Alright, that's it," Nathan declares, and I look up, bewildered, as he strides over. My eyes widen as he envelops me in a warm hug. Blinking in surprise, I hug him back gingerly. He's a hugger, I guess.

"Stop blaming yourself. Seems you're just as stubborn as your fiancée," he remarks, eliciting a chuckle from me as I pat his back.

"I guess I am," I respond, feeling the first genuine smile I've had in months spread across my expression. I notice Carl watching us from the kitchen, a smile playing on his lips as he adjusts Judith on his lap.

Nathan claps my back before releasing me from his hug, turning his attention to Judith. "And there's the little ray of sunshine!" he enthuses, his voice brightening with a laugh as he bends down to meet Judith's eye line.

"Are you cute? Yes, you are," he tells her softly, grinning as he gently pokes her little belly, coaxing the first giggle from Judith in months. Instantly, Carl's eyes fly to meet mine, excitement shining in them.

I smile warmly back.

I may have not done what I wanted- getting Cass back- but at least I have this. At least they have this.

The warmth and happiness of the moment are abruptly shattered by the banging going on outside the gates. My stomach tightens, and I turn, peering out the window, dread washing over me at the sight of Negan's silhouette through the gate.

Shit.

___

- Cass's POV -

Louise and I walk through the corridors with purpose, our footsteps echoing as we quickly follow the designated path. I discreetly clutch a bag containing my crushed medicine behind my back, tightening my grip with every stride.

In hushed tones, Louise lets me know we're here before ushering me into a dimly lit room on the ground floor, just a few hallways away from the so-called cafeteria.

Louise knocks four times in a distinct pattern, and we wait for a minute, glancing at each other nervously. The metal door creaks open silently, allowing us to slip in. Inside, a grubby kitchen comes into view, featuring a lively stove with a sizable pot emitting an enigmatic aroma on top. There seems to be an endless supply of food coming from the very full pantry and the containers lining the counters.

"Sup Lou," a gruff voice greets us, drawing my attention to the man who let us in, a burly Hispanic man with an impressive mustache and long hair secured in a hairnet. He wears simple clothes that the other saviors are usually wearing and a stained white apron.

"Marty, hey," Louise breathes, smiling at the man, who smiles broadly back. "This is Cass," she introduces me, making me offer him a quick smile and wave.

Marty's eyebrows raise slightly. "You're the crazy chica with the poisoning plan, right?" he asks me, prompting a nod from me and a subtle flush of embarrassment coloring my cheeks.

"That's me," I admit with a breathless chuckle, earning a grin from Marty. He gives my shoulder an encouraging clap before turning toward an adjacent door.

"I love it!" he enthuses, making me blink in surprise. "Come on, follow me" he instructs us, holding open the side door, allowing me and my sister-in-law to follow.

Louise and I trail behind him into a side room where the scent of cooking diminishes, replaced by a faint aroma of dampness and chlorine. Dominating the space is a large tank of water, surrounded by an array of endless blue containers. A side table hosts numerous trays stacked high with sealed water bottles.

My eyebrows raise at the impressive loot of water. This must be the stuff they've stolen from the other communities- water taken, not freely given. My stomach twists at the idea. Alexandria is lucky that we have a constant water supply. Something they can't take.

I walk forward, seizing up the room, my hands on my hips. When Marty speaks up again, I glance over my shoulder to look at him.

"This is all the water. I would do them bottles; we hand those to the soldiers. Otherwise, you could hurt some of the good ones," Marty explains, prompting a swift nod from me, a complete understanding of the delicate situation.

"Thanks, Marty," Louise tells him, expressing our gratitude with that infectious grin of hers. As I approach the table of water, inspecting the bottles, Marty interjects with a smooth response from behind.

"Anything for my future wife," he remarks, eliciting a chuckle from Louise.

Squatting down, I lift one of the trays of water bottles. "Oh, you know I don't deserve you, Marty," Louise playfully responds amidst her laughter. Engrossed in mental calculations about dosages and the multitude of bottles before me, a sudden crash reverberates from the room we just left, accompanied by voices erupting, causing my stomach to lurch.

