16. Jonah
Jonah
I should already be dead.
That realization settles cold and sharp in the back of my mind as another burst of gunfire tears through the trees behind me.
Too accurate.
Too fast.
Every time I shift position, they’re already adjusting.
I cut hard left around a rock outcropping—
Bullets slam into the stone before I even clear it.
Fragments explode across my cheek.
I drop instantly, roll downhill through wet dirt, and come up firing toward the ridge line.
Two shots.
One body tumbles backward through the brush.
Doesn’t matter.
Another operative replaces him almost immediately.
Like the mountain itself keeps generating enemies.
My breathing turns rough as I sprint deeper through the trees, boots sliding across mud and loose pine needles while drones circle overhead like vultures.
“They’re learning,” I mutter.
The words vanish into the static humming through my comms.
No response.
Just my breathing.
My pulse.
The sound of something hunting me with terrifying patience.
A drone banks sharply overhead.
I dive behind a fallen tree just as automatic fire rips apart the ground where I’d been running.
Too close.
Way too close.
Mud sprays across my jacket while I force another mag into the rifle with practiced hands.
Think.
Move.
Stay alive long enough for Sienna to disappear.
That’s the mission now.
A sharp burst of static crackles through the comm in my ear.
Then her voice hits me like a shockwave.
“Jonah… stop moving.”
Everything inside me locks instantly.
Not because she ordered it.
Because it’s her.
“Sienna?”
Rain drips steadily from the trees overhead while I crouch behind the fallen log, scanning the ridge line through drifting smoke.
“I’ve got you,” she says.
Her voice sounds wrong.
Too strained.
Like every word costs her something.
“But you have to listen to me.”
Gunfire snaps overhead again, clipping branches above my head.
“I’m a little busy right now.”
“I know.”
A breath catches faintly through the comm.
“That’s why you’re going to do exactly what I say.”
Silence stretches for half a second.
Trust.
Complete and immediate.
“Talk.”
“Three hostiles. Twelve o’clock. One elevated sniper position.”
I shift my aim automatically toward the ridge ahead.
Nothing.
Then—
A glint catches through the trees.
“There,” she whispers.
I fire twice.
The sniper drops instantly from the rocks above.
“Don’t go left,” she says sharply.
Instinct says left gives me better cover.
But instinct almost got me killed three times already.
I pivot right instead.
A split second later, automatic fire shreds the exact route I almost took.
My stomach tightens.
Yeah.
She’s inside the system.
I sprint downhill through thicker tree cover while her breathing crackles softly through the comm.
Not steady.
Too uneven.
“Sienna,” I say quietly while vaulting over a fallen branch. “Where are you?”
A pause.
Long enough to worry me.
“Somewhere I don’t want to be.”
Something cold twists in my chest.
The strain in her voice gets worse every time she talks.
Like she’s fighting something harder than HELIOS.
“You okay?”
Silence.
Then static.
For one terrifying second, I think I lost her.
Then her voice cuts back in fast and sharp.
“Move. Now.”
I react instantly, throwing myself sideways behind a boulder.
An explosion detonates where I stood less than a second earlier.
Heat slams across my back while dirt and shattered rock rain through the trees.
My pulse pounds hard enough to hurt.
“Jesus Christ.”
“That was a drone strike,” Sienna says, breathing harder now. “They escalated authorization.”
I press my shoulder harder against the rock and fire uphill toward movement cutting through the smoke.
One operative drops.
Another keeps advancing.
“They’re pushing fast,” I mutter.
“Because they know where you’re going.”
I frown immediately.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Yes, you are.”
Her voice softens slightly.
“You always move toward defensible terrain under pressure.”
That hits hard.
Because she’s right.
I glance toward the ridgeline ahead instinctively.
Higher elevation.
Better cover.
Predictable.
“They built your movement profile already,” she says quietly. “Every tactical choice. Every response pattern.”
“So what? You’re reading my mind now?”
“No.”
Another strained breath.
“I’m reading theirs.”
Something crashes loudly through the trees uphill.
More boots.
Closing fast.
“Sienna,” I say, lowering my voice slightly. “Talk to me.”
No answer.
Just breathing.
Then finally—
“It’s pushing back.”
The words barely reach me.
My grip tightens hard around the rifle.
“ORACLE?”
A pause.
Then—
“Yes.”
Gunfire erupts again before I can respond.
I fire twice toward the ridge and sprint deeper through the trees while her voice guides me through the chaos.
“Forty yards ahead. Drop point on your right.”
I leap the second she says it.
The ground collapses behind me in a spray of dirt and broken branches.
“They planted charges?”
“No.”
Her voice strains harder.
“They predicted where you’d step.”
That sends a chill straight down my spine.
I slide behind another rock formation and reload fast while rain and smoke blur together around me.
“Sienna.”
This time my voice comes harder.
“What’s happening to you?”
Silence answers first.
Then a sharp inhale crackles through the comm like she’s fighting to stay conscious.
“I can feel it,” she whispers.
My chest tightens instantly.
“Feel what?”
“The system.”
The words hit like a punch.
“It’s changing.”
Another explosion echoes through the mountain.
Closer now.
“They’re surrounding you,” she says quickly. “North and east corridors are closing. You need elevation.”
“You sound bad.”
“Jonah—move.”
“I’m not leaving you in there.”
“You don’t have a choice.”
Anger spikes hot through my chest.
“The hell I don’t.”
A sudden burst of static tears through the comm hard enough to make me flinch.
When she speaks again, her voice sounds thinner.
Farther away.
“They know I’m here now.”
Cold dread settles instantly into my stomach.
“Sienna.”
“You need to keep moving.”
“No.”
Another sharp breath crackles through the line.
Then quietly—
“Please.”
That word almost breaks me.
Because Sienna Knox doesn’t ask for help.
Doesn’t plead.
Doesn’t sound afraid.
But she does now.
And somewhere beyond the gunfire and drones and collapsing mountains—
I realize she isn’t just trying to save me anymore.
She’s trying to hold herself together long enough to do it.