Chapter 57 – Storm

Margot’s POV

The cafeteria buzzed the way it always did around dinner time—low voices, the clatter of metal trays, the occasional bark of a guard somewhere in the background.

But to me, with the underlying tension still lingering between myself and Coban, it all felt ten times louder now. Too loud. Too crowded. Too suffocating.

But I had to eat. My grumbling stomach wouldn’t let me forget it.

Coban walked ahead of me like a freight train, never slowing his pace as we rounded the corner into the food line.

My steps were smaller, slower, as I tried to keep up without brushing too close to anyone, knowing that it would annoy both them and him.

I could feel eyes on us already. People always seemed to be staring at Coban, quick to look away if they were caught, but now, they were staring at me too.

I tugged down the hem of my sweatshirt instinctively, though it was already oversized—offering full coverage unlike my earlier mishap.

The front of the food line stretched out before us—a queue of colourful uniforms and guarded expressions.

But Coban didn’t stop at the end; he never did.

He strode straight past them all, right up to the front.

Like he owned the place. Like everyone else simply didn’t exist in here.

My heart leapt into my throat.

I slowed behind him, suddenly hyper-aware of how many girls were watching me. Their eyes narrowed. Lips curled in disgust.

One of them—mint-green, tall, sharp-faced, and smirking—scoffed audibly as we passed. “Wow,” she muttered under her breath, just loud enough for everyone to hear, “some of us still have patience, unlike the trailer park girl that just showed up.”

It was like she struck a match.

Coban’s shoulders tensed. Then he spun around, eyes immediately locking on her with that lethal stillness that made even seasoned inmates go quiet.

“You got a fucking problem, dumb bitch?!” He snapped, pointing directly at her, the muscles under his short sleeve white tee bulging in threat.

The whole cafeteria hushed by a fraction, hearing Coban speak.

The girl blinked but held her ground, though her bravado dimmed in a heartbeat at being confronted directly.

Her assigned inmate—another tall but lean guy, with his head wrapped in a black bandana and his chest bare—pushed himself off the wall behind her, trying to keep it light.

“Come on, Santorelli,” he said with a flick of his wrist, “you do always just skip the line? She’s not exactly wrong, man.”

Wrong move.

I almost wished neither of them had spoke at all.

Coban’s head tilted like a predator sighting movement in the grass.

“Who the fuck even are you, kid?” he barked mockingly, causing a few nearby inmates to snigger, before he began squaring up so fast I barely had time to register the shift in him.

It was like he grew taller in front of me, his chest puffing out, the veins in his neck visible now. He stalked forward until he was nose to nose with the younger guy, whose smirk had completely vanished.

“Whoa, whoa—Santo, chill!” Another inmate jumped between them, taller and broader, hands up in a half-hearted truce. “He didn’t mean anything by it. He’s new, yeah? Doesn’t know the ropes yet!”

“The ropes are,” Coban hissed, his voice low and venomous, “if I want to cut in front of every one of you motherfuckers, then I will. And you’ll do fucking shit about it!”

Then, without warning, Coban shoved the guy in front of him—hard.

The man stumbled backward like he’d been hit by a damn truck, colliding into a rack of metal trays with a crash. I gasped, instinctively backing into the cold steel of the canteen shelf behind me.

But before I could even process what had just happened, something yanked me forward.

“You caused all of this!” a sharp voice hissed in my face.

It was the mint-green girl, the one who’d actually caused all of this.

She was right there, her eyes flaming with rage, fingers clenched in the front of my sweatshirt. “What’s your deal?! Too fat and hungry to wait in line like the rest of us?”

My breath caught in my throat. “I – uh – I’m sorry,” I stammered, voice barely audible. “I just follow whatever he does—”

But she wasn’t listening.

“Stupid little trailer park bitch,” she sneered, “You weren’t so brave on the boat here, were you?!” She finished, before her fist rose and came down hard across my face.

Pain exploded in my cheek, the same cheek that had already been recovering from my father’s hand, as my head whipped to the side, my balance gone with it.

I stumbled, one hand flying up to cover the new pulsing throb as the heat bloomed across my skin.

I couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t even cry.

Just stood there, stunned that she had been bold enough to hit me like she had.

Then—

“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH HER!”

Coban’s voice shattered the air like a lightning bolt. Everything around us stopped. The room falling to a screeching silence under his authority.

Then came the heaviest slap that I didn’t anticipate.

His palm collided with her face in a crack so loud the entire cafeteria flinched at it.

She screamed and crumpled down onto the ground, both hands to her face as she wailed.

Gasps rippled across the room. Some inmates ducked back. Others watched with wide eyes, stunned into silence.

Coban didn’t even look down at her.

He grabbed me by the arm and shoved me gently toward the food line once again.

“Hurry up and pick what you want to eat, I’m bored here!” he snapped, like absolutely nothing had just happened.

Like we hadn’t just thrown the whole place into chaos.

Again, where the hell were the guards?!

They seemed to vanish whenever Coban was most likely breaking the rules!

My legs moved on autopilot. I didn’t even see what I was picking up. A tray was shoved into my hands. My fingers shook too hard to hold it steady as I blinked away the tears building in my eyes.

Behind us, the girl’s sobs echoed across the tile. Someone was helping her up.

I stared down at the tray and tried to blink hard before Coban could see how shaken up I now was.

My cheek was still burning. My pulse still racing.

And yet… for a terrifying second… I wasn’t just scared.

I felt something else, too.

Grateful.

He’d defended me.

Again.

Even if it meant tearing the entire cafeteria apart and hitting one of the other girls…

I swallowed hard, willing my voice to return as I reached for a bottle of water.

My fingers trembled, as Coban packed extra bread, fruit, yogurt and biscuits onto my tray—most likely for himself—before nudging me gently.

“Over there, come on.” He motioned to an empty table, as many of the inmates seemed to be packing up to retire back to their cells by the time we were approaching.

Convenient…