Page 55 of Honor Bound

Her chest constricted, the words scraping against her throat. Her father’s face flashed in her mind—kind and determined, with that endless spark of curiosity. Gone. Just like that.

“I was supposed to be on the helicopter with him, with my father and the other crew members,” she whispered. “I would’ve been with them… but I got delayed.”

The tears she’d held back for so long burned behind her eyes. She wouldn’t cry. Not now. Not in front of Roan.

“I survived because of a scheduling conflict,” she said bitterly. “Markus was shocked when he found out I was still alive. I should’ve seen the truth then… but grief makes you blind to things you don’t want to believe.”

Her voice grew quieter, trembling with the weight of the next words. “Admiral Greenburg sent me a message a year into the Gliese mission. He told me it wasn’t an accident. It had been a power play—calculated and deliberate. Four people had conspired to bring the helicopters down. Markus was one of them. They wanted control over who would be on the mission. Someone who would give them the information I wouldn’t. I wasn’t supposed to survive.”

Her shoulders shook, but she refused to let the tears fall. “Nothing was ever done. The investigation was buried because of the sensitive nature of the mission. No one will ever be held accountable. Not Markus. Not the others. It would be too messy and hurt the global economy.”

The room felt suffocating. She clenched the sheet tighter around her, her knuckles turning white.

The comforting weight of a warm hand settled gently on her back. Roan. A man who knew betrayal by the ones he should have been able to trust the most. She closed her eyes, the weight of that realization washing over her like a wave, bringing with it an unexpected sense of release. As if the release valve on a pressure cooker had finally held as much as it could before it blew up.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said softly. His voice was steady, but there was an edge of steel beneath it—a quiet promise of retribution.

Julia shook her head, her breath hitching. “I should’ve seen it. I should’ve known.”

“Do you think I’m like him?” Roan asked quietly.

The question startled her. She turned to him, her eyes wide and raw. For the first time, she saw the vulnerability beneath his armor—the fear that maybe, just maybe, he was tainted by the same darkness.

“No,” she said firmly. “Markus would’ve sold his soul for money and power. You… you are willing to die to protect the people you don’t even know.”

Her voice softened, her fingers curling around his. “You fight for something bigger than yourself. That’s the difference.”

Roan’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with something fierce and unspoken. He pulled her into his arms, holding her close.

“We’ll make them pay,” he murmured into her hair. “For your father. For everyone they’ve hurt.”

Julia closed her eyes, letting herself lean into him. For the first time since her father’s death, she felt the weight of her guilt release and a sense of peace settle over her.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

Julia opened her eyes and gave Roan a trembling smile. “For being you.”

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

Forty minutes later, Roan leaned against the doorframe, watching Julia move around the galley with the kind of casual confidence that was mesmerizing. The way she moved was calming, even soothing—graceful without effort. His eyes lingered for a moment longer than he intended.

“Something smells good,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Although that could just be you. You’ve got me so distracted I’ve forgotten the basics—like food, assassins, and weapons of mass destruction.”

Julia glanced over her shoulder, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “All in my job description,” she quipped.

Roan grinned, pushing off the doorframe and crossing the compact, but efficient galley. He slipped his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder.

“And what exactly is your job description, Dr. Marksdale—besides driving me insane with desire?” he murmured, the warmth of her body pressing against him unexpectedly comforting.

“To make the impossible seem possible,” she replied, stirring whatever had been in the package she had heated. “It’s a skill I’ve picked up over time.”

Roan chuckled softly. “So, miracle worker it is.”

Julia gave a mock sigh. “Not quite. But I’ve had practice at making scary, complicated things seem less terrifying.” Her voice softened, taking on a more reflective tone. “That’s what made our crew special. We balanced each other perfectly. There was a chemistry between us that’s rare.”

Roan’s curiosity sharpened. He gently released her, leaning against the counter. “What kind of chemistry?”

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