She walked to the door, opened it, and stood there, door partially open, hand on the handle, talking while her back was to me.

“While you were unconscious I was talking to people, catching up on the deals Citrine struck,” Amy said. “You’re getting out soon. Supplies should be okay, I don’t know about the escalated supply I was pushing for, because they don’t trust me.”

“Makes sense,” I said.

“They say the doctor drugging you was a miscommunication, but you and I know that isn’t true. It was about power. They said the prison guard attack wasn’t planned and Marquis, Chris and I believe them. Parahumans don’t count and can’t count in their perspective. Kind of like how I’m not supposed to exist or count in your reality.”

Citrine had been saying something like that when I left the room with the others. Well, without the self-pitying bullshit.

“They wanted to make you squirm, but once they heard about you being hurt, they were pretty satisfied with the fact you bled for them and kept your cool. I guess when you do things they count for something.”

She hauled the door the rest of the way open, and stepped out into the hallway, looking this way and that.

“Dot—” I started.

The critter leaped to the doorframe. I supposed there were no guards outside. I’d prepared to say something shorter, more perfunctory, but I found myself mentally stumbling. My realization I could say something more profound tripped over the dizzying relief that Amy was finally fucking off, that the pressure of the room had been relieved, and the adrenaline of being so close to an angry, unhinged Amy.

“Look after her. Keep her on track. If she makes what she and I call mistakes, it hurts everyone’s trust in her, and she can’t help your family. It needs to start with helping Hunter. Nobody’s going to let that go.”

Dot’s ears moved up, down, up, and her tail swished, before she leaped away.

Yeah.

My feet were numb from now hard I’d clenched my legs to my chest, my arm hurt, my hand throbbed, while my head pounded.

My boots were on the floor, and I pulled them on. I eased my way to the ground, looked over the cot and surrounding area, and then stepped out into the hallway.

Was this a win? A loss? Had I changed anything?

The guards were posted at the end of the hall. They waited as I walked on a foot that was still partially asleep, sore and spooked.

They reached for my arm and I flinched. They took it anyway, then guided me, strongarming me down one hallway, then the next.

Through the maze, deeper into the complex, I was sure, yet it felt like I was on my way out. Away from the bullheaded monster. Into light and a place I could breathe again.