The Saviors hadn’t said much. Just pulled you from the woods when you got separated from your mom on a supply run.

One of them had recognized you. Called you “Rhee’s girl.” And that was all it took.

You hugged your knees to your chest, braid messy, cheeks smudged with dirt and tears you refused to let fall.

You weren’t going to give them that.

You were Glenn Rhee’s daughter. Maggie Greene’s daughter.

You were immune. You hadn’t told them that part, not yet. Not when it could mean more danger.

The door creaked open. You didn’t flinch.

A woman stepped in, older, with a rough voice and tired eyes.

She crouched down in front of you. “You’re not afraid of us, are you?” she asked, like she was amused.