28. Sienna
Sienna
T he comms crackle sharply in my ear.
Static bursts through the bunker—loud enough to cut across gunfire and shouting and the thunder of rounds slamming into concrete overhead.
Then the voice comes through.
Clear.
Perfect.
“Jonah… don’t move.”
Every muscle in my body locks instantly.
No.
No, no, no—
Jonah freezes beside me, rifle halfway raised toward the corridor.
“What the hell—”
“Don’t listen!”
I grab his arm hard enough my fingers hurt.
“That’s not—”
“Sienna?”
The second my name hits the room, my chest caves inward.
Because it’s not just similar.
It’s exact.
Elizabeth.
The cadence.
The softness in her voice when she was scared.
The tiny shake at the end of my name she could never fully hide.
“Please…”
The comm crackles softly.
“Don’t let them take me again.”
Pain detonates straight through me.
“Elizabeth…”
The bunker disappears for half a second.
Gunfire.
Concrete.
Jonah beside me.
Gone.
All I hear is her voice.
All I feel is four years of failure ripping back open inside my chest.
“Sienna.”
Jonah’s voice cuts sharply through the spiral.
Grounding.
Firm.
“Look at me.”
I can’t.
Because what if it’s real?
What if somewhere out there she’s alive and terrified and I’m standing here while she begs for help through a stolen comm frequency?
“No,” I whisper shakily. “No, this is a trick—”
“I’m cold,” Elizabeth’s voice says softly through the speaker.
My knees weaken instantly.
“You said you’d come back for me.”
My breath shatters.
“I’m trying,” I choke out before I can stop myself. “I never stopped trying—”
Gunfire explodes against the bunker entrance hard enough to shake the walls.
Reality slams back all at once.
Jonah grabs my face firmly between both hands before I disappear again.
“Look at me.”
This time I do.
His eyes lock onto mine instantly.
Steady.
Certain.
Unshakable.
“That’s not her.”
Tears blur my vision immediately.
“You don’t know that—”
“Yes, I do.”
Another burst of static crackles through the comm system.
“Sienna… please…”
My whole body flinches toward the sound instinctively.
Jonah tightens his grip slightly.
“It’s using her,” he says sharply. “You told me it would do this.”
I shake my head hard.
Everything inside me feels cracked open now.
“I don’t know anymore—”
“You do.”
His voice lowers slightly.
Not softer.
Stronger.
“You’re just scared.”
The truth of it hits like a knife.
Because he’s right.
God, he’s right.
I am scared.
Terrified.
Not of ORACLE.
Not of HELIOS.
Of hope.
Of hearing my sister’s voice and wanting it to be real badly enough to let the system destroy me with it.
Another explosion rocks the bunker overhead.
Dust rains from the ceiling.
Jonah’s forehead nearly touches mine now while gunfire erupts outside the corridor.
“Stay here,” he says quietly. “Stay with me.”
And somehow—
Through all the noise and fear and grief—
I do.