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Amelia

I had to fix this. I needed to fix this because I had made a horrible— horrible —mistake in the heat of the moment and now I had to undo it.

I was sure of two things, though. Sebastian was mature enough to listen and back off. And also that he probably—most definitely—had feelings for that Grayson woman.

We had already broken things off—not that Kabir knew. Or that things hadn’t even properly started. But Sebastian’s blatant flirting needed to stop.

This should be easy.

Just as I was about to cross over the bridge to Blackthorn building, I felt a silent presence behind me.

The slightly labored footsteps were the only indication and I knew exactly who it was. I stopped immediately and spun around.

Any clever remark, or frustration I had in that moment died when I saw those gray eyes—similar to mine—boring into me. They were almost accusatory.

“What?” I snapped.

Dylan slowly closed the distance, tilting his head slightly.

“Walk with me.”

It was all he said before spinning around, the heavy weight of his unmistakable order still lingering.

He didn’t wait for me. Didn’t look back to check if I was following. But I did.

My insides were burning with agitation to find Sebastian and end things properly. But Dylan had never— never —initiated such a summoning with me.

Fuck.

Why did I feel like I was going to get one of those old brotherly beatings from him?

As I walked behind him, following him to the entrance of the courtyard, my mind kept conjuring images of me kneeing him in his balls. Just as I once had when he was nineteen. He had come back from his training in the military.

I had been mad at him for leaving me to take care of our little sister, Iris, by myself. She was twelve at the time. And my newly teenage self didn’t understand why she was so insufferable.

I soon realized I was the same insufferable pre-teen for Dylan to handle—he had made that abundantly clear at dinner the first night he was back. Embarrassing me in front of Iris.

That had earned him a knee to his balls.

I couldn’t help but feel like I was about to be put in place again. Almost two decades later.

He stopped near the fountain, which was now decorated with wedding paraphernalia.

Beautiful white chairs were neatly lined on either side of the aisle. It looked like an aisle now. Leora and Zarek must be happy.

Dylan casually lifted two random chairs and set them up near the edge of the fountain.

Once he settled down, he gestured for me to take a seat. No, ordered was more like it.

I sat down with a huff—almost petulantly.

“Which one?” He asked without preamble.

He didn’t elaborate. Didn’t contextualize his question. But I knew what he was asking.

Fuck him and his intent gaze.

“You know, Dyl. Why are you even asking?” I grumbled.

He nodded thoughtfully and leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You know, Amelia,” Dylan said, his voice even, “I sometimes forget you’re not just my sister. You’re a squad member. Someone capable of shifting dynamics.”

I narrowed my eyes, even though he wasn’t looking at me.

“I notice things,” he added after a sigh. “Just because I don’t speak on them, doesn’t mean I don’t have opinions.”

“I know you do.” I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “And yes, I made a mess. But I’m fixing it. It won’t affect the squad or whatev—”

“I’ve never seen him that drunk.”

He cut me off. Looked right at me when he said it.

Kabir.

Fuck.

I dropped my gaze to my hands, pretending to pick at my nails, even though they were clean. Even though I knew exactly what he was getting at.

“He’s hurting,” Dylan added quietly.

My face might’ve looked composed, but inside, I was burning. Rage. Shame. Regret.

“Dyla—”

“This isn’t the last mission we’ll have,” he said, his voice calm in that terrifying way Dylan always managed.

“We’ll be doing this for years. Maybe the rest of our lives.

But Kabir’s hurting—and he’s distracted.

He hasn’t cracked the White House Crazon.

You haven’t configured your drones since Operation Tantalus. You’re both… off your game.”

I clenched my jaw. So this was it? A lecture? And not even a brotherly one?

“You don’t get to assess our performance,” I bit out. “I’m working on Chariot. And maybe that firewall is a fucking fortress. Did you consider that?”

My tone wasn’t raised, but it was cold—clinical. The voice I’d used back when I was still with the Bureau. Detached. Unshaken.

Dylan blinked slowly. His frown deepened.

“I understand.”

“No, you don’t.” I exhaled hard. “I’ve wanted that man for years, Dylan. He’s the reason I’ve stuck around this long. And now that I’ve ruined everything… all I’m getting from you is a fucking debrief.”

