Page 32 of BounBound By Scars

Because while Zarek, Logan, and Dylan had always had each other—stood shoulder to shoulder, bled together, laughed together since their CIA stint—Kabir had no one. Not really.

No one to check on him when he stayed up working all night. No one to notice when he didn’t eat for twelve hours straight. No one to call out the silence in him when it wasn’t the good kind.

Except me.

And maybe that was just it. Maybe that was why he clung so tightly to our friendship… to me.

Because I was the only one who made him feel like more than a weapon. Like more than a brain with a keyboard. Like a man with a heart, and a soul, and the capacity to be loved.

And now… even I had walked away.

Fuck!

NINE

Amelia

As we walked toward Seb’s apartment, his phone pinged. He paused mid-step, frowning at the screen.

“It’s the front gate.”

“Someone we know?” I asked, glancing over.

He tapped into the Sentrix app and let out an annoyed groan. “Come with me.”

I followed, confused by the sudden shift in his demeanor. Who the hell was showing up at the Blackthorn compound at ten at night?

When we reached the main reception, Greta stood from behind the desk. “Mr. Blackthorn. I heard we have guests.”

“Yeah,” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. “Can you prep one of the meeting rooms on this floor? And get some coffee?”

She nodded and disappeared down the hallway.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

Seb glanced at me, looking like he’d run out of patience hours ago. He opened his mouth, but the throat clearing behind us cut in first.

“Officer Grayson. Why the late-night call?” Seb’s voice was sharp, clipped.

The woman approaching us gave him a lazy smile, completely unaffected by his tone. She wore a leather jacket over dark jeans,her curly hair pulled into a loose ponytail. Behind her stood a tall blond man—white-blond, almost Seb’s height—with that distinct ‘I’m-here-on-business’ energy.

“It’sDetective, Mr. Blackthorn,” the man said with a nod. “Might want to keep up.”

“It’s fine, Damien,” the woman said, patting his shoulder before turning to me. “Inez Grayson. And this is Detective Damien Russell, my partner.”

Seb eyed Damien as he nodded in greeting, but didn’t return the gesture. “And what brings the NYPD to my doorstep tonight?”

Before she could answer, she turned to me with a curious expression. “You are…?”

There was no venom in her tone, no sarcasm—just curiosity. But I hesitated. Lockdown protocols were strict. I wasn’t supposed to identify myself to anyone outside the compound.

Seb must’ve sensed it, because he jumped in. “This is Amelia,” he said, his voice laced with warning. “Why are you here, Grayson?”

She didn’t break eye contact with me as she answered. “Someone’s trying to get a search warrant on your compound.”

Seb’s jaw flexed. “Are you sure? How do you know this?”

“Well…” She gave him a knowing smirk. “Let’s just say our Sergeant has a habit of making shady calls from the precinct bathroom. Guess who was in the next stall?”

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