Chapter 128 Margot’s POV
Showering had been a problem since I had to remove the bandage wrapped around my neck for the first time in hours. The sight underneath was hellish – surpassing what I had even expected to see. It looked as though I’d been held captive and tortured somewhere. The entirety of my throat seemed to be coated in the marks now, a canvas of spreading colors that makeup couldn’t even begin to cover.
I tried my best to rewrap it after I’d washed, but it wasn’t as good a job as what the doctor had done – but at least it was hidden from curious eyes for at least another day. It would have to do. Stepping out, the air outside the cell felt colder somehow, sharp against my skin as opposed to the heatwave we had seemed to be getting in previous days. But maybe it wasn’t the air at all – maybe it was just my nerves after everything, the weight of yesterday still heavy on me and the fear of not knowing what was yet to come was enough to make the hairs on my arms stand. Coban’s hand brushed against the small of my back, guiding me forward with that quiet authority he always carried.
“We’ll head to the doctor after breakfast,” he muttered, his tone matter-of-fact. “You need more pain meds for your neck.”
I reached up instinctively, fingertips grazing the edge of the bandage I had wrapped tight against my own throat. “What about Sarah?” The words slipped out before I could stop them. “Can’t you… can’t you ask someone how she is now? Before we eat?”
My eyes darted over the crowd of uniforms and guards as we walked by, making our way to the canteen, as I continued to search for a familiar face who had helped to deal with Sarah yesterday… Someone who’d been there, someone who’d seen what I had. But none of them matched. Different guards. A new rotation after the night shift. Switched over like clockwork.
“Damn it,” I whispered under my breath, my heart dropping lower with each step.
“I’ll be able to find out soon, be patient Bella…” Coban’s voice cut in, low and steady. He didn’t give much away, didn’t even look at me as he said it. But I could feel the edge in his tone, something sharp hiding underneath.
I sighed, frustration prickling through my veins. Soon wasn’t good enough. Not when every second without knowing felt like torture.
What if Sarah was…
No, I couldn’t finish that thought. The silence stretched until I blurted, “Are we eating with Cara and Leo today?” My voice was hopeful, desperate even, clinging to the idea of some normalcy and distraction.
But Coban’s sigh came heavy again, right before we reached the canteen doors. “No,” he said firmly. “This is our normal group.”
Something about the way he said it – flat, almost stressed – made me pause. Coban always sounded tenser when we left the cell, like the world out here demanded more of him. Like he couldn’t afford to slip up, not even for a second. The doors swung open, and the hum of the canteen spilled over us. Voices, clattering trays, the scrape of chairs. The usual crap! My stomach lurched. The smell of eggs and grease filled the air, but all I could picture was Sarah on that tile floor, pale and broken.
All because of him… Newman…
My eyes hovered toward the spot he had been fighting in, trying to piece together what had happened and why he had left Sarah the way he did, why he had come in here so pissed off?
“I don’t think I can stomach anything today,” I admitted quietly, dragging my feet as the crowd shuffled forward.
Coban stopped dead, turning to look at me. His dark eyes pinned me in place, unrelenting. “Can you at least try, Bella?” His tone wasn’t cruel, but it left no room for argument. “I have a plan, so let’s just stick to my schedule and make things easier today, hm?”
The way he hummed expectantly, waiting for my answer, made me fold instantly.
I nodded fast. “Sure! Sorry, I’m being a brat, I know… I’m just worried.”
His jaw ticked, but he gave a short nod in return before guiding me to the trays. He loaded them up himself – toast, scrambled egg, bacon – not bothering to ask me what I wanted today. He moved quick, efficient, like a man on a mission. Then, without a word, he added a yogurt to each tray and a little fruit pot on mine, having seen me eat them before.
The sight of it almost broke me. He always picked up on little things. Remembered everything…
We carried our trays to the usual table, one that now seemed to repel everyone else in the room and remained empty only for us. No one sat too close either. Eyes flicked our way, sure, but no one dared to stare too long or approach. Coban wasted no time, digging into his food with the kind of focus that made it clear he needed the fuel for the day ahead. I, on the other hand, pushed my eggs around for a moment before giving in to the fruit. The grapes were sweet, bursting between my teeth, the strawberries even sweeter and slowly, with each bite, I felt a flicker of life return to me. But my mind wouldn’t stop.
“I wonder what the new challenges will be,” I mused aloud, half to myself as I attempted to focus on something else – something different.
Coban’s gaze flicked across to me as he stuffed a piece of bacon in his mouth next – eyes alert but not saying a word on the matter. My voice wobbled, unsure as I went on, “Call me an idiot, but I thought this was as good as it gets? Moving in with you guys, learning to live with you, helping you regain some normalcy? Sticking to the routines…”
A small, nervous laugh escaped me at my own stupidity. Of course they’d want to shake things up. To stir the pot. To remind us who was in charge in all of this.
“But I guess they have to test you guys somehow, right? See who’s worth being let out of this place and who’s not?” I whispered, lowering my voice. My eyes drifted across the room, catching sight of how quickly inmates ate, how some girls chatted to one another and how some sat silent and cautious… Everyone had heard the announcement. Everyone was bracing for what was next. Including me. I chewed on a strawberry, my chest heavy. “I just hope…” My voice faltered before I finished the thought – choosing not to say it aloud.
‘I just hope you stay on the side they call good, Coban…’
Because if they wanted to see the real him, the darker parts of him – the parts I’d already glimpsed at myself – I wasn’t sure if even I could help get him out of here. But I wanted to believe that he deserved it…