Fake Dating The Bad Boy-Chapter 69: Different Personalities

Justin – POV

She wasn’t ready.

Not like I thought she would be.

Not yet.

But she will be.

Eventually, she’ll break the same way I did—slowly, painfully—until the only thing left to hold onto is the taste of vengeance and the fire in your gut that won’t die until the world bleeds for what it did to you.

That’s how it always starts.

They always think they’re better than the monster. Until they need him.

I watched her eyes when I handed her the knife. I watched her stare at him—the man who ruined her—and freeze.

I felt it then.

The flicker in her chest. The hesitation in her soul.

The crack in the connection we had.

And the voices inside me—them—they started screaming.

You’re pushing her too far.

You scared her.

She’s not like you.

They were clawing at me now, hissing in my ear, snapping in the dark corners of my mind.

"You’re going to lose her."

The weak one took control. freeweɓnovel.cøm

The soft one.

The one with trembling hands and tear-stained dreams.

The one who always wants to shield her from the fire instead of letting her learn to dance in it.

The lover.

He slipped in when I blinked.

And I didn’t fight him.

Because even I could see it.

The kiss she gave us—it tasted different.

Not tender. Not hungry. Puzzled.

She looked at me like I was a riddle. A warning.

Like she was finally starting to see that I wasn’t just one man.

I was a war inside skin.

(Lover Justin)

Her hand was colder in mine than usual.

I noticed that first.

Not trembling, not gripping tight—just cold.

Her posture had changed too. Rigid. Guarded.

It felt like something had broken. Or was about to.

He’d gone too far. The other me. The worst one.

And now we were losing her.

Damn it.

I could still feel his grin echoing inside me. The pride. The thrill. The hunger.

He’d done what he thought was right—what he thought would free her.

But vengeance like that? It doesn’t heal.

It corrodes.

She would’ve unraveled if she’d gone through with it.

And then we’d lose her completely.

I couldn’t let that happen.

So I took control.

Led her away from the room. From the stink of rot and regret.

Down a different corridor, up into the moonlight, and finally out into the courtyard garden.

There, the air was fresh.

Still.

Safe.

I guided her to a bench beneath the wisteria vines, my fingers brushing hers again—gently this time, like she might pull away if I wasn’t careful.

Maybe she would.

She hadn’t said a word since we left.

And I didn’t know if it was fear...

...or realization.

She was starting to see the truth now.

That there were many of me.

And not all of them loved her the way I did.

I knelt in front of her, keeping my eyes soft, voice quiet.

"I’m sorry," I said.

For him.

For me.

For all of it.

She didn’t respond.

But she didn’t run either.

That counted for something.

I reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"He was wrong," I whispered. "You don’t need to become a monster to survive."

She looked at me finally—just briefly—and there it was again.

That haunted, hollow puzzle.

Like she was still trying to figure out which version of me she was looking at.

And I couldn’t blame her.

Hell, sometimes I couldn’t tell either.

But one thing was certain.

I wouldn’t let him take her down with him.

Not her.

Not June.

I’d rip the darkness from my own ribs before I let it eat her alive.

And if that meant fighting myself to keep her safe?

So be it.

Rico – POV

Justin was the most affected of all of us.

Up until now, I still wonder how he managed to fool the psychiatrists assigned to evaluate us after we were rescued from that hellish lab. You’d think people trained to see through layers of trauma and manipulation would’ve picked up on it. But Justin? He hid it well.

Too well.

Unless you were close to him—really close—you wouldn’t even notice the cracks. Most people chalk it up to mood swings, say he’s just intense. Charismatic, sure. A little unpredictable? Maybe. But dangerous? No one wants to believe that.

But I know better.

He’s not just one person.

So far, I’ve identified four different sides of him. Four personalities, each clawing for space inside the same skin. And I don’t think that’s the full count either. There might be more, buried deeper. Ones even he hasn’t met yet.

But that doesn’t make him a bad guy.

In fact, it might be the only reason he’s managed to survive this long.

He tries to maintain a balance between them. Tries to stay in control. But sometimes, it doesn’t work out. Sometimes, the darker ones take over. And when they do... things can go sideways fast.

He doesn’t like people getting too close. Never has. Maybe it’s fear. Maybe it’s guilt. Maybe he knows that if anyone looks too long, they’ll see the shifting shadows in his eyes.

