chapter 27, enjoy!

Sophia's POV

The soft rustle of the forest was the last thing I heard before sleep claimed me. The cool, damp air of the jungle wrapped around me, grounding me in a peace I hadn't known for a while. Somewhere beyond the veil of dreams, I could feel Tsu'tey keeping watch—a silent presence that eased my mind, even as my body surrendered to slumber.

And then…

Darkness.

When I opened my eyes, I wasn't in the forest anymore.

Cold metal walls surrounded me. The air was thick with the sterile, recycled scent of the human facility—nothing like the earthy dampness of the jungle. My limbs felt heavy, foreign. I shifted, trying to sit up.

I glanced at my hands

My hands—pale, small, weak. My tail was gone. I was in my human form again. The feeling of wrongness was odd to me. The weight of my Na'vi body was missing. Everything felt wrong.

Then I saw him—my father.

He stood at the foot of my pod, arms crossed, staring down at me with a familiar, stern expression. But there was something different about him. He looked tired. Worn.

My feet hit the floor, my arms wrapping around him. he stiffens, clearly debating his feelings but then his arms came around me, holding me tight.

He sighed, resting one hand on the back of my head. "You're gonna put me in an early grave kid."

I laughed softly, pressing my face into his chest. "Shut up old man."

We stayed like that for a few moments, the steady beat of his heart grounding me. I sighed heavily, the world outside fading into the background.

But soon, I pulled back, just enough to look at him. He studied me, his eyes full of something I couldn't quite place—concern, maybe, or just the exhaustion of a man who'd seen too much.

"You're alright," he said, his voice softer than usual.

I nodded, though I didn't feel alright. Not really.

He pulled back after a moment, his sharp blue eyes scanning my face. "I hate to do this now but we need to talk."

That tone made my stomach tighten. "About what?"

"About what we found."

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. My heart skipped, a wave of unease washing over me. I nodded, pushing aside the lingering fog of sleep.

"That bad huh?"

His eyes said it all.

Fucking hell….

"Lets get some food first."

..
..

The mess hall was pretty empty. The same clatter of trays, the quiet hum of scientists and soldiers changing shifts, the smell of processed food filling the air. It made my nose wrinkle, but I grabbed a tray and followed my dad to a quieter corner.

We sat, the noise of the room fading into the background as he ate, oblivious to the tension that had settled between us.

"Dad," I said softly, breaking the silence. "What did you find?"

He spins his fork around his pasta, stabbing a meatball pointedly. "Not here, kid."

I sighed but didn't press. Pushing my food around, pretending for a moment that everything was normal. That I wasn't back in this place. That there wasn't a war going on outside the walls.

For a brief moment, I let myself forget.

..
..

By the time we stepped into the meeting room, my stomach had settled, but my nerves were still on edge.

Parker was already there, leaning casually against the table, looking a confusing mix of smug and concerned. His eyes flicked up as we entered. "Nice to have you back, kid," he said.

I rolled my eyes, walking past him to the table with a smile but pull him in for a hug as well. "I did what I did okay? I'm not apologizing for saving lives."

He holds me tightly "Sure, cause all the chaos and ditch out when everyone starts yelling."

I pull back "Isn't that the point of starting chaos?"

The Colonel exhaled loudly, sliding a thick file across the table. I glanced down, my stomach flipping.

Photos. Scans. Reports. And my picture on the center of it.

..
..

I stared down at the file in front of me, the information blurring together as I tried to process it. Seven siblings listed. Their old names staring back at me. Their original lives? Gone. Erased. That was enough to make my stomach twist.

I scanned the second line, my eyes locking on one oldest name. A male. Late thirties. My fathers first born son, a male. Late thirties. -who's mother died after his fourth birthday. My eyes glanced over the picture of the brunette boy and his mother—he was another ghost, erased from existence, just like the rest of us.

I skimmed through more details, each entry more chilling than the last. The second and third born sons? The file simply said, "Deceased by subject's hand." My hand shook as I read the words. My own hand. The weight of it settled heavily on my chest. I didn't want to think about it, but I couldn't stop the memories from flooding back.

Four siblings remained, and now I had to worry about them. The youngest daughter, she was three years older than me, had died when she was four from cancer causing their mother to go crazy and turn on her kids. She took her life five years later. My fingers slide over the pictures, tears rolling down my cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes that never had a chance to bloom.

I place my hands over my eyes, a sob shaking my shoulders and I feel strong arms wrap around my shoulders, dad's frame standing behind me.

