Page 45

Kabir

It had only been two days since I got back.

Two days, and everything still felt like a dream I hadn’t woken up from. No interrogations. No suspicion. No cold, assessing looks.

Just warmth.

Just her.

Amelia had told me bits and pieces—how fractured the team had become while I was gone. How quiet Dylan had turned. How Zarek stopped barking orders. How Logan kept losing sleep. How she barely breathed.

I hated that. Every fucking word of it.

I told her I’d take the blame.

She shut that shit down real fast.

She’d just left ten minutes ago to get us dinner, threatening me with bodily harm if I left the bed. I didn’t argue. I liked her fussing over me. I liked the softness in her voice when she checked on my meds. I liked… being hers.

I only wished I’d been there when she woke up from her own gunshot wound.

Fuck.

I leaned back against the pillows, letting the hum of the building fill the silence—until a knock on the door broke it.

I frowned. Lia wouldn’t knock.

Then the door opened, and in walked him.

Zarek.

Holding Lia’s keycard.

Huh.

I pushed myself up slowly, careful not to aggravate my ribs.

“Ghost?”

He walked in, not with his usual military stride—but something quieter. Hesitant.

“Zarek,” he said, then added, “Or Zar. Take your pick, Kabir.”

That threw me off.

“You, uh… wanna sit?”

He nodded once and walked over, sinking to the edge of the bed like it wasn’t his usual territory.

I watched him closely. Every move. Every breath. Assessing the shift. He looked… subdued.

Not stiff. Not commanding.

Just… small.

I nodded at the card still in his hand. “Guess Lia won’t be showing up for a while.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… she knew I needed to talk to you.”

I let the silence settle.

Didn’t rush him.

He cleared his throat. Twice.

“Kabir, I—I know there’s this… distance between us. Always has been.” He glanced down at his hands. “And I never didn’t feel it. I just… got comfortable with it. And you—you’ve paid the price for that.”

He looked up then. Eyes sharp with something too raw to mask.

“I’m so sorry, brother.”

The word hit weird.

Then he let out a low, self-deprecating laugh. “ Fuck . Even calling you brother feels new. I really screwed up.”

I swallowed hard. The truth was bitter in my throat, but I said it anyway.

“You started the distance.” I held his gaze. “I just kept it, Ghost.”

He flinched—like I’d slapped him across the face. The call sign landed heavy.

He shifted on the edge of the bed, glanced down at his hands.

Then, quieter this time, “Can you… not call me that?”

I blinked. My voice came out flat. “Do you know I’ve never called you Zar?”

Zarek frowned, like he was mentally scrolling through six and a half years of memory and couldn’t find a single time. Because there wasn’t one.

I gave him a small, dry smile.

“And I only ever called you Ghost for the first year of being in Squad Six.”

His face changed then—just slightly. A softening. Maybe realization settling in.

I could’ve stopped. Maybe I should have.

But I didn’t.

“I felt like an asset,” I said. “Like Cipher mattered more than Kabir ever could.”

He opened his mouth, but I held up a hand—don’t interrupt.

“You let Logan in. You let Dylan in. But me?” I gave a hollow laugh. “I was just the tech guy. The tool. A walking firewall with a mouth you didn’t quite know what to do with.”

Zarek exhaled sharply. “That’s not how I saw you.”

“No?” I snapped, heat rising in my voice now. “Because every time I opened up, every time I tried to be something beyond my title, you shut the door.”

“Kabir—”

“No,” I said. “Let me say it . You want honesty, right?”

He nodded slowly, jaw clenched. “Yeah. I do.”

I looked down at my hands. Fingers curled into my palms.

“I used to rehearse sentences,” I said. “You know that? For the first two years, before I came to you. I rehearsed how to ask for backup, for clarity, for fucking respect —because I never knew how much was too much with you.”

I felt his breath hitch beside me. Good.

“And after Maxton died,” I continued, softer now, “when I was lying in that hospital bed, patching myself together—physically, mentally—I kept waiting for your face.”

He looked at me then. Fully.

“I waited ,” I said. “One day. Two. A week. I told myself you were busy. Grieving. Prepping for ops. But deep down, I knew . You didn’t want to see me.”

He looked gutted.