But now—he’s let someone in.

June.

And it’s only a matter of time before she sees the truth. Not just the good parts. Not the charming, reckless Justin everyone sees when he’s laughing in the hallway or throwing knives at a target board. No. She’ll see what lies beneath.

And then... she’ll have to decide if she can handle it.

I hope she can.

Because if anyone can anchor him—it’s her.

You ask why I’m loyal to him?

Because he’s the only thing standing between us and going back to that place.

The lab didn’t die the day we escaped. The people who ran it are still out there. Still watching. Still hunting. The government closed the investigation after throwing a few scapegoats under the bus. That’s politics for you—clean hands and dirty silence.

But we know the truth.

They’ll come back for us.

To finish what they started.

And when that day comes, we need someone like Justin.

No. We need all of him.

The leader.

The avenger.

Even the monster.

He’s the one who united us when we were scattered and scared. Who gave us a reason to keep going. A mission to pursue. Vengeance. Freedom. Retribution.

He’s the one who came back for me when I was recaptured.

Dragged me out from under their scalpels and their syringes, burnt their entire facility to ash, and walked away without a scratch—like the fire answered to him.

That’s why I’ll always be loyal.

Because he doesn’t just save us.

He makes sure they never hurt us again.

He’s given me orders—to keep tabs on the others. To make sure no one else gets taken. If someone goes missing, he doesn’t just wait. He acts. He assembles a rescue team. He hunts down the scientists and razes every building tied to their research to the ground. Staff and all.

He doesn’t believe in half-measures.

He believes in ending the cycle—by any means necessary.

And I believe in him.

Because while the rest of the world chooses to forget what happened to us...

He never will.

And I’ll follow him into fire, blood, or madness—whichever comes first.

Because he already saved me once.

And I won’t let him fight this alone.

*******

People think Justin is fearless.

But that’s only because they haven’t seen the way he flinches—not when someone raises a fist or draws a knife. No, those things don’t scare him. What does?

Himself.

Not all of him—just the one part he can’t control.

The bloodthirsty one.

The one I’ve come to call The Reaper.

There’s a look Justin gets right after the Reaper takes over. It’s subtle. Most wouldn’t catch it. His pupils shrink. His breath slows. His jaw unclenches like he’s been holding in a scream for hours. It’s not adrenaline—it’s relief.

Because in that moment, he’s not the one responsible for what happens next.

That part of him is terrifying—not just because of what it’s capable of, but because it loves the chaos. The Reaper doesn’t kill out of necessity. He kills because it calms the noise in his head. Because it gives him clarity.

He’s precise. Cold. Creative.

And worst of all—merciful in ways that feel cruel.

He doesn’t just kill people. He makes them beg for death. Not because he’s trying to be cruel. But because he thinks it’s justice.

When he dragged June’s father into that room and did what he did... that wasn’t Lover Justin. That wasn’t even the wild, impulsive version we sometimes see during missions. That was the Reaper.

And even Justin—the real Justin—was horrified when he came back to himself.

He tries to bury that version of him. Drown him in pills. Silence him with routines, with structure, with calculated leadership. He leads our unit like a machine. Always two steps ahead. Always pretending he’s fine.

But I’ve seen the guilt.

The way he looks at his bloodied hands afterward.

He fears that one day, the Reaper won’t give the body back.

That he’ll take full control and stay.

That he’ll push June away. Or worse—hurt her.

Because the thing about the bloodthirsty persona? He doesn’t understand love. He sees affection as a weakness. Emotion as a distraction. He thinks he’s doing Justin a favor by "cleansing" the pain. By eliminating threats—both real and imagined.

He’s losing the war inside.

The gentle one—the part that wants to heal her, to protect her, to earn her—he’s getting weaker. Drowned out. I can feel it, like a storm building behind his eyes.

He thinks if he can just get June to embrace her own darkness, then maybe, maybe she won’t abandon him when she meets his.

But that’s not love.

That’s desperation.

And desperation can turn even the strongest into monsters.

If June walks away—and God knows, I wouldn’t blame her—I don’t know if Justin will survive it.

Not emotionally. Not mentally.

Because that final wall keeping the Reaper locked up? That’s her.

If she crumbles...

We lose him.

And once we do—there’s no bringing him back.