Immediately, Negan knew something was wrong.
The first clue was the trampled gravel leading up to the house, which gave away several bodies approaching it during his absence. The second was the ajar front door, through which someone had obviously entered. Dead ones couldn't fucking open doors.
Unsheathing the bowie knife from his belt, he cupped his free hand over the back of Isla's head protectively. She nuzzled her head back into her daddy's palm, grunting in her sleep.
"It'll be alright baby girl," he murmured, leaning over to kiss her soft forehead, "daddy's gonna fuckin' kill whoever's in our place."
Cautiously, he crept towards the porch, staying low along the edge of the house to ensure anybody inside wouldn't see him through the window. Still shielding Isla, he made it quietly up the steps and through the narrow crack of the open door.
Immediately, he heard their voices. Male voices.
And there was more than one of them. More than he could take on alone.
"Fuck me. Nothin' here but a bunch of fuckin' baby shit," one of them complained, admist the noises of their rummaging. Negan felt his blood boil. How dare they fuckin' put their filthy thieving hands on his baby girl's things?
He kept his back pressed against the wall outside of the lounge, praying that Isla wouldn't make a sound. Hoping it would keep her asleep, he continued to stroke her soft dark hair.
"Obviously a guy here," another man grunted, "or a massive woman."
The group laughed, and Negan tried his hardest to distinguish the number of different laughs he could hear in the room. He could make out around five separate voices as they continued to lament the lack of supplies that would be useful to them.
Suddenly, Isla stirred against his chest, stretching her tiny limbs and arching her back with a yawn. Negan flinched, praying that she was just fussing momentarily, and wouldn't wake up to begin her routine gurgling conversation with him.
However, little Isla had other plans, and opened her big blue eyes.
Futilely, Negan pressed his finger to his lips, though he knew she had no idea what that signal meant. Isla gave her daddy a big old dimpled grin and gurgled softly, but it was more than loud enough to be heard by the intruders.
Immediately, he heard their footsteps, and before he could move, three of the men were surrounding them. They were heavily armed, and he found himself staring down a trio of barrels.
Negan swore and immediately wrapped his arms around Isla, keeping her as shielded as he could from the threat. He kept his knife raised though, letting them know he would use it if they came any closer.
God forbid they fucking hurt his girl. He'd never forgive himself.
"Well, well, well. Look who came home Grant!" The short, plump man immediately in front of Negan spoke with a smirk on his face. Negan wanted to slit his throat.
A tall man, with grey hair and a thick beard stepped into the hallway. His hands were tucked casually into his pockets, as if he were taking a nice leisurely stroll. His long, crooked nose that gave away how many times he'd been broken it, and a straight scar from jawline to eye socket trailed down the right side of his face.
Negan knew immediately that this guy was in charge, and the one to plead with.
"A baby huh?" Grant spoke slowly, circling the pair like a vulture.
Negan growled in response at his direct mention of Isla, "you fuckin' lay a finger on her, I swear to God…"
"Hey!" Grant smirked and raised his hands in the air. Immediately the trio of men lowered their
weapons, "You really think we'd be sick enough to hurt a baby, man?"
"I don't fuckin' know you," Negan glared at the short, fat man who had pressed a gun to his forehead only minutes prior.
"True," Grant shrugged with an unreadable smirk on his lips, "but you have my word."
"Doesn't mean shit," Negan said, "but I'm guessing that doesn't mean much to you people."
"How do you know that?" Grant said, "We haven't hurt either of you have we?"
"Yet," Negan heard the fat guy murmur under his breath and shot him an icy glare. Immediately, the guy dropped his gaze to the floor, clearly intimidated by the tall, dark stranger.
"Hey," Grant spoke, drawing Negan's attention once more, "I like ya. I can tell you're strong. Hell, you'd have to be to have kept yourself and a kid alive this long. You stick with us, we'll keep you both fed, and protected."
"By moving round and stealing other people's shit?" Negan asked gruffly, with contempt in his voice. He didn't like these guys. Not one little bit.
