Page 14

Kabir

The Crazon interface for the White House firewall was locked up tighter than… God, I didn’t even have the energy for analogies anymore. I had run every override command, re-coded the access strings, even tried mimicking the original encryption signature from the Bitch Crazon logs.

Still nothing.

Zero. Nada. Zilch. The digital equivalent of a door slammed in your face by someone who knows you’re armed and trying to break in anyway.

So, naturally, after the mission briefing, I was spiraling.

I wasn’t the only one still in the conference room, though. Dylan sat in the corner, arms crossed, brows perpetually knitted like someone permanently stuck in a state of existential crisis. Logan was leaning against the wall, toying with the safety on his sidearm like it was a fidget spinner.

Zane walked in then, brushing crumbs off his shirt like he’d just had a lovely snack while the rest of us were preparing for digital warfare.

“The weapons module’s still calibrating,” he told me discreetly. “Might take a few more days.”

That was it. That was the final straw.

I needed that one thing for Amelia’s drone.

“Behenchod!” I snapped.

It was a guttural, tired explosion of frustration—not directed at anyone in particular—but apparently, Dylan didn’t get the memo.

He jerked up from his chair. “That would be you , asshole!”

I blinked. “What?”

He knew what it meant. Shit, they all did.

Logan snorted so hard he nearly dropped his gun. “Oh my God,” he wheezed, clearly delighted.

Zane was laughing too now, and Dylan’s scowl had gone from mildly annoyed to full-on insulted.

“I didn’t say it to you, man,” I said quickly, trying not to laugh. “It’s… general-purpose. Like, it applies to everything. The firewall. The day. The fucking moon, for all I care.”

“But he’s not, though,” Logan added cheerfully. “A behenchod . Not yet, anyway.”

That made Dylan smirk as Logan held out a fist bump to him. Dylan stared at it for a beat—and, to my eternal shock, actually returned it.

Absently.

Logan smirked. “Progress, Kabir. You’ve got his blessing now.”

“You’re so fucking weird,” Dylan muttered.

“I second that,” I added, grinning despite myself.

Not that Dylan’s blessing meant anything. Amelia was dating someone else. And I was sure Sebastian already had all the silent approval in the world.

Before Logan could spout off something even more unhinged, the door creaked open.

Zarek stepped in.

His eyes scanned the room once—narrowing slightly at the sight of all three of us grinning like idiots.

Then he zeroed in on me. “Cipher, update?”

The smile vanished from my face like someone hit a kill switch.

I shook my head. “No progress yet. White House Crazon is still locked.”

He nodded once, no judgment in his expression. Just… that blank, unreadable stare. “Then quit the comedy hour and get back to work.”

Logan rolled his eyes dramatically.

I didn’t move, though.

I couldn’t.

Because when Zarek looked at me, I didn’t feel like a guy doing his best. I felt like an asset. One with an expiration date if I failed.

???

“Kabir?”

Her voice was soft. So soft that it barely cut through the echo of my boots in the hallway.

I stopped, sighing quietly as I turned around.

She was standing there—shoulders tense, hands fidgeting with the hem of her sleeves. And yet, her eyes—her eyes held everything. Hesitation. Hope.

Hope that I was trying like hell not to catch.

But, God! She was still so fucking beautiful that it made my chest hurt.

“Hey,” I said, offering a small smile. “I was just heading to the gym. Logan’s demanding ‘moral support’ because apparently he’s too stiff to stretch on his own.”

Her lips twitched. She smile briefly. But it faded almost as fast as it came. “Kabir, I—can we talk?”

I held her gaze for a moment. Then gave a quiet nod. “Of course.”

But I didn’t move closer. I didn’t drop the gym bag. Because I already suspected where this was going.

Apologies. Maybe she was circling back to me, her other option.

And I couldn’t afford to bleed for her anymore.

“I miss us,” she said gently.

‘There’s no us’, she’d once said. It still burned.

“And I know things have been weird. But I never wanted you to think I kissed you out of curiosity or pity or whatever your brain convinced you.”

I smiled again, small and tired. “It’s okay, Lia.”

“It’s not okay,” she insisted.

I shook my head, looking down at the tiled floor for a beat before meeting her eyes again. “I just want us to go back to being friends. Like before. No awkwardness. No pressure. And… I won’t interfere with Sebastian.”

Because I couldn’t keep holding out hope.

Because I couldn’t keep being a placeholder.

Because I wouldn’t survive being her option.

“Kabir, I think we should talk,” she urged, her voice slightly panicked. “Really talk. Not here, not while you’re running off somewhere.”

“The wedding’s this weekend,” I replied gently, avoiding her gaze. “You’ve got speeches to write, fittings to do, your Maid of Honor duties. It’s a lot. Let’s just… get through that. We’ll talk after.”

She frowned. “Kabir—”

“Please,” I said, more quietly than I meant to. “After.”

I saw it then—the flicker in her expression. Like she was realizing something too. Maybe that I had already made peace with whatever this was. Or that I was trying to.

I adjusted the gym bag on my shoulder and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. “I’ll see you later, Lia.”

Then I walked away.

Every step heavier than the last. Trying to summon the will to be her friend. To be the thing she’d still let me be.

Even if my heart had already handed itself over—long, long ago.