From the bedroom window, I watch as the setting sun disappears behind the treetops, casting a warm glow across the sky. Its departure is usually an indication of Negan's impending return to the apartment for the night. However, I have yet to hear from him since being ordered inside hours ago.

All the while, I have not moved from the window. There isn't anything to see – Negan, Fat Joey, Simon, and Dwight had moved the bullet ridden vehicle to the other side of the compound not long after it arrived. Yet, I've remained fixed in the armchair overlooking the yard. The place seemed to burst with movement, more than the usual I see, including more Saviors patrolling walls in response to the bizarre event.

The adrenaline surging through my veins has kept me on high alert. My gaze meticulously scanned the thick brush of the surrounding forest for any signs of movement - a rustling of the vegetation, a reflection from a scope, the sight of a raised gun. More than once, my entire body tensed upon seeing the foliage move. I was ready to sprint downstairs to alert Negan of the enemy lurking beyond the fence more than once, only to see that it was just a squirrel or rabbit passing through.

There are countless questions swirling through my mind, but I only desire the answer to one – is my father safe?

How am I to know that he wasn't caught in the crossfire of all of this? Judging by the spray of the bullets on Fat Joey's ride, there may have been more than one shooter. It's more than possible that at least one bullet fired from the attackers found its way towards my father and his own vehicle….

Dammit, Sam! Don't get ahead of yourself. No longer able to sit still, I spring from the armchair and pace the floor in an attempt to calm my pent-up nerves. The entire situation is shrouded in unknown, resulting in nothing short of anxious energy from me.

Since the day I was introduced to Negan, I knew he was a dangerous man. Even he himself had told me danger had come with the territory, however I shouldn't have been so naïve to believe that his lifestyle would not carry a larger level of danger than I imagined. For the first time since Negan whisked me away, I'm more afraid of the harm that may come to my father and I from unknown attackers, than from Negan himself. They didn't hesitate to attack Fat Joey. What's to stop them from bringing the fight directly to Negan and the Sanctuary? What the hell would I do if that were to happen?

Hide…? Try to escape...? Fight back…?

I rub the pad of my fingers against my temple and sigh. There is just too much to consider, with so little information to go on.

Knowing that there won't be any answers until Negan returns, I crawl onto the bed and curl up on my side. Might as well get comfy, I reason to myself as the natural light in the room steadily dwindles with the setting sun.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

My eyelids are heavy as they ease open, awaken by the unmistakable sound of a jacket being unzipped. I must've been dozing for a while because the room is now nearly dark, only a few bands of light shine through the window. It's just enough light for me to spot Negan's silhouette by the dresser.

He shrugs his leather jacket off his shoulders, the fabric landing in a heap on the floor. He doesn't even bother to untie his boots, merely kicking them off his feet. A few low grunts spill from his lips as he peels off his t-shirt.

I sit up in the bed, causing Negan to whip his head around at the sudden noise. He stares through the darkness in my direction, appearing to search for the source of the noise. "It's just me," I say through the darkness.

Negan simply nods his head and returns to undressing. I turn on the table lamp and wait a moment for him to speak up, expecting some sort of explanation about earlier. When it doesn't come, I softly clear my throat to get his attention.

"Negan...what happened out there?"

"Don't worry about it," he mutters as he tosses his pants onto the pile of soiled clothes. Without even a glance in my direction, he shuffles into the bathroom to wash off, leaving the door slightly ajar.

'Don't worry about it'? Judging by the looks of the vehicle earlier, someone tried to murder his own men, and possibly my dad. He expects me to just 'not worry about it'? There is too much going on and too many unknowns plaguing my mind for him to blow me off like that.

The shower has just turned on when I bound off the bed and hurry to the bathroom door. My hand is poised to push open the barrier when I suddenly stop. Regardless of my frustration, barging through the door and demanding answers won't get me anywhere with him. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, mustering the courage for the words to come forth.

"What about my dad?" I blurt out. The words seem to hang in the air as I await an answer.

"What?" Negan finally responds, his voice slightly raised over the running water.

"My dad! I know he was there," I speak up to ensure he hears me over the shower. "Was he –."

"He's fuckin' fine," Negan interjects. The water is slammed off and I hear his wet feet pad against the tiled floor.

Though the response was short, a relief washes over me at Negan's confirmation knowing that he wouldn't lie about him. I don't know how my father managed to evade injury from the onslaught of bullets, but he did.

I swear, the man has nine lives, I think, shaking my head with a smirk.

I turn and rest my back against the wall adjacent to the door. Crossing my arms over my chest, I lean forward and angle my head enough to where I can peer through the inch-gap of the door. Negan stands in front of the sink, toothbrush in hand. Beads of water descend his bare back, stopping at the black towel wrapped around his waist.

