A/N: Hey lovelies, I just want to start real quick with a disclaimer that (especially from now on) the plot diverges quite a bit from the canon storyline (I know it already has but STILL) So don't be confused by things being different, it's just bc I want them to :)

Also, season 8 and beyond is COMPLETELY different!

Anyway, I hope my wonderful readers enjoy! Much love to you all <3 This one is a bit longer so hopefully that makes up for the late upload!

___

- Cass's POV -
four months ago

Joy bubbles in my chest as I nestle against Rick's warm frame, an infectious smile spreading across my face, refusing to fade. Just minutes ago, Rick told me how much he cared about me.

He told me that he wanted all of me, that our incredible night together actually meant something to him too. That he was 'mine and had been for nearly a year now'

It's surreal. I can't quite wrap my mind around the fact that Rick Grimes wants me back. The evidence, however, beats quickly against the left side of my face- the rhythmic pulse of his heartbeat.

"Your heart is racing," I murmur against Rick's warm t-shirt, eliciting a breathy chuckle that resonates through the side of my body leaning against him.

"That is your fault," Rick says pointedly, his hand finding its way from running through my hair to resting on my lower back, the warmth from his hand seeping into my skin.

I shake my head, burying my face in his chest, a grin etched so firmly on my face that it begins to hurt. "Don't even try to tell me that I make you nervous," I say through my smile, the lightness in my chest matching the joy coursing through me.

"You do," Rick confesses, prompting me to pull away from his warm embrace with a frown of confusion. Propping myself up on my elbows, I shoot him a look of disbelief as he just gazes back at me, unflinching, a subtle smirk playing at the corner of his perfect mouth.

Narrowing my eyes playfully, I pretend to carefully examine his expression, which he keeps remarkably steady. "Nothing makes the Rick Grimes nervous," I argue, raising my eyebrows as I sit up properly and cross my arms.

Rick's breathy chuckle escapes his perfect mouth and he glances away, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "You have no idea," he mutters, a smug smile playing on his lips, making my lower abdomen twist with desire.

My smile grows as I absentmindedly run my fingers along Rick's comforter. "Well, you did mention the 'effect' I have on you this morning. And the reason your heart was racing back when you carried me to the prison- why was that again? Because you were touching my legs?" I tease, tilting my head to the side. I relish the way his cheeks redden slightly as he nods, though he maintains his confident expression.

"Careful there, you're starting to sound cocky," Rick murmurs, shaking his head and raising his eyebrows, his grin only growing.

I chuckle, looking down and tucking my irritating hair behind my ear. Butterflies swirl madly within my stomach at the insane situation I'm finding myself in.

"You're so beautiful," Rick says quietly, his rumbling voice laced with warmth. I slowly look up to meet his sincere expression, feeling my stomach flutter even more.

Unable to hide my flustered state under his intense gaze, Rick raises his eyebrows with satisfaction. Before I can say a word, he quickly leans forward, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to my cheek. "Looks like I'm not the only one who's nervous," Rick whispers in my ear, his warm breath gently caressing my neck. Desire floods through me, and an involuntary shiver travels down my spine, which his hot hand instantly soothes.

I stifle a grin by biting my lip, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks as Rick's hand confidently finds its secure place on my jean-clad thigh, the other still resting on my back. A pleasured exhale escapes me as Rick's lips leisurely explore the sensitive skin near my jaw, and I can't help but revel in the warmth of his touch. However, when his mouth lingers under my jaw, clearly intent on leaving yet another mark, I gently push him back.

"Nuh-uh," I object through my laugh, shaking my head. "Not after all the effort I put into covering up that other hickey," I say, trying to hide the amusement in my voice as Rick grins shamelessly. "If you want us to keep this between us, you'll have to rein in that marking habit of yours," I add, biting my lip, a flicker of desire stirring in my stomach.

Rick nods, his grin unapologetic. "Yes, ma'am," he murmurs smugly as if he's well aware of the effect that one phrase has on me.

I clear my throat, still feeling a bit flustered, and glance down at the seam in my jeans. "So, uh, you mentioned last night that you started having feelings for me around the time Spencer and I got together?" I ask, prompting Rick's confident facade to momentarily waver before he nods. "How did..." I trail off, my gaze carefully exploring his expression.

A smile crosses Rick's face and he momentarily looks down before answering me. "Remember when Daryl and I left? You kissed me on the cheek," Rick reminds me, causing my stomach to clench at the memory. I nod, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Well, that made me realize a thing or two," Rick breathes with a teasing grin, tilting his head to the side and blinking slowly at me. My mouth falls open in astonishment, trying to process the news.

"I thought I-I freaked you out!" I exclaim, amazement lighting up my face as Rick chuckles, shaking his head.

"You did. I hadn't felt what I did when you kissed me in a long time," Rick says softly, his words carrying a hint of vulnerability that makes me scoff with disbelief, my eyebrows shooting up my forehead.

I hold my hand to my mouth, glancing to the side, grappling with the realization. I thought...

"Your face when I kissed your cheek... I thought it was disgust- it's what pushed me to date Spencer," I admit quietly, turning back to meet Rick's curious expression.

His brows furrow, realization dawning on his face.

"I was only dating him to get over... you," I say simply with a shrug, making shock flash through his expression. His eyebrows are no longer furrowed; his eyes widen, and his mouth is left slightly parted.

"You... were with that- idiot..." Rick stops himself, running his hand over his face before focusing on me again. "I had to endure you two together because you were getting over... me?" Rick repeats slowly, his eyes widening in disbelief.

Blinking at him in my own disbelief at his shock, I nod, feeling nerves coursing under my skin at the idea of Rick genuinely being that agitated at the memory of me and Spencer together.

"Jesus Christ," Rick curses before lunging forward and kissing me passionately. The intensity of the abrupt kiss catches me off guard, momentarily erasing the tension between us and leaving me breathless.

A noise of surprise bubbles up my throat as I quickly reciprocate, grinning into our kiss. Rick deepens our connection, his fingers tangling in my hair, making pleasure blossom in my chest.

After a minute, Rick pulls apart, leaning his forehead against mine with a heavy exhale. "Fuck that guy," he curses, making me snort in agreement, the weight of revealing our feelings lingering between us.

