Justin – POV
I don't know how long we stayed like that.
Minutes. Hours. Could've been days for all I cared.
June had stopped shaking, at least. Stopped fighting me like a feral cat.
Now she was in my lap, curled so small it fucking shattered me to look at her. I sat on the cold concrete, legs aching, back against the wall, and just… held her. One arm around her waist, the other hand running through her hair over and over until my fingers got caught in the tangles.
Her hair smelled wrong. Like antiseptic and sweat and fear. Not her shampoo. Not the faint trace of my cologne she sometimes stole.
God.
Her face was still thin, eyes too big in their sockets, but at least there was no fresh blood now. At least she was breathing.
I kept whispering to her. Little nothings. Old words I hadn't used in years.
"Shh, baby, I'm here. You're okay. You're safe. I've got you."
Over and over, like a goddamn prayer.
Rico should have been here by now.
Where the fuck was he?
