Hey guys! We're back with another update!

Before we start, I just wanted to let you all know that A, I am still looking for a beta if anyone would like t help, and B, if you would like the latest news on when my stories will be up and posted, both here and on Wattpad, you can check out my new twitter account, fixbymikymowse !

I also should probably let you all know that there will be some more mature scenes in this chapter (blood, some character torture, etc.) so if that's not your thing feel free to skip this chapter, although it is an important development one.

Don't forget, reviews are love! I'd really like to know how many people are interested to see where this story goes. :)

That's all for now! Enjoy, and my apologies for the long wait! I have a lot going on.

Again, I sadly do not own The Walking Dead. All credit to AMC.

Cheers!


Daryl's eyes widen and his teeth clench together, grinding back and forth of their own accord. He struggles against the handcuffs, his already raw wrists beginning to bleed again.

Carol's throat runs dry and her hand goes slack on Daryl's shoulder, her eyes wide and frightful as she looks at the Governor, who inclines his head and pushes against her head with the gun, making her take a few shuffled steps to the side, fresh tears on her cheeks again. She can't even hear the feral half snarl that comes from Daryl- the only sound is the rush of her blood in her ears. "What do you want?" She manages to whisper, her voice meek and shaky.

The Governor smiles, eyes flashing. "That's simple." He states, rolling his shoulders in a shrug as if they were having a casual conversation. "I already have the prison," there's another growl from Daryl as he realizes that they have no idea if the rest of their family is safe, "and now I want Michonne."

Carol's eyebrows knit together and she licks her dry lips, trying to buy time. "Why?"

The Governor's lip curls up in a sneer, his eyes narrowing. "She killed my daughter, my Penny," he snaps, pressing harder on her head with the gun, making Carol stumble backwards until her back is against the wall, the cement cold at her shoulders, seeping into her bones and making her shudder.

In a brief moment of remembrance, Carol feels a pang of sympathy for the man before her, relation even, but it's soon wiped away when the cold metal of the barrel of his handgun digs into her head. She opens her mouth to speak, but The Governor cuts her off again. "And that's why you're going to bring her here."

He takes the gun away from her head and turns back to Daryl, stalking over and yanking his chin up, meeting Daryl's snarl with a smirk of his own. "And before you say I can't make you, I will." He lets go of Daryl's bloody face and turns back to Carol. "You. You'll stay here until I receive what I want."


They had dragged her off, back to the same old room with the creaky bed and rusty tin bucket, and they had tossed her in, bolting the door shut behind her. As she dragged herself up onto the bed, trembling slightly, Carol lay on her side facing the damp wall, watching a few beads of moisture snake their way down the concrete, leaving a dark trail of what she could only hope was water in its wake.

She could hear noises from the other rooms, some more powerful than others if she closed her eyes. The Governor's voice, clipped and deadly droned on in one of the nearby rooms, along with more guttural wails from Daryl. Farther away, she could hear the snarl and growl of walkers, faint but ever present. With a dry sob, Carol curled further in on herself, trying to ignore the sense of impending doom looming over her shoulder.

They would make it through this. They had to make it through this. Maybe they could buy more time, hold out for as long as they can. But they would get through this. Carol can feel it in her gut, she won't leave Daryl behind and she sure as shit hopes he won't leave her with this madman either.


The blows came fast, and they came hard. Unrelenting. Daryl was doubled over, groaning in pain at the nows waves of agony that washed over him. His mouth was parted slightly, and a thin stream of blood worked its way down to the floor, clinging to the concrete as it hung from his battered lips.

The Governor paced back and forth in front of Daryl, a gleaming, unused knife clutched in his hands. When he stopped his relentless patrolling, the Governor crouched in front of his prisoner, running a finger down the edge of the blade. "This could get a whole lot worse before it gets better."

Daryl squints up at him painfully, breathing labored. He undoubtedly had a broken rib, and every bit of movement pained him. But that didn't mean he wouldn't fight this bastard like hell.

The Governor smiled again and stood up. "Fair enough," he says, turning and driving the blade down right above Daryl's knee cap, making him scream out again. "I will get my answer." He snarls, leaving the knife there.

Daryl gasps, staring down at the knife in his leg, mind spinning. His gut heaves and he leans over the side of the chair, retching what little bit of fluids are in his stomach, which just causes more pain to the gunshot

wound. Clenching his jaw, he leans his head back, trying to focus on his breathing.

"Still got nothing to say?" The Governor grabs the hilt of the knife and twists it crudely, widening the gash on Daryl's leg and grinding the blade against bone, baring his teeth in a half snarl, half smile as Daryl cries out again, staring down at his own leg. "You have the power to end all of this," he whisper sadistically, "but I hope you know that if you choose not to help me, I'll let my men warm up to your lady friend. Been a while since they had some good company."

As images of all the terrible things this man and his group could possibly do race through his mind, Daryl's stomach drops. He can't just leave her to be tortured by these men, but at the same time, how is he supposed to just give up one of his group. "I'll do it," he grits out through clenched teeth, "on one condition."

The Governor arches an eyebrow. "And what would that be?"

Daryl leans in close, managing a glare as best he can, face messed up and crooked. "If you or your men lay a hand on her, I will personally chop off all of your fingers and shoot you in the dick."


She figured it was about mid afternoon, early evening, when the door to the room she was in next opened. She sits bolt upright on the cot, ready to face whatever it was that they were going to throw her way now.

Sure enough, in walks the Governor with a young Hispanic man she didn't recognize, although there is blood splattered across his shirt and on his knuckles, which makes her gut roll with anxiety.

The Governor is the first to speak, leaning against the wall and examining his cuticles, which are outlined in rusty powder- blood. "We've made a deal with dear Mr. Dixon," he says, not bothering to look up at her.

Carol's throat runs dry and she can only manage a small nod, lips pursed to the point where the blood was draining out of them.

He keeps talking. "I'm sure you're dying to know what exactly our offer is, aren't you?" He says, looking up at her with distaste.

Carol doesn't answer, afraid of what she'll hear. Fortunately, she doesn't have to wait long, because the man just keeps talking. "He's leaving," this gets Carol's attention, and she whips her head up, "going back for Michonne."

Carol's eyebrows pull together and she frowns. "He's bringing her here?"

The Governor laughs harshly. "No, no, on the contrary," he says, walking around her in circles, his lips curled up. "He's going back for her. We made an offer he couldn't resist, you stay here, and he gets to go with the samurai."

Carol feels tears spring to her eyes and she shakes her head. "No... He, he wouldn't," she whispers, "he loves me." The last part comes out weaker than she means, followed by a small sob.

The Governor just clicks his tongue. "Now, now, I'm sure you knew that wasn't true. In fact, when we offered him, he laughed. Said he was better off without you anyway. That you were just a burden. An attention whore," he smirks evilly, "no more to him than a physical release." His voice is soft, silky, and strangely seductive. And she believes him, though her tears are flowing freely now and she's been reduced to a sniveling mess, she believes every word he's saying- because she'd been told it all before.

"Don't you see? He chose her. He'll always choose her."


*Runs away* don't kill me, please! I left this one off with a big cliff hanger, I know, but hopefully chapter 5 will be up soon!