Chapter 102 Margot’s POV

“Walk in front of me.”

His voice was flat, steady, leaving no room for hesitation.

My legs shifted automatically as I stood. I kept my eyes on the floor, ignoring the press of stares that still fell on us as we headed for the exit.

I didn’t have to think about where to go. My body turned of its own accord the second we got outside of the cafeteria, pivoting toward the gym corridor.

Coban’s routine had etched itself into my memory by now.

He always went to meet Leo after breakfast for their workout. Always. Which meant I got to see Cara for some much needed friendship therapy… especially today!

I needed that break from him. Needed to see her face, even for a second, just to remind myself that I wasn’t completely drowning in this place on my own…

But I didn’t even make it two full steps before a rough hand clamped around my wrist to stop me.

The grip was solid, unyielding, pulling me back with a jolt that nearly stole my balance as I gasped at it.

“No, this way,” he said bluntly.

My brows knitted tight, heart skipping. “W-What? Why?!” Panic spiked sharp in my chest, my voice breaking.

Didn’t he understand? I had to see my friend after what he did.

I had to unload, to reset. Cara was the only thing keeping me sane, the only person I could cling to in here.

“Because I said so, Bella.” He spoke with no patience.

No explanation.

Just a hard yank that sent me stumbling forward as he led me down a completely different corridor. My wrist throbbed under the force of his hand, but worse was the twist in my stomach at the realization that whatever I thought I could predict about Coban Santorelli, I couldn’t.

These halls here were unfamiliar. Stark. A little colder, a little quieter than the others.

The sound of our footsteps seemed too loud as he dragged me through one corner, then another.

Where the hell was he taking me now?

My breaths quickened, but I bit down on the questions crowding my throat.

Pushing him on it right now, demanding answers, would only earn me trouble.

But still, my mind spun anyway, painting possibilities, most of them dark…

Finally, we stopped in front of a white, sealed door. Two guards flanked it, a man and a woman. Their uniforms looked sharper somehow, the way their posture held – like they were stationed here for something important.

“Santorelli?” the woman spoke first, her eyes flicking immediately to him.

She had that tone – the clipped, professional sort – but I didn’t miss how her gaze darted past him, trying to catch sight of me.

Coban shifted slightly, as though blocking me with the bulk of his body. “She needs medical.” His voice was casual, almost bored.

My breath caught.

Medical?!

The female guard leaned just far enough to glimpse me from behind him, and her brows arched.

“What did you do?” the male asked next, his suspicion barbed and heavy.

Coban’s hand tightened around my wrist. His silence was dangerous, simmering just below a boil. I braced myself for him to snap, to say something threatening.

But before he could, the female guard sighed. “Well, at least she’s still walking, right? We’ve had much worse than this, haven’t we, Jason?” She threw her partner a look, bored, almost dismissive, before gesturing lazily at the door. “Let them through.”

Jason’s mouth twisted, but he lifted the small radio on his vest and spoke into it. “Open.”

A buzz echoed, sharp and mechanical.

Both guards stepped aside, and without wasting a second, Coban pulled me in. He moved quick, not wanting to linger, to give them another chance to press.

The door shut behind us with a heavy thud that sent a chill down my spine.

The room was… different. Quiet. Sterile. Leather seats lined one wall, a desk sat unattended, and everything smelled faintly of antiseptic.

Coban gave my wrist one last squeeze before releasing it. “Sit.”

I didn’t argue. I sank into one of the seats, eyes flicking everywhere, nerves buzzing.

He strode to the desk and pressed some kind of buzzer, the sound sharp and jarring to alert whoever was behind the next doors to our presence.

I blinked, confusion twisting through me.

Medical?

He’d brought me to medical?

To get something for the pain in my throat?

For a moment – just a little moment – I felt warmth stir in my chest.

The kind that whispered maybe he actually cared about me…

But then reality cut through just as fast. My throat ached because of him.

He wasn’t fixing me,

He was fixing the damage he’d caused.

Probably sick of the stares and questioning above anything else….

Still, my stomach knotted when the door on the far side opened.

A man in a white lab–style coat stepped out, gloves already snapped over his hands. His smile flickered when his eyes landed on Coban.

“Ah! Mr. Santorelli!” His voice hummed with forced cheer, but I caught the flicker of nerves in his widened eyes. “Been marked up again?”

Coban shook his head once.

“It’s the girl.” His tone was even. “You need to take a look at the marks on her neck, give her something for the pain.” He pretty much told the man how to do his job.

Then his head turned back, his hand flicking toward me in a wordless motion.

So, I forced myself up.

The man’s gaze softened when he looked at me. Not pity, not exactly, but something close. He gestured gently toward the open door.

“Come in and sit.”

I hesitated, before Coban demanded, “I’m coming with her.” To which the doctor only sighed.

I was somewhat relieved, not wanting to be alone with the man anyway, especially since these sort of settings always made me nauseous…

I hated hospital rooms….

The paper on the table crinkled under me as my hands twisted together in my lap as the doctor leaned close, tilting my chin up with gloved fingers.

“Mm, ouch!” he murmured, eyes narrowing as he examined the bruises wrapping around my throat. “Tender?”

I swallowed, the ache burning. “Yes,” I whispered.

He nodded, then straightened. “You’ll need something for the inflammation and for the pain. Luckily, nothing’s broke. No fractures if you still have full motion, but this could have been worse.” He shot a glance at Coban, warningly knowing he had done this.

Coban surprisingly said nothing, only leaned back against the wall, arms still crossed as he admitted defeat this time…

The doctor turned back to me. “I have numbing cream for the bruises,” he said, already moving to a drawer. “And I can only give you two Ibuprofen pills to take right now, and another two to take back to your cell as this is a prison,” he reminded, and I nodded, grateful for anything.

“Come back each day and I’ll be happy to give you more if needed,” he added, as I thanked him, taking the stuff from his hands.

That wasn’t all bad, before…

“I want it covered!”