Page 136 of BounBound By Scars

“Get the team,” he snapped, moving to the door. “I’m removing Ronan’s RLM chip. They’ve known about the Remote Location Monitor for at least six weeks. Maybe longer. I don’t know if they’ve already infiltrated the network, but I’m not risking it.”

And then he was gone.

Thirty minutes later, all of us were seated in the Command Center, identical bandages now pressed to our chests where the chips used to be.

All except Logan.

He had already lost his RLM during the warehouse 67 explosion and never got it replaced considering the damage to his chest.

He was leaning back in his chair, arms folded, wearing the world’s most smug grin. “Awww… does it hurt?” he asked no one in particular, not even bothering to hide the amusement.

I rolled my eyes, instinctively rubbing the sore spot under my bandage.

“Yes, Logan,” Kaylan replied flatly, faking a wince.

His smirk vanished like someone had flipped a switch. His expression morphed into full concern, his brows furrowing as he turned to her.

It wasn’t until she snorted that he finally relaxed.

It was ridiculous, really.

And if I hadn’t been in such a shitty mood, I might’ve laughed—just like everyone else did.

Kabir

“It’s really interesting how I never got a chance to meet you before,” Romano said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

He’d summoned me after weeks of deliberate silence. Classic tactic—build mystique, manufacture power. Make me sweat.

I didn’t.

I saw right through it. He wasn’t intimidating. He was threatened. And I knew exactly when that shift happened.

Thirty-four minutes. That’s how long it took me to shut down the Pentagon’s entire Crazon surveillance layer using Sentrixv5.4. It was my interview assignment. After that, he stopped treating me like a tool and started treating me like a weapon.

Asset. That’s all I was to him.

I guess it wasn’t new to me.

The Pentagon looked elegant from the outside, but inside, it felt like a precinct had crashed into a maximum-security prison. No warmth. Just walls and wires.

At least their command center was equipped to handle a mind like mine.

“You only ever spoke to the Squad Leaders,Callahan,” I said coolly.

His smile twitched. “My mother’s second husband’s last name was Callahan. I liked it. But I’ve always felt more like a Romano.”

He said it like it meant something. Like a villain introducing himself with a backstory.

I quirked a brow.

“My mother’s maiden name,” he chuckled like we were some casual acquaintances.

I didn’t flinch. “What do you want, Romano?”

He clicked his pen once. Twice. “Two things. One—you’ll be pleased to know your girlfriend woke up. No brain damage.”

The oxygen hit like a sucker punch.

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