Page 29 of BounBound By Scars

Seb shook his head and tapped on the screen.

My gaze zeroed in on the capitalized first letters of certain words:

R.O.M.L.I.N.S.O.N.

A name?

Romlinson.

“Who is Romlinson? Is that a real surname?” I asked, my brows furrowed.

Seb sighed, shaking his head. “Zane says it’s not a name at all. That it could be an acronym for something else they’re trying to tell us. Kabir says itisa name, but not the way we think.”

I squinted at the screen again. “Wait, I mean… any idiot could see that it’s a combination of their names.Romfrom Romano,Linfrom Ling, andSonfrom Tyson.”

“Yeah, we discussed that. But why tell us that?” Seb ran a hand through his short curls, eyes darkening in frustration. “It would be obvious to Pedro and Lan that we already knew that. The term has to stand for something. A company? A place? A—”

His words cut off as his eyes widened, a sudden realization striking him like a lightning bolt.

He quickly tapped on his desk, and as expected, the surface lit up to form a screen.

I straightened. “What?”

Seb didn’t answer. His mind had locked onto something, his entire focus narrowing like a sniper lining up a shot. Even my voice couldn’t break through.

A moment later, Zane and Kabir strode in.

The moment Kabir saw me, he stiffened. It was quick, barely noticeable, but I caught it. And just as quickly, he composed himself, his usual impassive mask sliding back into place.

“Ranger?” Zane asked, immediately sensing the shift in the room.

Seb exhaled. “A code.”

His voice was hesitant. Like he wasn’t sure he was right.

Kabir blinked. “A code for what? The Bitch?”

Seb narrowed his eyes at him, clearly unfamiliar with the term, so Zane answered instead.

“We renamed the Crazon from Operation Tantalus as The Bitch when you were… umm… incapacitated.”

Sebastian winced before nodding slowly. “Well, if it was the code to get in, we’ve botched our chances.”

Nobody spoke for several seconds.

Suddenly, Kabir barked out a disbelieving laugh, his gaze locked onto some indistinct point in the room.

“Iski maa ka…”

“Kabir,” I groaned automatically.

For a moment, his eyes found mine. And something… familiar passed between us.

As if this moment was reluctantly yanked out of our shared, yet buried past.

Calling it past felt shameful, though.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “It’s not a code.”

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