"Ah, don't worry 'bout it, they won't come in here. You can leave out that back door, alright?" Marty reassures us quickly, prompting me to turn to him and nod, the rapid thumping of my heart gradually subsiding. "I gotta get going though, see you mamacitas later," Marty adds with a wink before disappearing back into the kitchen, triggering an eruption of excited voices as he strides in.

Returning my attention to the water bottles, Louise joins me at my side. "He your boyfriend?" I inquire, a playful grin forming on my face as I turn my head to see Louise mirroring my amusement.

"No, he's just joking. We both got here around the same time, and we were close before I got upgraded to the wife gig," Louise explains somewhat sarcastically, deftly opening the water bottle trays and tearing apart the plastic.

I acknowledge her words with a nod as I grab a water bottle, sipping about half of it to create space for pouring in the powdered medication. "He's nice. I don't blame him for not wanting to be a part of this," I mutter, shaking the bottle vigorously so that the meds mix properly.

"You're still sure about this?" Louise checks, her voice carrying a note of concern. I pause, placing down the squeaky plastic bottle. Glancing to my right, I meet her expression in the dimly lit room, the faint glow from a small window reflecting on Louise's concerned expression.

"Positive," I respond securely, reaching into the side of my dress where I stashed a syringe, just in case. "Get those bottles out, please. I want to do at least one hundred before Negan gets back from wherever he went off to," I mutter, making Louise nod, fetching the rest of the water bottles for me.

Dipping the needle into the mix I just prepared, I draw the liquid out, flicking the barrel to rid it of any air bubbles out of habit, although I realize it doesn't matter. Then I grab the first water bottle, lifting the cheap paper wrapping that claims it's fresh mountain water. With a gentle stab, I slide the needle of the syringe in and then inject about a quarter of the syringe into the bottle.

Carefully withdrawing the needle, satisfaction washes over me as I see its success- no trace of liquid escaping from the injection site.

A grin of amazement quirks at my mouth and I look to the side, meeting Louise's gaze.

It's going to work.

___

- Rick's POV -

"Where's Daryl?" I ask Carl, my heart racing with agonizing uncertainty as I hastily sling on my gun belt.

"I-I don't know! I haven't seen him yet!" Carl responds as he hurriedly takes Judith upstairs. Cursing under my breath, I snatch my axe and secure it on my belt.

This wasn't supposed to happen; Negan wasn't due back so soon, just a routine supply pickup today. Why the hell is he here now?

As I swing open the front door, brushing past Nathan, my heart drops at Negan's voice calling out in a sing-song tune. A shiver goes down my spine at his twisted little song.

"Little pig Little pig!!" the bastard sings out, rapping his baseball bat against the bars of the gate. "Let. Me. In!" Negan calls, his voice creating a severe hatred that sinks through me, poisoning my bloodstream and reddening my vision.

With a tight jaw, I stalk over to the gate flanked by Gabriel, Rosita, Michonne, and a few others. Luckily Daryl seems to have left. Thank God for that.

One of our people, who was standing watch by the gate, wrenches it open at my nod. Slowly the gate pulls to the side, revealing the one man I hate more than anyone else in this fucked up world.

Negan, standing there, in his usual black leather jacket. His stupid fucking grin widens with delight as he meets my gaze, his hazel eyes widening with glee. I can't figure out why he's so happy until the gate gets fully pulled to the side, revealing the person standing beside him, cringing.

Daryl.

My eyes widen, my mouth parting with surprise, but when I notice the possum tied to his belt and the crossbody confiscated by one of the Saviors, it clicks.

"Found our little escape artist only a mile away, hunting, isn't that a coincidence?" Negan asks, his voice dripping with amused sarcasm, his eyes twinkling with happiness as he throws Daryl forward, making him stumble, annoyance etching across his face.

