“You still have that Polaroid, Tom?” Cas asks.
“Sure do.” Tom bends to rummage through a drawer, then hands Cas the camera.“If you want, you can use that room over there … it’s empty.” He nods toward a side door on the left.“Take your time.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
I follow Cas into a small meeting room that smells faintly of ink and cardboard boxes. A long table sits in the middle, surrounded by mismatched chairs. A projector hangs crookedly from the ceiling.
Cas hesitates, voice low.“Do you want me to call for a female officer?”
I shake my head, clearing my throat.“I trust you.”
He swallows hard, nodding.“I’ve only seen the bruises on your face and neck, Penny, but… if there are others…”
Dread fills me. I never wanted Cas to see this.“I have some on my back and ribs,” I say quietly, voice cracking.“Let’s just get it over with.”
My fingers tremble as I unbutton my blouse and slip off my camisole. The air feels cold against my skin. I stare at the floor, standing there in my bra and jeans, feeling small and exposed.
Cas draws in a sharp breath. When I look up, his eyes are locked on the bruises along my ribs, the dark fingerprints, the marks that tell the story I never wanted to tell. His jaw tightens, fury simmering just below the surface.
He lifts the camera, the click breaking the silence and making me tense. The photo slides out slowly. He sets it on the table, then looks back at me, anger shifting into something fiercer, steadier. Not pity. Determination.
“He’s never touching you again,” he says, voice low and rough, and the promise in it makes me shiver.
I swallow hard.“I have some on my back too,” I whisper.
Cas nods and steps closer as I turn around, waiting for the next click so that I can cover up again, but instead I feel warmth surround me, his nearness, his scent of pine and soap grounding me. Then a single, gentle touch: his fingertip tracing the bruises on my shoulders, one by one, slowly, down the curve of my spine.
“Sunset…” His voice cracks close to my ear.“I’m so sorry he did this to you.”
Tears sting my eyes. It’s the way he touches me… careful, reverent, like I might break if he’s not gentle enough. My throat tightens too much to speak.
“You’re so strong,” Cas murmurs, his touch lingering a second longer on the bruise Mark’s shoe left on my side before he steps back. I hold my breath as the click of the camera fills the silence again.
“I don’t feel strong,” I whisper.
“You got out. You took control. That’s not just strong, Sunset. That’s a true fighter.”
I wipe my tears away and pull my blouse back on, hands still shaking. I turn back to him, his eyes wild and unreadable, like a storm contained behind a calm surface.
“My face now?” My voice cracks.
Cas takes two steps forward. He slowly wipes my tears away with his thumb, his eyes locked on mine.“He’ll never lay a hand on you again.”
More tears fall. He wipes those away too, then steps back, lifts the camera, and takes the final shot.
The hum of the picture rolling out is the only sound in the room as we stare at each other.
I can’t name what I feel… anger at Mark for what he’s done to me, fear of what might come next, shame that Cas has seen the evidence of my weakness. And somewhere deep beneath it all, anger at myself … for ever letting a man like Mark make me believe I deserved it.
We step back into the hallway. I pull my jacket around me while Cas hands the photos to Tom.
“Here they are,” Cas says quietly.
Tom takes them without looking at them and puts them in a file, his expression softening further.“Of course.” He slides a few papers across the counter.“You’ll need to fill these out. Here’s a pen.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, sitting down to write. My hand trembles slightly with every stroke of the pen.
Mark will know now, I think. He’ll know I’m in Wyoming. The thought sends a chill through me.
