Justin’s POV:
I woke up alone.
The sheets were cold.
The spot where she had been—empty.
At first, I just laid there.
Staring at the ceiling.
Waiting.
Telling myself maybe she just went to the bathroom. Maybe she was getting water.
Maybe—
Maybe.
But as the minutes dragged on, sothing ugly and familiar started clawing at my chest.
I swung my legs over the bed and stood, scanning the room.
Nothing.
No sign of her.
No soft footsteps in the hall.
No whispered apologies.
No desperate promises like last night.
She was gone.
She fucking left.
And you ask why I hate her?
You ask why I don’t trust anybody?
This.
This.
Because every ti I let soone get close, they leave.
They rip open old wounds and then walk away like it’s nothing.
Like I’m nothing.
God, this was so fucking frustrating.
I felt like putting my fist through the damn wall.
Why would she leave like that?
After everything—
After the way she looked at last night—
After the way she clung to like I was the last solid thing in her world—
Why?
What the hell was she hiding that she didn’t want to tell ?
What was so bad that she would rather run than stay and just be honest?
I raked my hands through my hair, pacing like a caged animal.
It wasn’t just anger burning inside .
It was hurt.
It was betrayal.
It was this deep, gnawing ache that I didn’t even know how to begin to kill.
Because part of didn’t want to be angry.
Part of just wanted to find her.
Drag her back here.
Make her talk.
Make her stay.
But another part—the darker part—the one that had learned to survive when hope was a death sentence—
That part whispered:
She chose to leave.
She chose not to trust you.
She chose to be just another scar.
And that...
That broke sothing inside I wasn’t sure could ever be put back together.
She fucking knew.
She knew I would ask for answers.
For an explanation.
For the shit I saw with my own goddamn eyes.
For what she ant when she said she didn’t want it — when she swore she hadn’t given herself to him.
And what did she do?
She ran.
God, why the fuck wouldn’t she trust ?
After everything—after all the fucking nights I stayed awake, wondering if she was even alive sowhere—
After the way I held her broken body last night like it was sothing worth saving—
After the way she cried in my arms like maybe, just maybe, she thought I could protect her—
Why?
Why am I always the one left picking up pieces I didn’t even break?
Why am I always the one left bleeding for people who can’t even stay?
I slamd my fist into the doorfra.
Didn’t even feel it.
Didn’t care.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to find her and shake the truth out of her.
I wanted to hate her—
God, it would be so easy to hate her right now—
But instead, all I could feel was this black, choking need to understand.
Because deep down, I knew—
I knew there was sothing worse lurking beneath her silence.
Sothing that made her flinch when I raised my voice.
Sothing that made her look at like she was one breath away from shattering.
And still she chose to run.
Still she chose to leave in the dark.
And maybe that hurt worse than anything else.
Because for one stupid, reckless second last night—
I had actually believed her.
Believed in her.
And now?
Now I just stood there, alone, furious, and more fucking broken than I ever should have let myself be again.
The phone rang.
Not my normal one—the burner tucked deep in my closet.
The one nobody was supposed to have unless shit had seriously hit the fan.
The one I hadn’t heard in years.
The one I told them only to use if the things get ssy.
My heart flipped.
A chill raced down my spine.
June.
The lab.
The past.
All of it crashing into my skull at once.
I yanked it out, thumb hovering over the answer button for a half-second before punching it.
"Yeah?" I barked.
Static cracked on the line.
Then a low voice—tight, panicked, but trying not to sound it.
"Boss. It’s . Rico."
Rico.
My second.
The one I left in charge when I disappeared.
The one who swore he could keep everything running without drawing heat.
If he was calling , it wasn’t for a goddamn chat.
"What the hell are you doing calling this number?" I growled.
"It’s bad, J. Real bad. We—we lost the shipnt"
The floor dropped out from under .
"What shipnt?"
"The one you told to bury. To never let anyone trace."
A beat of dead silence.
"They found it."
My stomach twisted into knots.
"Who?" I hissed.
"Who the fuck found it?"
"I don’t know. Not cops. Not feds. Soone else. Sothing else. They—they left a ssage."
"What kind of ssage?"
Rico sounded like he swallowed a mouthful of blood.
"A number, number nine. Spray-painted across the warehouse wall. Big enough for God to see."
Number nine.
My lab na.
Not hidden.
Not safe.
Cold sweat broke across my back.
"And boss," Rico added, voice dropping into sothing close to fear, "they knew about the girl."
Every muscle in my body locked.
June.
They knew about June.
"You still there?" Rico asked.
I forced breath into my lungs.
"I’m here," I said.
Voice flat. Dead.
"Boss," Rico whispered. "What do you want to do?"
I stared at the empty bed.
At the faint imprint she left behind.
The space where she should have still been breathing beside .
She ran because she was scared.
And maybe she was right.
"Lock everything down," I ordered. "Get eyes everywhere. Anyone moves, I want to know before they fucking breathe."
"And the girl?"
I squeezed the phone so hard my knuckles cracked.
"I’ll find her."
Because whatever was coming—
It wasn’t just after anymore.
It was after her.
And this ti?
I wasn’t gonna be too late.
They located us.
Us.
and June.
Stupid fuckers must’ve thought we were still scared little kids.
Still trapped in white walls and electric rooms, crying for help that never ca.
Guess no one told them.
We’re not the sa anymore.
I might still hear the fucking voices sotis—
Might still black out and lose whole hours to rage and noise—
Might still have my episodes where everything spins sideways—
But don’t you dare mistake that for helpless.
Not anymore.
I’m not a kid with shaved hair and bleeding wrists praying for rescue.
I am the fucking rescue.
I am the nightmare they should’ve left buried.
I jamd my phone into my pocket, heart hamring loud in my ears.
My boots hit the floor fast, hard, full of purpose.
The apartnt door slamd behind .
First thought: find June.
Second thought: make whoever’s hunting her wish they never climbed out of their mother’s womb.
She might’ve left this morning—
But she was still mine to protect.
Mine to fight for.
Mine to fucking kill for if it ca down to it.
They wanted a war?
Fine.
I’ve been ready for one since the day they strapped down and wired my fucking brain to machines.
The quiet life was over.
Ti to remind them:
You don’t co for the broken unless you’re ready to bleed.
They want to complete their fucking experint.
They want to see what happens when you break sothing enough tis.
When you shatter a soul so bad, it forgets it ever belonged to itself.
Fine.
I’ll show them.
I’ll give them their complete subject—
Their final, perfected monster.
The real creation they were too cowardly to finish themselves.
But not until I deal with the motherfucker who’s hurting her now.
The one who thinks he owns her.
The one who thinks he can touch what’s mine.
He’s first.
And I’m not going to be rciful about it.
First, I need to find her.
Find out what she rembers.
What scraps she kept hidden in that locked-up, shattered mind of hers.
Maybe there are things she knows, things she doesn’t even realize she knows—
Secrets from the lab.
Nas. Places.
Techniques they used to slip past even when I thought I had them all tracked.
I need her to rember.
And while I’m doing that—
I need to keep her breathing.
Keep her safe.
Because if they get to her before I do—
If they twist her into sothing even worse than what they made into—
If they steal her last pieces away—
Then I’ll burn down the whole fucking world.
Not fast.
Not clean.
Slow.
One bastard at a ti.
One scream at a ti.
And I’ll make sure they rember exactly what they created before I send them all to hell.
Reviews
All reviews (0)