Page 27 of Bound By Valor

“Fucking nineteen!” He boasted, referring to the countless times he’d been my savior since the CIA.

I waved him off.

As soon as I saw movement near the kitchen, I strode towards it stealthily. A man with dark hair lay on the floor in a pool of blood.

Dylan. Fuck.

Adrenaline surged as I ran to him, lifting the formidable bulk of his body onto my shoulder, and made a dash for the exit.

“Just like old times, Ghost,” he whispered.

“Don’t speak.”

Once I reached the surveillance house half a block away, adrenaline still pumping, I hoisted Dylan onto the dining table, an impromptu operating surface. Ripping open a box of first aid supplies, I frantically scattered gauze, skin glue, and medical tape across the surface. “I got you, Dyl,” I murmured, part reassurance, part promise.

Quickly, I stripped him of his vest and located the wound just below his collarbone. A guttural scream tore from Dylan’s throat as I peeled back his shirt, revealing the damage.

“Through and through, Titan. You’re good,” I assessed aloud, trying to inject a bit of confidence into the grim situation as I began the patch-up job.

“Report status, Gunner,” I called through the earpiece, my hands steady as I worked.

“Six of their men hit, five unconscious, one dead. House is clear. Shipment secure in our Escalade. How’s Dyl?” Logan’s voice crackled through, business as usual.

“He’s fine, lost a bunch of blood. Falcon, get back here for assist,” I said.

I didn’t really need help. But I knew Amelia wanted to see her brother alive and breathing. A few minutes later she ran back in, cupped his cheeks and smiled.

“There’s no 901 without 900, brother,” she whispered in his ear.

“There’s no,” Dylan let out a heavy breath, “900 without 901, sister.”

“Glad you’re not dead.” She turned to me then. “What do you need?”

“All set,” I patched him with skin glue, put a gauze on him and taped him up. “There. Done!”

Amelia shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips as she looked at Dylan, a silent exchange of sibling love passing between them.

“Let’s go back, squad,” I stated.

“Back to the lovely Leora, I see?” Logan’s voice teased through the earpiece, a chuckle softening the edges of a tense day.

“Read the room, Gunner,” I muttered, rolling my eyes even though he couldn’t see.

FOURTEEN

Leora

The wait was intolerable. Every minute stretched endlessly, each tick of the clock amplifying my fears. What if they were injured? What if they never returned?

I desperately needed a way to communicate with them.

As I paced the confines of my room, thoughts of Zarek haunted me. The prospect of never seeing him again, of never feeling his kiss, was crushing. Each shared look, every moment together had deepened my affection for him, drawing me deeper into an emotional whirlpool.

Before joining this life, I had drifted aimlessly, merely distracting myself enough to live ‘normally’.

Yet, this new life, this new purpose with Zarek and the squad, brought clarity. It resonated with a part of me that I hadn’t known was seeking direction.

I was not meant to be a passive observer in my own life. I needed to be involved, to be part of the narrative that was unfolding. My previous life, especially these past two years, felt like being forced to swim with bound hands—I refused to experience that helplessness again.

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