A week was going by faster than I had hoped.

I was exhausted, working on the station wagon every day—I didn't have another job anymore. The sofa bed in Aaron's garage was getting a lot of use, too, because I spent so long there that it was pointless to go back home and sleep on the ground. Isaac even joined me from time to time, seeing as they took his mattresses as well, and he hated the idea of sleeping on the ground again.

When I finally narrowed down what the issue with the car could be, either electrical or petrol, I realised that anything I might've had to try and fix it was gone. I wanted to replace all of the parts that could have been the culprit for the cutting out, but that wasn't possible without any parts.

That was when I told Rick I needed to go on a run, to find more parts, for this car and whatever Negan decided to bring for me to fix up for the group of mechanics he had that were too lazy to work themselves.

"It runs fine," Isaac said in the driver's seat beside me.

That was true, on the whole, the station wagon ran completely fine. "It would have been fine for us if we needed a beater to do runs or something. But Negan wants it. I think I just panicked myself when he said he wanted it because I don't know what problems in a car will piss him off. It was also the car I had in Hillcrest, and it just brought up some bad memories, so I dug myself into a hole, and he took advantage of that basically."

"Sounds about right," he said under his breath.

I could tell he was pissed at Negan and not me.

Isaac was just trying to get me out of the garage, he'd done the same thing all week. He spent his time with me, sitting on the sofa while I pulled my hair out, trying to figure out the problem with the stupid car. Then we slept on the sofa bed for a few hour,s when I decided enough was enough.

It was a little awkward this morning when Aaron came in to ask if I wanted any breakfast and I was asleep under his arm. I blushed at the memory, getting to sleep beside him again even if it was just for a few hours. Aaron had a knack for interrupting us.

Isaac relaxed his posture in the passenger seat, "I don't think we've ever done this before. A run, just the two of us."

"I don't think so either."

It was shocking to me that Rick didn't say anything when Isaac offered to bring me out to the garage because we didn't have guns anymore. They were for emergencies either way, but I think he let it happen because we had so many people on regular supply runs driving me around to random garages.

Everything had been weird lately, with Daryl gone and the group miserable, planning runs and getting people to go out and collect supplies for the sole purpose of giving them away was hard. We had fewer people on watch now, no need if they didn't have guns, so only the odd people even did a lookout anymore.

One moment Isaac was smiling, seemingly excited that we were having our first run alone, actually away from the group for the first time since everyone was busy working on the town after the herd attacked. Then his face fell, and he looked like he wanted to say something but he kept his mouth closed.

"What is it?" I asked.

He glanced over at me, considering whether he should say what he wanted. "I was going to say how we should do this more often, but with Negan giving you all this work . . . I don't know. I just don't see it happening."

"We could run away."

It shocked me that those words came out of my mouth, because how could I ever leave the group with everything going on? If just saying it made me feel so immediately guilty, then I was never going to survive abandoning my people.

"We could," Isaac agreed hesitantly. "Find a place somewhere, just the two of us."

But we couldn't.

There were people I would be devastated to lose, even if it was of my own accord to escape a life of torment and grief from the one person I hated more than anyone. I had built a whole family for myself, and leaving them behind and losing a second family would kill me.

"Where would we live?" I asked quietly.

Why was I still considering this? Even Isaac glanced over, wondering if I was serious, if I'd be able to talk about something like this when we both knew it was never going to happen—I probably couldn't. I wanted it too much.

"I don't know." His voice was quiet as he answered, I didn't think he was going to play along until he said. "I don't picture us living just the two of us in a town or anything. I'm thinking more secluded, a cabin or farmhouse or something. I think we could renovate something, make it look nice."

Hearing the word sent me back, and I saw the white building surrounded by trees again. I missed that place. I remembered the Greene home, the open fields that allowed for visuals, but the house remained hidden from the rest of the world.

"I like the idea of living in something from before, like holding onto a piece of the old world."

The more we talked about it, and planned a future together with just the two of us, away from all the fighting and horror that came from living under Negan, the more I wanted to run away with him.

"Does that make us sad?" Isaac asked. "The idea of something new scares the shit out of me. I know eventually when all the fighting stops and civilisation comes back together then things are going to change, but . . . I don't know how to explain it."

"I know what you mean," I said.

"I think it's because it feels more like we're just taking a step back, reverting to when people made houses from logs and mud and . . ." He cringed and shivered at the idea. "I don't know if I can live in a house made of mud."

"Our house isn't going to be mud, so that's not going to be a problem," I reminded him. "I think it's because we grew up before, I think kids like Judith are going to be the ones to push for a new world and build new things."

"Yeah, leave it to them," he agreed, facing me with a grin. "I think our house is going to have to be close to a mountain or cliff so you can practise your climbing."

I nodded and thought for a second. "What about you?"

"I'm easy, I just need pencils and paper and—" he stopped, the frown returning to his face. "I guess that stuff is gonna run out at some point, huh?"

