𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫 | 𝘙𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘎𝘳𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴

Not an Option

-Rick's POV-

Beams of sunlight stream down through the gaps of the slatted wood roof, illuminating the large amount of dust swirling around the room. The only sound echoing through the quiet space is the repeated rapping of the Governor, Phillip, drumming his fingers on the surface of the table he and I sit at.

"You wanted to talk," I say shortly, needing to break the period of silence as I am beginning to lose my patience. "About what." I demand impatiently, his drumming starting to really annoy me. Just about everything he does is starting to really fucking annoy me.

It's hard to even look at him and not jump across the table to strangle him knowing what he's done to my people. To Cass. And he sits there, that frustratingly passive expression on his face, looking at me as if I'm the unreasonable one for being irritated.

Phillip's drumming falters as he studies me with his single usable eye, the other tucked away into his black eyepatch. A sudden wave of appreciation for Michonne goes through me as I look back at the one-eyed man.

"So." Phillip finally says, clearing his throat and readjusting slightly in his seat before his gaze meets mine again. "Where is she?" he asks me curiously, his voice dragging with a southern drawl and that eye boring into mine.

Irritation shoots through me but I just tilt my head to the side, squinting slightly at him. Assessing the possessive glint in his eye, the way he stares me down like a piece of meat, his gaze ice-cold. So that's why he's here. To get to Cass.

Not on my watch.

"I don't know who you're talking about," I respond nonchalantly, hoping my false indifference is believable as I shift in my chair, crossing my arms casually across my chest.

"Cassandra. E. Adams. I know you have her at your prison." Phillip says, a twinge of rage flickering through his features. "She's mine, you know." He snaps quickly, his evident bitterness and possessiveness heavy in his tone. I clench my jaw, a sudden feeling of protectiveness flowing through me.

Not any more she's not.

Controlling my expression carefully, I glance back with disinterest. "Oh, Dr. Cass. Yeah, I think she's back at the prison. Helping people. Not that you would understand anything about that." I respond roughly, my jaw tense and my hand clenched tightly on the table. The fact that this monster thinks that she owes him anything, that she's his, is outright ridiculous.

"Ohhhh. 'Cass'. You must know her well." Phillip responds condescendingly, tilting his head to the side, that dark iris hardened with fury. I sigh, pretending like his words aren't setting my skin on fire.

"I thought we were here to discuss peace terms. Not her," I interrupt roughly, pushing back the abrupt and remarkably strong urge to knock his teeth out.

"I have a plan. Peace terms. Woodbury can have the land west of the river marked out on the map and my people at the Prison have the east. No one crosses or trades." I declare, tossing the marked-up map at him.

The thick roll of paper slides loudly across the splintered wooden table, coming to a stop not too far from Phillip's hand. He doesn't so much as twitch a finger to touch the map or even glance at it, still staring me down with his calculated gaze.

I let out a huff of aggravation at his refusal to negotiate as his smile infuriatingly widens across his face. Glaring back at him, my nostrils flare with anger. Why did he invite me here then, if not to negotiate?

The wind howls through the slatted wood walls as we stare each other down. I wait for him to answer. To look at the map, to at least pretend to negotiate. My patience is wearing thin as he remains unmoved, that eye trained on me.