Fake Dating The Bad Boy-Chapter 70: She Left

Rico – POV

I noticed it at breakfast.

She was smiling.

That soft, almost shy smile she wore whenever she pretended the world didn’t ache so much. She sat quietly in the sunlit corner of the dining hall, a bowl of untouched cereal slowly going soggy in front of her. She stirred it lazily with the spoon, not eating, not hungry—but smiling.

Just like she had the last few days.

But there was something off about it.

Too calm. Too rehearsed.

Like a soldier steadying her hands before pulling the trigger.

Justin wasn’t there that morning. He’d left hours earlier—deployment logistics, coordination for extraction squads, and new recruits being smuggled in from the northern sector. The moment the labs discovered she was alive—that Number 12 had survived, had slipped through their fingers after all these years—the hunt began again.

And Justin... he’d gone full war mode.

He always does when he’s scared. He thinks if he just works harder, bleeds longer, breaks more bones, he can outpace the consequences. He thinks he can shield her from everything. Even herself.

He staged her adoptive parents’ deaths to throw the scent off. Burned their house, forged the autopsy reports, made it look like she’d died in the blaze too. That lie bought us time.

But lies don’t last forever.

They never do.

She should’ve looked restless. Anxious for him to return. Needing the comfort she always finds in him—the only person who truly understands her voices, her rage, her broken edges.

But she didn’t.

She sat still. Serene.

As if she’d made a decision.

And I—I missed it. I fucking missed it.

I was in the control room going over drone footage and security perimeter feeds when the alert blipped across the mainframe. An outbound breach in the west garden corridor. Low priority. No visual confirmation. Probably a squirrel, I told myself.

But then the second alert came—exit code Delta-Six-Twelve.

Her tag. Her code. Her goddamn name.

By the time I got to the hallway, her room was empty.

Bed unslept in. Sheets still tucked.

No note.

No hesitation.

Just gone.

My lungs seized in my chest. A cold sweat broke across my spine, because I knew—I knew what Justin would do.

Not to her.

To me.

He’s going to skin me alive.

Literally? Maybe not.

But metaphorically? He’ll tear through every ounce of loyalty I’ve built, every mission I’ve led, every promise I’ve kept. Because this was the one thing—the one fucking thing—he asked me to do:

Keep her safe.

And now, she’s out there. Alone. Vulnerable. A walking target with a bounty higher than all of us combined.

The scientists want her back—not to protect her. Not to rehabilitate her.

But to dissect her.

Number 12 wasn’t just another lab rat. She was their masterpiece. The prototype. The blueprint.

And when she stabbed her father...

When she screamed her voices to life...

When she stood frozen in that room with a knife in her shaking hand and her abuser dangling like meat from a hook...

That wasn’t healing. That wasn’t closure.

That was fracture.

Justin thought she needed to face the monster. But maybe—just maybe—he became one in the process.

And she saw it.

She looked into his eyes and saw the same madness she’s been running from.

And now... she’s running again.

But here’s the part that really fucks with me—

I think she was smiling because she wanted him to come after her.

Not to bring her back.

But to see what he does when he can’t control the outcome.

When she chooses to walk away.

Because if he breaks...

If Justin finally falls off the edge the Reaper’s been circling for months...

We’re all dead.

Not metaphorically.

Not in spirit.

Dead. Burned. Unmade.

Because no one will stop him then. Not Lover Justin. Not Wild Justin. Not even Bad Boy Justin.

He’s been dancing on that ledge for years. Surviving only because he had someone—her—to anchor him. To remind him he was more than the blade he hides beneath his smile.

But if she’s gone—

If we really lost her—

Then we lose him.

And I don’t know who I’m more afraid for.

Her.

Or the world.

June – POV

I hadn’t slept.

Not since that night.

The night I saw what Justin had done—for me. What he called justice. What he whispered as retribution.

But it wasn’t just justice.

It was madness.

The moment he opened that door, the stench of blood and rot hit me like a slap. And there he was—my father, the man who haunted every corner of my childhood, dangling by his wrists, naked, broken, butchered.

And Justin... he looked proud.

He placed the knife in my hand like it was a gift. Like he was handing me salvation.

But all I felt was suffocation.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I just stood there, frozen, clutching that blade while my monster moaned and whimpered like the pathetic thing he truly was. His face swollen from the fork I’d stabbed into his eye when I was thirteen. His body a roadmap of vengeance I never asked for.

And his—

I can’t say it.

I won’t say it.

Because I saw it on the floor.

Because Justin cut it off.

Because even he couldn’t stand the thought of what it had done to me.

He thought he was helping me.

But what he really did...

Was become everything I feared I’d turn into.

And suddenly, I couldn’t look at him the same. Not at Justin. Not at the man who once kissed me like I was glass and held me like I was fire.