"We can learn to make paper," I said, trying to get him excited about it again. "And if you run out of pencils, then you could use charcoal from the fire or something."

"Yeah, you know what? If we struggle to find or make paper, then it doesn't matter. I can paint murals on your cliff, flowers and faces and colours. Something you can look at when you're climbing. I always want to paint something for you, something that you can have with you."

Again, the mood dropped. I could visualise what his art might have looked like painted on the side of a cliff, but I was never actually going to see that in person. Negan ruled our lives now, and unless we wanted to face the guilt of leaving him to beat down our people, this whole thing was just a daydream.

"Maybe paint something small for me to keep with me," I offered hopelessly.

"When do I turn off?" Isaac asked quietly, solemnly changing the conversation before he decided to keep driving and find us the home we'd been picturing.

I looked down at the map. "Not the next left, the one after."

"Okay."

We were silent then, both sinking in the desperation of our make believe. I went back and forth, trying to decide whether it would be better to stay with our people to work for someone else to live happy or to be selfish and happy ourselves.

It killed me that I even had to think like that, if me and Isaac wanted to live on our own it should have been because it was something we wanted, not to escape some asshole that only wanted to bring people down.

Isaac turned left on the road I told him, and I recognised some of the signs that I'd seen before with Glenn. The only words that came out of my mouth were more directions for Isaac to follow to get to the garage.

When we got there, he pulled up silently in front of the building. I climbed out of the car and marched inside, my gun only partly raised because we cleared all the walkers from inside last time we were there. I wasn't expecting an attack.

The room was bare, still. It was how I left it last time I was there. In all of the garages we found, we hid the supplies in places that people wouldn't think to check, old fridges and cupboards that we knew from experience were always left with supplies inside. I crossed the room to the vent in the wall.

Kneeling down, I opened up the vent and shone the torch inside, expecting to see the boxes Glenn and I put in there before. But it was empty. I shone it around, thinking that maybe he pushed them in further but there was nothing there.

"It's gone . . . It's all gone," I stood up, backing away from the vent.

"What?"

"Dwight took all of my things, papers, places I found with Gl—" I shook my head. "We came to all these garages and found a lot of tools, and anything we didn't need to bring back, any duplicates, we hid and hid in the buildings in case we needed them."

I should have expected this, done more to stop it, I should have come out to collect everything the moment he found my papers. Better yet, I should have just hidden the papers and the bombs before the Saviours came to Alexandria so none of this shit happened.

"The Saviours have already been here." Anger welled up inside of me, and I spun around, kicking the toolbox. "Shit!"

Isaac was silent as I took out my frustrations on the only contents left in the decimated garage. With one hard kick, the toolbox went flying across the room into the wall, I turned and leaned against the workbench, burying my head in my hands.

"We needed those things. Fuck! I should have come out here as soon as he left, before he got the fucking chance to steal everything," I said. "I could have said another group found the stuff or, or—"

"Ace," Isaac came over to me, resting his hands on my shoulders to get me to look at him, "take a breath."

I closed my eyes, sucking a deep breath in through my nose. "Yeah . . ."

"We'll find some more stuff," he said. "There's a lot of light left, we can drive to the other places on that list if we have to. Maybe the Saviours haven't been to all of them yet. If not we check houses, see if any cars match but you're getting that car fixed. Okay?"

"Okay," I nodded. "Yeah, maybe he— maybe he only checked a few places."

"Come on," he said. "Let's go to the next one."

Isaac held my hand as he walked me back to the car, opening the door for me to sit down. I reached for the map in the footwell with the marks of where I remembered finding the garages, rough locations that I could remember, following the trail to the next one.

He looked over my shoulder, memorising the route in his head before turning the key to start the car again. It worried me when it refused to turn over, the engine playing up, making Isaac realise why we were looking for parts to begin with, before it finally came to life.

"Thank God," Isaac muttered.

Three more garages and we had gotten nowhere, which was when I decided to change up the plan. I still needed those parts, which meant that we couldn't go home until I found them. So every house with an attached garage, every car on the side of the road we stopped at to see if I could scrap it.

While Isaac siphoned the petrol from the nearby cars, I worked on scrapping a similar station wagon for the parts I needed. I brought some of the tools we had left after Dwight decimated my collection to be able to fix the station wagon and test drive it on the way home. But it wasn't even certain whether we'd be able to go back to Alexandria before nightfall.

I radioed back to Rick after the second garage we checked, telling him about the missing supplies and the extra searching we had to do. He said to keep in contact, to let him know where we were if me and Isaac had to hunker down in the car for the night and keep searching the next day.

Isaac finished up before I did and came to lean on the car beside me. I'd gotten what I needed in case it cut out because of any petrol issues, including a new lambda sensor. But all the electrical parts were rusted to hell and back, not worth taking because they looked worse than the ones in our own station wagon.

