Negan’s back hit the cold, unforgiving ground, the hard thud reverberating through his chest. The pain was immediate, sharp. His body stiffened, but he refused to show weakness. He had been through worse. He’d been at death’s door more times than he could count, but this... this felt different.

The cold steel of a knife pressed against his neck, biting into his skin. He wasn’t sure how it had happened—one moment he was on the offensive, the next, he was pinned, the woman he had wronged looming over him with fire in her eyes. She looked determined. She looked like she was done with him.

“Game over. You lose.” Her voice was low, calm, but there was a fire beneath it, a vengeance that had been smoldering for far too long. His gaze flicked to her face, and he saw it there—no fear. Only resolve.

Negan grinned, his lip curling up in that signature smirk of his. He was bleeding—his cheek was split, a bruise already forming on his jaw, but he still laughed, even with the knife so close. His hands were raised in mock surrender, his palms open to show he was no immediate threat.

“You got me, princess,” he rasped, his voice hoarse, the smirk never leaving his face. But there was something in his eyes—something that betrayed his amusement. It wasn’t fear. No. But there was something about this moment that had him feeling a little... uncertain.

He wasn’t sure what this woman wanted from him—revenge? Justice? He had seen her face before, a reminder of the faces of those he had killed, but this... this was personal.

The knife pressed harder against his skin. A thin line of blood started to trail down his neck, a reminder that she could end it all with a single flick of her wrist.

But Negan wasn’t done. He wasn’t a man who took defeat lightly.

“You think that knife makes you the winner?” he muttered, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “You think you’ve won because you’ve got me down for a moment? Let me tell you something, sweetheart. You haven’t even seen what real loss looks like.”