“Amel—”

“You said you forget I’m not just your sister?” I stood, looming over him even though he was still a solid wall of muscle. “You can only forget something if you remembered it in the first place, Titan .”

He flinched. Just slightly. But I saw it.

“I didn’t come here for a performance review,” I continued. “I came here hoping you’d understand that I’m trying my fucking best.”

He stood too then, carefully placing his hands on my shoulders, like he was afraid I’d shatter under the weight of his touch.

“You’re hurting too,” he murmured.

I shoved him off, not violently—but enough to make my point. “Congratulations. You want a gold star for finally showing some empathy?”

He dragged a hand down his face. “I thought you were… playing games. Trying to figure out which guy you wanted. I thought all of it—Kabir, Sebastian—it was just noise. Noise that’s been screwing up this mission more than it already has been.”

My breath caught in my throat.

Of all the things I’d expected him to say, that wasn’t one of them.

My eyes widened at his audacity. “Why would I willingly mess things up? Why would I jeopardize a mission that’s taken years of our lives?”

I took a step back, irritation flaring like an unchecked flame. Everything Kabir had said was still echoing in my head. I wanted to hit something—launch Chariot at that nameless bitch who’d hurt him. Maybe even land a well-placed punch on my brother’s jaw.

My hands tangled in my hair, gripping tight at the roots, trying to ground myself. Trying to find the words. Trying not to unravel.

“Sue me,” I whispered through gritted teeth, chest heaving. “Sue me,” I shouted this time, voice cracking, “for trying to carve out a sliver of life in between these missions. Every time I hit that blue button and engage the heat signature module, I’m praying I don’t lose one of you.”

Dylan stepped toward me, reaching again, trying to calm me. But I backed away.

“I’m trying, Dylan. I’m trying to do both. But I thought my life meant more to you than just another mission.”

“It does,” he said quietly. The tremor in his voice betrayed him.

“It doesn’t,” I snapped, the words slicing out of me. “Otherwise you would’ve—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, cupping my cheeks with both hands. His voice was hoarse. “You’re panicking.”

I shoved his hands off. “I don’t panic,” I hissed. “I don’t have the time to panic.”

He exhaled slowly, pained. “Amelia… I’m sorry.”

“I’m losing him.”

“And I already lost her.”

The quiet devastation in his whisper stopped me cold.

I blinked. “What?”

“I lost her to this mission,” he said, his voice like sandpaper—dry, splintered, unraveling. “I just want this over, Amelia. That’s all I want.”

The haze of rage inside me ebbed into silence. My brother—the strongest, stillest one among us—looked hollow.

I moved toward him, slower this time. My heart was a painful thud in my chest. “Dylan…”

He nodded, but the gesture was loose. Not really a nod. More like an admission of how tightly he’d bottled it all up.

“I’ll do better,” I whispered.

He looked so tall still, but not invincible. His shoulders were hunched, his jaw locked, but his eyes—they were stormy, wild, pained.

“I shouldn’t have made assumptions,” he said finally. He straightened his spine and stepped forward, gripping my shoulders. “I’m sorry I put the mission before you.”

My lower lip trembled. I pressed them together, childishly pouting to keep from crying. A soft snort escaped him.

I punched him in the stomach—not hard, but enough to make him grunt and wrap his arms around me in the kind of brotherly hug I hadn’t felt in too long.

“I’m sorry, Dyl,” I mumbled into his chest.

“What for, Mellie?”

I groaned at the stupid nickname. He hadn’t called me that since I turned fifteen.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Sorry.” He honest-to-god yelped as I pinched his side. Hard.

He untangled from me with a mock glare. I smirked, but it didn’t last long. Not with everything that had been said. I sobered quickly.

“I’m sorry you lost her.”

His face went blank in that way he did when the pain was too close to the surface. Whatever feeling he’d let through moments ago, he tucked it neatly away.

He cleared his throat and pulled me into another hug. “You finish that speech yet, 901?”

I narrowed my eyes. “You want another pinch, 900?”

And just like that, he was laughing again.

Asshole.

Kabir

“What the—?”