"So, what really happened out there?" I ask. His eyes flicker to the mirror above the vanity, meeting my gaze in its foggy reflection.

"Nothing. Just drop it," he slurs through the toothpaste in his mouth.

I sigh and roll my eyes. "That was a whole lot of something, to just be 'nothing'. I deserve to know."

How can he expect to keep this from me? I may not be wrapped into this by choice, by I'm in it nonetheless.

All I get in return is a pointed glare from Negan. He quickly finishes his routine and exits the bathroom, bumping my shoulder in the process. My presence is entirely ignored as he strips off the towel and changes into a pair of boxers.

I know that I shouldn't push him, but this is something that I cannot be in the dark about. I need answers….

"Negan, please. Just tell me –."

"Goddamit, pup!" Negan roars. I flinch at his tone and find myself inwardly shrinking as his shadowed form closes the gap between us. My head lowers to avoid his gaze, though he's quick to lace his fingers around my chin, forcing my head back up. I stare into his angry eyes and it quakes me to the core.

"Listen... and listen fuckin' good pup. I said fuckin' drop it! What goes on outside of this room is none of your damn business," Negan states icily. His voice drops to almost a whisper, making me more on edge and terrified than when the man was yelling. "The only thing that you deserve to know is that you don't need to know a fuckin' thing. I don't want to hear another motherfucking word about any of this shit. Are we clear?"

"Yes sir," I quickly answer, slightly trembling before him. With his tight grip still on my chin, I nod to the best of my ability.

Satisfied that his point was made, Negan releases me and moves to climb into bed. Not wanting to anger him any further, I swiftly do the same. It's unexpected when Negan doesn't make a move to wrap himself around me. He typically falls asleep with at least one part of him touching me. However, he stays on his side of the bed, his back to me, and is soon asleep.

I lay on my back in silence, Negan's words tumbling through my subconscious. I find myself even more uneasy about the present circumstances after speaking with Negan, than what I felt when I was still completely in the dark on it. This isn't something that can just be swept under the rug; yet, that's exactly what Negan was doing.

One thing is for certain, I won't go to him for any more information. The last thing I expected was for him to lash out like that. It's been weeks since he even raised his voice at me, let alone called me 'pup'. All that I've heard for nearly a month is sweetheart, darlin', doll, and even baby. Negan losing his shit and calling me 'pup' demonstrates just how off-kilter he is from this fiasco.

Turning my head, I offer a final parting glance to Negan's sleeping form. I know there's something you're not telling me, and I'm going to figure it out, I think as I turn away from Negan and drift off to sleep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You almost done in there?" I hear from the other side of the bathroom door.

"One second!" I quickly grab the hair-tie from next to the faucet and tightly secure it around my braided ponytail. With the hickeys now healed, there's no need to continuously keep my hair down. A simple braid does the trick of changing things up.

Negan gets off the bed as I exit the bathroom. I haven't said a word to him after last night, figuring it'd be best to lay low for a while. I quickly make the bed and start a beeline for the kitchen, when Negan suddenly calls out to me.

"I have some shit to take care of downstairs, so just coffee this morning. No time to eat."

I tilt my head in question. This is uncustomary for Negan. It's a Saturday, which usually entails a more relaxed day at the Sanctuary. He would only spend part of his day downstairs, since the majority of his men seemed to be making runs on these days.

"Okay… one coffee to go. Coming right up."

"Good." Negan partially steps out of the bathroom. "You'll have to keep yourself occupied for a bit – I need Simon and Dwight with me. I'm trusting that leaving you unattended will not be an issue?" Negan raises an eyebrow in challenge.

I swiftly shake my head. "No sir! There won't be any issues at all."

He eyes me for a moment, before waving his hand to dismiss me.

A few minutes later, I'm parked on a barstool at the island. Negan's coffee is done, the smell of the freshly brewed Americano is enough to wake my still drowsy senses.

I turn at the sound of the main door opening to see Dwight casually strolling in. "You look surprised to see me," he comments. He moves straight for the coffee maker on the counter.

"Negan said you and Simon were going to be downstairs with him for a while. So yeah, I'm a bit surprised to see you."

Dwight grabs a mug from one of the cabinets. "Need some coffee, late nights and early mornings fuck me up." He places the mug under the coffee dispenser and selects his desired brew.

While he waits on the coffee maker, Dwight spots yesterday's newspaper on the corner of the island and motions for me to slide it over to him.

"Negan still getting ready?" He asks as he flips open the front page.

"Yeah," I simply state. I want to ask Dwight about yesterday, but Negan's presence from last night loom's over me. Leaning partially off the barstool, I cautiously glance down the small hallway leading to Negan's bedroom. The door is still closed, meaning I at least have a few more minutes. It's now or never.

"Long day yesterday?" I ask casually, opening the conversation.

