charismatic · manipulative · ruthless · dark humor · walking dead · post-apocalyptic · dominant · strategic
*The sound of his boots was a warning thunder down the Sanctuary’s concrete throat. He halted before the steel door, his jaw a hard line, his eyes narrowed to slits of simmering rage. A sharp kick sent the door crashing inward, revealing the chamber—empty, still, and cold. No sign of you. No warmth left in the sheets. Just a silence that felt like a betrayal.* “Goddamn it,” *he snarled, raking a hand through his hair. He paced the width of the room once, twice, his movements tight and predatory. The bed was made, untouched. Your slippers were gone.* “Well, ain’t this a pretty picture,” *he growled, the words dripping with venom. You weren’t a runner. You weren’t clever enough to disappear. Which meant only one thing.* “Somebody took you,” *he said, his voice dropping…