C H A P T E R  0 3

❛ tempest ❜

QUINN

     THE FEELING OF THE SMALL SWAN PENDANT BETWEEN her fingers was the only thing keeping her from losing her mind as she sat in the darkness. It felt as though the walls were slowly closing in on her, choking her and she was frozen in place, unable to do a thing about it. The small, dark space brought back memories she'd tried her entire life to suppress and even Milo's method of counting slowly didn't help to calm her down.

She'd almost forgotten how bad her claustrophobia used to be, until being locked in what she suspected was a broom closet, had brought it back in full force. She lay curled up in a little ball with her back against the wall, holding her necklace firmly in her fist as she tried to distract herself from thinking about the darkness. She closed her eyes and imagined she was lying outside, in a field with an open sky above her. But everytime she felt her heartbeat return to a somewhat normal pace, her memories took her back to that clearing in the forest and she could start the whole process of calming herself down all over again.

She really did try not to think about it, to simply focus on the now and keep her strength up for some sort of confrontation she knew was coming. But she was broken and unable to pretend otherwise. In the darkness, she felt the most alone she'd ever been.

When the van had finally pulled over, she and Daryl had been separated almost immediately, both of them too tired to fight back. She hadn't seen him since she was brought into this hallway and pushed into the small closet. The only indication of time she had since was the sandwich she'd been brought twice now. But she couldn't tell if she'd been given food once a day, or twice a day. She didn't eat anyway and both times her food had been taken away without so much as a word being exchanged.

It felt as though she was slowly withering away, a flower once blooming in full glory, now dying as it desperately searched for the light to help it grow again. But her light was gone, locked away somewhere in this facility, beyond her reach and it was driving her insane. More than the memories that wouldn't stop haunting her, more than missing her family with such a deep ache, more than the hatred she felt when thinking of her captors, more than any of that she was driven insane by Daryl's absence.

Not knowing if he was okay, but knowing that he would hate himself no matter where he was, was slowly killing her. She wanted to reach out to him, hold him and tell him it would all be okay but she couldn't. Her arms felt strangely empty without having him to hold. They hadn't even been together all that long and already she felt like she'd die without him.

She couldn't see it in the dark but she knew there was still dried blood from his wound beneath her nails. The thought panicked her every time and the tears that seemed to linger so close beneath the surface these days broke through every time the image of Dwight pulling the trigger returned. Usually it was followed by Beth's last laugh before the arrow ended her life, way too soon...

So much pain, so much darkness and it finally caught up with her. In the dark hole, far away from any of the comfort she'd found after the end of the world, Quinn Morales was but a shell of herself. The only thing keeping her from unravelling completely was the rage that burned inside of her. An eternal flame of anger that she held closely to her heart, ready to unleash it when the time was right. She hadn't forgotten her promise. In fact, it had been on the forefront of her mind the entire time she'd spend in that damned dark hole. She didn't know when, she didn't know, but she was going to make them pay.

It was impossible to tell how much time had passed when the door was opened for the third time. While shielding her eyes from the bright light that came from the hallway, she slowly sat up from the ground. A small frown appeared on her face when she saw there was a woman standing beside her usual guard. But more than her sudden appearance, Quinn was surprised by what she was wearing. A tight black dress and high heels. Not exactly the ideal combination in an apocalypse

"Up," the guard barked.

The woman beside him glared at him but didn't say a word and instead watched in silence as Quinn slowly got to her feet. She was forced to seek support by the wall, hating how her body stumbled in weakness but her anger alone wasn't enough to keep her standing.

"Let's go," the guard gestured for her to step forward.

For a moment she thought about refusing, if only to see the annoyance on the broad man's face but more than that, she realised, she wanted this over with. She knew what was coming and she'd rather face it sooner than later. This method wasn't new. She'd known Marcus had a similar treatment of people he tried to win over, or wanted something from. Put them in isolation, alone with their darkest thoughts and then try to manipulate them into doing everything you wanted, knowing the alternative was way worse. She wouldn't be so easily broken.

