Chapter 48 – My Soul

Margot’s POV

The walk back from dinner was nothing exciting. Too quiet. Coban hadn’t said more than three words since we left the laundry room earlier, and honestly, I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be grateful for the silence… or scared of it.

He didn’t seem annoyed at all, not like this morning anyway, but with him, that didn’t mean much. His moods were like black ice – silent and lingering even if you couldn’t quite see it.

But at least I was full. That was something. Pizza night had been worth the wait, worth the anxiety of wondering whether we’d even make it to dinner. Greasy, cheesy slices – not great, not even that hot by the time we sat down – but still, a gift in this place. Something to feel human over. A small shred of normalcy in the midst of… whatever the hell this project actually was.

I couldn’t wrap my head around its purpose yet… We hadn’t seen Leo or Cara at dinner either. Not once. A part of me wondered if Coban noticed too, but if he did, he didn’t say.

I thought about Cara constantly through every bite, through every long stretch of silence. She probably thought I was dead – or worse off. After the way Coban had dragged me back into our room earlier, fresh out of solitary and radiating fury, she must’ve assumed he’d snapped and probably killed me! Honestly, I thought he might’ve too…

But I wasn’t dead. Wasn’t even hurt, actually. Well, not really. Shaken? Humiliated? Sure. But no bruises. No belt. No blow to the face.

That part still baffled me the most… With my father, there’d never been restraint. If he was mad, you’d wear it on your skin for a week like I had done with my face. Rage for him was physical. Crude, predictable. But Coban?

Coban’s anger was different from what I’d ever experienced before. It was intelligent. Methodical. He didn’t need fists or weapons. Just a look, a question, a few carefully chosen words and I’d be crawling, desperate to fix whatever I’d done wrong. His temper was a chess match. And I was still learning how to play the damn game!

Still, ever since that storm of a morning, something in him had shifted. Not softer, not really… but something close to it. I wouldn’t call it warmth, but maybe tolerance? He’d kept to himself during dinner, hadn’t barked at me once, and even let me take a third slice from his tray. A whole third slice.

If that wasn’t progress, then I didn’t know what was.

I’d longed to tell Cara everything. To break it down, to confess what he’d said, how scared I’d been… and the part I couldn’t stop replaying in my head – the part that would make me lose sleep:

The kiss. On my neck, too.

A warning? A threat? Or… something else entirely?

I didn’t know. And I hated not knowing.

By the time we got back to the cell, the adrenaline had long since burned out. My limbs felt heavy, my stomach blissfully full, and I was ready to curl up and escape into my book for a while before lights out… if he’d let me?

“Could I maybe read some more?” I tried, as Coban shut the door behind us and we heard it lock shut.

I didn’t miss the sound. None of us did. Every girl here knew that sound by heart. It meant: no help was coming for the entire night.

He stretched his neck once, slow and deliberate, and then said, “Lights out will be soon. You’ve got about thirty minutes if you want to read more of it.”

I perked up immediately, nodding. “Yeah. Ok. I’d like that, thank you,” I said, rushing to grab it.

But then his voice dropped again. That slow, deliberate tone he used when he was about to pivot the mood. I froze halfway to the desk.

“I don’t think you’ve behaved well today,” he hummed.

My hand hovered over the book.

I turned, slowly, cautiously, and found him standing dead still – arms folded across his chest, legs apart like some ancient warrior carved in stone. His posture alone screamed authority. And warning.

My throat dried.

“Do you think you’ve behaved?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, watching me.

I chewed on my bottom lip. “I… well… I shouldn’t have left the room a total mess this morning,” I offered, hoping it was a good starting point.

“No,” he cut me off flatly, “you shouldn’t have left the room – full stop.”

I nodded too quickly. “Yes, you’re right,” I said, scrambling to agree. “But I… I tried to fix things. I said sorry. I- I didn’t mean to upset you-”

“You didn’t mean to,” he repeated, voice like steel, “but you did.”

I swallowed hard. “I know. I really do know. I was scared, and I panicked, and—”

He took a step closer.

“So do you think you behaved well enough to sleep on the bed tonight?”

And just like that, I stilled.

Oh.

So that’s what this was?

The bed punishment all over again.

Having to earn my rights around here…

I blinked at him, lips parting slightly as I hesitated. It was a trap. I knew it. Say yes, and I sounded entitled. Say no, and I might be condemning myself to a cold, sleepless floor.

“Well… uh… no?” I squeaked out.

It came out more like a question.

But it made him smirk.

“Glad we can agree,” he said simply.

Then, as if it were nothing at all, he turned his back to me and began stripping out of his shirt, tossing it into the hamper. My breath hitched the second I caught sight of his bare back – dark purples and sickly yellows blooming across his ribs and down the side of his abdomen – a long rectangular white dressing placed up his side.

Bruises. So many bruises.

I looked away fast. Embarrassed. Or maybe ashamed that I’d forgotten how much the fight had taken from me yesterday.

He didn’t mention the bruises. Of course he didn’t.

But I could feel the pride in the way he moved. Like they didn’t matter. Like he wasn’t in pain at all.

But he must have been… I knew it…

And then I watched him move.

Then I saw it.

In his hand.

My blanket.

The fluffy one I’d folded and placed neatly on the bed when I had cleaned up earlier. A silent offering. An olive branch, maybe. Or just… something? I didn’t know?

He held it up, examining it.

“A peace offering too, I see?” he asked, voice slick with amusement.

“Yeah, uh, you can have that,” I muttered quickly, trying not to sound like I cared much for the item.

But of course I did.

He looked smug as hell. “Thank you. I will.”

And then, just to drive the knife in further, he collapsed back onto the bed like a king accepting tribute. His head hit the pillow, and he let out a contented sigh as he adjusted himself, fully stretched out with my blanket now tucked beneath his arm.

What. An. Ass!

Now I didn’t even have that for the floor.

I stood there like a fool, cold and annoyed and trying not to let it show. What else was he going to take from me? What was left to give?

But deep down… I knew the answer.

My soul.

And I didn’t know how long I had before he took that too.