15. June

Chapter fifteen

June

T he world comes back in fragments, each shard of reality piercing through the haze of sedatives and pain like shrapnel. I blink, harsh light searing my retinas. For a moment, panic claws at my throat – am I still in Faulkner's hell? But no, the air here is different. Cleaner. The restraints that once bit into my flesh are gone.

I try to sit up, but my body betrays me. Every muscle screams in protest, and a wave of nausea threatens to overwhelm me. A cool hand presses against my forehead, and I flinch away instinctively.

"Easy, little brother," a familiar voice murmurs. "You're safe now."

Judith. My sister. The one constant in a life defined by chaos and cruelty. I force my eyes open, trying to focus on her face. She looks older, more worn than I remember. The price of saving me, no doubt.

Memories rush back, disjointed and hazy. The daring escape, the desperate flight through sterile corridors. And then, in the final moments, a figure in black, face obscured, voice distorted.

"Juniper Deveaux, you're a hard man to find..."

The uncertainty was almost too much for my already fleeting sanity. But then the mask came off, and it was Judith's face beneath. Judith, fierce and determined, eyes bright with unshed tears.

"I've got you," she had whispered, catching me as my knees buckled. "I've got you, little brother."

Everything after that is a blur, lost to the merciful oblivion of exhaustion and drugs. But now, as awareness returns in fits and starts, a single thought crystallizes in the fog of my mind.

"Cara," I rasp, my voice a broken thing. "The baby. Are they-"

"They're safe," Judith assures me, her fingers combing gently through my hair. "Both of them. But June, you need to focus on getting better. You've been through hell."

Hell. The word triggers a cascade of memories, each more horrific than the last. Faulkner's leering face, the searing agony of electrodes against my temples, Cara's voice twisted into something monstrous and wrong.

I lurch forward, bile rising in my throat. Judith is there in an instant, holding a basin as I retch and heave. There's nothing left in my stomach to bring up, just acid and the bitter taste of fear.

"It's okay," Judith soothes, rubbing circles on my back. "You're okay. It's over now."

But is it? The poison Faulkner pumped into my veins, the lies he whispered in my ear – they cling to me like a second skin, tainting every thought, every memory.

The thought is enough to drain the fight from my body. I sag back against the pillows, sudden tears burning my eyes. "I'm sorry," I whisper, my voice cracking on the words. "I'm so fucking sorry."

Judith pulls me into her arms, holding me as sobs wrack my battered frame. "You have nothing to apologize for," she says fiercely. "What happened to you... It's unforgivable. But you survived, June. You held on. And we're going to get you through this, no matter what it takes."

I cling to her, to the solid certainty of her love, her strength. She's always been my anchor, the one person who sees past the scars and shadows to the man I want to be. If she believes I can come back from this, can heal and be whole again...

Maybe, just maybe, it's possible.

"Tell me what I need to do," I say, pulling back to meet her eyes. "Whatever it takes, however long it takes... I'll do it. I'll put in the work. I have to be there for them, Jude. For Cara and our baby."

Judith's smile is a warm balm, easing the ragged edges of my soul. "I know you will," she says, cupping my face in her hands. "You're the strongest person I know, June. If anyone can come through this, it's you."

She leans in, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Rest now," she murmurs. "We'll talk more later, and I'll fill you in on the plan. But for now, just focus on healing. On getting stronger."

I nod, suddenly bone-weary. The conversation, brief as it was, has drained me utterly. I let Judith help me lie back, let her tuck the blankets around me like she did when we were children and the monsters under the bed were the worst of our fears.

"Thank you," I whisper, my eyes already drifting shut. "For saving me. For believing in me."

Her hand finds mine, fingers intertwining. "Always," she promises, her voice a soothing murmur in the gathering dark. "I'll always be here, little brother. No matter what, just give it time We'll figure it out."

Time.

The word echoes in my skull, mocking me. How much time have I already lost?

How many moments of Cara's pregnancy, of our child growing and changing, have been stolen from me?

"I need to see her," I insist, trying to push myself up again. "Cara. I have to-"

"Not yet." Judith's voice is gentle but firm. "You're not ready, June. And frankly, neither is she."

