Fake Dating The Bad Boy-Chapter 71: He Knows

Rico – POV

I couldn’t breathe.

My hands hovered over the surveillance console, useless, shaking—fucking shaking—as the red dot marking her location flickered one last time and then disappeared off the map.

Signal lost.

Subject Twelve – Off Grid.

"Shit," I whispered. Then louder—slamming my fist into the edge of the desk, "Shit!"

How?

She was here ten minutes ago. Laughing at breakfast. Sitting right beside me. I watched her pour juice like it was just another peaceful day in this broken excuse for a sanctuary we’d built. I let myself believe she was okay. That we were okay.

And now she was gone.

I’d checked every camera. Every sensor. She slipped through a blind spot I should’ve patched two weeks ago but didn’t because I got cocky. Because she looked happy. Like she was starting to heal.

I let my guard down.

I fucking failed her.

A sharp buzz jolted me. A message.

ETA: 9 min.

Justin.

Oh God.

I shoved away from the chair, pacing the control room like a caged animal, hands buried in my hair, eyes darting between screens and doors and the clock that was counting down the seconds until he returned.

He’s going to skin me alive.

And not just metaphorically.

Not after what happened last time. Not after what he did to that mercenary who let a survivor get captured last month. I still can’t get the screams out of my head.

But this isn’t just a survivor.

This is June.

And I was the one he trusted to protect her.

I was the one who told him, "She’s safe. I got eyes on her."

Fucking liar.

My stomach twisted. Acid crept up my throat.

He’s going to tear this place apart when he finds out. And when he sees me—the one who let her vanish?

I might not walk out.

But the worst part...?

I wasn’t sure I’d even argue if he punished me.

Because I deserved it.

I should’ve known something was off. She smiled, sure—but her eyes... her eyes didn’t sparkle like they used to when she’d talk about planting things in the courtyard or steal strawberries from the kitchens.

There was something dimmed.

Like she was already halfway gone.

And now?

She’s out there.

Alone.

Scared.

And maybe being hunted again.

I stared at the last frame the cameras caught—her slipping through the maintenance hatch behind the greenhouse. Dressed in a hoodie two sizes too big, backpack slung low. No hesitation. No second glance.

She planned it.

She wanted out.

She was running from him.

I swallowed hard.

From Justin.

From the man who would burn the world for her, but now scared her more than the monsters we were fighting.

And maybe... maybe I understood why.

I’ve seen his eyes go black.

I’ve heard the other voices take over.

The one that doesn’t stop at vengeance, but spirals into devastation.

I’ve seen the things he does in the name of justice. Of love. And they don’t look like love anymore. They look like something sharp and broken, bleeding beneath his skin.

He tried to protect her. I know he did.

But maybe he went too far.

And now June was out there, trying to escape not just the scientists... but the man who saved her.

And I was the idiot who let her slip through the cracks.

The door hissed open behind me. I froze.

Boots. Heavy. Measured.

I didn’t even have to turn.

The temperature dropped like ice had flooded the room.

Justin had arrived.

And he hadn’t said a word yet.

I could feel his gaze slicing into the back of my neck.

"Where is she?" he asked, voice low. Too low. The kind of calm that came before the storm.

I turned slowly, heart racing, eyes wide.

He already knew.

But he wanted to hear it from me.

"She’s gone," I said, barely above a whisper. "I—I was in the control room—she slipped through a hatch. We’re scanning for thermal, drones are out, I’ll have her location—soon."

He didn’t move.

Didn’t blink.

Just stared at me like he was trying to decide which version of himself should respond.

And for the first time since the lab, I felt like a boy again.

Powerless.

Guilty.

Terrified.

I prayed he’d let the calmer version come forward.

Because if the other one took over...

We were all screwed.

Justin – POV

She’s gone.

The words didn’t register at first. My boots had barely touched the floor, the scent of antiseptic and engine grease still clinging to me from the compound perimeter—and Rico met me with eyes wide and throat dry.

"She’s gone."

Gone.

Not injured. Not asleep. Not in her room or out for air.

Gone.

The hallway narrowed. Sound dulled. All I could hear was the faint electrical hum of the control monitors and the pounding of my own pulse in my ears.

She was just here.

I left her for a few hours. Just a few.

I trusted them. I trusted him.

My jaw clenched.

"Show me," I said.

Rico scrambled to pull up the last footage. The screen flickered, and there she was—hood pulled low, shoulders hunched, slipping through the hatch like she’d rehearsed it a dozen times.

Because she had.

Because this wasn’t impulsive.

She planned it.

She planned to leave me.

The room spun.

A bitter laugh clawed up my throat, but I swallowed it down with a snap of my teeth. My hands flexed, knuckles white, itching for violence I had no target for.

"You were supposed to watch her," I said without turning to Rico.

"I know," he murmured. "I fucked up—"

"You think?"

Silence.

I could hear him swallow, practically feel the sweat beading at the back of his neck. He thought I was going to hit him. That’s what most people thought when I got quiet like this.

But I wasn’t angry at Rico.

I was furious at myself.

Because I pushed her too far.

I wanted her to break the chains. I wanted her to be free.

But maybe what I really wanted was for her to be like me.

And she wasn’t.

I saw it in her eyes that day—when I put the knife in her hand. She looked at it like it was poison. Like it was a mirror showing her everything she didn’t want to become.

I thought she’d fight. I thought she’d rage.

Instead, she froze.

Because she was afraid of me.

That’s when I knew.

She didn’t fear the monsters in her past anymore.

She feared the one standing in front of her.

Me.

The bloodlust version.

The one I thought she could learn to understand.

The one I hoped she could love.

But I saw her flinch when I kissed her. I saw the way her fingers trembled when she gave the knife back. She didn’t say a word, but her eyes said everything.

Please stop.

Please be someone else.

Please be the man who saved me, not the monster who enjoys revenge.

And I wasn’t. Not that day.

I was everything she feared.

No wonder she ran.

The voices inside me started to rise. Softer Justin version whispered apologies. The bad boy cursed and told me she’d come back once the danger hit. But the bloodlust?

He was seething.

Growling.

Howling beneath my skin like a caged beast.

"You’re weak," he spat. "She was finally becoming us and you let her slip away. You coddled her too long. She needed fire, not flowers."

"She needed healing," I said aloud.

Rico flinched. I didn’t care.

"She needed time," I muttered, pacing now. My nails dug into my palms. "She needed safety. And I—I—gave her a corpse and a knife."

I wanted her to understand me... instead, I made her afraid of me.

A low growl vibrated in my chest. Not fully human. Not entirely sane.

"She’ll get hurt out there," I said.

"We’ll find her—" Rico started.

I turned to him, slow and cold. "She’s alone, Rico. And now that the scientists know she’s alive, they won’t stop. They’ll drag her back into hell, piece by piece, and I won’t be able to reach her in time. I won’t be able to fix this—" ƒгeewebnovёl.com

Not again.

The softer version in me screamed apologies.

The bloodlust roared to hunt.

I slammed my fist into the wall hard enough to dent the concrete, ignoring the pain, ignoring the blood. I wanted to rip the world open. I wanted to tear through the trees, claw through the dirt, sniff her out like an animal until she was back where she belonged—under my wing, safe.

But safe from what?

From them?

Or from me?

I looked at my bloody knuckles.

I didn’t know anymore.

The screens flashed as drones activated.

Thermal scans.

Foot patrols dispatched.

I gave the order with mechanical precision.

"Find her."

"Bring her back."

But deep inside... I wondered if she’d ever want to come back.

And that thought?

That tore more pieces out of me than any knife ever could.