ＲＥＤＥＭＰＴＩＯＮ {TONY STARK'S LITTLE SISTER FAN-FICTION}

10. GONE

Knock, knock.

"Coming!" Elizabeth's soft voice cut through the stillness of the room, rousing Bucky from his light sleep. He sat up in bed, watching as she slipped on her bathrobe and padded to the door.

She opened it to reveal a hotel worker holding a small package. "Elizabeth Stark?" the man asked, his voice polite but tired, as if he'd delivered a dozen similar parcels that morning.

"Uh... no, she's not here," Elizabeth lied instinctively, her hand hovering near the doorframe. "But I'll make sure she gets it."

The worker handed her the package without a second glance before retreating down the hall.

"Doll?" Bucky's voice was rough with sleep as he got out of bed, pulling on his sweatpants and walking over to her. "What's in the box?"

"I don't know," Elizabeth murmured, her fingers already tearing through the tape. When the cardboard flaps fell open, her breath hitched. Inside were the flash drives. All of them.

Her hands trembled as she picked one up and read the name written on the label: Elizabeth Stark.

"Why would someone send us the flash drives?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky's gaze darkened, his jaw tightening as he reached into the box and pulled out his own flash drive. His name glared back at him like an accusation.

"I think we should watch mine," he said finally, his voice low and steady.

Elizabeth's head snapped up, her golden eyes wide with alarm. "N-No," she stammered, shaking her head. "It's not for me to watch."

He turned to her then, his eyes meeting hers with a vulnerability that made her heart ache. "I don't think I can do it without you, Doll."

It took several minutes of Bucky's quiet persuasion before Elizabeth finally relented, her hesitation clear in every movement as she set up the laptop.

"Ready?" she asked, her finger hovering over the mouse pad.

Bucky nodded stiffly, his hands gripping the edge of the table like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, then turned to him, his jaw tightened, and he stared straight ahead as she pressed play.

The screen flickered to life, and a date appeared: December 17, 1991.

Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat. Her father's face appeared, bloodied and lifeless, slumped against the steering wheel of the car. Her mother's terrified screams filled the room as the killer's gloved hands wrapped around her throat.

Elizabeth gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, but when Bucky reached for the pause button, she stopped him. "No," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Let it play."

The killer in the video moved with brutal efficiency. Her mother's screams were cut short, and her body slumped lifelessly beside her father's. The killer turned to face the camera, his expression cold and emotionless. He raised his gun, pointed it directly at the lens, and fired.

The screen went black for a moment before another scene appeared: Bucky, strapped to a metal chair, his face void of any emotion. A guard's voice echoed in the room, speaking in Russian: "Желание."

Before the video could continue, Bucky grabbed the laptop, his metal hand crushing the edges as he hurled it across the room. The device hit the wall with a sickening crack, fragments scattering across the floor.

He stood with his back to her, his shoulders heaving with uneven breaths. When he finally spoke, his voice was a low whisper, barely audible. "Elizabeth."