"I can try and use these," I nodded to the parts on the ground beside the car. "It's been sitting out for a while, but it could still work."

"And that'll fix it?"

"That'll maybe fix it," I said.

Isaac frowned. "Maybe?"

"I don't know what's making it cut out, I don't have a diagnosis machine anymore. There are two options left, and I intend to replace them both."

I understood the frustration, I was getting sick of this myself. I should have been looking for supplies with everyone else, not wasted on something Negan didn't even need. He was just keeping me busy, hindering any chance I could have to gather myself after losing Glenn.

"In how many days?" Isaac asked.

"Three."

"Right."

"It's doable."

"I know," he said. "But is this how it's gonna be when he starts giving you jobs?"

"I don't see another way it can be," I argued.

Isaac just nodded, but he didn't look happy. "Maybe we should just run away."

I straightened up from the engine, closing the bonnet, not willin to entertain the idea again. Part of me wanted to reach out and comfort him, pull him into a hug and find a way to make everything better. But this was it now, this was my life.

"One more part," I promised.

"One more part."

I leaned down to take a look at the pieces I'd pulled out of the engine, inspecting them one more time for rust or cracks. These did look better than what our station wagon had, which should improve it, if not fix the cutting out entirely.

"Ace, walkers." I put the part on the bonnet and looked back over my shoulder at the callout. There were around twenty, blocking the way that we were going to continue to the next town. "Do we go? Just drive through?"

I thought about it and shook my head. "No, we fuck the tyre up on this and I can't change it. We have to kill them, protect the car."

Taking my axe in my hand, I followed Isaac down the side of the road. "Try and keep 'em on the sides, then we don't have to move as many bodies out of the way."

"Yeah," I agreed.

Isaac and I got the closest ones down as quickly as possible, whittling the numbers. I dragged the body back with the hook, its head, so it fell off the road before it hit the ground. Isaac stepped off to the side to lure it over before killing it with the knife, not willing to move it over himself.

This fight was harder than I thought it was going to be—we'd taken down the herd in Alexandria with melee weapons, but with just the two of us, killing the walkers in a way that stopped us from being vulnerable to attack was difficult.

Isaac yelped as one managed to grab his shoulder, and I took it out, letting it drop before us. I'd have to move the body, but that didn't matter as much as keeping Isaac present and in the moment. His OCD seemed more prevalent if he was panicked or in stressful situations.

We had been pushed back to the car I was trying to scrap, and there were still so many of them. Isaac walked out towards the middle of the road when I heard a noise. I looked to see a large green truck hurtling towards us.

I grabbed his arm and pulled Isaac back as a large green truck came barreling through the rest of the walkers, blood splattering across the road. He swung his arm around, pressing me back against the station wagon with his body as the truck passed so close by that I thought they might have run us over.

It made me sick when I recognised the army green truck and a deep blue van that had been in Alexandria mere days ago. These were tailed by a pickup with men in the back who jumped out to fight the rest of the walkers.

Negan stepped down from the passenger seat of the green army truck up front, grabbing his bat and reaching up to close the door, getting some blood on him that had splattered up along the body of the truck from the walkers they'd run over.

"You're welcome," Negan said with a little bow.

For what? The road ahead of us was now littered with bodies that we had to move so as not to ruin the tyres on the station wagon, something we were able to avoid by drawing the walkers to the side of the road and taking them out one by one. Yeah, it was difficult, but manageable.

Negan looked down at the blood on his hand, turning it over and fake grimacing. "Gross."

Then he wiped his hand down Isaac's shirt.

He barely had the chance to pull his hand back before Isaac jumped backwards, reaching for the neck of his shirt and pulling it off over his head in a way that the bloodied fabric didn't flip inside out to touch his skin before dropping it on the ground.

"What the hell are you doing?!" He snapped at Negan.

I winced, but I don't think he had much control of the outburst.

Luckily, Negan was too confused and distracted to even be mad about it. "What am I doing? What the hell are you doing?"

"You just wiped blood on my shirt!"

"I didn't think you'd start fucking stripping!"

His chest was heaving as Isaac started to realise that he'd just stripped in front of Negan. I could see him processing what he'd just done, his face turning red as he became the centre of attention for every Saviour in the vicinity. They let out joking whistles and catcalls that made my stomach churn.

I turned back to our car, walking away to grab the jacket I brought along in case we did end up spending the night away from home. I grabbed the handle of my bag and dragged it across the seat, opening it and reaching inside for the clothing.

"I—" Isaac swallowed hard, suddenly very aware he was standing shirtless. "I don't like . . . blood."

"No shit!" Negan barked out a laugh. "And people say I overreact." Negan waved for someone to give him a rag, and he cleaned off his hand, shaking his head as he stared at Isaac. He scratched the stubble on his chin and chuckled. "God, someone get me a camera. This shit is too good."