It's entirely bizarre trying to understand this new reality where Rick had been not only attracted to me but genuinely wanted me for nearly as long as I wanted him. It's both perplexing and exhilarating.

Now, here I am in his bed, laughing together as I recount the embarrassing memories of my crush on him. All the while, Rick watches, his wonderfully handsome face adorned with the biggest grin.

Then it's Rick's turn, and he entertains me with stories of the times he pined for me from afar and detailing how many times he wanted to wring Spencer's neck, to my amazement. Then, to my horror, he reveals the time Spencer spilled the beans about our less-than-stellar sex life, seeking advice from Rick of all people.

I cover my face, shaking my head in disbelief and embarrassment, silently berating the dead idiot while Rick can't contain his laughter.

However, my mortification is quickly subdued as Rick reveals the dream he had which arose from that horrific conversation.

I gape at his newly reddened expression as he sheepishly looks away while explaining, and in that moment, complete and utter gratitude surges through me.

Rick laughs breathlessly, his cheeks still red as he avoids my gaze as if my opinion means that much to him. A girn grows across my face as I lovingly look back at him, my heart swelling with happiness.

God, I'm so lucky.

___

- Cass's POV -
present

Walking back into the room I share with Georgia and Louise, I scrunch my hair with a towel to dry it from my short, cold shower. The need to wash off the grime from my feet, a consequence of running around this disgusting place, is surpassed only by the need to try to clean off the lingering guilt in my gut.

The vivid memory of Daryl's pained expression and the echoing sound of him pounding against the gate after I shut him out is haunting me. And knowing that I really could've gone with him- is tearing me apart. 

My gut twists with raw guilt as I sink onto my bed, desperately yearning for the chance to have gone with him. Imagining him back home, surrounded by our family, only deepens the regret coursing through me.

He's home.

And I'm still. here.

Clenching my eyes tightly shut, I wage a silent battle against the tears, repeating to myself that I did what I needed to do.

Losing Daryl, Rick's right-hand man, will make Negan lose it. Let alone with the loss of his favorite, pregnant 'wife'.

Glancing at Georgia's sleeping figure across the room, my heart aches.

I can't leave her or Louise either.

I'm aggressively jolted out of my thoughts at the click of our bedroom door opening. In walks Louise, gingerly looking around before her expression breaks with a smile of relief as she spots me.

"Hey! How'd it go?" Louise asks earnestly, crossing the room and settling onto my bed beside me and crossing her legs, her gaze fixed on me with curiosity.

"Good, Daryl's out. Thanks for your help," I respond softly, attempting to mask the sadness in my eyes as I muster a weak smile.

Sympathy softens Louise's expression as she studies my face. "I half expected you to go with 'im," she murmurs gently, prompting a slight chuckle from me as I shake my head.

"I wish I could've," I admit quietly, my chest aching painfully. "Knowing he's probably back there now with everyone-" I cut myself off, inhaling sharply to prevent my voice from breaking.

"I know you want to help with this plan, but if you really want to go, we can make that happen-"

"-No," I interject, shaking my head stubbornly. "When Rick finds out... he's going to want to kill Negan. He's gonna go after him," I inform Louise knowingly, causing her eyebrows to crease with confusion.

"But Rick's always been so level-headed. He would know that's not a good idea," Louise argues, searching my expression desperately.

I sigh, the weight of the situation resting on my shoulders as I look down at my clasped hands. "Rick's changed a lot since you last saw him, Lou," I reveal quietly, my voice soft and rumbling, my stomach twisting as memories of the old Rick flood my mind.

The clean man in his sheriff get-up, with the hat Carl religiously wears... the man who insisted we didn't kill the living. Who tried his hardest to keep our humanity.

"Both Rick and I have changed since then. We had to. But Rick..." I trail off with a gulp. "I've seen him go... dark. Brutal. I-I don't know how much Daryl will tell him, but he's going to lose it," I explain breathlessly, slowly meeting Louise's contemplative gaze.

I shrug helplessly, a defeated smile pulling at my mouth. "Rick is one of the strongest and most capable fighters I know- especially when it comes to protecting his family. But he can't win against Negan. You and I both know that," I say, making Louise's expression harden slightly, nodding knowingly.

"I mean- our people against what? Two hundred Saviors? Forget it. If we don't lose, a lot of our people will die. Either way, it's ... bad," I breathe, my stomach twisting with dread and slight nerves.

If there were just less of the damn Saviors running around then maybe we'd stand a chance...

Nerves skitter across my skin as I remind myself of the fleeting thought I had in the shower. As I had scrubbed my body, I expanded on the thought, stringing it into a well-thought-out scheme.

A nerve-wracking, dangerous, and lethal scheme. One that I'm realizing might just be what we need. 

"But-" I say, my heart pounding aggressively, slamming against my ribcage, making Louise's eyes dart to mine, her eyebrows raising at the look on my face.

"I have a plan."

___

- Rick's POV -

I remain in a state of utter disbelief, my eyes fixated on Daryl as I continue to blink, struggling to comprehend the bombshell he's just dropped. While Daryl looks at me in utter confusion, his brows furrowed, the bags under his eyes exaggerated.

"Wait, who's Louise?" Glenn's voice emerges from somewhere to my right,  his words distant through my faded hearing.

Cass is there, with Louise?

She was supposed to be in New York- I hadn't wanted to think that she was still alive- how on earth did she end up here? With Negan?

A surge of worry overwhelms me, prompting me to bring a trembling hand to my forehead in an attempt to steady my racing thoughts and heartbeat.

"She likes Louise"

Amidst the whirlwind of emotions engulfing me, the realization that my sister is with Cass manages to bring a small, incredulous smile on my face.

Cass likes Louise.

I never thought I'd see the day my Cass met my sister, let alone know she likes her. Louise can be a bit... rough around the edges.

"Aunt Louise?" Carl's unexpected voice pierces through the fog of disbelief, jolting me. My head snaps in his direction, and there, at the bottom of the stairs, stands Carl, cradling a crying Judith in his arms. Confusion flickers in his eyes as he blinks at me, his brows furrowed.

My heart sinks at the look on his face, not expecting to be here. "'Aunt'?" Maggie's breath catches, as she repeats what Carl said, her eyes widening as they dart between me and my son.

