CHAPTER 119: BACK TO HELL(II)

June POV:

"Did you really think you’d be saved?"

"Justin won’t come this time."

"He doesn’t even know where you are..."

A ragged scream rips from my chest. I twist and fight, slamming my body against the restraints until something in my wrist pops. Pain flares. Still, I don’t stop.

I have to move. I can’t be tied again.

Not like that.

My body remembers more than my mind does.

The pain. The confusion. The nights of being half-awake, half-drugged, locked in my own head while men in white coats watched me like I was a lab rat. A thing.

I’d started to forget those memories.

Justin made me forget.

I was wearing heels and lipstick and teasing him with lap dances.

Now I’m strapped down like a beast again.

The tears come harder. My throat burns. My cheeks sting.

I start to chant. It’s nonsense, but it keeps me from listening to the whispers.

"He’s coming. He’s coming. He’s coming—he’ll find me—he always finds me—Justin—please—please—please—"

The door rattles.

I freeze.

Hope flares, wild and stupid.

Please.

But it doesn’t open.

The rattling stops.

It was just air pressure. A hallucination.

Or worse—a test.

They used to do that. Open the door just a crack, then watch me scream.

I curl into a ball on the cot, my breath hitching, limbs aching.

The restraints chafe my skin. My thighs are sticky with sweat. My vision tunnels.

"Please..." I whisper again. "Please don’t leave me here."

The lights above flicker.

I hear something distant—metal clanging. Footsteps? Or a memory?

I’m not sure anymore.

The voices return, louder this time.

"Your prince isn’t coming."

"He’s already forgotten you."

"You’re alone. Like always."

I try to scream, but no sound comes out.

The pressure in my chest builds until I think I might burst. My nails claw uselessly at the cuffs. Blood beads at my wrist.

The ceiling spins.

"Please," I sob. "I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to be your toy. I’m real. I’m not a project. I’m not a thing—"

My voice cracks.

Then something shuffles outside the door. A shadow passes by the slit of the window.

I freeze.

"Justin?" I croak.

No answer.

Just silence.

Then the sound of footsteps retreating.

Tears stream down my face, hot and endless.

He didn’t even hear me.

Maybe that wasn’t him. Maybe it was them. Maybe it was a trick.

My body goes limp. My head slumps forward.

I want to sleep. I want to die. I want this to end.

But something in me refuses. I can’t give in.

Because he promised. He told me he’d always protect me. That no one would ever hurt me again.

He held me when I screamed in my sleep. He made me laugh. He danced with me in the living room. He made me feel like a person again.

He saw me.

"Justin..." I whisper again, lips cracked and dry.

The lights above buzz louder. I’m dizzy. Faint.

I try to fight the voices.

But they’re back in full force now, screaming over each other.

"Lie down and die."

"You’ll never be free."

"He won’t save you."

"He never loved you."

I bite down on my tongue until I taste blood. I want to feel something real. Something to drown them out.

And then—I hear a sound.

A scream?

No. Laughter.

Down the hall. Someone being dragged. The screech of a chair against tile.

And then a voice over the intercom. Robotic. Cold.

"Subject 9—preparation complete. Begin sedation."

That’s me.

I shake violently.

"No no no no no—JUSTIN!"

I scream it. I scream until my throat is raw. Until I think I’ll pass out.

Please hear me. Please find me.

I sob.

"Please, Justin—don’t leave me—don’t let them take me again—I can’t—I can’t survive this a second time—"

But nothing comes.

Just the sound of a lock turning.

I choke on a sob.

The door doesn’t open.

They’re toying with me.

They’re always toying with me.

I slump back on the cot. Staring at the ceiling. Cold tears leaking from my eyes.

"I’m not real," I whisper. "They made me up."

The voices laugh.

"You’re their invention."

"You belong to them."

And I scream again.

It’s all I have left.

I lose track of time. Minutes blur into hours. Maybe days.

There’s no sun. No clocks. No sense of reality.

I hallucinate Justin’s voice. His hands on mine. His eyes. His scent.

"Stay with me, baby. I’ve got you."

But when I blink, he’s gone.

It was just a dream.

