Julia slid in front of me, both hands gripping my face, forcing my eyes to hers. Her voice was steady, stronger than I felt.
“Hawk. Look at me.”
I did.
“That choice you made saved twenty civilians,” she said. “Ford knew the risks. You both did. He didn’t die because you failed. He died because war takes people who don’t deserve to go.”
My breath shook hard.
Julia leaned closer, forehead touching mine. “You carry everyone’s pain like it’s your penance. But I am here. And I’m telling you—Ford was proud of you. He’d never blame you.”
The simulation crackled. Ford’s image flickered, face distorting with digital static.
Julia didn’t move. Didn’t look away.
“He died a hero,” she whispered. “Not because you let him. Because he lived that way.”
The hologram shuddered—then dissolved into a rain of blue shards.
Silence crashed down.
Lyric’s voice returned, faintly impressed.
“Emotional decision recalibrated. Proceed to Level 5.”
I exhaled shakily and leaned my forehead into Julia’s shoulder. Just for a second. Just long enough for the world to feel real again.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
She wrapped an arm around my waist, grounding me, fierce and gentle all at once. “We do this together. Always.”
A soft hum signaled the lift powering up again.
Level 5.
Echo Core.
Reese’s throne room.
The heart of everything he built.
Julia stepped back, wiping her eyes, gripping her rifle.
“You ready, Hawk?”
A slow, lethal calm settled over me.
“Yeah. He pushed the wrong people.”
Together, we stepped into the lift—descending into the darkest level of Reese’s mind.
34
Julia
The lift shuddered to a stop.
A cold, sterile light seeped through the seam of the doors—too bright, too clean, the kind of illumination that belonged in a surgical theater or a morgue.
