Page 78 of BounBound By Scars

“My room.”

I yanked back like he’d just said the code word for an exorcism. “Whoa—whoa! You can’t just saymy roomlike we’re about to go do sinful things in it.”

He turned slightly, that smug Kabir smirk playing on his mouth. “Didn’t say we weren’t.”

“Kabir.”

“I’m kidding.”

“Are you?”

“Maybe?”

I groaned but followed anyway, curiosity getting the better of me—and maybe, just maybe, a little part of me hoping he wasn’t kidding.

But the way his pulse was racing under his skin told me: this wasn’t about sex.

This was about something else entirely.

Kabir’s room was as I remembered it—clean, orderly, annoyingly perfect, like he thought chaos could be shut out if he just kept enough corners straight.

I leaned against the edge of his desk as he rifled through his closet, muttering something under his breath.

Then he turned.

Holding it.

A sleek black drone—slightly more compact than Hawk but eerily familiar in design. Elegant, predatory, mine.

My eyes widened.

“Hawk?” I whispered, breath catching. “You saved Hawk?”

He gave me a soft, almost sheepish look. “I couldn’t save Hawk. But I rebuilt her.”

I stilled.Her. The man who once called them inanimate objects was willingly calling a drone,her.

Then a thought hit me like a damn freight train.

Because just a few weeks ago, Sebastian had handed me tulips and I’d stood there like an idiot, unable to name a favorite flower.

But this?

This was my flower.

My favorite fucking flower.

Kabir had handed me a damn bouquet made of steel and circuits and memory.

My chest ached with something I didn’t have a name for. Then he sank it even further when he walked over, gently placing the drone in my hands. “I matched her configuration exactly as Hawk. Same stabilizer. Same flight calibration. Even the glitch in the visual processing module you secretly liked. It’s all there.”

I ran my fingers over the cool, familiar surface. My throat tightened, and when I looked up, he looked so fucking nervous—like he thought I wouldn’t want it.

God, he didn’t understand, did he?

He had no clue what this meant.

He’d built me something no one ever had before—he saw me. Every forgotten quirk, every buried preference. Every inch of who I was, logged, saved, loved.

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