Justin POV:
They forced her down onto a cold metal chair across from me, close enough that I could see her shoulders shaking.The guards didn't bother cuffing her—they stood behind her, rifles slung but hands ready.
One of the white coats stepped forward. The same bastard as before.Wrinkled face. Greying hair. Calm, empty eyes.
He flicked his gaze to June, then to me.
"Number nine," he said, almost gently, "you know why we're here."
I didn't answer.
He tapped his pen against the clipboard. The faint clicking was like a clock ticking down.
"You hear them, yes?" he asked. "The voices. How many?"
My throat was dry.I clenched my jaw so hard my teeth ached.
The guard behind June twisted her wrist—hard.
She gasped, breath catching, body jerking.
My chest caved in.I strained against the cuffs, metal cutting deeper into torn flesh.No.
"Leave her," I rasped, voice breaking.
"Then answer," the white coat said softly, almost reasonably.
