No Sanctuary For Old Men [18+] |Negan| ✔️ Complete

LXIII • Shatter

In honour of 20k views and 1k votes and 1k amazing comments, here's this chapter early.
<3

When Spencer opened that door, his grin was wide and his eyes were smug. But she wasn't even looking at him. Gaze downcast, curled up in a ball against the wall, gaunt as a ghost. She was a wisp of her former self, and he would have taken pity on her had he been a better man.

But he wasn't.

Glee rippled through him as he stared down at the broken ex-lieutenant, and he hadn't realized how much he'd wanted her until this moment. Until she was so close to being his.

He snapped his fingers at the two guards flanking him. "Carry her. Little bitch doesn't look like she'll walk very well."

Daphne whimpered as the guards lifted her by her arms, her legs giving out twice on the way down the hallway. Spencer whistled a jaunty tune as they moved, and her eyes darted around frantically, searching for any familiar faces.

There were none.

There were only soldiers, strangers dressed in SWAT suits. They were everywhere. There were so many of them. The Sanctuary was overrun, infested.

There was no going back now.

They climbed the final flight of stairs to the penthouse before Daphne realized exactly where they were headed. A low moan of protest began to thrum in the back of her throat and Spencer turned on her with malice in his eyes.

"Ah ah ah, blondie." He sneered. "Do you want to go back in your fucking cell?"

She shook her head emphatically, and he smiled, straightening back up to lead them into Negan's room.

Negan's room.

Her heart clenched so hard in her chest she thought she might become a walker right there. The guards shoved her in the door and then took a post to either side of it. She stared helplessly around, wishing that it looked different. Wishing that it didn't look like the same place she'd shared memories with him, with her friends.

"Go on, go get cleaned up," Spencer urged, and motioned to the bathroom. "I have a bit of business, and then I'll be back, and we can discuss the...parameters of your surrender." He leered at her with the words, and she shrank away from him, staggering into the bathroom. She could still hear his triumphant laugh as she turned on the water to the shower, and her lip curled down into a disgusted frown.

She washed away the grime of her extended stay in the basement hotel. She didn't know how long she'd been down there, but she thought it might be long enough to assume that help wasn't coming.

Or help had come and they'd been defeated.

There were just too many of them.

She shampooed her hair, and halfway through lathering it she realized that it was Negan's shampoo. The scent brought her back to the first time she'd buried her face into his throat, the cherry red hood of a Lamborghini at her back, and tears sprung to her eyes.

Fuck.

She washed her hair twice more, using the lather on her entire body. She knew she wouldn't feel clean afterwards. She didn't know if she'd ever feel clean again. She didn't know if she'd ever feel anything again.

Daphne exited the bathroom wrapped in a towel, trepidation filling her at the sight of a little black dress laid out on the bed. Her gut sank at the sight of it, and her jaw clenched at Spencer's depravity.

She swallowed hard, and turned to the guards, raising an eyebrow.

"Do you mind?" she croaked, her voice hoarse from the tears shed beneath the spray of the shower.

"Oh, we don't mind at all," one of them replied with a sly smile, and she grimaced.

These fucks had no honour either. The Sanctuary really was no more if it was full of these people.

She turned away from them and managed to shimmy into the dress while still covering herself with the towel. She was just running her hands through her wet curls to give them a makeshift brush when Spencer returned, striding in like he owned the place.

But he did, now.

Daphne's gaze zeroed in on the barbed wire baseball bat that he swung casually as he practically skipped to the bed. Lucille was caked with blood, and some of it looked pretty old. Had he cleaned her at all since he'd stolen her?

And whose blood is that?

He flopped onto the bed with a happy sigh, landing on his back. Lucille bounced lightly next to him, tearing at the silk sheets a bit with the force of his body.

"Ah, life is so good," he said, and turned a lazy grin on her. "And you look great, slut. Get on over here." He waved her over to him and she hesitated. "There are so many more people you care about that I could kill."

She slowly got up onto the bed, knowing that the dress was so short that there wouldn't be much coverage while sitting.

No turning back now.

She lifted a creamy leg over his hip to straddle him, and he didn't seem to anticipate this, because he let out a surprised moan. Daphne smirked a bit at his tiny bulge poking at her, and undulated herself slightly to rub against him. He reached out and gripped her thighs to keep her still, and shot a glare at the guards.

"Get the fuck out!" he barked. "Close the door!" One of them rolled his eyes, but they complied, shutting the door behind them.

"Afraid of embarrassing yourself?" Her voice was a little stronger now, and Spencer scowled, his ego bigger than his intelligence.

"Shut the fuck up," he snapped, and his hand connected with her cheekbone, whipping her head to the side. "You don't talk to me like that anymore."

Daphne ever-so-slowly brought her face back to his, and he furrowed his brow. Her eyes looked far brighter than they had just moments ago, her posture a little straighter. Her hard thighs beneath his fingertips rippled with live muscle, not the weak legs she'd stumbled in on.

He opened his mouth to scream for his guards, but no sound came out.

And before he could even make a peep, Daphne snatched Lucille from the bed and raised her high, blue eyes blazing with an insanity that Spencer had never seen on a human being in his entire existence on this planet.

"You don't fucking talk anymore," she spat.

He did end up managing to cry out for a split second before Lucille shattered the bottom half of his face.