20. Jonah
Jonah
I stop running.
Not because I want to.
Because the pattern finally changes.
The gunfire shifts.
Too coordinated.
Too controlled.
They’re tightening the perimeter now instead of chasing.
Three signatures moving left through the trees.
Two more pushing uphill on my right.
The drone still circles above me, low enough I can hear the sharp mechanical whine cutting through the rain.
Good.
If I can hear them—
I can kill them.
I slide behind a moss-covered ridge and steady the rifle against wet stone while movement flashes through the trees below.
One operative breaks cover.
Too slow.
I squeeze the trigger once.
The body drops instantly.
Gunfire erupts toward my position.
I move before the rounds even hit the rock.
Shift.
Roll.
Fire again.
Another body crashes backward through the brush.
The remaining operatives adjust fast.
But not fast enough.
Not tonight.
Not while Sienna’s still out there.
Or at least she was.
My hand presses harder against the comm in my ear.
“Sienna.”
Static answers me.
Nothing else.
Cold dread tightens instantly in my chest.
That silence isn’t normal.
Not for her.
Even exhausted, even half-lost inside ORACLE, she kept talking.
Guiding.
Fighting.
Now—nothing.
Rain slides down the back of my neck while I crouch behind another rock formation and scan the ridge.
Think.
Where would Ronan take her?
Not exposed terrain.
Not open movement.
Somewhere shielded.
Somewhere defensible.
Another burst of gunfire snaps through the trees.
I fire twice toward the muzzle flash and keep moving uphill.
Faster now.
Reckless.
Don’t care.
Every instinct I have screams the same thing over and over:
She’s running out of time.
I clear another ridge and drop behind cover just as a drone banks low overhead.
Then suddenly—
Silence.
No shots.
No advancing movement.
Nothing.
My stomach tightens instantly.
Not natural.
Not earned.
Engineered.
“They’re pulling back,” I mutter.
Which means they already got what they wanted.
Or they think they did.
I scan the ridgeline again.
That’s when I see it.
Half-hidden beneath rock and overgrowth near the mountain face.
Concrete.
Steel venting.
Old military relay structure.
A bunker.
My pulse kicks hard.
Of course.
Reinforced walls.
Signal shielding.
Underground access.
Exactly where Ronan would take Sienna if she needed hardline access into ORACLE.
And exactly where HELIOS would expect her to go eventually.
My jaw tightens hard enough to ache.
“Sienna,” I whisper.
Still nothing through the comm.
Fear punches straight through me this time.
Real fear.
Not tactical.
Personal.
I shove a fresh mag into the rifle and rise from cover.
“Hold on,” I mutter quietly.
To her.
To myself.
Then I sprint straight toward the bunker.
Toward the thing trying to take her from me.
And this time—
I’m done letting it.