My clenched fist itches to grab my pistol or axe, my gaze locked in a searing glare at Negan. If only I could just-

"Interesting how you said you had 'no idea where he was', and yet- he's only just outside your walls! Wow!" Negan enthuses, leaning back theatrically, making me let out a slow exhale, sending Daryl a quick look. I catch the apology behind his eyes but I just shake my head subtly, dismissing it.

None of us knew they were coming this early.

"See, I wasn't even gonna bother comin' over, but something interesting happened," Negan explains, strolling forward, past me and down our street. Despite the raging anger within me, pulsating through my limbs, I begrudgingly follow him.

"Turns out," Negan booms, coming to a sudden stop, pivoting back to face us, and casually swinging his baseball bat off his shoulder. My gaze briefly flickers down to the notorious weapon, memories of that haunting night flashing through my mind before I force myself to lock eyes with him once more. ""That one of you, have decided to fuck one of my wives!" Negan declares, his once cheerful tone now saturated with seething anger, sending a frigid shock running through my body.

I maintain a stoic stare, my heart pounding wildly in my ears as his gaze, now harsh and accusatory, scans our group.

He can't possibly mean...

"See, it was brought to my attention that we found a note!" Negan announces, ripping out a small folded piece of paper from inside his leather jacket. I focus on it, fear paralyzing me.

Is it Cass? Is she hurt for trying to send us a note? Does he finally know who she is?

"And I was tryna figure out who it could possibly be, and how on Earth she knows any of you assholes," Negan continues, tilting his head intimidatingly as his gaze sweeps through the silent, motionless group. I glance to the left, spotting Nathan watching us on my porch, his hand shielding his eyes, his face wrought with worry.

"Then. I remembered something. Just days before you escaped, my wife helped you," Negan growls accusatorily, fixing his gaze on Daryl, whose eyes widen with shock.

Those same eyes briefly meet mine for a split second before focusing back on Negan, his expression unreadable. Negan steps toward Daryl, swiftly raising his baseball bat until it's inches from Daryl's chin, making me flinch.

"What made you think you had the right?" Negan demands, his voice a menacing low threat as he slowly inches that fucking bat closer to Daryl.

My heart is in my throat, every one of my instincts screaming at me to attack him. But Negan thinking that Cass and Daryl just got together is far, far, better than him finding out the truth about how important she is to me.

A chill runs down my spine at the mere idea of what he would do-

Closing my eyes momentarily, I quickly collect myself, trying as hard as I can to seem impassive to the situation.

When I open my eyes again, I see that Daryl is staring back at Negan, blinking through the sparse sunlight streaming between the strands of hair in his eyes. "We... We didn't think-" Daryl's fast excuse is abruptly cut off as Negan lurches forward, punching Daryl square in the jaw.

Unable to suppress the urge any longer, I flinch forward, my hand instinctively reaching for my belt, but Michonne's arm restrains me. She shoots me a wide-eyed look, panic coursing through me, yet her demeanor remains steady, silently urging me to be strong. For Cass.

As Daryl recovers, struggling but eventually standing up straight, his jaw red, Negan thrusts the piece of paper at him roughly. "Read out your little note to the class," he orders cruelly, his voice low and dark.

Daryl visibly gulps, looking down at the note, before sparing a quick apologetic glance in my direction. He looks back at it and takes a deep breath.

"I miss you. Knowing that you're out there, bein' stubborn as always, is keepin' me alive. I miss your t-touch, your voice. Everythin'. I'll get back to you. I swear. Love... your Cass." Daryl finishes reading, his voice low and gravelly as he awkwardly lowers the piece of paper, not being able to meet my gaze.

My heart pounds against my chest, and I look down, clenching my eyes shut tightly.

Fuck.

Hearing her words, relayed through Daryl, is both overwhelming and incredible. She must've slipped the note into the truck somehow.

A wave of overpowering and all-consuming terror surges through me. If Negan found this... what does that mean for her? What torture is in store for her just because she wanted to leave a note for me?

