There's a moment where he looks back at Jo with a certain acknowledgment of something only they both know, but his attention is diverted in a split second once he hears Ciri coming their way. What visible exhaustion is swallowed down—the air around him shifting.

He moves towards her immediately. Looks her over to see if she's wounded. A protective instinct flares inside him, already present distrust amplified tenfold by a cold grip, and he steps half between Ciri and Jo without thinking twice.

Ciri does not know the things that have crossed Jo's mind and passed her lips, and he realizes that. Jo does not know, either, that Ciri is—to most—capable of far more destruction than any one Witcher. And he does not, despite the past few hours, yet trust what that knowledge may change and where Jo's razor sharp line between monster and human will sit when it's turned on his daughter.

What secrets this place may reveal about Ciri, he will not wait to find out. Dean is the only one who knows the truth. That's how he wants to keep it. He takes Ciri's arm, already quietly pulling her to his side. He's gentle with her, but the lines of his shoulders are hard.

"Let's go."