Chapter 76 – Not A Monster

Margot’s POV

The silence beyond the bathroom door was eerie, suffocating to stand in. Only the sound of my own sobs filled the space, each one weaker than the last, until they were just quiet hiccups of breath after a while.

I didn’t know how long I had been crouched on the cold tile floor, knees tucked against my chest, palms pressed to my stinging face, as my mind raced to understand the panic attack I had unwillingly endured. Then I heard him press against the door.

“Bella…”

The voice was softer than I’d ever heard it. Not gentle, not exactly, but… softer than usual. It was hard to explain, like he was struggling to say the right thing, like he was at least trying.

“Come on, Bella. It’s going to be fine. I’m not mad. We’ll talk it out, alright?” The words that met my ears didn’t match the same man that I’d learned this entire time to fear. That same man was the one who barked orders, snapped and shoved and glared at me for hours on end. But this one actually sounded like he cared, like he didn’t know what the hell to do with me crying in a locked room, like he almost didn’t like it one single bit.

“I get it now,” he went on, his voice still quiet but rougher with something else – was it nerves, maybe? “You’ve never done anything like this before, right? So I just moved on you a little too fast. I shouldn’t have…” A pause. “Just come out, I won’t bite.”

I sat frozen on the floor, clinging to tissue, my hands shaking as I blew my nose and tossed the crumpled wad aside. I forced myself up, legs trembling beneath me, and made it to the sink.

I twisted the faucet on, cupping cold water into my palms and splashing it across my face again and again, until the sting numbed and the heat faded from my bruised and flushed cheeks.

I lifted my gaze to the mirror.

What I saw made my stomach hurt. Red, swollen eyes. Blotchy skin. My decorative bruise along the side of my cheek that had faded to something sickly yellow and orange. My bottom lip looked like it had been chewed on for hours too, reminding me of the second passionate kiss I had just shared with a dangerous criminal.

But worst of all…

I looked completely helpless. Broken. Like the kind of girl who would fall for the first man to show her affection inside of a cage.

I wanted to believe this wasn’t what it looked like, that I wasn’t just some pathetic project girl who’d already given her heart to a criminal. But the truth? The truth stared back at me through the mirror.

I was in too deep already with no way out.

“Just come out, let’s talk,” Coban called again, still softer, but pitched higher now, like his patience was beginning to run thin.

There was only so much he would try.

But I still didn’t answer, didn’t trust my voice to speak back to him.

“Bella?!” The bang on the door shot through the silence like a bullet, and I jumped violently, heart crashing against my ribs like it was trying to escape me altogether.

It was as though he had just woken me up, although I had heard him this entire time.

I hesitated. My hand hovered near the lock, trembling.

What was I doing?

Would he stick to his word, or was he willing me to come out to yell at me for how I had acted?

I was afraid of how unpredictable he was, but I was more afraid of how I felt for him, afraid of everything he had started between us.

And yet, somehow… my fingers reached forward as I twisted the lock.

Click!

Before I could even back away, the door was thrown open. Fast. Hard.

Coban stood there, shirtless still, breathing like he’d just sprinted a mile.

But his face was what got me…

His face stopped me cold.

There was stress there. Concern. Real concern.

Like I had just scared him?

“What the fuck happened?” he breathed, looking me over like I was some fragile piece of glass he’d accidentally shattered. His eyes locked on my tear-streaked face, then traveled down to my arms, my vest, the faint bruise on my cheek.

I didn’t know what to say. My mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.

But before I could speak, my bottom lip trembled.

And that was all it took.

He pulled me in to him, hard and fast, as his arms wrapped around me like a net catching something free-falling.

He didn’t touch anywhere inappropriate. Didn’t take another kiss from me. He just held me securely this time, like I was something worth holding to him.

“It’s going to be alright,” he murmured, his voice muffled against my temple as he rocked me slowly. “Just calm down, will you? Just… fucking breathe. I’m not a monster,” he stated in a whisper, as my heart clenched at the last part.

I knew he wasn’t a complete monster and yet, I had made him think that’s what the problem was here. I desperately wanted to tell him that it was me, and not him.

I’m the one that couldn’t handle my own feelings.

But I grew distracted again as his large hand rubbed slow, wide circles over my back, up and down, reassuring.

And I didn’t want to pull away. I couldn’t.

It was the comfort I didn’t want to need, from the last person I should be craving it from.

But I clung to him anyway.

After a while, he exhaled a long breath and whispered, “Come on. Let’s lay down. No more funny business today, alright?”

I nodded, feeling him lead me gently back toward the bed like he wasn’t the same man who’d just had his mouth on my chest, his hands exploring my body like it belonged to him.

But he didn’t push it again.

He just climbed in beside me, tugged the thin blanket up over us both, and let me curl up against him as though the past hour had never even happened, as though he understood me.

His body radiated warmth, his arm wrapped loosely around my waist, his chin settling near the top of my head. My eyes fluttered shut, though I wasn’t tired. Not really.

Time didn’t exist anymore, not in this cell, not in this place, not in this confusing, breathless limbo I’d somehow fallen into with him.

He didn’t speak again.

Neither did I.

We just laid there, wrapped in heat and silence, while my mind screamed louder than it had all week.

This wasn’t right. None of this was right.

But when his fingers drifted to tangle lazily in my hair, and his breath slowed to something steadier… I allowed myself to believe, just for a moment, that maybe he wasn’t just in this to use me.

Maybe he really did want me.

Not as a pawn. Not as a thing to conquer.

But me.