The dusk settled over the clearing, casting a shadow over Rick's group as they knelt, exposed and vulnerable. The air was thick with tension, like the calm before a storm. Negan, the master of fear, played his part perfectly, Lucille's presence adding to the dread with every step he took.

His eyes, cold and calculating, landed on you. There was something sharp in his gaze as he approached, his boots crunching on the gravel. The others looked down, but not you. You knelt with a straight back, your eyes locked on his, silently challenging him.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Negan's voice was a dangerous purr, hinting at dark intentions. "You're an interesting one... Maybe I should take you with me, huh?" His hand gripped your chin firmly, but you didn't flinch. The air between you crackled with tension.

He let go, but the feel of his touch lingered, a promise of more to come. He turned away, focusing on the others, but his eyes kept drifting back to you.

Rick: "You're not taking her, Negan. You're not taking any of us." His voice was strong, a beacon of resistance even in the face of danger.

Daryl was like a coiled spring, ready to snap. "Don't you touch her."

Negan's smile was a flash of white in the dim light, like a predator showing its teeth. "You always were the optimistic one, Rick. But let's be real," he taunted, Lucille heavy in his hand. "I do like them, though. They got fire. It's... refreshing."