My stomach churns, my heart pounds relentlessly, and my entire world seems to spin out of control. What am I going to do?

"Heart. Warming. Shit." Negan taunts, his grating voice only worsening the horrible sensations overpowering me. At the sound of his footsteps, I look up to see him advancing on Daryl once again. "You're lucky I'm not going to kill you for touching her. Or for escaping. which I'm guessing she helped you with." Negan snaps, making Daryl flinch, immediately whipping his head up, his expression tainted with worry.

"N-No, it wasn't her. It was some guy, he never said his name, but Cass? She had nothin' to do with it," Daryl argues desperately, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Negan raises his chin, as if appraising him, seeing if he should believe him.

"Why wouldn't she go with him?" I blurt out before realizing the words have escaped my lips, causing Negan to halt in his tracks.

Slowly he turns to me, squinting as he turns his head to the side, readjusting his grip on the bat. "She's my wife. She's taken care of, very well." Negan growls, his voice dripping with possessiveness. I glare back at him, feeling bile rise in my throat at his words.

He has no fucking right to say those words. To be possessive of my Cass.

"Clearly not well enough," I respond roughly, clenching my fists tightly in an attempt to rein in my overwhelming anger and protective instincts for the woman I love. The woman who is far from ever being Negan's wife.

"What'd you say to me?" Negan snaps, storming up to me, raising his baseball bat intimidatingly. The leftover walker blood on the barbed wire burns my nostrils as I look back at him blankly, refusing to flinch.

I hear the blood rushing in my hearing as I glare back at Negan's insufferable expression, a sudden and undeniably insane idea flashing through my mind: to tell him everything. To tell him the truth that Cass isn't and never will be his.

That she's mine.

The moment stretches into an eternity as I stare down the asshole in front of me. The pathetic excuse of a man who's taken my wife against her will, forced her to do unspeakable things, and done it all with that stupid grin on his face.

"It wouldn't make sense for her to help him escape and not go with him, don't you think?" I ask, my words measured and deliberate, feeling my expression contort with the seething resentment I hold for him.

Negan stares back at me, narrowing his eyes. "I should kill you," he declares simply, stepping back and readjusting his grip on his bat, causing my stomach to flinch. Still, I don't move a muscle, clearly irritating him that I'm not intimidated.

I don't even know what the rest of my family is doing, my vision is tunneled on the man in front of me. All I know is they must be terrified that I'll tell him the truth. And to be honest, so am I.

"I should kill you for snatchin' Daryl and then lying to me. I should kill you for speaking about my wife when you have no idea what you're talking about," Negan snarls, his hazel eyes boring intensely into mine.

I return his gaze impassively, ignoring the worried whispers of my nearby family, focusing on my enemy's intolerable expression.

"But I won't." Negan decides, stepping back fully, his usual mask of calm washing over his expression. "Because I'm not done playin' with you yet." he breathes, his voice rumbling as he smiles threateningly, his eyes cold.

Disgust flashes through me as he turns to his nearby Saviors, with their- our - guns aimed at us.

"We're leaving. And they're coming with us."

___

- Cass's POV -

"And that's it?" I ask, my breath hurried and uneven as I look at the neat pile of tainted water bottles before glancing at Louise's expression for confirmation.

Grinning with a sense of amazement, Louise nods, her curls shifting as she does so. "That's it, sister," she says proudly, eliciting a breathless chuckle from me as I place a hand on my forehead.

We did it. What this is going to do for our family...

"Come on, we should head back," Louise says, her expression turning serious as she glances at her silver watch. I nod, taking a deep breath. Then swiftly, I toss the used syringe into a nearby trashcan, snatch up the bag the medicine was in, and shove it into the side of my dress. Crouching down quickly, I blow off the excess white powder from the table's surface, ridding any evidence of our actions.

The door on the far right of the room clicks open, and I look over to see Louise ushering me through. I rush after her, closing the door securely behind me.

