Chapter 25: After the Silence
The sound of the gunshot still echoed in Sierra's ears, even though the room had fallen deathly still. Smoke curled lazily from the chamber of the pistol clutched in her trembling hand. The man—the replica, the puppet of the Protocol—lay crumpled in front of the shattered core, sparks flaring from the shattered machine behind him.
And then—nothing.
No alarms.
No pulses.
No voices whispering in her mind.
Just quiet.
For the first time since she could remember, the static in her head was gone.
She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. Her knees buckled, and she dropped to the floor, the weapon slipping from her grip with a metallic clatter.
"Sierra?" Knox's voice crackled through her earpiece. "Talk to me. What happened?"
She reached up slowly, pressing the side of the comm. "It's done," she said, her voice hoarse. "I destroyed it. The core. Him. All of it."
There was a pause on the other end, then a slow, shaky exhale. "Get out of there. Now. We don't know what kind of failsafes might kick in."
Sierra looked around the dim chamber. Panels were sparking, lights flickering, and the entire place pulsed with a strange, dying rhythm—like a heart that didn't know it had already stopped beating.
She stood. Each step toward the exit felt like walking away from a former life. The one where she was someone else's weapon. Someone else's property. Someone programmed to obey.
Not anymore.
Outside, the wind howled across the open plains, carrying with it dust and ash and something new—something clean.
Knox was waiting by the extraction vehicle, a sleek black cruiser hidden beneath a tarp. The moment he saw her, he started toward her—but stopped when he saw her face.
"I thought I lost you," he said quietly.
"You did," Sierra replied. "But I came back anyway."
He stared at her for a long second, then gave a small nod. "Come on. Let's go before someone comes looking for what we just blew up."
They climbed into the cruiser, and for a while, they drove in silence—cutting across the desolate landscape toward the Northern Wastes.
Eventually, Knox glanced over at her. "How do you feel?"
Sierra looked out the window, her eyes catching the first hints of dawn breaking over the horizon.
"I feel... empty," she said. "But in a good way. Like there's finally room for me to exist."
Knox didn't say anything, but his hand brushed hers where it rested on the console. She didn't pull away.
For the first time, the silence wasn't suffocating.
It was peace.
But peace didn't mean the story was over.
Not yet.
Somewhere, deep beneath abandoned cities and crumbling systems, fragments of the Protocol still flickered—like dying embers waiting to be rekindled.
And Sierra knew: if they came back, she'd be ready.
Because this time, she wasn't a weapon.
She was the one pulling the trigger.