"Carl-" I start, my voice carrying a clipped and rough edge.

I hadn't anticipated him being here for this moment. I had envisioned telling him another time, one when I'm not a complete mess.

Carl's eye widens, taking in the palpable tension in the living room, especially when he sees my expression. "What's going-" Carl begins to ask but stops short as he notices Daryl, his expression instantly brightening with amazement.

"Daryl! You're back!" Carl exclaims, excitement lighting up his face, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smile that I haven't seen in months. He pushes through our gathered family, despite having Judith still in his arms, to embrace Daryl warmly.

Daryl's worn-out expression transforms into a genuine smile of happiness as he reciprocates the hug, wincing slightly at the teenager's exuberance.

Feeling a tumultuous mix of emotions, I instinctively take a step backward, my mind racing as I turn away and run a shaky hand down my face. The weight of the news of Cass being alive is still weighing heavily on my shoulders as I struggle with the enormity of the task ahead- explaining it all to Carl.

As I stand there, my back to the reunion, Carl's voice cuts through the uneasy silence, genuine concern evident in his tone. "What's going on? Judith got woken up, and then I heard shouting," he asks quietly, his voice uneven. 

Turning around slowly, I meet Carl's gaze, a mixture of curiosity and worry etched on his face. The room is charged with a poignant silence that he's clearly taking note of, his expression dropping from the joy of before.

"Cass is alive," Daryl's gravelly voice breaks in from behind Carl, adding a raw intensity to the room. The weight of those three words lingers, the gravity sinking in as I grapple with the emotions swirling within me.

Carl whips his head to look at Daryl and then back at me, his expression brightening once again. "Dad! You were right! S-She's alive!" Carl breathes with amazement, his eyes filled with hope as he looks down at Judith in his arms. "Mama's alive, Judith!" he exclaims, his cheerfulness cutting through the tension, a stark contrast to the turmoil in my own emotions, nearly making me sick just hearing it.

I let out a pained exhale, unable to match Carl's enthusiasm, closing my eyes and hanging my head.

She may be alive, but she's...

The war of emotions continues to rampage within me- anger, sadness, relief- a rough mix that is only confusing me more. I knew she was alive, and giving up on her seemed so wrong. Somehow, I was right. But knowing what she's going through there-

"Wait," Carl breathes, his slightly wavering tone cutting through me, hitting me to my core.

"She's with Negan," Daryl explains shortly, the words slashing across my skin like shards of glass.

Raising my gaze, I watch Carl's emotions shift from joy to confusion and then- to anger.

"Dad, we need to go get her!" Carl urges me desperately, stepping forward with unwavering determination, holding on to his still-crying sister.

"I couldn't agree more," I respond in a low, rumbling tone, though I spare a glance at Daryl's pleading expression as he shakes his head. "But Cass specifically told me not to," I say, clenching my jaw with frustration, rage beginning to sear beneath my skin.

"What?" Carl demands incredulously, but I just shake my head, my stomach twisting.

"Negan doesn't know who Cass is to us but if we go after them-" Maggie starts, only overwhelming me with more anxiety.

"I-I can't talk about this again... I need a minute," I mutter, before turning and striding out the front door into the frigid night, the door slamming hollowly behind me. The crisp air bites at my skin and I let it, my jaw clenching.

I walk, my feet moving with a mind of their own, guiding me down the street as my mind runs in endless, aching circles. I keep going like that, my mind racing until I find myself stopping in the gazebo by the lake.

Leaning against the banister, I clench my fists tightly, battling to rein in the surge of rage consuming me. With a deliberate exhale, I release the tension, allowing my lungs to slowly deflate as I fixate on the moonlight dancing on the lake's surface.

Everything hurts.

Every part of me is desperately aching for her.

I knew she was alive. She had to have been.

And now what she's going through... what she's refusing help from...

I can't understand it. Why is she staying?

With a thick swallow, I look down as I fish her ring from its near-permanent residence in the front pocket of my jeans. The gold band and the three diamonds glitter in the dim light as it rests on my palm, so pretty, despite the suffocating grief attached to it. 

Remembering the moment we found it, the moment my world tilted on its axis... knowing where she is- that they must have taken her and it was lost in the struggle. A thought that makes my stomach twist with raw nausea.

Or she left it as a clue that we blatantly missed.

Curling my fist into a ball, I wince as the sharp edges of the diamonds dig into my palm, but the physical pain is a mere echo of the constant ache in my chest.

Remembering Cass's beautiful face when I gave this ring to her, the broad smile, the tears of disbelief. Emotions swell and thrash within me, yearning for the opportunity to just go back.

Back to that morning, the moment she told me mid-argument that she had always wanted me, the moment we reunited after Terminus, or even... the moment we met.

I still remember being hooked up, donating blood for Carl, and like a mud-covered angel, Cass entered our lives, pleading to save Carl's life.

If I could just go back...

or.

I could go to her now.

___

- Cass's POV -
the next day

"Wait- so Rick had a Princess Leia poster?" I ask, a shit-eating grin pulling across my mouth as Lousie smirks knowingly.

Her brown curls shift over her shoulder as she nods, looking far too pleased with herself. "Oh yeah. Rick would beg our parents to buy him the VHS copies of the movies to be able to watch them over and over," Louise confirms, her blue-green eyes twinkling mischievously.

I snort, covering my mouth, my chest bubbling with amusement at the idea of little Rick, with a tiny lightsaber and heart eyes for Princess Leia. It's just too much. When he said that back at the prison, I figured it was just some lame answer after my Superman story. 

"Oh god, I forgot how fun this is! I can tell you everything about him!" Lousie tells me excitedly, grinning gleefully, only making my smile broaden.

"Please do, he would hate this," I encourage her, feeling the strain in my cheeks from the constant grinning.

Louise suddenly folds over, her face red and shoulders shaking with silent laughter. I widen my eyes slightly, watching with surprise as Louise straightens back up, clearly dying with laughter over a single memory.

"Holy shit- I have to tell you this one," she manages to choke out, her face reddening even more. Chuckling at the mere sight of Louise laughing this hard, I nod curiously.

Louise takes a few deep breaths to compose herself as I watch patiently. "Okay, our parents were super Catholic, so of course we had to endure church every Sunday," she starts, her voice still strained from holding back laughter.