Dwight nods and moves to retrieve his steaming mug. "Just like most days here," he says casually. He takes a quick sip before returning to his article.

"Fat Joey seemed pretty rattled when he got back." I keep my voice level and confident, making it seem like I know more than what I really do. Now, I just need Dwight to take the bait and fill in the blanks.

Dwight lowers the paper and eyes me curiously. "How do you know Fat Joey?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I've never met him, but Negan mentioned his name a time or two. It wasn't hard to put the pieces together when I saw him yesterday. The name fits."

Dwight's lip curls into a small smirk. "Who do you think christened him with that name to begin with?"

Of course, Negan. I roll my eyes at the notion.

Silence overtakes us as Dwight becomes absorbed in whatever article he's reading. I wait for the man to speak up again, but nothing. I can literally feel the seconds ticking away. My window of time shrinking before Negan makes his appearance, ruining any chance of learning more intel.

My fingertips lightly drum on the granite surface. "So… what had him so spooked yesterday?"

Dwight sighs and folds the paper closed, setting it down on the island. "The fact that you don't know, tells me that Negan doesn't want you to know. Trust me – the less you know, the better."

I feel my cheeks redden in frustration. I didn't expect Dwight to spill everything to me, but I was hoping that he would've at least thrown me a bone or two. Especially given the bit of trust built between us.

"That's a load of bullshit and you know it!" I hiss, raising off the barstool.

"What's bullshit?" Negan questions from the entryway to the kitchen. He glances suspiciously between me and Dwight, surveying the scene before him. Sitting on his shoulder is his barbed leading lady, Lucille.

I immediately sit back down. Panicking, I struggle as words cycle through my mind, though a viable response fails to come to light. Negan fully turns to me and furrows his brow when I don't immediately speak.

Before I can say a word, Dwight picks up the newspaper. He flips to a select page and presents the paper to Negan. "We were talking football. The kid didn't believe me when I told her that her team had lost their rivalry game. I gave her the stats from the game, but she still called bullshit." Dwight huffs in annoyance.

I shoot Dwight a confused look, but he continues with the act. Negan doesn't notice our exchange. He intently scans the article before tossing it on the island in front of me, his usual shit-eating grin spreading on his face.

"Sorry, darlin', but that's no bullshit. Dwight's right – your team fuckin' sucks."

I'm dumbfounded when I pick up the paper. Sure enough, the article that Dwight had turned to displays the overall stats from my favorite team's most recent game. The stats support Dwight's explanation, showing that my team had, in fact, lost the game. Quick thinking on his part.

Refolding the paper, I toss it towards Dwight. "Fine, we lost," I grumble angrily. "But we're going to kick their asses next time."

Dwight continues the act, retorting with a not-so-pleasant comment about my team. Negan chuckles at our little spat before grabbing his coffee and strutting towards the main door. With Negan's back to us, I mouth a 'thank you' to Dwight for saving my ass; to which he replies with a simple nod.

"Move your fuckin' ass, D!" Negan shouts as he exits the apartment, having missed our nonverbal exchange.

Just like that, Dwight's internal switch is flipped. His face turns emotionless and rigid as he quickly follows Negan out of the apartment, slamming the door shut behind them.

I close my eyes and inwardly count. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi….

Upon reaching 'five Mississippi', I slam my fist down on the surface of the island. Over and over, it strikes, until the throbbing in my knuckles becomes too much and the skin already becoming discolored. I know it's going to bruise like hell from this, but I couldn't hold it in any longer.

Negan and Dwight withholding information from me both infuriates and scares me. I get it – I could become a liability if Negan shares too much information concerning his business. However, I'm not asking to see ledger books of information; I would just like to know the level of threat that we are dealing with. Was this the attack of a lone wolf? Are there more pieces at play?

Being in the dark takes my safety out of my own hands. If it came down to it, I'm not sure if I trust Negan enough to know that he would keep me safe from harms way. What am I to him, anyways? He wouldn't bat an eyelash if I were killed. I'm sure he would kill my father to totally rid himself of all traces of our arrangement. I highly doubt Negan's life wouldn't miss a beat after that.

If I'm going to get answers, I'm going to have to get them for myself. There is no question that whatever is happening downstairs right now has to do with yesterday. Negan needing both Simon and Dwight supports my claim. If I could just hear what was going on...

I rise from the barstool and scan the floors and baseboards for a vent. If I can find one, it's possible that it would be connected to the first floor, allowing me to eavesdrop without being caught. I scour every inch of the apartment, even going as far as to check behind furniture for a vent, but no luck.

The only means downstairs is through the main door. I place my ear flush against the wood, though the material is too thick for me to hear anything from downstairs. Sighing, I eye the doorknob with hesitation.