I flinched, almost dropping the soldering iron. The familiar voice behind me was way too close for comfort.

I was in one of the spare meeting rooms at the Command Center. A room no one fucking visited because it was near that big server room marked ‘Do Not Enter’.

“I’m not ready to die at fucking thirty-six, asshole!”

I twisted around and shot a glare at Zane, who was already smirking like the nosy bastard he was.

“Is that a—”

“Yes,” I cut him off, rolling my eyes as I turned back to the makeshift workstation.

It had been over a week since I told Amelia everything.

But she still hadn’t talked to me, save for the time she was complaining about Chariot, her new drone.

I also thought she wasn’t talking to me in particular, just muttering her grievances in the middle of the Command Center. She missed her old drones.

Out of Hawk and Eagle, Hawk had always been Amelia’s favorite.

Better weapon range, integrated thermal imaging, a LiDAR-enhanced 3D structural mapper, and—my personal pride—a custom-upgraded multi-axis gyro stabilizer I’d designed myself.

The woman had a thing for firepower and stabilization. Sexy, really.

I was rebuilding Hawk. Or at least a version of it. She’d had to abandon both when Romano-gate happened. But I knew what they meant to her.

I also knew she hated Chariot. Too intuitive. Too calibrated. Too much AI. She liked control. She liked manual overrides. Chariot didn’t let her feel the fight.

“She never said it,” I muttered, hands deftly maneuvering around the microcontroller, “but I know she misses them.”

Zane tilted his head as he stepped in closer. “You’re cloning her old drone config?”

“Not cloning. Rebuilding.” I didn’t look up. “I saved every custom patch she installed. Every tweak. Even the janky sensor she refused to recalibrate. She’s emotionally attached to the flaw in the targeting logic—it gives her manual correction time.”

I pointed at my laptop’s screen. “Oh and I upgraded the sensor so it can still misfire in the exact same way. She won’t even notice.”

He let out a low whistle. “You’ve got it bad.”

I grunted.

Zane looked between me and the partially reassembled drone on the table. “You know you don’t have to reroute the current through a double-layered MOSFET just to reduce thermal stress. You can just isolate the motor—”

“—with a Peltier cooler… I know.”

He smiled as he fucking caressed the damn frame, like he was petting a cat.

“You are stroking my drone.” I deadpanned.

He grinned. “It’s sexy tech. Let me have my moment.”

I sighed and refocused. “I know that way works. But I want it to match her old heat signature model. Down to the way the left arm buzzed when she pivoted on auto-fire mode.”

Zane crossed his arms. “She’s dating Sebastian, you know?”

“I know.”

“Then why do it?”

I paused.

“She deserves to feel in control again. After everything… she deserves something that listens to her.”

A silence stretched.

Zane finally muttered, “Chariot doesn’t listen?”

“Chariot listens to the code. Not to her. It anticipates. She hates that.”

“That’s some telepathic shit.” He exhaled a quiet laugh, then nodded toward the parts scattered across the desk. “You gonna need weapons modules?”

“Yeah. But I can’t request inventory from the armory without Sebastian breathing down my neck.”

“I’ll distract him. Say you’re working on a new training model for the recruits.”

I glanced at him. “That’s actually not a bad idea.”

He clapped me on the back, way too enthusiastically. “That’s why I’m the brains of the operation.”

I scoffed. “You’re the sarcasm of the operation.”

Zane shrugged. “Still part of the brain.”

We both returned to the table, the room now filled with the soft hum of tools and fan-cooled servers behind the wall.

“She’s gonna love it, you know,” Zane said after a beat.

I didn’t respond right away. My thumb grazed the smooth edge of the stabilizer bracket—the one I’d designed just for her grip calibration.

“I just want her to feel in control again.”

Zane nodded once, solemnly this time.

And then, because he can never shut the hell up—

“But let’s be real—this is also foreplay, right?”

I didn’t dignify that with a response.

I just kept soldering.

But the truth was, if she came back to me after all this—I’d have to ask myself why.

I had told her the truth. About my past. About my hesitations.

But none of that erased the reality that, no matter how much I told myself otherwise, I was still just an option to her.

And not even the first one.