Where your loyalties lie (Two New Bartons book 2) (completed)

Arrested - Wanda

The burst of noise is too much for my brain to handle. With a cry of pain, I fall to the ground, clutching my head. This, finally, is what breaks me. Combined with Lagos, the Sokovia Accords, Vis, Pietro and everything in between, I can't take it anymore. 

The tears come spilling over my face, and I can't stop them. They wash over, shaking my shoulders, blocking out sound, blinding me. The world falls away, and I can't think past the pain. 

Without a second's consideration, I do what I've always done in times of trouble. 

"Pietro!" I sob. 

And then he's there, hugging me tight. I think he's apologizing for something, but I can't work out what for. I don't care. All I care about is he's here. He can make it stop. He can make the pain end. Just like he's always done. 

"Pietro," I whisper, clinging to his arms.

"I'm here," he murmurs in Sokovian. "I'm here, sister. I've got you."

A couple of seconds later, a pair of soldiers come and take my arms. I try to fight against them, try to stay with Pietro, but I can't. I have no energy left. They put cuffs on my hands, stick something sharp into my neck, point a gun at my head and march me away. I try to twist around to see what's happening with my brother, but I can't. The movement makes my head spin, and the outlines of the soldiers surrounding me blur together. Then they start going black. 

I wake up what feels like a couple of seconds later, calling, "Pietro!"

"Your brother's not here," a familiar, bitter voice says to my right. Clint.

But that's not true. I can feel my brother's hand on my leg, his arm around my shoulders, his breath on my neck.

I struggle to open my eyes. It doesn't work, but I realise my hands are cuffed behind my back. 

"Wh-appened?" I mutter, still not completely in control of my lips. 

I try to sit up, but Pietro's arm tightens around my shoulder. Why aren't his wrists cuffed together?

"You need to rest," Clint says. 

I lean my head on my brother's shoulder, but something's wrong. It's not my brother's shoulder. My brother's shoulder is bonier, less comfortable. This is not Pietro sitting next to me. 

I squint my eyes open and look up at who it is. 

"Clint," I mumble. 

"That's right."

"Where's Pietro?"

"I don't speak Sokovian, but I'm going to guess you asked about Pietro?"

Sokovian? I didn't even realise I wasn't speaking English. 

"He's fine." Clint doesn't sound overjoyed. "He won't be if I get a hold of him, though."

I focus on my English and ask again, "What happened?"

"They drugged you," he spits. "And he just stood by and let it happen. He didn't even try to stop them. I'm sorry, I couldn't get to you in time. I tried, but I couldn't."

"Is okay," I slur, then attempt to glare down at my uncooperative mouth. "Where we going?"

"We're not sure. We think some secure prison somewhere."

"We?" For the first time, I look further than Clint's face. 

We're in a quinjet, and across from us are Scott and Sam. Neither of them are cuffed, either. 

Sam is glaring at the ground, but Scott attempts a cheerful grin. "Morning, princess."

I don't say anything, just slump back into Clint's shoulder as the reality of what happened. "He's with them, isn't he?"

Clint's silence is answer enough. I feel like I'm shrinking, curling in on myself. My world shatters all over again. At this point, I don't care what he's done. I just want him back. I want his strong arms to hold my life together, his gentle voice to pull me from my nightmares, his fast legs to run me away from my troubles. I want my brother, my guardian angel, my best friend back. 

"I'm sorry," Clint whispers, planting a kiss on the side of my head. 

The quinjet jerks; we've landed.

A team of soldiers runs over. Three of them grab the guys and four surround me, one on each side. The one on my left holds a gun to my temple.

"Any funny business," he warns, pressing the gun hard against my head to emphasize his point.

"Leave her alone!" Clint yells, trying to twit around to me. "She's just a kid!"

"Shut up!" his soldier snaps, giving him a shove to get him to move forward. 

We're led off the quinjet and my breath is whipped away. We're on a small, perfectly circular island made of stone and meta and glass in the middle of the sea. The wind pushes my hair into my face, and the sea spray battles it into knots. By the time we finally descend the stairs to the relative warmth of inside, I'm soaking wet, and can barely see through the mess of hair in my eyes. The soldiers march us through an endless maze of corridors, the uniformity of their footsteps taking me back to my time in HYDRA. 

Then the cuffs are snapped off my wrists and I'm shoved into a kind of dressing room. Before the door closes, I see my guards take up positions behind it, all four of them with their guns in hand. The implication is clear: try anything, and I die. I hear a lock click, and realise it only locks from the outside. No locking myself in, or them out. 

The room is small, the only ornaments a mirror on the back of the door and a bench against the back wall. On the bench is a pile of folded up clothes. A blue jumpsuit, grey shoes, uncomfortable-looking, clean underwear. Nothing more. I stare at it for a second, weighing up my options, then put it on quickly, leaving my dress, leggings and coat in their place. 

I hear a knock on the door, and a voice calls, "You done in there?"

"Yes!" I call back, a red glow already rising to my fingers. I'm faster than them, I know. I can take them out before they can aim and shoot me. 

Then the door is jerked open and a soldier steps into view, holding Clint's arm, a gun against his head. 

Clint says something, but I can't hear it over my own pounding heart. 

No.

Not Clint. If it was either of the others, I might have attacked, hoping I can move fast enough. But I can't risk Clint's life. Not after everything he's done for me, for Pietro. 

Slowly, the energy dissipates. A single tear rolls down my cheek, then more soldiers grab me, press me against a wall and wrap a jacket around me, pressing my arms into my chest. A collar snaps into place on my neck, and then they let go of me. 

I look around and see that Clint is nowhere to be seen, and let out a torrent of glowing, red fury on the soldiers. It lasts only a second, though, as the collar tightens around me and electricity blasts through my body. I scream and drop to the ground, letting the energy die once again. I can hear someone screaming my name far away, but I can't make out who it is. 

Someone pulls me to my feet and leads me through the corridors, finally shoving me into a cell. I collapse, exhausted. 

Word count: 1230

Hey guys!

Sorry this chapter is a couple hundred words longer than the others. I hope you could muscle through!

 I am also sorry for the long wait for the chapter, life has been hectic what with going back to school and making the most of the relaxing Covid restrictions. I will do my best to publish as regularly as during lockdown, but I make no promises. 

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I will start on the next one straight away!

Happy reading!

-Ashlley