Now he kissed me with blood on his lips and fire in his eyes.

And I was terrified.

He’d changed. There was a darkness in him now—deeper than before. Something savage and cruel hiding beneath the layers of love and loyalty.

And if I stayed...

I was scared of what he might do next.

To others.

To me.

Because if I broke again—if I snapped or screamed or looked at him wrong—would he cage me too?

Would he carve the pain out of me the way he carved it out of my father?

Would he force me to be whole?

So I smiled.

I pretended everything was okay.

I told Rico I was just tired. That I needed rest. That I was finally at peace.

I smiled at breakfast.

I ate half an orange and drank a little juice.

I made eye contact.

I played my part.

And the moment Justin left on his mission, I slipped into my room, grabbed the emergency kit he didn’t know I’d hidden beneath the floorboard, and changed into the clothes I’d stashed behind the dresser.

Black hoodie. Jeans. Gloves.

Everything nondescript. Everything that screamed "no one."

I wiped my prints.

I left my comm tag in the sink and shattered it with a rock I’d kept under the mattress.

I knew they’d track it first.

I knew Rico would panic the second he saw my tracker offline.

But I had ten minutes. Maybe fifteen if I was lucky.

And I knew this facility better than they thought I did. Justin had once given me a full tour. Called it "transparency."

He never imagined I’d use that trust.

I moved through the halls like a shadow, slipped into the west corridor, hugged the blind corners, ducked under the first-tier sensors, and crept along the water pipes until I reached the maintenance hatch.

My heart thundered in my ears.

My breaths came short.

I kept seeing Justin’s face.

Not the one that told me he loved me.

The one that told me I was free to do whatever the voices wanted.

The one that watched with fire in his eyes as he tortured a man into oblivion—because he thought it would fix me.

I squeezed my eyes shut.

I wanted to love him.

God, I wanted to love him.

But I didn’t know if I loved Justin anymore...

Or if I was just trapped in a trauma-bond with the only person as ruined as me.

I slipped out into the woods, let the branches whip my face, didn’t care about the thorns tearing my skin.

Because freedom hurts.

But this?

This was still mine.

******

The forest was silent.

Too silent.

Every crackle beneath my boots felt loud, like it was shouting my location to the sky, to the ghosts, to him.

I didn’t stop running until the metal fences of the compound were a memory and the cold bite of pine air burned my lungs. My legs ached, but I couldn’t stop. Not yet. Not until I was somewhere no one could find me. Not until I was invisible again.

Because Justin would come.

Not just him—them.

The others under his command. His shadows. The ones who saw him as their savior.

And if not them...

Then the voices in my own head might drag me back.

But something was off.

There was something wrong about the air.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

I slowed, just a little. My boots hit damp soil softer now, quieter. I slipped between trees, ducking under low branches, squinting through misty beams of moonlight.

Then I heard it.

Crunch.

A soft step.

Too heavy for an animal. Too light for a wanderer.

I whipped around.

Nothing.

Just dark trees, shadows coiled around trunks, a moon half-dead in the sky.

I pressed my back to a wide birch and held my breath. Counted slowly. One... two... three...

Snap.

Behind me.

I didn’t wait.

I bolted.

My heart was a metronome gone wild, thudding against my ribs. My eyes darted, searching for movement, for anything out of place. The whispers in my head were rising again—urgent, frantic.

Run.

Run.

They’ve found you.

He’s here.

They never stopped hunting you.

Justin?

No... this was different.

I didn’t feel him. I didn’t feel the chaos or the obsession or the twisted warmth.

This was... colder.

Sterile.

Like a scalpel dragged along skin.

Like latex gloves.

Like insecticide.

I stumbled into a clearing. The wind shifted. The scent hit me.

Disinfectant.

A memory slammed into me—straps on wrists, metal tables, that damned humming of fluorescent lights.

And then, a low voice.

Too calm.

Too close.

"You’re harder to catch than expected, Subject Twelve."

I spun.

A man stood there.

Dressed in black from head to toe, face half-covered by a thin mask. No insignia. No marks.

Nothing to say where he came from.

But I knew.

From the way he held himself. From the way he watched me—not like a person, but like a specimen.

Like something he owned.

"Don’t come closer," I hissed, backing away.

"I’m not here to hurt you," he said smoothly. "We just want to talk."

Liar.

I bolted again, deeper into the woods, but he was fast. Too fast. I could hear him behind me—steady, relentless, like a shadow that wouldn’t fall away.

Branches tore at my arms. My lungs burned. I didn’t care.

I kept running until I hit a slope and—

Slipped.

Tumbled down hard, my knees slamming against rocks, elbows scraped raw.

I groaned, dizzy.

Everything spun.