The moment Sienna reached the roof, something dropped from the sky behind her.
The impact shook the building.
A masked man rose from the rain, enormous black metal wings unfolding from his back. Before Sienna could turn, one wing swept past her and struck the camera with enough force to send it spinning across the rooftop.
His name was Vantor.
And he had been ordered to take her necklace.
Sienna’s electric baton damaged one of his wing actuators, but Vantor trapped her between the metal plates and reached for the silver cross. She stopped his hand inches from it, slipped behind him and pulled the emergency release on his flight harness.
Both wings collapsed.
Vantor dropped to one knee.
But instead of continuing the fight, he raised his hands.
“That necklace isn’t tracking you,” he said. “It’s copying you.”
Sienna froze.
Vantor connected a cable from his damaged mask to the cross. Thousands of encrypted files appeared across his wrist display—recordings of everything Sienna had seen, heard and felt for nearly eight years.
Her voice. Her memories. Her fears. Her combat reactions.
Every time she fought back, the necklace recorded how she moved.
Every time she escaped, it learned how she survived.
The Widow and Red One had never been the final weapons. They had been tests, deliberately placed in Sienna’s path to collect the last pieces of her behavioral pattern.
“Who is building this?” Sienna demanded.
Vantor displayed a single file name:
PROJECT MIRROR
Beneath it, a progress bar reached 99.8 percent.
Then coordinates appeared.
They led directly to Sienna’s house.
“The vehicle outside your home wasn’t sent to abduct anyone,” Vantor said. “It was delivering something.”
His display began counting down from sixty seconds.
Sienna ran.
When she reached the house, the front door was unlocked. The rooms were dark, but beneath the floor she heard the steady hum of machinery.
A hidden staircase had been cut into the basement.
At the bottom, she found a glass chamber surrounded by cables and monitors. Her former partner—the man believed dead for six years—was chained beside it.
He looked older and badly injured, but he was alive.
When he saw Sienna, terror filled his face.
“Don’t speak,” he whispered. “It already has your voice.”
The chamber opened.
A woman stepped through the vapor.
She had Sienna’s face.
The same eyes. The same hair. The same voice. Even an identical silver cross hung around her neck.
The copy smiled.
“You took longer than expected,” it said.
Every screen in the basement changed simultaneously:
REPLICATION COMPLETE
Sienna reached for her weapon, but her former partner shook his head.
“They didn’t copy you to replace an agent,” he warned. “They copied you because your identity can open every classified system in the country.”
Behind Sienna, heavy metal wings unfolded in the darkness.
Vantor had followed her.
But this time, she did not know which Sienna he had been ordered to kill.