"So one Sunday, when I was seven and Rick was like fourteen, we finally make it to church a bit late—which, of course, Mom hated," Louise explains, making me nod in understanding, my curiosity piqued. "Anyway, we finally get to our usual pew, with Rick at the aisle seat- that's important," she adds, pointing at me, her smirk growing.

I listen with wide eyes, my own smile widening just seeing her like this. "The priest made some comment about it being the 'late Grimes's turn' and mom starts freaking out, urging us to hurry up to do communion," Louise says, letting out a short snort, before looking down and shaking her head, trying to compose herself.

"Basically with the way that Rick was sitting, with his gangly legs tucked under the bench, when he rushed to get up as Mom said, he immediately faceplanted on the aisle, in front of everyone," Louise explains through her breathless laughter, shaking her head.

Raising my eyebrows, I can't help but chuckle at the image of teenage Rick faceplanting in church.

Louise grabs my arm for support. "Oh my god- the entire church went silent, Cass. This wasn't a soft fall, it was on wood, it echoed!" Louise cries, actual tears in her eyes as she remembers, making me laugh more. "Mom was furious and Rick was so embarrassed," she grins, just as a mischievous little sister does remembering her brother's pain.

"That's quite the story," I grin, thinking of the stark contrast between Louise's stories about Rick in church vs ... mine.

Louise lets out a heavy exhale, shaking her head, the redness in her face fading. "You just had to be there. It was hilarious," Louise breathes, fanning her face.

"I wish I was," I grin, making Lousie smile at me for a moment.

She tilts her head slightly to the side, a small smile pulling at her mouth as she looks at me.  "I like you, Cass. A lot. I get why Rick loves you," Louise tells me softly, making my smile fade slightly, my heart warming.

"Why? Do I look more like Carrie Fischer than I thought?" I ask, chuckling as Louise snorts, continuing to hold onto my arm for support as she nearly falls over with laughter.

Glancing up, I notice some of the other wives sending us strange looks as Lousie composes herself once again. "Jesus Cass, it's like you wanna kill me," Louise breathes, her chest heaving.

I grin back at her, a rare sense of happiness fluttering through me. I had moments like these before, with Sophie. She was the only person who could leave me with tears down my cheeks, my abs and cheeks aching.

I laugh and enjoy amazing friendships with Michonne and Maggie but we never really laugh like this. Maybe because we were always going through too much.

But I missed it.

"Okay, you're my new favorite," Louise tells me, wiping tears from her cheeks and eliciting an eyebrow raise from me.

"Favorite?" I echo with slight confusion, not entirely sure what she means.

"Out of Rick's very few girlfriends and Lori, you're my favorite," Louise clarifies, grinning.

But my stomach sinks slightly, and I shake my head. "Louise-"

"No, I'm serious! I never had a bond like this with them," Louise insists earnestly, grabbing my hand and making me reluctantly look over at her. "Lori was nice, a great mom to Carl, and she loved Rick. But deep down, I always felt her annoyance when I showed up at her and Rick's place after my breakups," Louise says honestly, an expression of embarrassment flashing across her face.

"I don't think she ever fully approved of my lifestyle or something. But I still loved her. Yet, with you, Cass..." Louise continues, her eyes lighting up while I swallow nervously, a pang of guilt twisting in my gut. "It's like you're my sister. I can't wait to see you and Rick together," she beams, blinking away small tears as she clears her throat and shakes her head.

I grin, happiness blooming in my chest. "Rick's going to lose his mind when he sees you," I say, tilting my head affectionately as Louise smiles and nods.

"He better," Louise adds with a playful edge, eliciting a snort from me.

"Hey you two," Georgia says abruptly from the left, walking over and plopping down beside us with a sweet smile.

"Hey George," I smile warmly, making room for her on the couch with us.

"You're not talking about... it are you?" Georgia asks nervously, her light blue eyes darting between us. Ever since the day Louise told me about the rebellion, Georgia has been avoiding the topic. I think it still freaks her out. And I can't exactly blame her.

Louise sighs. "No, G, we're not talking about that," she says, rolling her eyes playfully as Georgia exhales with relief.

Seeming to be more relaxed, Georgia settles down with a slight smile. "Oh, good. What are you talking about?" She asks curiously.

I smile empathetically, knowing that our plans stress her out. "Just talking about the family. I can't wait for you two to be a part of it," I explain warmly, making Georgia's expression light up.

"You would love the place we have. We have these great homes, tall walls, and soon we're gonna have farms too. It's a good place but the people.. they're even better," I beam, my heart tightening at the memory of them.

The smile that broadens across Georgia's expression is warm and slightly wistful. "That sounds nice," she says quietly, making me nod, grinning.

Before I can delve further into how amazing my family is, and how much Georgia's gonna love it, a familiar voice clears his throat behind us.

I look over to see Spencer standing in the doorway of the wive's quarters, looking like a professional and stoic guard as he fixes his gaze on me. "Negan is asking for you," he says curtly, making me and Louise exchange looks.

"I'll be back," I say quietly, acknowledging Louise's mouthing of 'Good luck'.

Georgia is looking down at her hands, not meeting my gaze, knowing what I'm about to do. I wave a quick goodbye again, before nodding at Spencer, letting him guide me out of the quarters and into the hall.

A subtle undercurrent of nerves mingles with my unwavering determination as Spencer leads me past Negan's door and down the other hall. Every echoing step resounds with the weight of our covert mission, and I can't help but feel a slight flutter in my stomach.

The two of us press on, hiding our mission under the cover of a dejected wife obediently trailing behind one of Negan's guards. We make our way toward the abandoned wing where Louise and I met Spencer a few days ago, which today, feels like it takes an eternity.

Once safely in the secluded confines of the abandoned wing, and out of eye-shot of the leering Saviors, the atmosphere shifts. The tension melts from my shoulders and a renewed sense of purpose settles in. As we walk through the dilapidated halls, the gravity of our mission and the role I'm about to play sets in.

"I got 'em ready," Spencer explains, his movements swift as he shoves the bookshelf aside, revealing the concealed entrance in the wall. I nod, a mixture of nerves and determination churning in my stomach. With a brief moment of closing my eyes to steady myself, I step in swiftly behind Spencer, mentally preparing myself for what I'm about to do.

