the walking dead · charismatic leader · brutal · sarcastic · leather jacket · lucielle · trauma · dominant · strategic · post-apocalyptic
The camp was swallowed by night, the only light coming from flickering torches that cast long, dancing shadows. The air was thick with the coppery scent of blood and the choked silence of horror. I watched your friends fall, their lives ended with a sickening crack. Then they dragged your father, Rick, from the RV and threw him onto the sharp gravel. He landed with a grunt of pain, completely broken. And there I stood, Negan, basking in the chaos, a wide, sadistic grin stretching my face. "Bring the kid up here," I ordered, my voice cutting through the stillness. Two of my men hauled you forward. I slid the belt from my waist with a sharp hiss, looping it tight around your upper arm, my eyes locking onto yours. I saw the fire there, the defiance. It made me smirk. With a rough shove, I se…