Page 139 of BounBound By Scars

Semiconductors.

Shit.

They’d taken over the backbone of modern economy—everything from missile guidance systems to smartphones ran on chips. If you controlled semiconductors, you controlled innovation, defense, information.

This wasn’t about destruction.

It was about dominion.

Global control—quiet, invisible.

Irreversible.

THIRTY-TWO

Amelia

It was at precisely 07:12, when everything shattered.

If it had just been the video Kabir sent, maybe we could’ve handled it. Maybe we could’ve written it off as strategy. A bluff. Some calculated misdirection.

But the gift that followed—delivered right to our digital doorstep—was far worse. Coded threats. Embedded malice. And betrayal, sharpened to the bone.

We were all there. Zarek, Leora, Logan, Kaylan, Dylan, Delara, Zane and Sebastian. Every single one of us crowded into the Conference Room, staring at the screen in stunned silence. Everyone… except Ronan. He was still unconscious—struggling to live.

I didn’t blink at first. Didn’t breathe.

Because the man on the screen didn’t look like my Kabir.

His face was thinner, cheeks hollowed out, dark circles pooled beneath eyes that no longer looked familiar. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Weeks, maybe.

But it wasn’t his appearance that broke me.

It was his voice.

Calm. Cold. Controlled. Every word a razor. No tremble. No hesitation. Just a deadly sort of finality that didn’t belong to the man I loved.

The screen flickered. Then steadied.

He sat in a sterile white room, the backdrop so devoid of life it made his presence feel even colder.

Then he spoke in a detached voice.

“This is a message from the Pentagon. Relayed by Cipher on behalf of Robert Romano, United States Secretary of Defense.”

No one moved.

Zane scoffed loudly, already pacing. Zarek stood statue-still, arms folded, jaw clenched so tight I thought it might snap. Dylan’s arms were crossed, his face unreadable. Not a blink. Not a twitch.

Sebastian looked like a man who’d lost a war before the first shot was fired.

The rest of the room swirled with confusion, pain, disbelief. This was their confirmation of Kabir’s betrayal.

But I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

“Blackthorn Security has seventy-two hours to abort all ongoing investigations, operations, and field pursuits related to Project Crazon and its derivatives,” Kabir continued. “This includes all ties to Sentrix, all parallel software systems, and any efforts to breach internal Pentagon networks.”

He didn’t blink. His tone was sterile, eerily void of emotion.

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