CHAPTER 129: TAMING INSANITY

Justin’s POV:

"Baby, you gotta fight them," I rasped, voice hoarse.

"You remember? You used to tell me they’d whisper, but you could choose not to listen. You fought them, June."

She stopped rocking, just for a second.

Her eyes lifted, and for a heartbeat, something flickered there.

Recognition?

Hope?

A ghost?

Then it was gone, swallowed by a shiver that wracked her whole body.

She muttered something under her breath.

My heart slammed against my ribs. "What? What are they saying?"

She looked at me, lips parting.

"They... they want blood," she whispered, voice small as ashes.

"And they’re hungry."

A chill knifed through me.

"Fuck the voices, June. Look at me. It’s Justin. Your Justin. You remember? You called me your monster. Your fucked-up prince, remember?"

Her lips moved again, but it wasn’t my name.

Just a low, broken sound, like a prayer to something cruel.

I shuffled closer, until I could see the raw skin around her wrists where the cuffs had bitten deep.

I’m going to kill them for this, I swore silently.

Every last one.

But that wouldn’t bring her back.

And right now, she needed me.

"Baby, I need you to come back," I whispered, voice breaking.

"I need you to remember. Remember the night you came to my apartment? The night I first kissed you? You called me an arrogant bastard. Remember?"

She rocked again, faster now, her breath hitching.

She’s slipping further.

Fuck.

"June, please!" The word ripped out of me, raw and panicked.

"Don’t leave me! You promised you’d never leave!"

Her head snapped up, eyes wild, teeth bared.

Like an animal.

For a second, I thought she might attack me.

Then she collapsed back into herself, wrapping her arms tighter around her knees, trembling.

I was shaking too.

My chest felt like it was caving in.

I wanted to touch her, to pull her into my arms.

But they’d warned me: don’t open her cuffs until you get through to her.

Because she might try to kill me.

"June, listen to me," I rasped, my voice almost gone.

"I don’t care what they did. I don’t care what the voices say. You’re not just Number Twelve. You’re June. You’re mine."

Her breath stuttered. Her gaze lifted, hovering over my face.

And again — that flicker.

So brief it might have been my imagination.

But it was enough.

"That’s it," I whispered. "Come on, baby. Just one step back to me. That’s all I need."

My voice cracked.

"I love you, June. Always. Even now. Especially now."

She stared at me, breathing shallow, chest trembling.

No words. No smile.

But she hadn’t looked away.

And right now?

That was the only fucking miracle I had left.

********

I didn’t know whether close contact would push her over the edge or bring her back.

That was the gamble.

That was why they wanted me here in the first place.

They hadn’t contracted me because they needed me. Hell, they hated me — I was unstable, uncooperative, a fucking liability.

But her? She was their masterpiece.

They’d gone too far and now she was slipping from them, drowning in the abyss they’d carved into her mind.

And they needed me to pull her back before she was lost forever.

They didn’t care about love. Or mercy.

They just didn’t want to lose their prize.

I inched closer to her, breath held so tight it burned.

She flinched.

God, every time she flinched it felt like a thousand needles stabbing through my chest.

Because I knew that flinch.

The instinct born of years thinking that every step closer, every shadow that leaned over you, meant cold metal, sharp needles, the sting of chemicals burning your veins.

I had lived that too. But for her, it had been worse.

Because they’d made her special.

"June," I whispered, voice cracking.

"It’s me. It’s Justin."

She kept her head down, arms locked around her knees, rocking, her shoulders twitching like she was trying to fold herself into nothing.

I wanted to reach out so bad my fingers actually ached.

But I didn’t. Not yet.

"They can’t hurt you right now," I lied — or maybe prayed. "They can’t. I’m here."

She mumbled something under her breath.

A whisper I barely caught.

"Voices... won’t stop... blood..."

My stomach clenched so tight I tasted bile.

The fucking voices.

They were winning.

"You don’t have to listen to them," I murmured, moving another inch closer.

"You don’t. You used to fight them, remember? Remember how proud you were, every time you told me you’d ignored them for an hour... two hours... a whole day."

Her breath caught. Just for a second.

I felt that flicker — tiny as a candle in a hurricane — of recognition.

"They hurt you, didn’t they?" My voice dropped to a growl I barely contained. "They kept you here. Alone. Needles. Straps. The chair... the table..."

She whimpered.

A raw, ragged sound.

My heart broke all over again.

"They can’t hurt you now," I rasped, chest shaking.

"I won’t let them."

Another inch closer.

I could almost touch her now.

She stiffened, trembling so hard it looked painful.

"I know, baby," I whispered.

"I know what it feels like to think every hand is gonna hurt you. That every touch means pain. But it’s me. Just me."

The cameras hummed in the corners of the room.

I knew they were watching, waiting, pens scratching on clipboards outside.

Not because they cared about us.

But because they wanted to see if I could fix what they broke.

My throat burned.

My vision blurred.

"June..."

My voice cracked.

"They turned you into this. Not because you’re weak. But because you’re strong. Too strong for them to control any other way."

