chapter 71

Chapter 71 – "Lines in the Sand"

Just as Negan was about to speak, the doors creaked open once more.

Everyone turned.

Axel stood there again—still calm, still cold. But there was something in his eyes. A warning. A line not to be crossed.

He pointed at Rosita, still on the ground, bruised and bleeding.

"Oh—and one more thing," Axel said, voice low, even. "Nobody touches that woman in the wrong way."

The room went quiet again. Dead quiet.

Axel stepped forward, each boot tapping like a warning bell.

"I said it once, and I'll say it again—no women. No children. That line stays."

He looked down at Rosita with a tired glance.

"She tried to kill me… so yeah, it's okay to kill her. But no torture. No humiliation. No stupid sexual actions. You do that," he raised a finger slowly, "and I'll cut your head off and make soup with your spine."

The men shifted uncomfortably. Some looked away. Others nodded.

Then Axel turned to Negan.

"You understand, right?"

Negan gave a small smirk, nodding.

"Hell, I put that law down before you even got here, kid," he said with a shrug. "But yeah, I get it. You ain't sayin' it for me. You're sayin' it for the other dumbasses in the room."

Axel said nothing more. He turned and walked out again.

The room remained quiet. Rosita coughed and leaned against the wall, dazed.

Negan ran a hand down his face, muttering to himself.

"Well, shit…"

Then he looked at his people.

"You heard him. She's not a guest. But she ain't a toy either. Anybody who thinks different—better run fast and far."

He grabbed Lucille and leaned her on his shoulder.

"Because that kid out there? He doesn't bluff. And me? I'm tired of mopping up your bloody mistakes."

The silence in the room wasn't fear.

It was respect.

And the weight of knowing that the war wasn't just with Rick anymore.

It was with whatever darkness Axel brought—and whoever was brave enough to walk behind him.

....

The hallway was dim and quiet as Axel walked, his long coat brushing his ankles, the faint scent of smoke lingering behind him. Beside him walked Silas—silent, sharp, eyes scanning everything like a hawk. Both of them clean now. No blood. No smell of death.

They had washed off the massacre.

But not the war.

Axel didn't speak. He didn't need to. Silas followed like a shadow, his damp hair slicked back, the military knife strapped to his thigh once again.

When they reached Negan's room, the door was slightly ajar.

Inside, Rosita sat in a chair, hands and feet tied with rope. Her face was bruised but defiant. She had that same fire in her eyes—the one Axel remembered seeing in soldiers before the breaking point.

She didn't look away when Axel stepped in.

Didn't flinch.

Didn't bow.

Good, he thought. That made it more interesting.

Negan stood to the side, arms crossed, Lucille leaning on the wall. "She hasn't said much," he muttered. "Tried to bite one of the guys earlier. You sure you don't want me to loosen her up a little?"

Axel shook his head. "Leave us."

Negan raised a brow, but then nodded. "Alright, your show."

He walked out, whistling under his breath.

Now it was just Axel, Silas, and Rosita.

Axel pulled a chair, sat in front of her, resting one leg over the other. His eyes locked onto hers—not cruel, not gentle. Just endless. Empty.

"You tried to have me killed," he said flatly.

Rosita didn't answer.

"You came here thinking you could end this without war. That Rick's words—his promises—would hold weight."

Still no response. Just that glare. That sharp edge of belief.

"You believe in him," Axel continued. "The same way a drowning man believes in the surface. Like if you just hold on long enough, fight hard enough, Rick will pull you out."

He leaned in just a little closer, voice lowering.

"I've seen that kind of faith before. Do you know what it looks like when it breaks?"

Rosita's jaw clenched.

Axel smiled, not with joy—just with understanding.

"It's not the pain that breaks you. It's the silence. When the man you believe in never comes. When the war doesn't go your way. When you bleed and scream and nobody answers."

He stood and walked slowly behind her, placing a hand lightly on her shoulder—not violent, not cruel, but heavy with control.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Rosita. But I will show you something worse."

He circled back around to face her.

"I will make you see that Rick Grimes… is just a man. A man who bleeds. Who breaks. And who will lose this war."

Rosita's eyes burned, but there was fear there now—thin, flickering, trying not to grow.

Axel turned to Silas. "Untie her arms. Let her walk."

Silas hesitated only for a second, then obeyed.

Axel lit a cigarette.

"She'll eat. Rest. Talk. She's not a prisoner. She's a mirror."

He blew out a long breath of smoke.

"And soon… she'll see the cracks."

Because Axel didn't want to hurt her.

He wanted her to lose faith. Piece by piece. Until Rick's name meant nothing at all.

.

.

.

.

You can contact me through my official page on the following Accounts:

telegram:

miraclenarrator

tiktok:

miracle_narrator

instagram:

miracle_narrator