I had wanted a family more then anything and now, I was being forced to kill the only one I had left. I grab dad's arm, holding tight as my sobs deepened.

"Why is this so fucked up…."

..
..

I ran my fingers over the file, each page feeling heavier than the last. Seven siblings listed, but only four names remained—Carter, Alex my sister, Jason, and Rick. My older siblings. And they weren't dead. Not exactly. They were alive—somewhere out there, living with new names, new identities, completely erased from everything they had ever known. The fire had taken any other details, leaving only the remnants of their past lives in these old files.

Carter, the oldest. He was just a name. He had been part of the program before we were, but just like the others, his history was wiped clean the moment he joined. Then there were the other three. Alex, A sharp shooter before she switched. Then Jason, and Rick my youngest older siblings. They had been trained—military training from a young age, just like me. They stayed in the program, and now they were out there somewhere, under new names, their lives erased from everything. All I had left were these old, faded photos of them as children. There was nothing here that told me who they were now.

I felt my stomach churn as I looked at the childhood photos again. Carter. Alex. Jason. Rick. They were still out there. And they had been trained to be soldiers. To fight. To kill. To do whatever the program needed them to do. But more than that, they were trained to hate me.

They blamed me—and my mother—for everything. For tearing their family apart. For the death of their father. For breaking up the life they had before all this. They probably thought it was our fault their family had been split in two.

And, worse, I realized they had probably spent their whole lives believing it. That we were the reason they had been pulled into the program. That we had ruined everything for them. Maybe, in their eyes, it was true.

I slid my hand over the old photos again, trying to imagine them—Carter, Alex, Jason, Rick—grown up, older now, but still with that same resentment, that same anger. They had no idea who I was. Or maybe they did, but they wouldn't have the same face-to-face relationship we once might've had. They were ghosts now—shadows who only existed in these files.

I leaned back, running a hand through my hair. "These people… they're out there," I muttered, my heart pounding in my chest. "Three, maybe four of them, and they're coming for me. We don't even know who they are."

My father's expression didn't change. He was calm, unnervingly calm, as if this wasn't the worst thing I'd read in days.

"I'm looking into anyone who fits those age ranges," he said, his voice steady. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. No one's getting near you."

I glanced at him, but I didn't know how to feel about his words. Comforted? Terrified? The promise was there, but so was the coldness. His resolve was solid, but that didn't change the fact that I was stuck in this web of lies and secrets, with no clear way out.

..
..

I was staring at the files, trying to make sense of the chaos in front of me, when I almost walked straight into her.

Paz.

We froze at the same moment. She was standing just inches away, her eyes wide, like she'd been caught off guard too. The last time we'd seen each other was in the cafeteria—when I'd completely lost it in front of her, yelled at her for something that wasn't even her fault. That moment felt like it had been years ago, but I still felt the heat of my anger and shame, burning through me.

I blushed, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly. "Sorry," I muttered, not knowing what else to say.

Paz didn't say anything right away, just gave a soft nod. "It's fine," she said, her voice flat but polite. "Excuse me." She tried to step around me, but I couldn't let her go that easily.

I wanted to walk away, pretend the whole thing never happened, but guilt was a brick in my chest, too heavy to ignore.

"Paz," I called out before I could stop myself.

She froze, but didn't turn around. Neither of us spoke, and in that silence, the weight of the past few days felt heavier than ever. The last time we'd been this close, I'd made it clear we weren't friends. That it was just me and my father against the world, and anyone else who tried to get close didn't stand a chance.

But now...

"I'm sorry," I said, the words feeling a little too soft, but I meant them. "I... I was out of line. And I shouldn't have said what I did."

The silence stretched between us again, but this time, I could feel the tension shift. Paz was still standing there, her back to me, but I could almost hear her processing my apology. I swallowed hard and turned, determined to make things right. "Thank you," I added. "For being there for my dad. For helping him... after everything that happened."

Her shoulders stiffened, but she didn't speak. I could see her fingers twitch, like she was deciding whether to turn around, to look me in the eye.

I shook my head, feeling the frustration of it all. "Look, I'm not going to pretend we'll ever be anything close to friends. But I get it now. You care about him, and that's enough. I'll back off."

I exhaled, hoping that would be the last word on it.

Finally, Paz turned slightly, glancing over her shoulder. There was no anger in her eyes—just an unreadable expression. "It's okay," she said quietly. Then, without another word, she left, her footsteps fading as she walked away.

I stood there for a moment, the words hanging in the air like an apology neither of us were really sure we could accept. But at least we'd said it.

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