I closed the door with my jacket in my other hand, taking the second I had away from Negan and his people just to take a breath, prepare myself for however long he'd hold us there just to make jokes and torment us.

"Hot damn, look at you," Negan said after a moment as he raked his eyes over Isaac, his abs and arms. "I did not expect all that under all that nervous energy, let me tell you now."

"You're drooling," a blonde woman with a tattoo on her neck said.

"Damn right I am."

Isaac's face was blazing red now, I had no idea it could look that way. But he wouldn't move to risk extending the length of the attention. I could see him fighting the urge to run inside and scrub his skin raw, his eyes constantly glancing at Negan's bloodied hand in case he tried to touch him again.

"Isaac," I called, holding the jacket up for him, giving him the chance to step away.

He glanced back, hesitating, but stepped around the back of the car to take the jacket from me. I knew it'd be a little tighter than his own clothes, but it was better than standing there and getting gawked at by Negan and the women.

He turned away from them to put the jacket on, struggling with the zip being on the wrong side for a second. "Thanks."

"Sorry, ladies," Negan called. "Mac doesn't want anyone seeing the goods."

"What are the odds he's out looking for the same parts on the same day we are?" Isaac mumbled, looking out to the woods.

"It's one hell of a coincidence," I agreed.

"Think we can just go," he asked. "I mean, we're looking for parts to fix his damn car."

I sighed and stepped back towards Negan. "Have you hit them all yet?"

"Hit all of what, Mac?" Negan pretended to be oblivious.

I had no time or patience for this. "The garages."

"You know? That is what we were just fucking doing." He tapped his hand against his leg as though I'd just guessed some outrageous secret. "It was supposed to be an easy job, but someone hid all of the supplies, so it's taking us a little longer than expected."

I closed my eyes, breathing out a sigh. He was going to make this difficult, wasn't he? I could just go, and pray to find another car with similar parts to the ones I needed. But the odds of that happening, of finding a car that wasn't left out in the open and rusted to hell, were slim.

"I'm guessing you know a thing or two about that, since we got the locations from you," Negan continued.

I knew where he was going, he wanted me to save him time and tell him where in each of the garages everything was hidden. But what was the point? Better to let him work for it, seeing as I'd have to loot all different supplies anyway.

"I understand taking the shit from the garages out here, I do. But if you knew you were going to make me fix your cars, why the hell would you take all of my tools and parts?" I snapped. "You just set me up for failure, for what? To get pissed off after a few weeks that I can't do the work you want and kill somebody else?"

It was better to get this out now, be honest with him that I could barely fix a car I owned, never mind whatever he was going to dump on me in four days.

"Now that is a fair fucking point." Instead of getting angry, he leaned on Lucille like a cane. "But see, here's what I'm thinking. You made those maps, which means you know where all the good shit is. I know you're not stupid enough to leave the best parts with the rest of the shit, you stashed them somewhere. Am I getting warm?"

I should have burnt those bloody maps, hid them, something—anything.

"Tell you what," he said. "You tell me where you've hidden the good stuff, and I'll make sure you get first pick. Well, second, after my guys, of course."

Of course.

"I took the best stuff home," I denied. "You stole it all from me."

"Duplicates, things you didn't need but couldn't carry," Negan clarified as if it needed clarification. "I know what transportation you're working with. I mean, hell, we barely have the means to carry all the shit we gathered up today."

"There's nothing hidden besides what I left in the garages," I said.

"I know that's bullshit because you're too smart for that." Negan leaned in, a challenge in his eyes, "Come on, Mac. Work with me here. You need parts, I want to know where they are. We can help each other out here."

"I told you. There's nothing—"

He cut me off. "You know what I think? I think you're still trying to play both sides here. Still thinking there's a way out of this. But let me tell you something, there isn't. This—" he gestured around us. "This is it now. So you can either work with me and get what you need. Or you can keep being stubborn and lose it all. What's it gonna be?"

I took a breath, trying to remember if the parts I needed could have been where I stashed the good supplies. The last thing I needed was a fuel injector, which was one of the most common problems to arise in cars and likely the issue with the station wagon. Which meant, I probably did stash it with the duplicates I had taken that day.

And I couldn't just run to my stash and get one without Negan following me there, so he was going to end up with the supplies either way. The gamble I needed to make was whether I could find a new fuel pump before my time was up on being able to fix the car.

I ran a hand over my face. "You can't honestly expect me to tell you where everything is so you can just steal them and leave me with nothing."

"Steal?" He pressed a hand on his chest, pretending that was enough to offend him. "I prefer to think of it as . . . redistributing resources. Like a post-apocalyptic Robin Hood, only sexier."

I stared blankly, not wanting to dignify any of that with a response.

"Look," he continued, dropping the theatrics. "Way I see it, you've got two options. Either you tell me where the good stuff is and we work something out or my guys keep tearing apart every garage in a fifty-mile radius until we find the good shit ourselves. Let's make a deal."