The words hit me like a physical blow. "What do you mean? Is she okay? The baby-"

"They're both fine," Judith assures me quickly. "But Cara's under a lot of stress. The pregnancy is high-risk now, and Elaine... well, she's not making things easy."

A growl rumbles in my chest, primal and fierce. "What has she done?"

Judith sighs, running a hand through her silver-streaked hair. "She's trying to get custody of the baby. Claiming Cara's an unfit mother due to her association with 'known criminals'."

The rage that surges through me is white-hot, searing away the last vestiges of drug-induced fog. I throw off the blankets, ignoring the way the room spins as I stand.

"June, stop!" Judith grabs my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. "You can't go charging in there half-cocked. You'll only make things worse."

"Worse?" I snarl, rounding on her. "How the fuck could things be worse? That bitch is trying to steal my child, Judith. My family. I won't let her-"

"And what are you going to do?" Judith's voice cracks like a whip. "Look at yourself, June. You can barely stand. You've been muttering and thrashing in your sleep for weeks, reliving God knows what horrors. What do you think will happen if you go to Cara like this? If you lash out, thinking she's another one of Faulkner's illusions?"

The fight drains out of me as quickly as it came. I slump back onto the bed, my head in my hands. "I would never hurt her," I whisper, but even as the words leave my mouth, I'm not sure I believe them.

Judith sits beside me, her arm around my shoulders. "I know you don't want to," she says softly. "But June, we need to be careful. For Cara's sake, and for the baby's. We need to make sure you're really you before we risk a reunion."

I nod, too exhausted to argue further. But as Judith helps me lie back down, a single thought burns bright in my mind.

I will get better. I will claw my way back to sanity, back to being the man Cara fell in love with. And then, God help anyone who tries to keep us apart.

The days that follow blur together, a haze of pain and confusion. My body heals, slowly but surely, the bruises fading from livid purple to sickly yellow. But my mind... that's another story entirely.

Every night, I'm back in Faulkner's lab, strapped to that godforsaken chair as he peels away layers of my sanity. I wake screaming, drenched in sweat, the taste of blood and terror thick on my tongue.

Judith is always there, her voice a lifeline in the darkness. "You're safe," she murmurs, over and over. "It's not real, June. You're safe."

But am I? The lines between reality and nightmare blur, leaving me adrift in a sea of uncertainty. Some days, I'm not sure if I ever really escaped. If this isn't just another of Faulkner's cruel illusions.

"What's real?" I ask Judith one day, my voice raw from screaming myself awake. "How do I know what to believe?"

She takes my hand, her grip firm and grounding. "Start with what you know, June. What you feel in your bones to be true."

I close my eyes, searching for that unshakable core of certainty. "Cara," I whisper. "I love Cara. And our baby."

"Good," Judith nods encouragingly. "Hold onto that. Let it be your anchor."

But even as I cling to that truth, doubts gnaw at the edges of my mind. What if Cara doesn't want me anymore? What if I'm too broken, too damaged to be the husband and father they deserve?

Judith becomes my lifeline, a constant presence as I battle my demons. She's there to talk me down when the panic attacks hit, to remind me of who I am when the memories threaten to drown me.

"Tell me about her," I beg one night, as we sit on the balcony of the safe house, watching the stars come out. "About Cara. Is she... is she happy?"

Judith's eyes soften with sympathy. "She misses you, June. Every day. But she's strong. She's fighting for you, for your family."

I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "And the baby?"

A smile tugs at Judith's lips. "Growing like a weed, according to the doctors. Cara swears it's going to be a boy, with your stubborn streak."

The thought brings a wave of longing so intense it steals my breath. I should be there. I should be feeling our child kick, watching Cara's belly grow round with the life we created together.

"Soon," Judith promises, squeezing my hand. "You're getting stronger every day. We'll get you back to them soon."

But 'soon' feels like an eternity. Every day that passes is another day lost, another precious moment I can never get back. The frustration builds, a pressure cooker of rage and desperation threatening to explode.

It comes to a head during a particularly brutal therapy session. We're working through another memory, trying to separate truth from Faulkner's lies, when something inside me snaps.

"Enough!" I roar, surging to my feet and sending papers flying. "I'm done with this bullshit. I need to see her. I need to see Cara!"