She twitched, a tiny spasm of her shoulders.

I pressed on, my words spilling out faster, desperate.

"They took everything from us. Years. Memories. Even your name. But you’re still here, June. You’re still here."

Another inch closer.

Now I was so close I could see every raw scrape on her wrists, every tiny tremor in her fingers.

God, she was so thin.

They’d starved her, drained her. Turned her into something they could study.

"I know you’re scared," I whispered, voice breaking on the words.

"And I’m scared too. But please, baby... look at me. Just look at me."

For a moment — the smallest moment — her head lifted.

Her gaze met mine.

Empty. Shattered. But hers.

My chest constricted until it hurt to breathe.

"I love you," I whispered, so soft it barely reached the air between us.

"I never stopped. Not for a second."

Her lips parted.

No words.

Just breath.

Another inch.

I could have reached out. Could have touched her cheek.

But my hand hovered, shaking.

Don’t scare her. Don’t push her back under.

"They wanted me to bring you back," I murmured, the truth scraping my throat raw.

"They don’t care about us. They only care about their fucking project. But I don’t care why they brought me here. I’m here. And I’m not leaving without you."

She blinked.

And for a heartbeat, I saw something flicker — pain, recognition, fear.

Fear of losing something. Maybe me.

My breath shuddered.

"June, it’s okay to be scared. I’m scared too. But I need you to fight. Please. Just a little longer."

She rocked again, but slower now.

"I know what they did," I rasped. "Needles. Shocks. Drugs. Voices whispering that you’re nothing but Number Twelve."

My hand lowered, almost touching the cold ground.

"But you’re not Number Twelve to me," I whispered.

"You’re June. My June."

She drew in a shaky breath.

For the first time, she didn’t flinch when I leaned a little closer.

My heart cracked — a painful, hopeful crack.

"They can’t have you," I promised, voice so low it was almost a growl.

"Not while I’m still breathing. They can never have you again."

I didn’t know if she heard.

But for the first time, she stopped rocking.

Just for a heartbeat.

And it was enough to keep me from breaking completely.

********

And then I made my final move.

Fuck caution. Fuck fear.

If gentle words weren’t enough, maybe my arms would remind her of who I was — of us

.

I crossed those last inches between us, heart pounding so hard it roared in my ears.

And I wrapped my arms around her — around that shaking, broken body I loved more than anything on this fucked-up earth.

She screamed.

A raw, animal sound that shredded me inside.

She squirmed, thrashed like something cornered. Her nails clawed at my arms, wild and blind.

And then she bit me.

Hard.

Pain flared white-hot in my shoulder, sharp enough to make my vision blur.

But I didn’t let go.

Not even for a heartbeat.

"Shh... baby, it’s me. It’s me," I whispered into her hair, voice breaking.

"June, please... it’s Justin. It’s just me."

She bucked in my grip again, teeth sinking deeper, the copper tang of blood rising hot between us.

It hurt like hell.

But it was her.

Alive. Fighting. Not gone.

And I’d take that pain over her empty silence any day.

"I know it hurts. I know you’re scared," I murmured, words tumbling out, desperate.

"But I’m here. I’m here. And I’m not letting go."

She whimpered against my skin, the bite loosening — just for a second — before tightening again.

Tears burned hot behind my eyes.

"I love you. You’re safe. You’re safe now."

Her breath came ragged, sharp and panicked, chest heaving like she couldn’t get enough air.

Still, my arms stayed locked around her. Gentle, but unyielding.

I felt her nails rake across my back, felt warm blood trickle where she bit.

Every flinch, every tremor, every sound of her panic carved another scar into me.

But I held on.

"It’s okay, baby. Scream. Fight. Bite me all you want," I rasped against her temple, voice shaking.

"I’m not letting go. Not this time. Not ever."

Her scream turned hoarse, breaking into sobs that tore right through me.

God, I wanted to tear this whole place down brick by fucking brick.

"You’re mine, June," I whispered, my own tears falling into her hair.

"They can’t have you. I won’t let them. Never again."

She sagged for half a heartbeat, body trembling violently — then tensed, ready to fight again.

It was instinct. The terror they’d carved so deep it overrode thought.

And still... I didn’t let go.

"Shh... baby. It’s me," I kept repeating, a broken chant.

"You’re not alone. You’re never alone now. I’ve got you."

I rocked her gently, my own body shaking, my shoulder burning where her teeth pierced skin.

I didn’t care.

Pain meant she was still here.

That somewhere under all that terror, June still existed.

Slowly — painfully slowly — the iron bite of her teeth loosened.

Her sobs didn’t stop, but they changed.

Less feral.

More human.

And for the first time in what felt like years, she didn’t try to push me away.

I pressed my forehead to hers, breath ragged.

"You can hate me later for this," I whispered. "But right now, I need you to come back to me. Just a little. Please..."

She shuddered so hard it felt like she might break apart in my arms.

But she didn’t fight.

And for now — for this bleeding, burning heartbeat — that was enough.