For a moment, the world stopped.
The blackout.
The crowds.
The Sleeper handler pinned against the pillar.
The chaos of London was collapsing around them.
None of it mattered.
Because Collins — dead, shot in front of them, gone — was standing at the foot of the National Gallery steps.
Alive.
Or wearing her face.
Jake’s grip on his weapon tightened until his knuckles went white. “You’re not Collins.”
The woman smiled softly.
Exactly the way Collins used to when Jake said something reckless in a briefing.
“Jake,” she said, voice warm, familiar, devastating. “You always were stubborn.”
Emma stepped forward, weapon raised. “Take one more step, and I’ll drop you.”
The woman didn’t even look at her.
Her eyes stayed locked on Jake.
“You saw me die,” she said. “You saw the blood. The fall. The stillness.”
Jake’s jaw clenched. “I did.”
“And yet,” she said, spreading her hands, “here I am.”
Mercer backed away, shaking. “This isn’t possible. This isn’t—”
The Sleeper handler spoke from behind Jake, voice calm, almost reverent.
“She is the first of the Reconstructed.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “The what?”
The handler continued.
“Helix perfected cognitive imprinting. Memory extraction. Behavioural replication.”
Jake turned slowly toward him. “You’re saying she’s a clone?”
The handler shook his head.
“No. She’s better.”
The woman — Collins, but not — stepped closer.
“Helix rebuilt me,” she said. “Improved me. Strengthened me.”
Emma spat, “You’re a puppet.”
The woman’s smile didn’t falter.
“Puppets don’t choose their strings.”
Jake raised his weapon. “What do you want?”
Her expression softened.
“You.”
Emma moved instantly, stepping between them. “Over my dead body.”
The woman’s eyes flicked to Emma — and for the first time, something cold flashed behind them.
“Emma Clarke,” she said. “Loyal. Fierce. Predictable.”
Emma’s grip tightened. “Say that again.”
The woman ignored her and looked back at Jake.
“Helix has been watching you for years,” she said. “Your instincts. Your decisions. Your defiance. You’re everything the Inner Line feared.”
Jake didn’t blink. “Good.”
The woman stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.
“And everything Helix needs.”
Jake felt the chill run through him.
Emma snapped, “Jake isn’t joining anything.”
The woman tilted her head. “He already has.”
Jake froze. “What?”
Mercer’s voice cracked. “Jake… what does she mean?”
The woman smiled.
“Operation Captura. The safehouse breach. The Canary Wharf trap. The Sleeper Grid activation.”
She stepped closer.
“Every decision you made… every path you took… led you exactly where Helix wanted you.”
Jake’s stomach twisted. “You’re lying.”
“Am I?” she whispered.
Emma fired a warning shot into the air. “Back away from him!”
The woman didn’t flinch.
Instead, she looked at Jake with something like sadness.
“You were never hunting Helix,” she said softly.
“You were being shaped by them.”
Jake’s breath caught.
Emma grabbed his arm. “Jake, don’t listen to her.”
But Jake couldn’t look away.
The woman stepped closer, her voice barely audible.
“You’re not the enemy, Jake.”
She reached out a hand.
“You’re the successor.”
Jake’s heart stopped.
Emma shouted, “Jake, MOVE!”
The woman lunged.
Jake fired.
The bullet hit her square in the chest.
She staggered.
Looked down.
Touched the wound.
Then looked up at Jake again.
And smiled.
“See?” she whispered. “Improved.”
She took another step.
Jake fired again.
And again.
And again.
Each shot hit.
Each shot should have dropped her.
She kept walking.
Emma grabbed Jake’s arm. “Jake — RUN!”
The Sleeper handler shouted, “Protect the Architect!”
Jake didn’t wait.
He grabbed Mercer. Emma covered them. They sprinted across Trafalgar Square as the blackout city erupted into chaos behind them.
The woman’s voice echoed through the darkness.
“Jake… you can’t run from what you are.”
Jake didn’t look back.
He couldn’t.
Because for the first time since Operation Captura began…
He wasn’t sure she was wrong.