We quickly navigate the winding halls, exchanging nervous laughter in hushed tones as the realization sinks in that we've successfully pulled off our plan. If it works, we've just poisoned and potentially killed all one hundred and sixty of Negan's soldiers.

A wave of elation washes over me, the prospect of escaping this place and returning home becoming more tangible.

As we stroll back towards the wives' quarters, our pace slows, the risk of being caught diminishing. And even if we are 'caught' up here, it's not a significant concern. We're allowed to go on walks.

"You're brilliant. I hope you know that," Louise whispers gleefully, prompting a shake of my head and a grin.

Before I can dismiss her compliment, Spencer abruptly halts us in our tracks, his eyes wide with panic. "Where have you been?" he demands frantically, seizing my arm forcefully, provoking a scoff of indignation from me.

"What are you-"

"You need to come with me, now." Spencer insists sternly, and I raise my eyebrows, exchanging a bewildered glance with Louise.

"Dude what is up with you-"

"Lou, this isn't a fucking joke. Come on Cass." Spencer snaps, cutting her off and pulling me roughly with him, away from the wive's quarters.

"Hey!" I protest, causing Spencer to halt and whirl around, his expression twisted with anger.

"Cass- I'm not fucking with you, we need to go right now. I'm so sorry. I fucked up," he breathes, panic flashing across his expression before he swallows hard, clearly pushing it down. Before I have a second to question him, he's dragging me away once again, leaving me with only a fleeting moment to shoot Louise one last look before disappearing down an unfamiliar hallway.

My stomach twists with severe worry, my nerves tingling with adrenaline as I'm forced down an unfamiliar path. Spencer remains silent, not offering any explanation for his urgency. "Spence! What were you apologizing for?" I ask desperately, slightly out of breath from trying to match his quick pace.

"The note. It was stupid, but I was just trying to—Damn it," he curses again, still not looking at me as he leads the way down the stairs.

Confusion swirls in my mind as I stumble down the dimly lit stairway behind him, my pregnancy not exactly making this whole thing easier. "What do you mean, 'the note'? I—" My sentence abruptly halts as Spencer whirls to face me on the bottom floor.

His breath is heaving as he grabs me, staring intently into my eyes. "I'm sorry. Don't give in to Negan. They've been waiting." Spencer says hastily, only deepening my confusion.

'They'?

Before I can ask another question, Spencer is opening the door in front of us marked 'exit', and a burst of blinding sunlight assaults my senses. I instinctively shield my eyes with a trembling hand, temporarily overwhelmed. As I regain my composure, I feel Spencer releasing his grip on me, and Negan's exuberant voice calling out to me nearby.

"There she is!" Negan's call pierces the air, and I blink rapidly, panic intensifying my rapid heartbeat as I struggle to reorient myself. Slowly, my surroundings come into focus, revealing that I'm outside, standing on a small landing in front of the Sanctuary, flanked by two sets of stairs. Facing me, leaning against the railing, is Negan.

What is...

My thoughts grind to a sudden halt as my gaze shifts just beyond Negan. On the ground level, just before the, stands my family.

Glenn, Maggie, Daryl, Michonne, and... Rick.

Time has come to an abrupt halt as I blink in disbelief at the sight in front of me. My family, who I haven't seen for nearly four months, is here. In front of me.

Their expressions are wrought with shock and horror as they take in my disheveled appearance. My gaze flits anxiously between them, potent relief washing over me at the sight of their familiar faces.

Nerves overwhelm me when I finally inch my gaze over to him. To Rick.

With my world tilting on its axis, in full disbelief of my situation, meeting Rick's gaze becomes an ordeal. My eyes only manage to meet his for a fleeting moment before guilt takes hold. Seeing his face, actually here in front of me and not confined to my dreams, is overwhelming. My skin tingles, seamlessly merging with my disbelief as I grapple to compose myself.

Then Negan's voice slices through my fog of shock, making me flinch.

"Cassie, my dear wife, come here. I got some people I want you to meet."

___

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed it, sorry if that is a cliffhanger it was just too many words otherwise!!!