18. Jonah
Jonah
S omething’s wrong with Sienna.
I feel it before I fully understand it.
The gunfire keeps coming.
Drones sweep across the ridge overhead while I move through the trees below, rifle hot in my hands and lungs burning from the climb.
But her timing changes.
Tiny delay.
Barely noticeable.
Still enough to get me killed.
“Right,” she says through the comm. “Now down—two hostiles behind the ridge—”
I drop behind cover just as rounds rip through the branches above me.
Too close.
Again.
Mud sprays across my arms while I shove another mag into the rifle and scan uphill through drifting smoke.
“Sienna,” I mutter. “You’re slowing.”
“I’m not.”
The answer snaps back instantly.
Too sharp.
Too fast.
Not controlled the way she usually is.
I fire uphill toward movement cutting between the rocks.
One operative drops.
Another disappears behind cover.
“Sienna.”
“Just move, Jonah.”
The strain in her voice twists something hard in my chest.
Not exhaustion anymore.
Something worse.
I sprint deeper through the trees while bullets crack past my shoulder.
The terrain shifts fast here—steeper ground, tighter rock formations, fewer escape routes.
Bad position.
Worse if they already know where I’m headed.
“Talk to me,” I say quietly.
Static answers first.
Then finally—
“I’m fine.”
No.
She isn’t.
I know it now.
Know it with the same certainty I know incoming fire.
The connection between us feels wrong.
Fractured somehow.
Another burst of gunfire erupts ahead.
I dive behind a massive rock outcropping just as rounds slam into the stone hard enough to shake it.
“They’re closing,” I mutter.
“I see them.”
Her breathing crackles softly through the comm.
Uneven.
Almost trembling.
“Then get me out of this.”
Silence.
Too long.
My grip tightens around the rifle instantly.
“Sienna.”
“Go left,” she says suddenly.
I freeze.
Rain drips steadily through the trees while I study the terrain ahead.
Left leads downhill.
Too exposed.
Too clean.
Everything inside me screams trap.
“Left,” she repeats.
“Negative.”
A pause.
Then—
“What?”
“I said negative.”
Gunfire echoes somewhere higher on the ridge while my eyes track movement through the smoke.
Three hostiles shifting west.
One drone circling too low.
And left—
Left puts me directly into a kill corridor.
“Jonah,” Sienna says sharply, “I don’t have time for this.”
“You’re off.”
The words leave my mouth before I can soften them.
Silence slams through the comm.
“That’s not the right move,” I continue.
Another pause follows.
Longer this time.
Then quietly—
“…no. It is.”
I study the terrain again.
The angles.
The lines of fire.
The way HELIOS keeps driving me toward confined movement patterns.
“No,” I say again. “That’s where they want me.”
Nothing answers immediately.
Then I hear it.
Not fear.
Not stress.
Something worse.
Uncertainty.
Cold dread settles into my chest.
“Sienna.”
My voice lowers automatically.
“Are you still in control?”
Silence.
Long enough my stomach twists hard.
Gunfire erupts somewhere behind me, but I barely hear it over the pounding in my chest.
“Sienna.”
When she finally answers, her voice sounds distant.
Small.
Like she’s talking through water.
“I… don’t know.”
The words hit harder than any bullet today.
For one second, the entire mountain seems to stop moving around me.
Then instinct takes over.
I abandon the left route instantly and break hard uphill through thicker cover instead.
A sniper round tears through the exact space I would’ve crossed seconds later.
Stone explodes behind me.
Yeah.
That would’ve killed me.
I slide behind another rock formation and slam fresh rounds into the rifle.
“Sienna.”
My voice comes sharper now.
Harder.
“Listen to me.”
Static crackles loudly.
Then—
“I’m trying.”
“No.”
I crouch lower behind cover while drones circle overhead.
“Listen.”
Silence.
Then softer—
“Okay.”
I press my hand harder against the comm in my ear like somehow that gets me closer to her.
“I’m getting you out of there.”
“You can’t.”
“I can.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“I don’t care.”
The words echo harder than the gunfire.
Because I mean them.
Every damn one.
Silence answers me again.
Not empty this time.
Shaken.
“I’m not losing you to that thing,” I continue, scanning the ridge for movement. “Do you hear me?”
Another explosion rocks the mountain somewhere behind me.
Smoke rolls through the trees.
Then finally—
Soft enough I almost miss it—
“Jonah…”
Her voice breaks slightly on my name.
And suddenly I know exactly how bad this really is.
“Stay with me,” I say quietly.
I fire twice toward movement on the ridge.
One hostile drops backward through the trees.
“You fight it,” I continue. “I’ll handle the rest.”
“You don’t understand what it is.”
“I understand enough.”
Another drone banks overhead.
I rise from cover and sprint hard uphill toward the ridge line instead of away from it.
Toward the fight.
Toward her.
Because this ends one way or another today.
And I’m done running from it.
“I’m coming to you,” I say.
Panic flashes through the comm instantly.
“You can’t—”
“Watch me.”