Judith stands, her hands raised in a placating gesture. "June, we've talked about this. You're not ready-"

"Not ready?" I laugh, harsh and bitter. "I'm her husband. The father of her child. How can I not be ready?"

"Because you're still unstable," she says gently. "The outbursts, the nightmares – they're getting better, but they're still happening. We can't risk-"

"Risk what?" I snarl, advancing on her. "Scaring her? Hurting her? I would never-"

But even as the words leave my mouth, a memory flashes through my mind. Cara's face, twisted in fear and pain as my hands close around her throat. It's not real, I know it's not real, but the image is so vivid, so visceral, that I stagger back, bile rising in my throat.

"June?" Judith's voice seems to come from far away. "June, focus on my voice. You're safe. It's not real."

I blink, the room coming back into focus. I'm on my knees, my entire body shaking. Shame washes over me in a sickening wave.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, unable to meet her eyes. "I'm so sorry. You're right. I'm not... I'm not ready."

Judith kneels beside me, her hand on my shoulder. "It's okay, June. This is part of the process. You're making progress, even if it doesn't feel like it."

I nod, too drained to argue. But as she helps me back to my room, a new resolve settles over me.

I will beat this. I will claw my way back to sanity, back to being the man Cara deserves. And when I do, when I'm finally whole again, nothing in this world will keep us apart.

Days bleed into weeks, a monotonous cycle of therapy and tests broken only by the occasional visit from Dante. He brings news of the outside world, of the legal battles being waged to keep Elaine's claws out of our lives.

"Cara's holding up," he assures me during one such visit. "She's a fighter, that one. Elaine doesn't stand a chance."

I nod, a mix of pride and longing twisting in my gut. "And the baby?"

Dante's face softens. "Growing strong. The doctors say everything looks good, despite the stress."

Relief washes over me, followed quickly by a fresh wave of frustration. I should be there. I should be the one taking Cara to doctor's appointments, feeling our child kick, painting the nursery we spent hours planning.

"Soon," Dante says, as if reading my thoughts. "You're making progress, June. Just a little longer."

But 'a little longer' feels like an eternity. Every day that passes is another day lost, another precious moment I can never get back. The need to see Cara, to hold her, to whisper apologies and promises against her skin – it's a physical ache, a gaping wound that refuses to heal.

And then, finally, after what feels like a lifetime of waiting, Judith gives me the news I've been longing to hear.

"I think you're ready," she says, a cautious smile on her face. "To see Cara, I mean. If you feel up to it."

The world stops. My heart pounds in my ears, a deafening drumbeat of anticipation and terror. "Really?" I manage to choke out. "You're sure?"

She nods, her expression serious. "You've made remarkable progress, June. The nightmares have decreased, your cognitive function tests are improving... I believe you're stable enough for a supervised visit."

Supervised. The word grates, a reminder that I'm still not fully trusted, still seen as a potential threat. But I push the resentment aside. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters except seeing her.

"When?" I demand, already on my feet. "How soon can we-"

"Easy," Judith chuckles. "We need to prepare Cara as well. Give us a day to make the arrangements, okay?"

A day. Twenty-four agonizing hours of waiting, of imagining every possible scenario. Will she be happy to see me? Afraid? Will she even recognize the man I've become?

Judith finds me pacing the balcony that night, my thoughts a chaotic whirlwind of hope and dread.

"You should be resting," she chides gently. "Big day tomorrow."

I laugh, the sound edged with hysteria. "Rest? How can I possibly rest?"

She steps closer, her hand on my arm. "June, look at me."

I meet her eyes, so like my own, and see the fierce love there. "It's going to be okay," she says softly. "You and Cara... what you have is special. Unbreakable. Trust in that."

I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "What if... what if I'm not what she remembers? What if I'm too broken, too damaged-"

"Stop." Judith's voice is sharp. "You are not broken, June. You're a survivor. And Cara loves you – all of you. The good, the bad, the parts that are still healing. Trust in that love."

I close my eyes, letting her words wash over me. She's right. What Cara and I have... it's more than love. It's a bond forged in fire, tempered by adversity. Unbreakable.