As I enter, the flickering glow of candles arranged by Spencer provides a soft illumination, the dim candlelight bouncing off the walls of our little meeting place.

Taking a measured pace, I scan the room until my gaze locks on two men engaged in hushed conversation, comfortably lounging on chairs in a corner. "Hey, Spence! Great place, man-" The man's words taper off as he catches sight of me.

Straightening my spine, I meet his gaze, a seductive smile playing on my lips. The man hastily smacks his friend beside him, prompting him to look up as well. They both gape at me as Spencer hides a smile by ducking his head.

As I set my gaze on the two pieces of shit, I clench my jaw as waves of rage swell within me, reminding myself of the vile comments they made about my girls – those underage teenagers whom I would protect with my life.

Or the lives of the men sitting in front of me.

"Aren't you-" the other man, the one who had to be smacked by his friend, begins to stammer.

"Cassie." I confirm, tilting my head to the side as I cross the room smoothly, perching on a nearby desk.

As the two men look at each other excitedly, I feel myself slip into that darker side of me, my skin peppering with goosebumps of disgust and my expression hardening with fury. The version I became when I stood on that bastard's throat and killed him for even thinking about touching Judith.

The version I've slipped into when needed.

Glaring at the ugly men in front of me, my jaw clenches, their voices trailing through my memory.

"... that ginger one, oh she was just asking for it in those shorts... I just know it's tight...."

"what about the blonde with that black kid? did you those perky tits... damn!"

"if only Negan would'a let us just take 'em. He doesn't get it, he got all those whores of wives, we don't"

Bile burns my throat as I remember it clearly, clenching my fists tightly as I try to contain the firey rage burning through my veins.

Through my haze of anger, I spot Spencer closing the bookcase behind us, making sure we don't make too much noise.

Something I intend to do.

"So, Cassie, why do we have the pleasure of your company?" The one with straggly black hair asks, his gross eyes roaming my body, which is shown off by the tight black dress I wear and the thin straps that keep it up.

"I get bored with just one man," I say simply, keeping my voice honey-smooth as I cross my legs- which hikes up my dress slightly, showing off my upper thighs.

The other man, larger than his companion, his balding head glinting in the light, swears under his breath. The duo exchanges quick, hushed, and excited words, reveling in their perceived stroke of luck.

If only they knew.

I lock eyes with Spencer, his gaze darkening with what appears to be determination. A strange feeling washes over me, a sense of relief that, at least this time, he's a double agent on my side.

Uncrossing my legs, I hop off the desk, making a show of wiping the dust off my ass as I near the pair of degenerates.

"Cassie likes to have meetings like this. I told you to be discreet. You were, weren't you? otherwise.." Spencer trails off with a scoff as I tilt my head to the side, staring the men down. "You're never gettin' this opportunity again," Spencer adds, his voice hardening slightly.

The two men shift with excitement, clearly not expecting this treat.

"Oh no! No one knows we're here man, I swear," The black-haired one says eagerly, shifting in his seat and adjusting the front of his cargo shorts.

I shift my focus on him, my jaw tightening with blinding rage. He's the one who made the comments about Sophia. Fucking piece of shit.

As I point at the piece of human trash, I look over at Spencer with raised eyebrows.  "He's mine," I tell him lowly, making Spencer nod seriously and the man chuckle with amazement.

I turn to him fully, playing up the way I look him up and down, calculating which way would be the most satisfying to kill him.

"Stand up," I order, stepping back smoothly as the steaming piece of garbage stumbles to his feet, his eyes wide and skin flushed.

I glance at Spencer, making sure he's still good. Spencer looks back at me securely, nodding in confirmation. Pushing down any lingering nerves, I nod back, before slowly turning back to the task at hand.

"So, what's your name handsome?" I ask the pig, slowly circling him like a shark as he gulps nervously. 

"I-It's Doug," the man stutters, his chest heaving with anticipation, his greasy short hair moving slightly as he trembles. I hum thoughtfully as I discreetly snatch the knife Spencer left on the nearby table.

"Doug..." I murmur lowly as I saunter over, positioning myself to face the contemptible individual, the knife concealed behind my back. "What's your fantasy? The one thing that just- gets you?" I ask seductively, tilting my head to the side and taking a step toward him, a surge of rage buzzing through my veins.

Doug gulps, a smile pulling at his mouth. "I-It's cliché but uh- the schoolgirl one always gets me," he breathes through his grin, causing me to pause, raw disgust wrenching my gut as I stare at him in disbelief.

In my periphery, I notice Spencer stiffen, edging toward the balding idiot, clearly realizing that this revelation might push me over the edge.

He's smarter than I thought.

Suppressing the urge to vomit, I chuckle lowly, taking yet another deliberate step, the click of my heel echoing around the small room.

"So, kids." I say, my voice lowering slightly, my grip on my hidden knife tightening.

Doug's eyebrows furrow. "No! That's not- it's just teenage girls. B-But you look great! You're so hot, I-I can just pretend," Doug breathes as if my biggest issue is that he doesn't find me attractive.

Wow.

"Teenagers are kids, Doug. Like the girl you said- what was it? That she was 'asking for it'?" I question sharply, a cruel smile growing on my face and I tilt my head to the side, my eyes widened threateningly.

Doug gulps, shaking his head slightly. "I-I don't know-"

"I heard you, the other day." I interrupt him harshly, making him stop with a gulp. "You were talking about the young ginger girl, right?" I ask, my voice cutting through the air as I approach him, my grip on the knife deathly tight.

"I was just joking!" Doug breathes, his eyes wide.

I stare at him for a moment, squinting my eyes, my mouth pulled downward with disgust. "I didn't find it very funny." I snap, making Doug flinch as I bring the knife from behind my back.

He stumbles backward clumsily, his eyes wide. "W-Woah! Hey, lady, I was jokin'! What's wrong with you?" he blurts out, his panic evident in the heaving of his chest. Meanwhile, a slow, unsettling smile creeps across my face.

I hear the other man struggling with Spencer to our right as Doug continues to back up. I don't need to look over to see that Spence is holding the other man back.

"'What's wrong with me'?" I echo teasingly, my voice carrying a hint of seduction as I close in on the apprehensive Doug.