I curl tighter into myself, hugging my knees even though I can’t move much. My wrists are raw. My lips are cracked. My body is wrecked.

But my mind?

It’s breaking.

Cracking down the middle.

And I can’t stop it.

The only thing I can do—the only shred of hope I have left—is the promise he made.

He said he’d always find me.

So I start to pray.

Not to God. I stopped believing in God long ago.

I pray to Justin.

Over and over. A whisper. A chant. A sob in the dark.

"Please come. Please come. Please come..."

I imagine his arms around me. His voice in my ear. His mouth against mine, whispering promises.

But when I open my eyes—

There’s no one.

Just me.

And the walls.

And the padded silence of my prison.

He doesn’t come.

Not yet.

And I lie there.

Alone.

Praying.

Waiting.

Breaking.

Justin – POV

My knuckles were still raw from punching the bathroom stall door open. My ears still rang from the sounds of that moaning couple inside—the ones who weren’t June.

Not her.

The floor had dropped out from beneath me the second I realized it. I’d torn through the club like a madman after that. Interrogated staff. Turned over tables. Threatened the bouncers. Nothing. She was gone.

Fucking gone.

And I let it happen.

I should’ve never taken that call. I should’ve kept her with me. My instincts screamed something was wrong the moment Rico said the "men in white" were sniffing around.

I knew better.

I knew how they operated. Their mind games. Their fucking precision.

I told myself Meg was the priority, and she was. But they knew that too. They used her. Because they knew I’d go running.

And while I was chasing shadows...

They took June.

Gods, I was stupid.

I slammed the SUV door so hard the window cracked. My team sat in silence, tense, on edge. Rico was driving like a demon through the dark roads leading to the last pinged coordinates.

"You’re sure Meg’s safe?" I asked, voice like a blade.

"Yes, boss," he said, eyes forward. "Arlo and Zane already extracted her. They’re holding position at the safehouse."

I nodded, jaw clenched so tight it hurt. "Drive faster."

We reached the safehouse ten minutes later. A rustic outpost built into the rocks on the edge of the forest. It used to be a smuggler’s den—now it was ours.

I burst through the doors and there she was—Meg. Huddled on the couch under a gray thermal blanket, flanked by Arlo and Zane. Her hair was messy, her face pale, and her eyes were wide and wild until she saw me.

Then she burst into tears.

"Justin!" she cried, leaping up and running into my arms.

I caught her, held her, arms locking tight around her small frame. She was trembling. Still in shock. But alive.

"Hey, hey, it’s okay. I got you," I murmured, crouching down to meet her at eye level. "You’re safe now. I promise."

She gripped my jacket like she never wanted to let go. "I-I didn’t know what was happening. They came to my friend’s place and said my mom sent them. But they weren’t—they weren’t—"

"I know, baby girl." My voice cracked. "You’re okay now. You’re safe."

Her small shoulders shook as she cried into my chest. I felt like I was splintering in half. Rage and grief—twin poisons—boiled inside me. I stroked her hair and swallowed the scream building in my throat.

"You found me," she whispered. "I knew you would."

I smiled faintly, bitterly. "Always."

I sat with her for a few more minutes until her breathing slowed. Her eyes drooped. Exhaustion finally dragging her under.

Her adoptive mother arrived soon after—wide-eyed, frantic. She nearly collapsed when she saw Meg safe, whole, alive.

"Thank you, thank you—oh my God, thank you, Justin," she sobbed as she hugged Meg to her chest.

I nodded stiffly.

She kept thanking me.

But I wasn’t the hero tonight.

Because I’d failed the one person who needed me most.

I left them at the safehouse and radioed the team still holding the captured men. They’d caught two of the operatives near the school where Meg had been grabbed.

"Where are they?" I asked flatly.

"Dungeon," Rico replied. "We brought them back to base. Wanted to wait for your call."

I drove straight there. Alone.

The underground cells were built like a fortress. Stone walls, steel bars. Each cell sealed with biometric locks and reinforced doors. No escape. No mercy.

The guards stood back when I entered.

They saw it on my face.

I was no longer the tactician. The commander.

I was uncontrolled bloodlust Justin now.