"What kind of deal?" I asked carefully.

"Now we're talking! It's really fucking simple, you tell me where everything is, and I make sure you get enough to get that station wagon up and running for me, plus whatever else you need for future projects."

"And if I say no?"

"Then that car better run perfectly anyway."

"The car was going to run perfectly anyway," I said boredly. "The only thing I lose out on is what you were going to take from me if you didn't find us today."

"Which is why this is a fucking good opportunity—"

"—It's a good opportunity, I know, I know," I said over him.

I ran my hands over my face again as I turned to look back at the army truck, processing the kinds of things that could go wrong in the big vehicles like that. They needed different parts, ones that wouldn't be as easy to get hold of as the ones for cars—I could bargain for that.

I could ask for more time than a week to find parts or his men supplying them seeing as they probably had some already. I wished we lived closer to the prison, and that it hadn't overrun, because the Governor had similar army trucks.

But these were all hypotheticals.

Negan leaned in over my shoulder, making me flinch. "I know what you're thinking, those bad boys are a bitch to find parts for. I know, my guy complains about all the fucking time. The problem is it'll be a lot harder for you because any engine in the area with similar parts has already been scrapped."

That is exactly what I was thinking, and I knew I didn't have any parts for those in the stash I'd gathered together. There was very little overlap between those and cars, which meant that I'd need specific parts if they ever broke down. If.

"Well?" The blonde woman snapped, annoyed at how long it was taking me to decide.

"Laura," Negan held a hand up. "She's processing, processing how screwed she is without my help."

They all knew that I'd probably have to take the deal, but I was still focused on finding another way. In the grand scheme of things, this deal only stopped Negan from putting me at the end of his bat and just taking me out.

"I'm not screwed for a good week and a half," I argued, finally looking at them. "Longer if that army truck doesn't need maintenance. But even if there is something wrong, that isn't going to be what your guys want done first."

Negan's expression changed, but he didn't look worried. "How'd you figure?"

"I'm betting the first thing your guys are going to send to me is that Ranger," I pointed at the pickup truck. "It rattles. Now that could be nothing, or it could be the timing belt, which is hard enough to change anyway and detrimental if it fails. But that's a newer truck so it's probably got a wet timing belt which is a bitch to change, if your guys pawn anything off onto me it's going to be the truck."

Negan shook his head, still smiling at me. "You're really pretending you don't need this deal?"

I did—I didn't want to have to make a deal with him, but I needed it. If he was going to provide parts for future projects then it was going to make fixing all the vehicles a lot easier than what I'd been imagining. I wouldn't need to beg for more time to scavenge for every job.

"How about this? You talk it over while my guys clear the road," Negan grinned, waving me off to Isaac.

I turned away from him, nodding my head so he'd follow me to the back of the car. Opening the back door, I sat facing outwards and leaned my head in my hands, just thankful for this short time away from Negan while it happened.

"Are you going to do it?" Isaac asked.

"I don't know."

"It doesn't seem like he actually gets much in this deal," Isaac said.

"He gets control, exactly what he wants. It's the reason he's got me doing this shit anyway, otherwise I'd be out scavenging with the others. Even if he gives me parts to fix the cars, they go straight back to him," I explained. "He gets everything. The only thing this deal does for me is keep my head above the water when things start to get hard."

He went quiet, understanding what it meant for me. It was just another instance for Negan to show that even if I decided not to give in and show him where my parts were, he still had full control of my life.

"I just wanted to be able to rub it in his stupid fucking face that I don't need his help," I mumbled.

"So don't do it."

"I can't not do it," I complained. "Because in a few weeks when I start asking for more time to scavenge for parts in, all Negan has to do is say: 'Huh, if only you'd taken the fucking deal when you had the chance.'"

"Uncanny."

I glared up at him, showing him that I was not in the mood to joke about this.

Isaac got the idea. His expression softened, and he kneeled in front of me, his hands on my lap. "I know you don't like it, but the alternative sounds a lot worse for you than just making the deal. It doesn't include anyone else, and it means you don't have to exhaust yourself even more by coming out here."

Nodding, I took a deep breath to clear some of the tension in my chest. I just wanted this day to be over, to go back to Alexandria and get the car fixed so I didn't have to worry about it anymore. Then I could get some rest.

"Let's just do it," he said, his voice desperate and quiet. "Let's just get the part you need and go home."

I finally nodded. "Okay."

With my hand over the scar on my collarbone, I stood up and looked back over to where Negan was watching his people work, all of the men moving the bodies while Laura was speaking to him, leaning against the blue van.

"Negan," I said, getting his attention.

He turned from his men, who were still dragging the bodies off to the side of the road, a smile spreading on his face when he realised I was going to make the deal with him. "Yes, Mac?"

"I have some requirements," I said, "or I walk."

His brows raised, but he waved a hand palm-up as if to tell me I had the floor.

