Chapter 13
The days blurred together like dreams Vanessa couldn't wake from.
Except now she wasn't trapped.
She was coiled.
Like a snake around Negan's neck.
And he didn't even see it.
He wanted her—body, mind, soul. And Vanessa had learned that want was a weapon sharper than knives.
Each morning, she gave him just enough.
A whispered moan in his ear.
A brush of her thigh under silk sheets.
A glance from across the room when she wore nothing but his dress shirt.
But never her submission.
He kissed her like she was salvation.
She kissed him like he was the last man before hell.
He didn't know the difference.
Not yet.
Camille was bleeding.
Not physically—Negan never laid a hand on her after the last time—but psychologically, she was crumbling.
Locked in the mirrored room, forced to watch footage of Vanessa replacing her—softening Negan, then sharpening him again—was a hell designed just for her.
But she had one thing left.
One final card.
That morning, while the guards slept at their posts, Camille took the torn lining of her dress and carved a code into the mirror's edge using a hidden shard of glass.
A message for Vanessa.
Because maybe—just maybe—the girl wasn't beyond saving.
Vanessa was in the bath when Negan entered.
He didn't ask.
He never did.
He simply stripped off his shirt, sat on the edge of the tub, and reached for her foot, beginning to massage it with strong, reverent hands.
"I've never had this," he murmured.
Vanessa blinked lazily, steam curling around her lashes. "Had what?"
"Peace. A woman who doesn't scream when I touch her."
Vanessa's heart thudded, but she didn't show it.
She let his fingers move up her ankle.
Then higher.
"I've screamed," she whispered.
His hand paused.
"But you liked that," she added.
Negan's eyes turned molten. "Say it again."
"I said," Vanessa whispered, "you liked when I screamed."
She slid her leg over the edge of the tub and tugged him by the belt.
And for the next thirty minutes, she used her body to erase his doubts.
But not his paranoia.
Later, she crept to the mirrored room.
The guard was asleep.
She punched in the code Negan once carelessly told her—and stepped inside.
Camille lay on the floor, pale and thinner, her makeup long wiped away.
But her eyes still held fire.
"You shouldn't have come," she said.
Vanessa crouched beside her. "Why did you call me?"
Camille pulled back her sleeve, revealing the scratched code.
Vanessa read it.
She froze.
"You're lying."
Camille smiled faintly. "Why would I? I want him to suffer. Don't you?"
The message was simple.
Negan didn't find me. He made me.
He killed the first girl who said no.
The next evening, Vanessa hosted a dinner.
Negan didn't know why—but he liked her unpredictability.
The penthouse table was set for two. Candles. Dark wine. A crimson silk dress Vanessa wore like armor.
"You said you never had peace," she said, swirling her glass. "But what about pleasure?"
He chuckled. "You know the answer to that."
"Do I?"
She rose slowly, walked around the table, and sat in his lap.
The scent of her skin—sweet and dark—drove him mad.
He gripped her thighs and kissed her throat.
"Tell me what you want, Vanessa."
She leaned in, lips brushing his.
"I want… to forget."
His breath caught. "Forget what?"
"That I ever had a life before you."
Negan nearly broke.
He lifted her, carried her to the bed, and worshiped her like a man drowning.
But the whole time—she never said his name.
Miles watched from the black van across the street.
He had the tracker bugged into Vanessa's pendant.
And now, with R's help, he had something more.
A confession.
Not on video.
On tape.
From one of Negan's first victims—hidden away in a facility in upstate New York, heavily medicated for the last six years.
She had said one name over and over in the recording.
"He said if I left, he'd erase me. I said no.
And he made it come true."
Miles played the tape on loop as he assembled the pieces.
R turned to him. "She's not going to come willingly."
Miles nodded.
"Then we'll steal her back."
That night, Negan tied Vanessa to the headboard again—but different this time.
Slower.
Tender.
He was trying to prove something.
That she loved him.
Vanessa moaned. Twisted under his hands. Took him deep.
But when he whispered, "Say it. Say you're mine…"
She laughed.
Low. Dark