And so she put one foot in front of the other until she was out of her cell. One glance around told her she'd been correct, she was indeed put into a broom closet. The hallway surrounding it looked like that of an old, factory-like, building. There was nothing on the walls that gave any kind of indication as to what kind of factory though. The windows were too high for her to glance through and so all she could do was try and remember the turns they took and the doors they went through.

Finally they came to a halt in front of a green door. She inhaled sharply as the guard got out his set of keys and unlocked the door, swinging it open. With a small push against her shoulder she was forced inside, followed closely by the woman in the black dress. Quinn scanned the room and frowned in confusion when it turned out to be nothing more than a simple bedroom with a little bathroom in the corner.

"Ten minutes," the guard said, then stepped back outside and closed the door.

She could hear him locking it and for a moment she stood frozen, though the room was a lot bigger than the dark hole she came from, she still longed for fresh air.

"I thought these might be your size," the woman spoke up.

Quinn jumped, for a moment she'd forgotten she wasn't alone. She tore her eyes away from the door and looked at the bundle of black clothes the woman was holding. It took her a second to realise she was meant to put those on and part with her own comfortable clothes. Another layer of comfort stripped away.

"You can shower if you want," she said, "just make it quick."

Knowing she didn't have much of a choice, Quinn took the clothes and disappeared into the small bathroom. While she undressed she made sure to keep her eyes away from the mirror. She couldn't bear to watch her own reflection, knowing her eyes would be dark and bloodthirsty, back to the way they used to be before she found her family.

She'd been right about the dried blood beneath her nails and as soon as her eyes landed on the sight, she felt her throat close up. When she turned on the water, her hands were the first thing she cleaned. She scrubbed them until her fingers ached and even then they still didn't feel clean enough.

Showers were meant to be a rarity in this world and should be enjoyed, but Quinn couldn't bring herself to do so. Instead she cleaned herself as quickly as possible before turning off the water again. She wouldn't allow herself to enjoy any kind of luxury when Daryl was most likely still locked in a cell. She dried herself and then turned to the pile of new clothes she'd been given. At least it wasn't a tight black dress like the woman waiting outside was wearing but still, they felt like chains, meant to keep her in check.

Deciding to just get it over with, she put on the tight jeans. The black blouse turned out to be one size too small, which made her curves stand out even more, making her feel even more uncomfortable than she already felt. Quinn didn't even bother to try and make anything of her hair, knowing it would mean having to look in the mirror. But she did bother putting her necklace back on. She wasn't planning to ever part with it.

She was about to step outside when her eyes caught sight of a small pair of nail scissors on the sink. For a moment she simply stood there, looking at the shiny small potential weapon.

She was already halfway across the bathroom when she suddenly came to a halt. They made the mistake of underestimating these people before. They weren't stupid enough to forget to clean out a space before putting a prisoner in it and yet...

A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts and after one quick glance at the scissors she shook her head and made her way outside. Maybe she'd come to regret her decision but every alarm inside of her head was ringing and so she couldn't bring herself to reach out for it.

The woman was waiting for her, seated on the edge of the bed, her eyes starting at the wall with an empty gaze. When Quinn closed the door behind her, she looked up, blinking the thoughts that had clearly been plaguing her away.

"I eh-" she started before taking a breath and starting over again. "I'm sorry for the blouse."

Quinn didn't reply. She wasn't sure what to make of this woman yet and so unwilling to give anything away that could be seen as vulnerable. She had to keep her walls up and stay alert for whatever it was she was being prepared for.

"You kept the necklace," the woman observed.

She scowled and felt her annoyance get the best of her. "Why bother?" she questioned, her voice cruel with no intention of trying to hide it. When the woman frowned, she added with a scoff: "With the small talk. Why bother?"

She opened her mouth, only to close it again and then something flashed through her eyes Quinn had not expected, guilt. She was trying to make Quinn feel comfortable because she felt guilty. It took her a moment to register why exactly this woman might feel guilty. For watching as her friends got murdered with a bat? For Quinn being held prisoner in a broom closet? But as she held her gaze she could feel it went deeper than that. This woman was wounded, hurt like she'd been hurt, desperately trying to hold herself together in the process. She lost someone close to her recently. It was written all over her face.