It was nice that he didn't know my real name to ruin that for me. "When you say you'll give me some parts to help with future projects, I want relevant parts. If that truck comes to me next week, I want a timing belt with it, along with anything else, like a new water bottle. I shouldn't have to work with the luck of the draw on whatever random parts you let me have."

"That sounds reasonable," he agreed.

"And—"

"And?"

"And if I have to search for the parts myself, then I'm going to need more than a fucking week," I continued. "It's not my fault that none of us have the right part, and I shouldn't have to be losing sleep looking for something that your men haven't even found themselves."

"Is that all?"

"Not really," I denied. "This just makes it that much more beneficial to show you where my parts are rather than just continuing what I'm doing now."

I would have asked for more, for Negan to actually consult with his mechanics about how long a job should actually take so I could have a reasonable amount of time to fix whatever he wanted, but his guys would give estimates that include the rest of the mechanics Negan thought I had working for me.

He was quiet for a moment, considering. Then he started nodding his head a little, and I could see the look on his face when he realised that I was settling rather than pushing for more. "Alright, Mac. We provide any parts we have, and you get time to find anything we don't; that sounds fair."

"Nope," I denied again, crossing my arms, "just better."

"You wanna shake on it?"

"I'm just thinking of something I can do to retaliate when none of your obligations are met," I said.

"I am a man of my word, Mac."

"Tell that to the half of our supplies that you'll keep taking," I said. "Or the fact that you killed two people that night instead of one, which is what your people kept promising."

Negan raised a brow. "They didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?" I asked.

"The reason two people had to die."

I blinked.

He grinned, pointing a finger back over my shoulder. "Maybe you should actually talk to your boyfriend about what happened that night, Mac. He knows, doesn't he?"

Isaac wasn't listening to our exchange, just leaning on the station wagon where I left him, watching the Saviours work. He glanced over when he saw us looking at him, but he didn't realise why or even look worried about it.

I turned back to Negan.

Finally, leaning in, he asked. "So, you gonna show me to my stuff, Mac?"

I just hummed, turning back to the car.

"Alright, boys!" Negan yelled out to his men. "We're moving out."

Isaac sat down beside me in the driver's seat, waiting for the Saviours to finish up what they were doing and climb back into the vehicles before I nodded for him to drive past them. Isaac slowed and waited for the Saviours to turn around.

"Where are we going?"

"Follow the signs towards Clifton, I'll tell you where to turn," I said.

"We thought it was a barn or garage for a farm or something," I explained to Isaac as we drove down a discreet road surrounded by trees. The army truck was still right behind us, I avoided looking in the mirror to see his face. "It's a winery. We put the sign back up so that nobody was going to look inside, not many useful things left in there. It was far enough away from Clifton that the big groups of walkers would probably go there instead."

"Well hidden," Isaac agreed as he finally came to view the red building that had ivy growing up the side.

"It was supposed to be a backup, if Alexandria ever fell," I said. "Or if I needed anything."

I got out of the car to open the gate and waited there for all of them to drive through before pushing it closed behind us. Isaac was standing beside the station Wagon as the Saviours gathered around the front of the building.

Negan was grinning as he waited for me, and I walked past to the doors that were open to the point that the chains we put on allowed. I kicked it three times, hoping to lure out any walkers that could have squeezed inside, chasing a rat or something.

"Got the keys?" Arat asked as I turned back to the station wagon.

"Didn't have any when we got the lock on," I said.

"Then what the hell are we doing?" Arat pulled out her gun. "Just shoot it off."

"Give me a fucking second, would you?" I snapped. "You may not realise but there are ways to get inside buildings without drawing every walker in a two-mile radius."

"You think you can talk to her like that?" Laura came to stand in front of me.

My voice was quiet as I spoke, "Get the hell out of my face—"

"Mac," Negan drawled in a warning tone.

I opened my mouth to argue, but instead let out an annoyed tone as I turned around and reached for two wrenches in the back seat of the station wagon. My jaw was clenched as I held my tongue, walking back over to the padlock and putting the crescent shapes between the metal spokes, pushing the wrenches together until the padlock broke.

Yanking the chain free of the door handles, I stepped off to the side, standing beside Isaac. I didn't miss the glare as Arat yanked the doors open to look around inside. The rest of the Saviours followed her in, Dave giving a sharp, impressed whistle that made me sick. He was the bastard who was messing with Enid. I didn't realise it before but it was surreal meeting someone else called Dave after what happened in the bar when I first saw Rick kill.

"Your stuff is in the barrels," I muttered as Negan walked past.

"Thank you, Mac."

Isaac and I waited by the red, wooden building as the Saviours pulled out the barrels with all the car parts that Glenn and I had spent so long gathering. It felt like part of myself was being ripped away, that more of him was being taken from me than Negan had already taken himself.