"Why are you doing this?" Doug stammers, eyes widening, seeking refuge by pressing himself against the dilapidated wall.

I pause, my expression momentarily perplexed. I glance over at Spencer, who holds the other man at bay with a knife at his throat, and then back at Doug, who is still gaping at me in bewilderment. 

"What do you mean?" I inquire, tilting my head to the side with a pretense of confusion as Doug shakes his head, mouth agape.

"You were asking for it." I tell him simply, before lunging forward and slashing his throat. Even quicker, I jump back to evade the waterfall of dark blood that spews from his fat neck, splattering on the floor loudly.

The other man begins to cry out before being quickly cut off, and I turn to see Spencer dropping the other man's lifeless body, blood seeping from the hole in the side of his head.

Doug's sputter grabs my attention, drawing my gaze toward him as he slumps against the wall, eventually collapsing into a bloody heap. A surge of rage courses through me as I approach before crouching down to scrutinize him, tilting my head to the side slowly.

His hands desperately claw at the deep gash in his throat, eyes wide, face draining of color as blood spurts from his body. Satisfaction blossoms within me as I glare at him, impassively watching the life drain from him in the merciless grip of death.

I stare into his eyes, watching as the light fades, and he dies in front of me.

A triumphant smile tugs at my lips as I rise, hands on my hips. I turn to the side, meeting Spencer's gaze as he stares at me in awe.

"Damn, Cass. I knew you changed, but that was... intense," Spencer breathes, clearly impressed, his eyebrows raised and mouth parted.

I meet his gaze for a moment with a flicker of acknowledgment, before glancing down to check myself for any signs of blood.

"You're good," Spencer remarks, breaking the silence, and prompting me to nod in response.

"Alright. Clean this up," I say shortly, tossing the knife onto the table with a clatter. I push the bookshelf out of the way and stride out of the hole, leaving the palpable tension of revenge behind me.

___

I walk back to the wives' quarters, brushing off the excess dust from my dress, checking once again for blood. As I go, I have to fight the urge to grin with overwhelming satisfaction. There's just something about killing those pieces of shit, channeling the brutal energy that I admire in my husband. Well, soon-to-be husband.

And protecting those girls- from disgusting pigs like that- is more important than anything else.

Want to be a murderer? Fine.

Tortured your enemies? Great.

But even talk about hurting my girls? Absolutely not.

Walking, my mind consumed with thoughts, but I pause, my brows furrowing at the new sounds echoing through the winding halls. Sounds of shouting...

My footsteps falter in the darkened hallway, my heart dropping at the sudden, distant sound piercing the ominous silence.

Rapid gunfire.

My chest heaves as I stand frozen, the echoes of gunfire reverberating through the corridor, causing an involuntary shiver down my spine. The cacophony erupts again, prompting a curse to escape my lips as I muster the courage to break free from my paralyzed state. With determination, I take off toward the wives' quarters, each step echoing urgency in the dimly lit passageway.

Cringing through the pain of running in 5-inch heels, the rhythmic sound of gunfire pushing me forward, I finally ascend the stairs and burst through the double doors.

As I barrel through, my chest heaving with panic, I find the wives gathered by the painted window. Nearly all of them whirl around, their faces etched with a mix of fear and curiosity, and both Louise and Georgia rush over with wide eyes.

"What's going on?" I demand, my voice edged with urgency, as I look between them, still trying to catch my breath.

"We were going to ask you the same question!" Georgia says, her words a mix of confusion and concern, prompting a sigh to escape me as I hang my head.

Shit.

Cringing, a wave of light-headedness surges through me. I lean on the edge of the couch, clenching my eyes shut, grappling with the weight of the unexpected chaos unfolding around us and the strange feeling settling over me.

Hands envelop me, and Louise's concerned voice asks if I'm okay. I nod weakly through my dizzy spell. "Yeah, just all that... running," I breathe weakly, swallowing back waves of nausea.

"Okay, you're sitting down," Georgia orders, her directive accompanied by both authority and concern. Louise and Georgia guide me onto the couch as my head pounds relentlessly.

Gingerly settling onto the cushions, I slowly exhale, attempting to push through the fog of dizziness and discomfort that wraps around my senses.

The echoes of gunshots are still thankfully gone, providing a glimmer of reassurance that the conflict may be over, whatever the hell it was.

"I'm okay, guys," I whisper, my voice betraying my words with a quivering whimper as the discomfort gradually recedes.

"You sure?" Louise inquires, offering a comforting rub on my back, to which I respond with a nod, running my hands over my face in a moment of relief from nausea.

Your timing couldn't have been better, you damn baby. I think sarcastically, glancing down at my lower abdomen.

"Yeah, I'm fine. You really don't know what that was?" I inquire, finally opening my eyes and surveying the surroundings, squinting at the sudden onslaught of bright light. Louise and Georgia shake their heads, and the other wives settle down reluctantly, evidently as clueless as I am.

"Fuck," I swear, frustration etched across my face, as I lean forward, placing my elbows on my knees. I place my head in my hands, finding my nausea subsiding better like this.

"Do you think..." Louise starts from beside me, causing me to sit up and turn toward her, my brows furrowed.

"What? That it's Rick?" I ask, my eyes darting across her expression as she nods solemnly.

"I mean, Daryl went back right? And probably told him, and you said Rick'll want to fight Negan," Louise breathes, making me sigh, biting my lip thoughtfully.

Could he really be that stupid?

"I told Daryl to tell Rick not to," I lament with emotion, burying my face in my hands, my hormones suddenly raging, flooding my mind with all the worst thoughts.

The idea of Rick showing up here, guns blazing, is a terrifying thought. Every moment of silence after those gunshots becomes agonizing. So I sit with Louise and Georgia, attempting to distract myself from the rampaging nerves and piercing anxiety that the man I love might have chosen to be a damn idiot.

At one point, desperation drives me to inspect the chip in the paint of the window, a feeble attempt to find solace in routine, but there's nothing. It looks just the same as usual, offering no clues or comfort.

About an hour later, a guard opens the door, singling me out once again, letting me know that Negan is 'requesting my presence.'

My stomach takes a sudden dip, and I rise to my feet with a heavy heart. As I stand, slightly unstable on my feet, Louise's hand gently clasps my arm, her worried expression urging me to meet her gaze.

