26. Sienna
Sienna
H ope is dangerous.
I learned that a long time ago.
Hope makes people reckless. Makes them step toward impossible things believing somehow this time will be different.
That’s how people die.
And yet—
When Jonah says we find her, something inside me wavers anyway.
Not because of the words.
Because of the way he says them.
Calm.
Certain.
Like Elizabeth isn’t some ghost buried in the dark corners of HELIOS.
Like she’s a mission.
A target.
Recoverable.
“That’s not how this works,” I say quietly.
The argument sounds weaker the second it leaves my mouth.
Jonah notices.
Of course he does.
He leans one shoulder against the bunker table, eyes fixed on me with that same steady focus that makes lying feel pointless.
“Then explain it to me.”
I shake my head immediately and look away before he sees too much.
“They took her because of me.”
The words scrape painfully coming out.
“Because of what I could do.”
I tighten my grip around the laptop case sitting against my knees.
“You don’t just find someone after four years.”
“No,” Jonah says quietly.
For one second, disappointment twists sharply through my chest.
Then—
“You track the people who took her.”
I still completely.
My pulse kicks hard once against my ribs.
Because that’s different.
Not blind hope.
Not denial.
Strategy.
Hunting.
Across the bunker, Ronan folds his arms and exhales slowly. “That means going straight through ORACLE.”
“Yes,” Jonah says immediately.
“No.”
The answer tears out of me before either of them can keep talking.
Absolutely not.
“That’s where the answers are,” Jonah says.
“That’s where I almost disappeared.”
My voice cracks harder now despite my effort to control it.
“You didn’t see what it was doing in there.”
I rise too fast from the chair, pacing once across the bunker floor just to burn off the panic climbing under my skin.
“It wasn’t just fighting me. It was learning me.”
Jonah doesn’t move.
Doesn’t interrupt.
“That thing knows exactly where to cut,” I whisper. “Exactly what to use.”
The memory of Elizabeth’s face inside ORACLE flashes through me so vividly my stomach twists.
“It almost got me.”
Silence settles heavily after that.
The bunker generators hum softly beneath the floor.
Rain taps faintly against concrete overhead.
And Jonah just watches me.
Steady.
Patient.
“You came back.”
I stop pacing instantly.
“You don’t know if I can do it again.”
The words leave me sharper than I intended.
Fear hiding beneath anger.
Because this is the truth I haven’t said yet:
I’m terrified the next time ORACLE reaches for me—
I’ll let it.
Jonah pushes away from the table slowly and crosses toward me.
No sudden movement.
No pressure.
Just presence.
“I do know.”
I stare at him.
“Why?”
His gaze never leaves mine.
“Because you’re still fighting.”
The words hit harder than they should.
Hard enough my throat tightens unexpectedly.
Jonah steps closer.
Not touching.
Close enough I feel the heat coming off him anyway.
“And because,” he says quietly, “you’re not doing it alone this time.”
That breaks something open inside me.
Before ORACLE.
Before HELIOS.
Before Jonah—
Everything was survival.
Isolation.
Walls built high enough nobody could hurt me worse than I already hurt myself.
Now those walls feel thinner.
Dangerously thin.
Because now I have something else to lose.
And somehow that terrifies me more than the system ever did.