"Thank you," I whisper, pulling Judith into a fierce hug. "For everything. I couldn't have made it through this without you."

She squeezes me tight, her voice thick with emotion. "That's what big sisters are for, little brother. Now get some sleep. You've got a family to reunite with tomorrow."

Morning comes too slowly and all too soon. I stand in front of the mirror, barely recognizing the man staring back at me. I've lost weight, my cheekbones sharp beneath pale skin. But my eyes – they're clear for the first time in months, burning with determination and love.

"Ready?" Judith asks, appearing in the doorway.

I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders. "Ready."

The drive to Dante's compound is a blur of nervous energy and half-formed prayers. Please, let her still want me. Let me be strong enough for her, for our child.

And then we're there, walking through halls that seem both familiar and strange. My heart pounds so hard I'm sure everyone can hear it. We stop outside a closed door, and Judith turns to me.

"Remember what we talked about," she says gently. "Take it slow. If you feel overwhelmed, just say the word and we'll end the visit."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Judith squeezes my hand one last time, and then the door is opening, and-

Cara.

She stands there, backlit by the morning sun streaming through the windows, and for a moment I forget how to breathe. She's beautiful, radiant, her belly swollen with our child. Tears shine in her storm-gray eyes, and I want nothing more than to cross the room and gather her in my arms.

But I force myself to stay still, to give her the space to make the first move. "Cara," I whisper, her name a prayer on my lips. "I'm home."

A sob escapes her, and then she's moving, crossing the distance between us in what feels like a heartbeat. And then she's in my arms, warm and real and alive, and I'm home. I'm finally, finally home.

"June," she breathes, her fingers tracing the lines of my face as if memorizing every detail. "Oh God, June. I missed you so much."

I pull her closer, careful of her belly, and bury my face in her hair. She smells of jasmine and sunlight and everything good in this world. "I'm so sorry," I murmur, the words spilling out in a desperate flood. "I'm sorry I left you, sorry I couldn't-"

"Shh." She pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, her eyes fierce with love and determination. "You have nothing to apologize for. You came back to me. To us."

As if on cue, I feel a flutter of movement against my abdomen. Our child, kicking as if to say hello. A laugh bubbles up in my chest, surprised and joyful.

"He knows his daddy," Cara says, a watery smile on her face. "He's been waiting for you too."

I drop to my knees, pressing my forehead against the swell of her belly. "Hey there, little one," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. "I'm here now. And I promise you, I'm never leaving again."

As I look up at Cara, at the love shining in her eyes, I feel something inside me shift and settle. The fractured pieces of my psyche, the jagged edges left by Faulkner's torture, begin to smooth and realign.

I am June Deveaux. Husband. Father-to-be. Survivor.

And I am home.

I stand, pulling Cara close once more. Our lips meet in a kiss that's both tender and desperate, months of longing and fear poured into a single touch. When we part, I rest my forehead against hers, breathing her in.

"I love you," I murmur, the words inadequate but all I have to offer. "God, Cara, I love you so much."

She cups my face in her hands, her touch gentle but grounding. "I love you too, June. Always. No matter what."

A soft cough reminds me we're not alone. I turn, keeping one arm around Cara, to see Judith watching us with a mixture of joy and caution.

"June," she says softly, "how are you feeling? Do you need a break?"

I take stock of myself, surprised to find that the usual undercurrent of anxiety and paranoia is quiet. Being here, with Cara in my arms, has silenced the demons that have plagued me for so long.

"I'm okay," I assure her, tightening my hold on Cara. "Better than okay."

Judith nods, but I can see the wariness in her eyes. "That's good, June. But remember, we need to take things slowly. This is a lot of stimulation after-"

"I know," I cut her off, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. "I know the risks. But please... just give us a few more minutes."

She hesitates, then nods. "Alright. But if you start feeling overwhelmed-"

"I'll say something," I promise. "Thank you."

As Judith steps back, giving us a semblance of privacy, I turn back to Cara. There's so much I want to say, so many apologies and promises crowding my tongue. But what comes out is:

"Tell me everything. About the baby, about you. I want to know it all."

Cara's eyes fill with tears, but she's smiling. "Well," she begins, guiding my hand to rest on her belly, "he's a night owl, just like his daddy. Loves to kick up a storm right when I'm trying to sleep..."

