Dead Man Walking | Rick Grimes

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Rick paced around in the church, asking our people to turn over the missing guns. A Glock 9 and a .22. I couldn't pay attention to what was being said. I couldn't focus on anything as Rick spoke and pleaded for someone to turn the guns over.

Is there anything we can do to fight them? Is there a way? If we convince the Hilltop to fight with us, we might have a chance, but with what guns? They've taken everything. It's not easy finding guns, either. Rick's warm hand wrapped around my wrist, bringing me back to real life and out of my thoughts.

"Look, we're not in charge anymore," Rick sadly announced to our people, "Negan is." I felt my stomach drop as Rick admitted the sad truth. Negan is in charge now. He's stripped us of everything and is leaving us defenseless. We need the guns—now more than ever.

Without another word, I stormed out of the church and down the street. It's just two guns, and not everyone is accounted for. Carol and Morgan are gone. They could easily have the two guns that are missing. Michonne is outside the gate. She might have them, but I doubt it. We'll be okay if I talk to Negan one-on-one. I paused as I approached the pantry doorway, looking at the two goons who guarded it. Giving them a curt nod, I walked inside and shuffled towards the backdoor. Negan sat on a bench with Oliva, his arm thrown across the back as they casually sat silently.

Negan's eyes lifted and brightened as he looked at me, his signature shit-eating grin lighting up his face. Daryl stood off towards the side, his eyes firmly on the ground as I walked forward, seemingly unaware I was there.

"Well," Negan began, extending his hand towards the bench opposite him, "To what do I owe this pleasure?" I rolled my eyes and sat on the bench, leaning forward and crossing my hands over my knees.

"The guns," I murmured, dropping my gaze and bringing it back up, batting my eyelashes, "It's just the two?" Negan hummed and copied my actions, leaning over with his hands crossed over his knees. His deep brown eyes twinkled with amusement and curiosity as he stared at me. "You're taking everything. Can't you just drop all this?"

"I think you and I both know that I can't," Negan mused, and he leaned back, resuming his original position, "We make an exception, and next thing I know, you're barging in on my home with guns blazing and shooting us all down." I shook my head and released an exhausted sigh, dropping my gimmick. He's not going to fall for it.

"Come on," I stressed, "You know we can't do that. Two guns? You think we'll slaughter you with two little guns?!" I threw my hands in the air, "And where would we get the manpower for such a feat?" Negan chuckled, not bothering to hide the fact that I amused him.

"You can never be too careful," While I agreed with him, he's just ridiculous. I shook my head and looked at the sky, not understanding why I even bothered. No matter what I say, he won't listen. He won't budge. To him, I'm just a bitch who helped slaughter his people.

"Ni siquiera se porque estoy tratando de hablarte," I muttered to myself as I placed my hands over my stomach again. Negan cocked his head at me and smiled wider, his bottom lip catching between his teeth.

"What did you say, darling?" I looked at him and rubbed my lower abdomen, my head shaking, "Was that Spanish? Hot damn, now I'm regretting not taking you with me when you offered! Spanish women are on the tippy top of my hotlist, baby." I didn't try to hide the groan of disgust that left me. I lifted my gaze and frowned, letting my dislike for this man be known—I'm done being nice and trying to sway him.

"I'm sure you won't want me in my current predicament," I sneered at him. Negan licked his lips, and his eyes fluttered to my hands that caressed my lower stomach, his smile widening even further as he connected the pieces in his head.