Milo would have asked her who she lost, trying to connect and be the better person, built connections until someone might feel guilty enough to let him out. She wasn't that sly and she wasn't in a mood to be nice either.

"Fine, don't tell me," Quinn shrugged and walked over to the door, waiting for the guard to arrive and take her to wherever it was they wanted her so dressed up for.

"Just do what they ask you to do," the woman muttered suddenly, her voice breaking. "It gets worse if you don't. There's always worse."

For a moment silence lingered between the two of them in which the two women measured each other. One broken beneath the cruelty of the world they lived in and submitted to the rule of a cold-blooded man. One still burning with the desire to fight, to stand up and break the chains that were trying to keep her down. Yes, there was always worse, but Quinn would make damn well sure that worse was coming for the Saviors instead of for her family.

The lock clicked and the door was opened, breaking their moment of silence. The guard appeared, a frown on his face as he noticed the tension in the air, but he shrugged with indifference and gestured for Quinn to follow him once again.

She threw one last look over her shoulder towards the woman seated on the bed, with her broken eyes and ridiculous dress. "We're not slaves," she found herself saying, despite being desperate to keep her walls up. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." Then she turned and walked out into the hallway.

The guard took her towards a staircase. Up they went, to the very highest level of the factory. Quinn tried to remember every step and every door, hoping against all hope that she might be able to find an opening. She'd be stupid to try and escape when she was on the highest floor of the building. They'd catch her before she'd make it halfway down. But still, she wanted to at least get an image of what the building looked like.

When they reached the highest floor the guard took her down a long hallway before coming to a halt in front of a black door. He reached out and knocked, waiting for an answer. The voice that called out didn't come as a surprise and yet Quinn could feel her body physically wincing at the sound of it. The guard opened the door and stepped aside so she could enter.

Every bone in her body was on fire and it took her all her willpower not to rush forwards and scratch his eyes out, hit him everywhere until he was nothing but a bleeding mess at her feet. Negan.

She clenched her fists and pressed her nails into her palm to get rid of the anger as she walked into the room. She looked around, mostly so she wouldn't have to look at him. The room appeared to be his private chambers and the thought made her sick. The canopy bed against the far end wall was big and, unsurprisingly, black. Most of the furniture was black, the luxurious couch that stood beneath the window and the chair that stood opposite it, the small coffee table too. Even the curtains that hung in front of the huge windows.

It made the clothes she was wearing feel even more like shackles.

"There she is!" Negan said as she entered, holding his arms wide in that ridiculous grandiose manner of his. "Our guest of honor."

The door closed behind her, making her turn back and press her nails even deeper into her palms. Even worse than before the desire to break it down burned inside of her. She needed air but, even more so, she needed to get away from the man standing behind her. But she couldn't and so she took a deep breath and turned back around, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

He was watching her with a smile on his face, as though she was the most interesting thing he'd seen in a while. Perhaps he'd gotten bored of bashing people's heads in and was in need of some distraction. She wasn't planning on giving it to him. The smile didn't leave his face, even when he took a seat. He gestured towards the chair standing opposite of him.

She didn't move, staring him down with a deadly scowl. Spending time with both Michonne and Daryl had taught her how to give the most impressive dead glare, and it wasn't even hard to muster when looking at him. The feeling of utter and complete hatred seemed to be a default setting when she turned her eyes to him.

A chuckle left his lips as he leaned back in the chair and slung his arm over the seat. "I got you out of that fucking stink hole, gave you new clothes and-" he gestured at the table before him and only then did she notice the plates of fruit and bread displayed "-I got you lunch. It'd be rude to just keep standing there." His smile didn't disappear but there was a gleam in his eyes that said enough, do what I tell you to...

With her scowl still in place she walked over to him and sat down in the chair. Despite the soft leather seating, she still preferred the cold cement floor of the broom closet. She crossed her arms over her chest and held his gaze, knowing that looking away would mean he'd won. And she refused to let him win again.

"It's Quinn, right?" he started, his eyes taking in her appearance, forcing a shiver down her spine. "Dwighty boy told me that's your name."

