Chapter 52

Chapter 52: Echoes of Tyrants

The gates of the Sanctuary clanged shut behind them with a sound like finality.

Negan led the way, Lucille slung lazily over his shoulder, whistling low as he glanced around at his people. Axel walked behind him, boots dragging slightly, dried blood caked in the creases of his hands. He didn't look like someone lost or broken. He looked like someone who had finally run out of war.

"You know," Negan said, throwing a glance over his shoulder, "most people I bring in here either piss themselves or try to suck up. You? You're just floatin' through like a goddamn ghost."

Axel didn't laugh. Didn't smile. But he spoke.

"I used to have a place like this," he said quietly.

Negan raised a brow but said nothing. He kept walking, and Axel followed.

"They followed me," Axel continued. "Not because they loved me. Not because they respected me. Hell... they hated my guts. Every last one of them."

That made Negan grin. "Now we're talkin'. Sounds like the start of a beautiful autobiography."

"I ruled the place with fear," Axel said. "An iron fist. No mercy for anyone who played games. You lie, you bleed. You steal, you bleed. You defy me, you disappear."

Negan nodded, amused. "You sound like my kind of guy."

Axel didn't acknowledge the compliment. His eyes stayed forward, scanning the walls, the guards, the systems.

"There was a time," Axel said after a beat, "some idiot who called himself the Governor took one of my men. Beat him. Sent a message. Thought he could shake me."

Negan's smirk deepened. "Let me guess. You didn't send back flowers and an apology?"

"I blew up his kingdom," Axel said, voice flat. "Took his walls down with fire. Killed every last man he had. Took everything he owned. And I left his head on the front gate of his own goddamn kingdom."

Negan stopped walking.

He turned to face Axel fully now, sizing him up with a more serious look in his eye.

"You really did that?" he asked.

Axel finally met his gaze. "I don't bluff."

Negan laughed. Loud. Genuinely.

"Well, hot damn," he said, clapping a hand on Axel's shoulder. "You might just be the meanest son of a bitch I've ever met. And believe me, I've met a lot."

Axel didn't react to the touch. Didn't flinch. Just kept walking.

Negan fell into step beside him, tone shifting slightly—still cocky, but now tinged with respect.

"You know, most people in this world either bend or break," he said. "You? You do neither. That's rare. Real rare."

"I was broken once," Axel said, looking straight ahead. "But then I stood back up. And I made sure the world remembered what it did to me."

Negan gave a low whistle. "Poetic. Brutal. Beautiful."

They came to a hallway with doors lining both sides. Negan stopped at one near the end.

"Here," he said, pushing it open. "Not much, but it's yours. At least until we see where this goes."

Axel stepped inside. The room was clean. Bare. A bed. A table. A chair. Just enough to remind someone they were still human.

Negan leaned on the doorway.

"I ain't gonna put you to work. Not yet. First, you eat. You sleep. You settle."

Axel turned back to him. "You think I'm here to be your soldier?"

"I think," Negan said, smirking, "you're here because you've got nowhere else to go. And I don't waste assets. You're not a soldier. You're a statement."

Axel sat on the bed. Looked at the floor.

"I don't follow. I lead."

Negan's smile widened. "Then let's see what the hell you can lead next."

He tossed a wrapped sandwich on the bed.

"One more thing," he added before stepping out.

Axel glanced up.

"Welcome home, badass."

And with that, Negan disappeared down the hallway, humming a tune that didn't belong in a broken world.

Axel sat in silence, but for the first time, it didn't feel like a cage. It felt like a waiting room.

The storm had passed. But the war was just beginning.

---

The room was cold.

Not because of the weather—it was insulated enough. It was cold because it didn't belong to anyone. Not yet. Not truly.

Axel sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees, fingers laced loosely together as he stared down at the floor. The silence in the Sanctuary was different from what he'd known. It wasn't peace. It was pressure. Like the whole place was waiting for something to explode.

He leaned back slightly, eyes tracing the cracks in the concrete wall.

His mind wandered—to the village he'd once ruled. The people who bowed to him. Followed him. Feared him.

He didn't give a shit about them.

Not then. Not now.

From the start, he'd told them the truth—he was using them. They were a means to an end. Fuel for the fire. He'd needed power. Numbers. Fear. All to reach one thing.

Alice.

And now she was dead.

Cut. Shattered. Erased.

Mission complete.

So now… what?

Axel looked at his hands. They weren't shaking. They never did. But there was no weight behind them anymore. No drive.

For the first time since he'd clawed his way into the world's throat, he had no purpose.

He stood up, grabbed his coat, and stepped out into the hall.

Time to see what this place was really about.

---

An Hour Later

Negan didn't waste time. The higher-ups of the Sanctuary had gathered in a wide concrete room that used to be a loading dock.

Long tables. Folding chairs. People with hard eyes and sharper tongues.

Axel stood among them like a ghost entering a family dinner.

Dwight was the first to nod in greeting. Silent. Measured. Watching.

Laura gave a slight smirk, like she was trying to figure out whether he was hot or dangerous. Or both.

Others just stared.

And then there was Simon.

He didn't even try to hide it. The way he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, jaw tight. The look in his eyes was pure murder. Not tension. Not uncertainty.

He wanted Axel dead.

And everyone knew it.

Even Negan.

Especially Negan.

Which was why the bastard was smiling like a kid on Christmas.

"Alright," Negan said, stepping between them all, Lucille tapping gently on the concrete. "Let's cut through the awkward bullshit. This here's Axel. You've heard the stories. You've seen the aftermath. And yeah… the rumors? They're fuckin' true."

He gestured at Axel like a showman introducing his main act.

"This guy tore down an entire hive of Nomads, gutted their leader, and screamed loud enough to make five of Simon's best soil their pants."

A few eyes darted to Simon. His lips twitched, but he didn't speak.

"He's one of us now. Or at least he will be—if he finds something worth staying for."

Negan glanced at Axel. "So, what do you think, champ? Sanctuary got potential?"

Axel met his gaze with that quiet, unreadable look. "I'll let you know when someone tries to kill me."

The room went dead silent for two beats.

Negan barked a laugh. "Ooooh! Now that's the kind of shit I like to hear."

Simon stood suddenly, his chair scraping back.

"Why the hell is he here?" he said flatly. "You let him stay, fine. But don't parade him around like he's one of us."

"He's a wildcard," Laura muttered under her breath, almost amused. "You hate wildcards."

"I hate liars," Simon snapped. "I hate monsters."

Axel raised a brow. "You loved one."

That did it.

Simon lunged.

But before anyone could stop it—before Negan could even lift Lucille—Axel moved.

Like a wolf unchained.

He caught Simon by the throat mid-lunge, slammed him down onto the table with force

Then came the fists.

One.

Two.

Three.

Over and over. A flurry of rage and control all at once. Blood sprayed across the table, across Axel's arm. Simon struggled, gasped, but Axel didn't flinch. His face was stone. His eyes were fire.

And Negan?

Negan was laughing.

Belly-deep, hand-on-knee, gleeful chaos.

"Holy shit!" he howled. "Now that's how you earn a seat at the table!"

No one moved.

No one dared.

Simon's body twitched beneath Axel's grip, his face swollen and cracked. But Axel didn't kill him.

He stood slowly, breathing steady, hands soaked in blood.

Simon coughed, barely conscious, groaning as he slid to the floor.

Axel stepped back and fixed his coat.

Negan clapped slowly. "Goddamn. Welcome to the Sanctuary."

---

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