“That’s not true,” he said quickly, his voice tight, choked. “I—”

“I’m not Logan,” I cut in. “I’m not Dylan.”

Zarek’s gaze dropped.

“You made me second-guess everything,” I whispered. “The way I spoke. The way I stood. Whether I was too soft or not useful enough. So, I tried to toughen up. I tried to copy Logan’s sarcasm. Dylan’s restraint. I wanted to earn your trust. Your friendship. Something. But I’m not them.”

My voice cracked. I hated that it cracked.

“I talk,” I said. “I ask. I push. I feel everything too loud and too bright.”

He didn’t deny it.

Didn’t even try.

“I’m not them . And I think… I think that made you uncomfortable.”

A pause stretched between us, brittle and loaded.

Then—softly, almost a whisper—

“No,” he said. “It made me scared.”

I paused.

He finally looked up, eyes wet.

“I was scared, Kabir.”

His voice cracked.

“I lost my parents. Not in death—but I lost them. I lost Zavier, my brother. Then Maxton. I was scared that letting anyone else in would just end the same way. Hell, I pushed Leora away for so long.”

He rubbed his face with an unsteady hand. “So I created the distance. I convinced myself it was safer.”

I was quiet for a moment, then reached for the water on my nightstand—taking a slow sip, more for time than thirst.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking now. “ God , Kabir, I’m so sorry.”

I was quiet for a long moment, letting the pain settle, letting it sting.

But also letting it go.

Bit by bit.

“You know what’s worse?” I finally said. “It worked.”

Zarek frowned. “What did?”

“You made me feel like Cipher mattered more than Kabir… and I started to believe it.”

Zarek exhaled sharply, like the weight of that single sentence had just shattered something inside him. His shoulders slumped.

I sighed. “Listen… I can’t force you to care—”

“I care,” he snapped, voice rising before he caught himself. He scrubbed a hand over his face and added, quieter this time, “I fucking care . I failed you, yeah. But that didn’t mean I didn’t care, Kabir. It just meant I didn’t know how to show it.”

I nodded slowly. “We all fail each other sometimes.”

Silence settled again—less brittle this time. Like the air had cleared, a storm finally passed.

Zarek leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I want to fix things. I don’t expect you to forget everything. Hell, I wouldn’t if I were you. But I want to be better. I didn’t show up for you. But I’m here now. And I don’t plan on leaving again.”

I looked at him.

Really looked.

The man I used to think didn’t see me at all—was finally trying to.

“You’re not so bad at this, you know,” I muttered, reaching for the water on the nightstand.

Zarek raised a brow. “What, talking?”

“Yeah. Vulnerable Ghost is… mildly terrifying but effective.”

He snorted.

I opened the bottle again.

Then, after a beat he whispered, “I love you, brother.”

The words were so soft I almost didn’t catch them.

Almost.

Mid-sip, I froze.

Eyes wide. Water halfway down my throat. No breath. No movement.

Zarek noticed. “Kabir.”

I didn’t move.

“Are you—are you choking?”

I coughed violently, then half-laughed between gasps. “You—what did you just say?”

Zarek groaned. “You know what I meant.”

“No. No, I know. Just… damn. That’s strong,” I eyed the bottle in my hand.

“That’s water,” he deadpanned.

I wheezed. “I need it diluted. Maybe with vodka.”

Zarek rolled his eyes, but I saw the grin tugging at his mouth.

“Fine,” I said, wiping my chin. “I love you too, Ghost.”

He glared.

“Zar,” I corrected with a smirk.

“Asshole,” he muttered.

“Affection received.”

We sat there in silence again—more relaxed now. No tension. No eggshells. Just two idiots finally starting to get their shit together.

Maybe a few years late.

But right on time.

Amelia

I probably looked like an idiot—ear pressed to the door, tray of food in hand, as if anything could make it through these thick-ass doors.

Still, I leaned.

Hard.

Until the door clicked and swung open.

I jumped back, caught red-handed.

Zarek stepped out, a small, satisfied smile playing on his face.

I narrowed my eyes and blurted out. “You’re married.”

From inside the room, Kabir howled with laughter.

Then suddenly stopped muttering a curse. His ribs.

God! What a moron.

Zarek blinked at me, startled. “I know . And about to be a father .”