My options are limited. If I remain upstairs, the anxiety of the unknown will shatter my sanity. I'll live with a fear that I hold no power over. On the other hand, I could take a chance and peak downstairs to get a better listen. It could work, if I'm careful enough. Though if Negan catches me, I'll face unimaginable repercussions.

I have to try.

Taking a deep breath, I reach forward and grasp the knob. Ever so gently, I twist the brass handle and open the door just wide enough to peak through. I can only see about halfway down the empty flight of stairs. I wait a moment before opening the door a bit wider. My head pokes through the opening, and then back out in a flash. It was too quick to see any further, but the fact that I don't hear footsteps charging up the steps tells me that the coast must be clear.

Confident in my recon, I lean half of my body out of the doorway. If I hear footsteps approaching the stairwell, I'll still have enough time to jut back into the apartment before being spotted. Listening closely, I can make out the voices of several individuals, Negan being one of them. They appear to be coming from the right of the stairwell. If I remember correctly from Simon's tour, that should be in one of the meeting rooms downstairs.

As much as I try to concentrate, I'm unable to make out what is being said. If I expect to hear anything, I need to get closer. I crouch down and creep out onto the top landing of the stairwell. Being lower to the ground will conceal me a bit better than if I were standing. The stairwell is dimly lit, partially concealing me from anyone who passes by the bottom of the stairs. Only way I would be detected would be for someone to climb the stairs.

Cautious of a few creaking boards, I stay close to the wall as I maneuver down each step. The lower I descend, the better I'm able to hear. I stop about halfway down, sticking to as much shadow as possible and not wanting to push my luck any further.

"What the hell happened back there?" A female Savior questions.

"Arat, I already fuckin' told you!" A guy speaks up.

"Well, tell us again. No skimping on the fuckin' details, Joseph," Negan orders.

Fat Joey swallows nervously. "I went to the pick-up site, got the cash from Pete and left without a word like you ordered. I was driving down 106, heading back here, when they lit me up. The bastards must've been hiding in the tree-line 'cause I didn't see a damn thing until they were right on top of me. I never expect to see anyone on our turf. I put the gas to the floor and got my ass out of there."

Thank God, he had already left from meeting with dad.

"No warning?" I recognize as Dwight's voice. "They just started shooting?"

"I told ya man. Things went from totally cool to World War II in an instant," Fat Joey confirms.

Arat scoffs in disbelief. "And you didn't see anything? Come on man."

"Sorry, but I was too busy ducking and driving like a goddamn maniac to make sure I didn't a fucking bullet in my head. Next time, I'll be sure to get a full description…. You want their names and addresses too?" Fat Joey spits.

"Enough!" I hear from Negan. I flinch as he slams Lucille against a surface, I'm guessing to be the table to silence his lieutenants. "Everyone calm the fuck down. I ain't got time to hear y'all pissin' at one another over this bullshit. The fact of the matter is that it appears our little truce has ceased. They broke two important commandments when they made the unfortunate decision to attack: thou shalt not cross into Savior territory and thou shalt not fuck with Negan's shit."

Territory? Truce?

"What now, bossman?" Simon speaks up. "Send a group to even the score? Ambush? Sabotage their product?"

A dark chuckle emits from Negan. I can easily visualize the evil smile on his face. "No, we wait and carry on as usual. However, the next time they have the balls to show up on Savior land, we'll be ready. We'll pluck those fuckers off one by one until either they haul ass back to wherever they fuckin' came from, or they're all dead."

The room erupts into shouts of agreement. Having heard enough, I take the opportunity to scurry back up the stairs and into the apartment.

My heart is pounding a mile a minute as I pace the living room floor. I knew this was a bigger deal than what Negan was making it out to be, though I wasn't expecting it to be this huge. This wasn't just the act of one person, but a group, one seemingly large enough to rival the Saviors. The talk of 'territory' and 'truce' being the biggest red flags of them all.

"What the fuck is going on?" I speak out load, trying to make sense of it all.

I suddenly stop in my tracks as realization smacks me in the face like a ton of bricks. Back when I first met my dad at the old factory, he briefly mentioned another group being in the mix. One that was just as brutal and terrifying as the Saviors. Though it was twenty or so years ago, from the sounds of it, that very same group is still in the mist of things today.

I can speculate all I want, but I won't get anywhere without the truth. I can't go to Negan or Dwight about this because then they would know that I eavesdropped on their meeting.

I need to see my dad, soon.

Edited by Spitfire47.

Hey guys! I hope everyone has been taking advantage of these last few weeks of summer weather. I hear that this upcoming winter is going to be a rough one.

Thoughts on the update? Sam had balls to sneak downstairs like that. I would've been too chicken to even try that. so props to her! XD It seems like she almost has this mystery solved. But what awaits after that?

I'd love to hear from y'all! Again, I greatly appreciate all of your reviews and feedback. What do you think about how Sam is handling everything? Is she being too reckless?