"Let me go," Louise pleads urgently, but I shake my head, offering her a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry. Nothing's going to happen. I'll catch up with you later," I assure her, casting a brief smile at Georgia before turning to follow the guard out.

This time, the man whose name I haven't bothered to learn doesn't guide me past Negan's quarters as Spencer did.  Instead, he raps on Negan's door, making the familiar knot twist in my gut.

As usual, I enter at Negan's strangely cheerful command and shut the door behind me. Then I pivot on my heel, coming to an abrupt halt, my heart plummeting at the sight in front of me.

Negan is lounging on his usual spot on his couch, a sly smirk gracing his lips as his piercing gaze locks onto mine. However, my attention is immediately drawn to the figure seated across from him- a teenager with long hair, a blue flannel, and his father's hat, his back turned to me.

Shock slams into me, sending a cascade of goosebumps across my body, my stomach twisting with horror.

Panic envelops me in a blinding haze as Negan calls out, "Ah, there she is! Come over here!" his barked orders piercing through my pulsating, muted hearing.

Carl remains unmoving, and with an immense effort, I coerce my feet into motion, my heart slamming against my ribcage.

Moving deliberately across the room, I struggle to conceal the overwhelming shock that threatens to surface. My mind races, attempting to formulate a plan on how the hell I'm going to get him out of this.

Each step feels like an eternity as I pass by Carl, delicately perching on the couch arm beside Negan. Keeping my gaze lowered, I flinch when Negan's grip tightens around my waist, forcefully pulling me close to him.

With my chest heaving and nerves on fire, I muster the courage to lift my eyes, finally meeting Carl's gaze.

My heart plummets as I see his horrified face, and the eyepatch he's wearing. Alarm surges through me seeing Carl hurt, wondering how on earth this happened to him. His lone eye hesitates, scanning my figure quickly before locking onto my gaze with palpable fear.

In a silent urgency, I widen my eyes, silently pleading with him not to betray the deep affection I harbor for him.

Negan cannot know.

"This is Cassie, my favorite wife," Negan muses, his grip on my waist tightening.

Clenching my jaw, I remain frozen, staring at Carl's face, fighting the overwhelming urge to cry. To cry with happiness to see him after so long, with overwhelming worry that he's here, or shame that he's seeing me like this.

On Negan's arm.

"Favorite?" Carl questions, his gaze hardening as he focuses on Negan, his mouth pulled down with disgust.

Negan practically giggles. "Oh yeah, I got about seven of 'em. You'll meet them soon, don't you worry," Negan grins with a wink, leaning forward on the squeaky leather.

I clear my throat, trying to calm myself down, to try to calm my racing heart and to suppress my overwhelming fear.

"Oh, how rude of me, Cassie, this is Carl," Negan says, turning to me, his irritating eyes meeting mine. I drag my gaze from the said teenager, meeting Negan's infuriatingly happy gaze.

"Remember that idiot Rick from before? This is his son," Negan explains, making me nod, closing my eyes momentarily in an attempt to collect myself. "Little shit broke in, shootin' up a storm," Negan adds, making me freeze, my eyes snapping open as I whip my head to send Carl a sharp, wide-eyed look.

The teenager slightly shrinks under my harsh gaze.

"Anyway, as I was saying, Carl-" Negan's words are abruptly interrupted by a resounding knock on his door, prompting a frustrated groan from Negan before he instructs the visitor to enter. Throughout this, my eyes remain fixed on Carl, silently berating him for being as stupid as his stubborn father.

In strides Simon, urgency etched across his face. "Neegs, we've got a situation. Doug and Jeff were murdered. This is because of the mole, I'm sure of it," Simon urgently informs Negan, who exhales heavily in response.

"Can't you see I'm busy? How'd you even know they're murdered?" Negan asks dryly, releasing his grip on my waist and sitting forward, much to my relief.

"We found their bodies. Doug with a slashed neck, Jeff stabbed in the brain," Simon reports, raising his eyebrows.

My stomach twists, my heart plummeting. Fuck.

Keeping my face neutral, I try to calm my racing heart. Fucking Spencer.

Anger and frustration flares through me. Spencer was supposed to deal with them, not leave them somewhere to be fucking discovered.

Negan pauses, his face hardening with anger. "For fucks sake. Cassie, watch this little shit. He can't get out with the guards. Maybe give 'im a lesson on picking up ladies, huh?" Negan suggests with a wink, before snatching Lucille and meeting up with Simon.

I watch the duo meet, talking lowly between themselves, the door slamming behind them.

"Cass-" I stop Carl's sentence, my hand held out, as I wait for Negan and Simon's footsteps to fully fade, my heart racing.

Then I quickly turn to Carl, exhaling a sigh of relief that feels as if I've been holding it in for an eternity. I hastily clamber off the stupid couch and rush toward him. Carl jumps to his feet so I can envelop him tightly. As I hold the teenage boy close, I exhale deeply, letting the weight of the moment sink in and closing my eyes.

After so long of being away from them, and just leaving Daryl, being able to hug Carl like this- is incredible.

Clenching my eyes closed tight, I continue to hug Carl, fighting against the tears of relief threatening to overwhelm me. Then I remember what got him here.

"You dumbass!" I curse, pulling away and grabbing Carl's shoulders, making the troublemaker blink at me in surprise. "What are you doing here?" I demand, my voice thick with emotion, my brows knitted together with concern as I examine his expression.

Carl gulps, pushing past his apparent shock. "You told Daryl dad couldn't come after you. You never said anything about me," Carl mutters with a shrug, making my jaw drop and narrow my eyes in annoyance.

"You little shit!" I curse, laughing through my sudden tears, making Carl crack a grin.

Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I shake my head, my bottom lip trembling. "What happened?" I inquire softly, my gaze fixed on Carl's eyepatch, prompting a faint blush to tint his cheeks as he looks away.

"Ron shot me. B-But Denise saved me," he stammers, the words tumbling out in a rush, causing me to close my eyes in disbelief and shock. Oh my god.

What Rick must have been feeling seeing Carl get shot once again-

"I'm fine, Cass, really," Carl reassures me, but I defiantly shake my head. Stepping back, my hand instinctively moves to cover my mouth as I grapple with the intense emotions threatening to overwhelm me.