I listen, enraptured, as she recounts the milestones I've missed. The first ultrasound, the day she felt the baby move, the cravings that have sent Dante's staff on midnight grocery runs. With each word, each shared laugh and tender touch, I feel more like myself. The darkness that's clung to me since my capture recedes, unable to withstand the light of Cara's love.

But all too soon, Judith is clearing her throat. "I'm sorry," she says, genuinely apologetic, "but we need to wrap this up. June needs to rest, and frankly, so do you, Cara."

I want to argue, to beg for more time, but I can see the fatigue in Cara's eyes. The stress of the pregnancy, of my absence, weighs heavily on her.

"She's right," I murmur, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You need to take care of yourself. And our little soccer star."

Cara nods, but her grip on me tightens. "When can I see you again?" she asks, her voice small and vulnerable in a way that breaks my heart.

I look to Judith, silently pleading. She sighs, but there's a hint of a smile on her face. "If all goes well, we can try for daily visits. Short ones, at first, but we'll work up to longer periods."

Relief washes over me. It's not ideal, but it's more than I dared hope for. "Thank you," I say, pouring every ounce of sincerity into the words. "For everything."

As we say our goodbyes, as I hold Cara one last time and whisper promises against her skin, I feel a resolve settle over me. I will get better. I will be the man, the husband, the father that Cara and our child deserve.

And God help anyone who tries to stand in our way.

The door closes behind Cara, and I'm left feeling both elated and hollowed out. Judith is at my side in an instant, her hand on my arm.

"You did great, little brother," she says softly. "How are you feeling?"

I take a deep breath, cataloging the sensations coursing through me. "Overwhelmed," I admit. "But... good. Whole, for the first time in I don't know how long."

Judith nods, her eyes searching my face. "That's excellent, June. But remember, recovery isn't linear. You may have setbacks, and that's okay. What matters is how we handle them."

I nod, barely hearing her. My mind is already racing ahead, planning our next visit, dreaming of the day when I can hold Cara without supervision, when we can be a real family.

"June?" Judith's voice pulls me back to the present. "You with us?"

I blink, focusing on her concerned face. "Yeah, sorry. Just... processing."

She smiles, understanding in her eyes. "It's a lot, I know. Why don't we get you back to your room? You can rest, maybe write in that journal I suggested."

I let her lead me back, my body suddenly heavy with exhaustion. But as I settle into bed, as sleep begins to tug at the edges of my consciousness, one thought burns bright and clear:

I am June Deveaux. I am loved. I am strong.

And I will move heaven and earth to protect my family.

The days that follow are a blur of therapy sessions, medical check-ups, and precious visits with Cara. Each time I see her, each moment I spend with my hand on her growing belly, I feel more like myself. The nightmares that once plagued me grow less frequent, less vivid.

But the specter of Elaine still looms large. Dante keeps us updated on her machinations, on the legal battles being waged to keep our child safe. The thought of her trying to take our baby, of her poisonous influence touching our family, makes my blood boil.

"We need a plan," I tell Judith one night, pacing the length of my room. "I can't just sit here while she threatens everything we've fought for."

Judith watches me, her expression a mixture of concern and pride. "What did you have in mind?"

I stop, meeting her eyes. "I want to go public. Tell our story, expose Elaine and Faulkner for what they really are."

She sucks in a breath, her brow furrowing. "June, that's risky. You'd be putting yourself in the spotlight, opening yourself up to scrutiny-"

"I know," I cut her off. "But it's the only way. We need to take control of the narrative, to show the world that I'm not the unstable monster Elaine's painting me as."

Judith is quiet for a long moment, considering. Then she nods, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Okay, little brother. Let's do it. Let's take that bitch down once and for all."

As we begin to plan, as we strategize with Dante and his team, I feel a surge of something I haven't experienced in far too long: hope. Real, tangible hope for a future where Cara and I can raise our child in peace, free from the shadow of Elaine's cruelty.

It won't be easy. The road ahead is fraught with danger and uncertainty. But with Cara by my side, with our child growing strong and healthy, I know we can face anything.

Because we are the Deveauxs. And we bow to no one.