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She doesn't.

She survived Walter House.

Survived Masen.

Survived Fiona.

Survived me.

She'll survive this.

She has to.

I stand, and Cas follows.

“Let's go,” I say.

“One thing first,” Cas says.

“What?”

He gestures to my pockets. “The lips. You need to ditch them before we get to the hospital.”

I reach into my pockets and pull them out.

forty-three sets of lips.

My trophies.

My art.

“No,” I say. “These go in my treasure jar. I earned them.”

Cas looks at me for a long moment, then shakes his head.

“I can’t take you seriously when you call it that!”

“Fuck you.”

We head out to the SUV where Gauge's been waiting.

“Hospital,” I order. “Somerset General.”

“About damn time,” Ken mutters from the passenger seat, but he's smiling.

As we drive, I pull out my phone.

Seventeen missed calls.

And one text from Carnage-fucking-De Santis.

She's asking for you. Get your ass here or I’ll take your place.

Relief crashes over me so violently I almost can't breathe.

She's asking for me.

And that cunt is with my girl. If he tries anything with her, I’ll fucking slaughter the cunt where he stands.