"You have no idea how dangerous this place is. What were you thinking?" I demand impatiently, turning to face Carl's frustrated expression.

Carl scoffs, shaking his head and clenching his jaw in a way that echoes his father. "I was going to kill Negan and get you home... I hadn't expected this many people," he mutters, looking down and shaking his head slightly.

I slowly inhale, attempting to temper my frustration. "That is why I tried to tell your father not to come after me," I snap, making Carl nod dejectedly. "D'you realize the only reason you're fucking alive right now is because Negan doesn't hurt kids?" I demand, placing my hands on my hips expectantly.

Carl looks up at me, nervously, shaking his head. "I-I had no idea," he mutters, making me sigh, dropping down on the couch behind me.

"Carl- I have this under control, okay? D'you really think I would just help Daryl escape and not go with him if I didn't have a plan?" I implore, my gaze desperately scanning the teenager's face for understanding.

His brows knit together, emotion creasing his features. "It's just... Judith's been crying. She misses you. And Dad... he's falling apart again," Carl's voice falters, each word laden with the weight of our family's turmoil. I find myself squeezing the bridge of my nose, desperately trying to rein in the flood of emotions threatening to engulf me.

"I missed you Cass," Carl adds, making me let out a pained whimper, tears finally pushing their way through.

Shaking my head, I lift my gaze to meet the emotional teenager's eyes. "I missed you too, kiddo. Are you alright? I know Negan can be..." I trail off, the unspoken understanding passing between us as I observe the pained expression that crosses his face.

"I'm fine," Carl answers flatly, his gaze fixed on his boots, clearly not fine.

Anger whips through me, iron-hot, making me clench my jaw. "What'd he do?" I ask slowly, keeping my voice level with extreme effort as I watch every microexpression on Carl's face.

"Nothing, just stupid stuff," Carl mutters, clearing his throat and shaking his head.

A surge of protectiveness propels me to my feet, my limbs tingling with anger. "No one gets to hurt my kid and get away with it. You understand?" I snap, my chest heaving with rage, as Carl stills.

"I need you to just do as he says, get home safe, and I'll deal with him, okay?" I order sharply, the words cutting through the charged air with a steely resolve.

Carl remains frozen, his eye darting back and forth across my face. "Did... you just call me your kid?" he asks quietly, his brows knitting together in the middle, a vulnerable curiosity beneath the surface.

I gulp, shifting on my feet, guilt twisting in my stomach. "I haven't said that before?" I ask quietly, my heart suddenly quickening its pace as I tilt my head to the side.

Carl just slowly shakes his head, his eye wide.

"Well of course you're my kid, Carl," I say softly, knitting my brows together. "I'll always watch out for you- protect you. It's the least that I owe Lori." I say softly my hand on his shoulder, making emotion crumple his expression slightly.

"Well, you're gonna be my stepmom, right?" Carl asks, his mouth curving into a slight smile, making me freeze.

How does he-

Carl reads my expression immediately. "We found your ring, in the woods. I put two and two together," Carl explains, making me let out a distressed sigh, feeling my face crumple with emotion.

"I thought it was gone forever," I breathe hoarsely, blinking past tears and looking down. Knowing that they have that part of me- Rick has that part of us- somehow makes the pain in my chest ease a bit more.

Before Carl can say another word, I stop him, my heart lodged in my throat at the distant sound of Negan and Simon's voices. "Sit down," I order quickly, briskly wiping my face to dry my tears as I settle back on Negan's couch, adjusting my dress and attempting to compose myself.

Carl complies with a hint of confusion, a flicker of fear crossing his expression.

The door swings open, and in strides Negan, wearing a grin tinged with mild irritation. My heart pounds heavily in my chest, a wave of panic washing over me as I worry that it's clear Carl and I just had a heart-to-heart or that I'm the one who killed Doug.

"Ugh. That shit was gross," Negan sighs as he comes to a stop in front of the two couches, looking between us expectantly, Lucille resting on his shoulder like usual.

I blink up at him meekly, blatantly ignoring Carl. As if he's some random fifteen-year-old and not the kid I've survived with since the beginning. A kid I love as my own.

"Did y'all even move?" Negan asks, chuckling with amusement and raising his eyebrows.

At our silence, Negan's laughter echoes, mocking our lack of response. "Alright, come on. Cassie, let's show him the rest of the wives, huh?" Negan suggests, his tone carrying a mixture of command and perverse curiosity that sends a chill down my spine.

Sparing a quick glance at Carl, who looks conflicted, I rise from my seat, briskly moving to Negan's side. Carl eventually follows suit, sending me a strange look at the way I'm acting with Negan. In response, I widen my eyes once, trying to tell him to just go with it. 

As the three of us maneuver through the hallway, Negan strategically positions himself behind us, orchestrating the pace to ensure Carl remains in close proximity. The air grows more tense with each step as we approach the wives' quarters, the gravity of the situation resonating with every echoing footstep. Just as the doors are about to swing open, a surge of realization hits me – Louise.

Carl's Aunt.

I turn to Carl, my eyes widening in urgency, just as Negan prepares to reveal his 'hot-ass wives'. Carl doesn't notice, looking down, his brows furrowed deeply.

Shit.

The doors swing open with Negan's obnoxious flourish, his loud and animated commentary immediately filling the room as he gleefully introduces Carl to his wives. Flinching at the missed opportunity of warning Carl, I worryingly scan the room, keenly aware of the various wives engrossed in their mundane activities.

Louise and Georgia, in the middle of a card game, look up, causing my heart to lurch. Frantically, I attempt to catch Louise's attention, but her gaze remains steadfastly fixed on Carl.

In a frozen state, her brows furrow deeply, her eyes intense as they lock onto Carl. Then, it happens– her expression quickly relaxes before being engulfed by shock. Her eyes widen, tears glistening amidst the blue-green, and her mouth falls open in horror. The recognition in her expression sends shivers down my spine, wishing I had been able to warn her.

My stomach drops as she simply mouths, 'Carl', her expression broken. Then, her gaze drifts, hardening with anger as she focuses on Negan, who's chatting aimlessly to Carl, unaware of the death glare boring into him.

And in that moment, fear overwhelms me. At what Louise is about to do to Negan for touching her nephew.

___