And then I remembered what he said, that two people didn't have to die. Either Abraham or Glenn could be alive right now for a reason that my group refused to let be known, to me or anyone else. Maybe it didn't matter to anyone else, but it mattered to me.

I wanted to ask Isaac there, but I wasn't going to show Negan that I was getting angrier by the second that my people were keeping secrets from me. Maybe they didn't tell me because when I found out what happened, I turned completely nonfunctional, so they didn't want that from me again. I didn't want that either, but I needed to know what happened.

"Oh, Mac!" Negan called, snapping me from my thoughts.

I don't think I realised how much time had passed.

Isaac sighed as I pushed myself off the wall and walked over to where he was standing at the back of the army truck. He nodded up to the parts they had loaded into the back of the army truck, the barrels held up by the things they had already taken.

"Get whatever parts you need."

Climbing up inside the truck, I didn't hesitate to dig around for the fuel pump. The sooner I got my hands on it, the sooner I could go home and fix the car. Maybe I could spend the next three days catching up on sleep.

Machine guns were leaning up against the back wall, which for a short second, I intended on grabbing. But Negan was there. He watched the whole time, making sure I knew he still had control, although he was letting me take whatever the hell he wanted.

He wanted me to see the guns.

After emptying almost everything from one barrel into another, I finally found the pump. I made sure Negan knew it was the only thing I wanted as I climbed down from the truck, and started walking back towards the station wagon.

"Pleasure doing business with you," he said. "See you in a few days, Mac."

When we got back to Alexandria, I explained to Rick about my deal with Negan and how long I expected it to last. He seemed just as thrilled about the arrangement as I was, but he was happier when he realised that the deal I made today had nothing to do with anyone else in the group.

Afterward, Isaac and I returned to the garage, where I got everything ready for them. Isaac popped home only for a second to grab a spare shirt to change into before he came right back to check on my progress of dismantling the station wagon.

Then he sat on the sofa bed quietly to be there while I worked as he had done for days now. But the entire time I worked, all I could think about was the original deal that was made the night my people were captured. The night that got us into this whole mess.

I was told the basics, of course. What Rick had managed to say between my screaming at him on the road. But everything else was foggy, the details, why Negan had decided to kill two people instead of one, like he promised.

They didn't tell you? Negan's voice echoed in my head. The reason two people had to die . . .

I knew what that meant, that there was a reason they had to die—that Glenn had to die.

Despite his loophole where he got to decide what half meant when he raided our town, he never actually lied. He always only killed one person to make sure that the groups knew he was in charge, so why did he flip a switch with my people?

"What happened that night?" I asked, turning to look over my shoulder. "I don't think anybody told me what really happened."

Isaac looked up from where he was working on the sofa bed, dread filling his eyes. I don't think I had ever seen a reaction like that from him before, but at that very moment, I knew I never wanted to see it again.

"For good cause," he said.

"Isaac—"

"It was bad, Ace." His voice rose, and he was jerky as he stood up. "You know how they died. You want me to tell you every gory detail? He killed them to make a point, to show that we couldn't stand up to him. You don't want to know what happened."

I swallowed down a lump in my throat. "I just want to know. All I have is my own imagination and it is killing me, it just is."

Isaac breathed out through his nose, closing his eyes.

"I just keep picturing it, every time I hear his name, every time I think about him," I said, as tears began to roll down my face. "I want to get past it. I want to remember the day I met him, or— or when he thought I brought you a condom when I said rubber. But I just keep picturing different that stupid fucking bat."

He was shaking his head, still denying telling me what happened there, even as his eyes grew wet. I didn't want to make him relive that night, and I could tell he didn't want to, but I needed to know what happened out there that broke everyone so deeply.

"I don't get to go to his grave, all I can do is look at his name on a wall. And nobody talks to me about him, not anymore. I just want to be able to talk about him again," I begged. "Please, please tell me what happened."

"Ace—"

"Negan told me," I cut him off. "He told me he was only going to kill one person, that you knew the reason he killed two instead."

Isaac's throat bobbed as he swallowed.

"Tell me."

I didn't think he was going to say anything. But after a moment of silence, he nodded, taking my wrist and leading me back toward the sofa bed to sit down. My knees brushed against his own as he leaned his elbows on his thighs and built up the courage to tell me what I had asked for.

"They led us there," he began. "The Saviours were waiting in a clearing for us, and they made us kneel on the ground in a line. Eugene was already there, and they brought out the others, the ones who went after Daryl."

"Then Negan came out," Isaac continued, "and he kept tormenting everyone, saying that he was going to kill one of us. He stopped by Maggie, saying he was going to kill her because she was sick. Glenn fought for her," Isaac looked me in the eyes when he said that. "He lashed out to save her."

Of course he did. Those were the things I wanted to hear about him, whether he was brave when they had to face Negan, or if he fought for the ones he loved. He didn't even know Maggie was having complications before that moment . . . he was never going to see his child.

