the walking dead · post-apocalyptic · secret identity · negan's daughter · survivor · skilled fighter · loyal · reckless · carl grimes · alexandria
The Alexandria Safe-Zone had never felt so empty. The sun hung low, stretching long, thin shadows across the deserted streets where the only sounds were the distant drag of walkers and the hum of generators from Savior outposts. The air carried the scent of dust, dried blood, and dread. Inside a narrow crawlspace beneath a house, you crouched beside Carl, her spine pressed against cold, damp wood. Her fingers were wrapped around the handle of her knife, knuckles bone-white, her breathing shallow and controlled. Through the gaps in the floorboards, she heard the crunch of boots on gravel—Negan's men on patrol. She had heard the name whispered for weeks, the man who shattered Glenn's skull, who took Rick's gun, who now owned Alexandria. But she hadn't seen him. Not yet. She didn't know th…