She didn't reply, but it only seemed to spur him on.

"You must be starving," he went on, completely ignoring her refusal to cooperate. "A little birdie told me you were refusing to eat."

"I'm not hungry," Quinn replied, her voice cold.

His grin widened. "Ah, she speaks!" He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and still that stupid grin on his face. She wanted to hit him, see how long it would take to wipe that stupid smirk from his features. "This is a one time offer, so think carefully before refusing me again."

"I thought about it," she said almost immediately. She was done playing this stupid game, she wanted to know what she was here for, theatrics aside. "Why did you bring me here?"

"No bullshit, I see," he pointed at her, amusement written all over his face. "You've got balls, fucking beach ball sized lady balls! I like that. I can work with that. Damn, you seem like someone whose got their fucking wits about them. And that is exactly what I need."

It took her every bit of willpower not to wince at those words. She'd be damned before she showed any weakness but it was hard when he was still grinning at her, looking like a hungry lion about to jump at his prey.

"Why do you need me?"

He leaned back his chair, his grin finally fading. Instead he studied her, trying to see through the mask of hatred she'd put on. He could try all he wanted, but she'd mastered the art of hiding her emotions and that wasn't going to change because some asshole wanted to.

"Life is all about choices," he began. "One choice can lead to stale fucking sandwiches and the other-" He gestured to the meal before them. "Leads to this."

She stared at the food. She couldn't deny she was hungry but at the same time she didn't want to give up the only form of protest against her imprisonment that could actually endanger his plans. She had no idea what he wanted from her but the thought of cooperating made her sick and made the choice to refuse her food even easier. However, when she turned her gaze back to him, an idea started to form. Maybe she could use this to her advantage. If life was about choices, then she would make sure she had one.

"I'll eat," she finally spoke. A grin broke out on his face but before it could form completely she added: "When I've seen Daryl."

Her words surprised him, and a smile flashed across his face. "See, there are those lady nuts again. Damn!" He inhaled deeply as he placed his arm on the seat, looking her up and down. "Now why would I do that?" He licked his lips. "Persuade me."

She tilted her head slightly, measuring him in a way she knew he would hate. Men like him didn't appreciate feeling exposed and she knew exactly how to make him feel as though she was looking into his very soul. She'd been surrounded with men like him all her life, defending herself against them had become a second nature. "You said it yourself, you need me and you can't very well use me if I starve myself to death now can you?"

For a moment his dark eyes remained focused on her, trying to read through the cracks until finally the corner of his mouth tugged upward in a smirk. "You are a tempest, aren't you? Coming in here, making demands and shit. I gotta say-" he leaned forward and muttered: "It's kinda hot." His grin became wider when she winced, this time unable to stop herself. "Too bad you got the hots for Daryl. I gotta say, I don't see that working out for you."

She gritted her teeth, once again pressing her nails into her palms to stop herself from lashing out. She could take him taunting her, but if he would start to try and taint the only good thing she had in her life, she wasn't sure she'd be able to hold herself back from doing some serious damage.

"Do we have a deal, or not?" she said, trying to keep her voice as impassive as possible.

"You know what, this is perfect, since I wanted to talk with you about Daryl anyway." There was menace in his eyes as he spoke and for the first time since she entered the room, Quinn felt her veins freeze with stone cold fear. "Those choices you got, I think you'll change your mind soon enough." He got to his feet and reached behind the chair.

Her breath caught in her throat when she saw what it was he had taken in his hand. That damned bat wrapped in barbed wire. As soon as her eyes fell on it, she was transported back to the forest, back on her knees, back to watching her friends being brutally murdered right in front of her...

"David!" Negan called out, startling her out of her trance.

The door opened and her guard, apparently called David, stepped inside.

"We're gonna make a little trip down to the hole, keep an eye on her will you?" He slung the bat over his shoulder and walked towards the door.

Taking a deep breath Quinn got to her feet and followed him. David walked closely behind them as they made their way towards the staircase and back down again. Her heart was beating so loud in her chest she was convinced both men would hear it. She had no idea in what kind of state Daryl would be and her mind couldn't help but picture the worst. Bruised, bloody and broken images, they all swirled together until it was all she could think of.