Another pair of men had joined Grant, and his lackeys in the hallway. Each were tall and imposing, but Negan could see right through the facade.
He'd been dealing with fuckers like them for most of his life. Guys who thought they were tough, but would crumble when put under real life-threatening pressure.
Grant laughed, "we only take what we have to survive. Don't think of it as stealing...think of it as...sharing, hm? You want your kid to learn how to share, don't you?"
Negan glanced down at his little girl, and her big blue eyes peered back at him. He, independently, could only protect her for so long. There was safety in numbers, even if those numbers accounted for a bunch of assholes.
They had weapons, and food, and right now, that equated to survival.
"We come with you. I work for you. You'll help me protect her?" Negan asked gruffly, peering over at Grant.
Grant placed his hand over his heart and nodded, "Like I said, I give you my word."
Negan looked down at Isla again. Still gurgling away, she kicked her tiny feet against his tummy. She was blissfully unaware of the decision her daddy was having to make for her safety.
Grant grinned at him wolfishly and took a step closer to the pair, "so, what's your name?"
Negan watched the six men like a hawk throughout the evening. Grant had decided to stay at the house for the night since a few of the dead had begun wandering the street, meaning Negan had no choice but to share the space with the six rather unpleasant smelling individuals.
Tony, the fat fucker who had threatened him, had his nose in Negan's last tin of peaches, while Grant, Eric, Carter, Tyson and Mikey (the smallest of the group by far), sat round on the furniture, lounging and laughing as if they hadn't barged in and taken over Negan's safe haven.
Isla began fussing for a feed on her usual schedule, and Negan quickly prepped her bottle, ignoring the pointed looks from the men around him. He rocked her as he shook the bottle to mix the formula thoroughly.
"Alright bug. Got dinner right here," he murmured, ensuring the lid of the bottle was secure before slipping the teat into Isla's mouth. Immediately she began gulping down her meal, closing her eyes in content. Negan couldn't help but smile as she made her usual little grunting noises as she drank down her milk.
The uncomfortable tingles down his spine drew Negan's attention from her and he finally glanced up.
Across the dimly lit space, Grant's small eyes were fixed on the pair of them, though his body was relaxed as he lounged across the largest of the three sofas in the room.
"Does she attract the dead ones?" he asked, picking at his nails with the point of his knife.
Negan shook his head, frowning at the man, "never. She's quiet, doesn't fuss fuckin' ever when we're out. She just sleeps mostly."
Tony smirked at him and Negan wanted to knock his teeth out, "she fussed when we found ya."
"Wasn't fuckin' fussin' asshole. She was making noises. She's not a fuckin' robot. She talks, she laughs, she makes noises," Negan said firmly, "and to answer the original fuckin' question - she has never brought fuckin' dead ones down on us. Not by crying."
Grant nodded, seemingly happy with Negan's answer, though he shared a look with Eric that Negan couldn't quite read. Eric was clearly his second in command, and though he was quiet, Negan could tell he was a force to be reckoned with just by the imposing size of his frame.
"The little brat brings the dead ones on us, I know who I'll be leaving behind," Tony murmured, shovelling the last of the peaches into his mouth with a slurp.
Negan glared at him as Isla's chubby little hand reached up to hold onto his around the bottle, "that a fuckin' threat?"
Tony smirked and set the can down, "I didn't name names did I, Neal?"
"It's fuckin' Negan. And I think you'd be the fucking Happy Meal in that situation, on account of the fact your fat ass couldn't outrun me, even with a baby strapped to my chest," Negan replied, staring Tony down until the man cast his beady eyes aside uncomfortably.
"Wooo!" Grant laughed loudly, rubbing his hands together and hopping to his feet, "I knew I fuckin' liked you."
Negan looked over at the tall, greying man in disbelief. How could he be encouraging conflict between his own men?
Grant looked around the room, his small brown eyes glinting unnervingly as he finally rested his gaze on Negan and Isla, "And on that note, gentlemen, let's get some rest. We move out in the morning."