Marco looks dazed. Like he’s waking from a dream. His gaze shifts between René and me, confusion flickering across his features.
While I’m stuck on the floor, sucking in frantic gulps of air, everyone stands around in silence. Even Jason looks concerned—not for me, obviously, but for whatever the hell just happened here.
“We’re going back,” Marco snaps suddenly.
Nobody questions it, even though we’re supposed to be out here all day. He turns and stalks toward the transport van, shoulders rigid. The guards exchange glances before nodding us along.
Cas yanks me to my feet, and, at the back of the line, we trudge after the others. He tries to make me take his arm, but I push him away.
“I’m fine,” I grunt.
But I’m not. I’m not fine.
Because Marco just drowned me and then strangled me half to death.
Marco.He did this. He did this to me.
I touch my throat. Pain shoots through the tender flesh.
My legs wobble. I sink back down to the ground. Cas passes me his water bottle without a word. The guards behind us must have some sympathy because they don’t shout at us to keep moving.
“I’m going to kill him,” I croak. “I’m going to fucking kill him. He just… After… After…”
I trail off. Cas nods. He isn’t going to make me say it.
And I love him for it.
Cas sinks to my level. “Robin, listen to me.” His voice turns deadly serious. He grips both my arms, shakes me. “You kill him. If it comes down to it, you fucking kill him. You hear me? Promise me.”
“I… I promise,” I whisper. I want to believe it. So badly. “I promise, Cas. Of course I will. I’ll kill that bastard.”
Cas slaps my back. “Good man.”
He drags me up once again and pushes me forward.
For the thousandth time, I thank my lucky stars I have Cas.
The ride back feels different. Wrong. Everyone speaks in hushed whispers, glancing at me when they think I’m not looking. Jason keeps his mouth shut for once.
I press my forehead against the cool window and watch the wasteland blur past. The other times we’ve made this trip, I tried to memorize every detail—the crumbling overpass, the cluster of dead trees, the rusted-out truck that marks the halfway point. Planning escape routes that would never work. Cataloging landmarks I might never see again.
Now I’m too fucking tired to care.
My throat throbs with each swallow. My shoulder aches where I hit the ground. The taste of stream water still coats my tongue, metallic and foul.
Cas keeps shooting me worried looks. I ignore them all.
When we finally reach the dungeon, I shuffle along with the others, hoping I can slip away to my bunk after my shower. Just need to lie down. Just need to close my eyes and pretend this day never happened.
Marco has the decency to disappear. Fucked back off to his palace, I guess.
Good riddance.
The hot water hits my bruised body like salvation. I stand under the spray longer than usual, letting it wash the mud from my hair, the tasteof panic from my mouth. One by one, the others finish and file out. Conversations fade. Footsteps echo down the corridor.
Cas lingers near the entrance, clearly wanting to say something. But he knows me well enough to give me space when I need it. Eventually, even he leaves.
I close my eyes and tilt my face toward the water. The shower room falls silent except for the steady drumming of spray against tile.
