Page 33 of Bound By Valor

The weekend unfolded with a sense of normalcy I hadn’t felt in years, spending time with Zavier and Dad, just like old times. There was a comforting thought that soon, Zavier might join me in my line of work, bringing us even closer. The idea of sharing more of my life with him, perhaps easing the isolation my job often imposed, seemed almost soothing.

What I didn’t anticipate was that only six months later, I would be standing at the edge of a grave, shoveling dirt onto a casket. That I’d be carrying the weight of pushing my brother into my world only to lose him in his first real assignment. That I’d never forgive myself for letting my brother join the CIA.

???

“Who is this?”

Leora’s voice broke through the haze of my grief, her presence a sudden clarity in my bedroom as I clutched the picture of Zavier—a token I kept hidden behind my decoy badge holder. My hands shook, the image wavering as if threatened by the very air around us.

“Zavier,” my voice cracked, a name that seemed to ache with everything I had lost. “My brother.”

“You have a brother?” Her voice was gentle, a tentative step into my guarded world.

I could only nod, the truth twisting in me. “Had,” I corrected, the word falling like a stone in the stillness of the room. “Not anymore.”

Her expression shifted from curiosity to something deeper, more poignant. “Oh, Zarek…”

“It’s fine,” I lied, sliding the photo back into its hiding place behind my badge. “Just…don’t want to add another picture to the collection.”

Leora exhaled slowly, her gaze never wavering from mine, reading me as if I were pages in a book she could somehow understand. “I can’t erase your fears, Zarek. Just like you can’t erase mine.”

I nodded, the gesture heavy, burdened. “He was a good cop, you know? Wanted to be more like me.” The words tasted bitter, filled with irony and regret.

Her attention was unwavering as I continued, the dam inside me breaking. “He joined the CIA, thought it was his calling. Was good at it, too—trained hard, got deployed fast.” My voice broke with the weight of what came next. “First mission out, they walked right into an ambush. A mole in their unit led them straight to a group named, Deathmark.” My throat tightened around the words. “They didn’t stand a chance.”

“I’m sorry, Zarek,” she whispered.

I shook my head, dismissing her sympathy with a bitter smile. After Z’s death, my relationship with both my parents soured. He was the golden child. And suddenly, I wasn’t enough. They couldn’t look at me the same. I was the one who encouraged him, after all.

“So, now you know why I can’t let you do this.” I whispered.

She watched me, her eyes filled with a quiet strength. “I’m not him, Zarek,” she said, her voicefirm. “Your fears are real, yes. But they’re yours, Zarek. Don’t make them mine.”

Her words struck deep, a reminder of the burdens I carried—not just for myself, but for those I tried to protect, perhaps too fiercely. In her eyes, I saw not just understanding, but a plea for freedom—the freedom to face her own battles. The silence was deafening. But neither of us broke it.

After a few silent beats, she got up and left.

SEVENTEEN

Zarek

The next day I made my way out to the back of the warehouse that Logan had converted into a mini-bootcamp. Targets lay across the field and when I squinted hard enough, I saw that the target paper had a face that was quite familiar.

Logan grinned as Leora shot through my nose, or rather a print of my face.

“Funny,” I said dryly. “Burn them when you’re done, jackass!”

Leora was moving across the field executing a multi-position shooting drill. She didn’t hit the target every time, but I had to admit, she was damn good for a rookie. After two sprints, she switched magazines effortlessly and continued. I watched her, completely mesmerized by her grace and skill. After two more five-shot sprints she paused and looked up at Logan who was clapping.

“Good job, Leo. That’s a score of 12 out of 20. I’m impressed,” he said. She smiled widely and looked back to see me staring at her.

Her smile faltered, and in a move that caught me completely off guard, she swiftly switched out the magazine, cocked the gun, and aimed it straight at me. My eyebrows knitted together in confusion, yet I remained motionless.

I’d stared down the barrel of a gun more times than I could count, but nothing had prepared me for this—Leora, with a blend of fury and pain etching her features, pointing a gun at me.

Fuck, I’d even let her shoot me. I stepped closer, the gun’s cold muzzle pressing against my chest.

“I’m sorry. In case it’s the last thing I say,” I murmured softly.

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