He stepped forward, closing the distance until I had to take a step back. His smile softened.

“Thank you,” he said. “For giving me the time to talk to him.”

I nodded stiffly, still frowning.

“Heeeeer,” Kabir’s voice rang out like a dramatic song cue. “I’m hunnnnngryyyyyy!”

Zarek’s expression flattened instantly. “He’s hungry.”

“I know . And about to get lucky . So get gone!”

Zarek barked out a laugh and shook his head, already turning down the hall.

“God help you both,” he muttered.

I rolled my eyes, balanced the tray in one hand, and stepped into the room.

Kabir was grinning like a damn fool. Head slightly tilted, eyes on me like I hung the stars.

“Good talk?” I asked, setting the tray on the bedside table.

Kabir sobered, nodding once. “Yeah. Yeah, it was… overdue.”

Then he perked up, that smirk returning. “He’s all grown up now. Makes eye contact and everything.”

I bit back a laugh and sat down next to him.

The second I did, he pulled me into his side like a magnet—ribs be damned.

“Hey,” I protested, pressing lightly against his chest. “Your ribs.”

“If you say that one more time, maa qasam —” he narrowed his eyes dramatically. “I’ll lose it. I’m fine .”

I grunted in disagreement. “Mmmhmm.”

He squinted at me. “Is that why you haven’t let me jump your bones?”

A full-blown laugh escaped me. “Yep,” I said, popping the p just to annoy him.

He groaned. “Baby, I’m fine. But I’m fucking hungry… for you.”

“You’re also freshly back from the dead. So.” I shrugged. “Deal with it.”

He gave me a deadpan look. “You want me to beg, don’t you?”

“Wouldn’t hurt.”

We both grinned—slow, soft, absolutely wicked.

His hand slipped to my waist, fingers brushing beneath the hem of my top like he couldn’t help himself. “You know,” he murmured, voice dipping, “if I didn’t love you so damn much, I’d call this medical cruelty.”

I leaned in just enough to brush my nose against his. “You love me that much?”

He nodded. “That much.”

And just like that—I melted. God, I was so far gone for this man it was ridiculous.

His fingers traced lazy circles on my thigh as we sat there, wrapped in each other like no one else existed.

“Hey,” I whispered. “ Meri jaan .”

He paused, smiling as he leaned back just enough to look at me. “Say that again.”

“ Meri jaan. It’s like kryptonite for you,” I snorted.

His eyes softened—something quiet and reverent flickering behind them. “Do you even know what that means?”

“Of course,” I said cheerfully.

He laughed. “You’re adorably confident for someone with a two-word Hindi vocabulary.”

“I know some words,” I offered proudly. “Let’s see… behenchod .”

Kabir choked. “Oh my God.”

“ Bhaad mei jaa. ”

He looked personally offended. “Excuse me?”

“ Chutiya .”

“Okay—first of all.” He pointed. “Where did you learn these? Who corrupted you?”

“The internet,” I grinned.

He burst out laughing, eyes crinkling at the corners, the sound absolutely glorious. “You sound like a drunk Indian uncle.”

“Thank you,” I said with mock pride.

We were both still giggling when I asked, “Say something in Hindi.”

He tilted his head. “It’s hard to form a full sentence in pure Hindi now. English keeps slipping in.”

“Try,” I said softly. “Please.”

He looked at me for a long moment. Studied me like he was committing me to memory.

Then he nodded once, like he’d made a decision.

And in a voice that was steady, rich, and so full of emotion it made my throat ache, he said, “Tum ho, toh main hoon. Tumhare bina, main sirf ek adhoori kahani hoon… jo kabhi poori nahi hogi.”

I stilled.

The way he said it—like a truth carved into his soul.

I blinked back the tears already burning behind my eyes. “What does that mean?”

He brushed his knuckles gently along my jaw and whispered, “If you exist, then I exist. Without you, I’m just an unfinished story… that will never be complete.”

And just like that, I shattered.

I launched myself into his arms, my lips crashed into his.

“I love you— fuck— so much,” I breathed, burying my face in his neck.

He held me tighter. “I love you too, Heer .”

Then—because this was Mr. Kabir ‘Cipher’ Gill, he ruined the moment.

“But I’m so fucking sex-deprived!”