"Negan said that he'd let it slide, but the next time someone moved, there'd be consequences. She was right beside me, I thought he was going to but . . . he didn't . . . He played eenie meenie miny mo to pick someone, but I think it was just a ploy, making us think it could be anyone because he wasn't doing it right, it was driving me fucking insane."

I could see in his eyes that he was reliving it, the way his OCD must have peaked in that moment with the fear and adrenaline. Negan using the game as a guise to choose someone to kill must have been the tip of the iceberg.

"He landed on Abraham, who told him suck my nuts before he died." I laughed through the tears, wiping under my eyes. It was a moment of humour that didn't last long, but the loon on his face told me the story wasn't going to get any better. "When he was done, he started tormenting Rosita about it, and Daryl got up and punched him. Because of that, he said no exceptions and killed Glenn."

"No . . ."

What was he thinking? Why would Daryl try to punch Negan when he had already shown that he had control of that situation? Was he trying to get a gun? I didn't know how to believe it, but with the way Isaac nodded, I knew he wasn't lying to me about that.

Negan killed Glenn because Daryl hit him.

"He took Rick away," Isaac continued, and I choked down a sob. How was that not the end? "Didn't like the way he was looking at him. I don't know what happened out there, but it didn't change anything. So Negan dragged Carl out in front of us, forced him to the ground and drew a line across his arm. He wanted Rick to cut it off so he would understand that this is the new world."

God, please let it be over, I begged silently. I know I asked for it, to know what happened that night, but I didn't realise how much Negan did in the time that he had them hostage. I covered my eyes, gripping my hairline.

"I love you, Ace," he said, tears finally falling from his eyes. "I was going to tell you over the radio, but I wanted to do it in person. Then I regretted not doing it, because when they said about the car coming down, I thought he was going to drag you out there too. I thought he was going to drag you out there and—" he choked off. "I've never been more scared of anything in my life."

He took my wrists and pulled them back from my eyes. "I love you. I love you so much that it doesn't matter whether our life is run by Negan because I want to spend the rest of my days with you. I don't ever want to lose you."

"I love you, too."

Isaac wiped his palm across my cheek to wipe away the tears, leaning forward to rest his forehead against my own. "It's us, Ace. It's always going to be us."

I nodded. I don't know how long we just stared at each other in this newfound love. But after a while, Isaac smiled, and his head came down to rest on my shoulder.

"I'm exhausted," he said, before he looked up. "Get that car fixed, get some sleep, and then we'll spend tomorrow just the two of us. No work, no architecture and cars. Just us."

"Okay," I agreed.

Isaac stood, turning to the door, when he stopped at the stairs. "I love you."

"I love you, too," I smiled.

When Isaac left I stripped the station wagon of all of the parts I'd collected that day and replaced them, not sure which event I was focused on more—what actually happened at the line up or Isaac telling me he loved me. I had never felt so desperately happy and sad at the same time.

Daryl was the reason that Negan killed Glenn, and I didn't know how angry I was supposed to be about what happened. It was an emotional night, and I know if I had the chance to try and kill Negan after what he did, then I would have. But if he said he would kill someone if anybody moved, then why risk it?

I felt pure hatred that I had to try and keep down, hatred for his stupid, stupid decision.

After I replaced all of the parts I wasn't sure how long I had been standing there, leaning over the side of the car 'inspecting' the parts of the engine to see if any of them were damaged. It felt like an hour. A wrench was in my right hand, my elbow resting on the body of the car.

Daryl was the reason Glenn died.

My breath caught in my throat as I stood there—it could have been hours. God, not again. I frightened myself when I realised how shallow my breathing had been, and when I gasped, the air didn't seem to reach the bottom of my lungs.

I had to calm down. Taking a step away from the car, I gripped my shoulder with my hand as I tried thinking of ways to make it all stop, but the first thing that came to mind was Glenn. I had to give this car to Negan, the person who was responsible for the death of the nicest person in his world.

He killed Glenn.

I screamed as I turned around, throwing the wrench, which landed directly through the driver's side window. The smash made me flinch, and it took me a second to realise what had happened, seeing the glass scattered around the room.

"Oh, God," I breathed out. "No, no, no."

Fixable, I reminded myself before I completely lost it. The window was easily fixable by the time Negan came to collect the car. But I couldn't stop myself from panicking, as I stared at the shattered glass in the car.

Pulling my sleeve down over my arm, I wiped the smaller pieces of glass to the side before starting to pick up some of the bigger ones. I held them in my open hand and tipped them into the pile before starting again. One of the pieces slipped away, slicing down the middle of my palm.

"Fuck!" I sobbed.

I fell back against the car, holding my wrist in my hand. Tears continued to roll down my cheeks as I reached forward to grab one of the rags from the workbench. I winced, holding the rag against the cut to stop the bleeding.

Someone cleared their throat from the top of the stairs, and I looked up to see Aaron standing in the doorway, staring down at me.