Justin – POV
The door crashed open.
Boots. Six of them. Big fuckers, faces blank under black masks. They swarmed me, rough hands grabbing my arms, wrenching them back. Cold metal bit into my wrists—cuffs—digging into half-healed bruises from the last time. My muscles strained, rage exploding in every vein, but there were too many.
Then the guards parted.
And they brought her in.
For a second, my heart actually stopped.
June.
But no.
Not my June.
This girl looked like someone who'd crawled out of hell wearing June's skin.
Her hair hung limp, tangled around a face pale as marble. Her wrists were cuffed, the metal digging so deep it had turned the skin raw and angry. She wore a thin hospital gown, bare feet shuffling, eyes wide and glassy.
But it was her eyes that killed me.
Empty. Lost. Ferocious in the wrong way.
Like an animal that had forgotten language, mercy, and love.
My June was gone.
"What the fuck did you do to her!" My voice ripped from my throat, raw, savage.