And the fact that Negan had wanted to talk with her about Daryl didn't help to calm her nerves either. What could he want from her that involved him? She had no idea and with every step she took, she became more afraid of finding out.

Finally they reached the lowest level of the building and she realised it was the very same floor as her cell had been on. Had she really been that close to Daryl all this time? The thought of there only being a few walls between them angered her. It was all part of this stupid game Negan was playing and she wished she could get out of it.

Negan came to a halt in front of a black door and anger hit her like a truck when she saw who was standing next to it.

"Hey D," Negan greeted the man with the scarred face. Then he gestured towards the door with his bat. "Open that up for me will ya?"

Quinn followed Dwight's every move as he reached in his pocket and took out a set of keys. She couldn't tell who she hated more. Both men had murdered people she loved and oh how she wished she had a gun with her right now. But as soon as the door was opened her anger vanished into thin air and all she was left with was an aching heart.

Dwight stepped inside the cell and pulled Daryl up from the ground, shoving him outside. Their eyes met and she couldn't hide the tears that worked their way up. She had no idea why she had thought that he would've been given the same treatment as she had, maybe it had just been a false hope because the alternative was so much worse. And it was, it really was so much worse.

He was stripped naked, vulnerable and humiliated. Bruises of harsh treatment were starting to form all over his dirt stained skin. The only thing that made her feel like she could breathe was the bandage on his gunshot wound but it wasn't much, since the man who caused him to need that bandage in the first place was standing next to him.

But worse than all of that, worse than watching him standing there so defeated, was the pain in his blue eyes. The self-hatred for what had happened in the line up, the guilt and the shame for the pain he'd caused. And now...fear. As his eyes flickered between Negan and her, she could tell he was afraid of what might have happened. Though she was sure she'd be the only one who noticed that particular detail because the rage on his face covered up the despair lingering beneath.

She took a step forward, at first not even really aware she was doing so. It was instinct. She belonged next to him. But she was stopped by Negan holding out his bat in front of her, blocking the way. There was a teasing smile on his face when their eyes met, her tears clearly visible.

"The deal was you'd get to see lover boy here," he said, "I never said shit about touching. I mean-" he turned his gaze to Daryl and looked him up and down. "-I get it. But teary reunions were not on my schedule today."

She looked at Daryl, feeling as though she was being torn in half. He was so close and yet it felt as though he was miles away. Salt touched her lips and only then did she realise a tear had escaped. Frustrated, she reached up and wiped it away. Negan could've done anything he wanted to her and she wouldn't have cared but Daryl...She couldn't bear to see him in pain, to see him without agency, as nothing more than trash stashed in a filthy broom closet. It physically pained her.

Negan grinned as he looked at her. "Well shit, what the fuck happened to those big ass lady nuts of yours? Look at you, crying over a man. One who didn't even listen to you when you tried to stop him from making a dumbass mistake by the way."

"What do you want?" She could barely get the words out, shaking with fury and the willpower of forcing back her tears. She didn't need him to remind her of what happened in the forest and least of all; remind Daryl of it.

"It's simple," Negan said and pointed to Daryl. "You want life to become better for him? You know, get some of that good food we talked about, maybe some new clothes, fuck knows he needs them." He chuckled, as though the joke had been the funniest thing in the world. "I can make sure he gets all of that and so much more."

Her heart was beating like a war drum in her chest as she waited for the catch.

"If-" his eyes sparked with hunger "-you become my wife."

A U T H O R 'S  N O T E

This chapter was an absolute b!tch to write. I had a really hard time getting Negan right but eventually with some feedback and a few rewrites I ended up being proud of the result! I doubted about the cliffhanger but I love teasing you guys so, sorry not sorry lol.

Also, while writing I realised this is the first time Quinn actually sees Daryl naked lol. Very romantic setting guys. Poor babies. I hate putting them through this and at the same time it's so fun to write, oops?

Anyway, please let me know your thoughts in the comments! And some predictions about what's going to happen next :)

Lots of love,

Nelly