Love & Bullets (bucky barnes x oc)

15: Captured.

TW: Violence. Read at your own risk!

Barnes paces back and forth, flipping a gold lighter in his hands. The crisp sounds of the lighter opening and closing fills the room. "Any news on Alexandra yet?"

Romanoff shakes her head, her shoulders slumped in defeat, "Nothing. We've looked everywhere in New York and she's nowhere. It's like she completely disappeared."

Another brief moment of silence passes until James heaves in a heavy sigh, "There has to be a reason why she left. There has to."

"Barnes. She left because we're the mafia. Obviously she left."

Although it's a good enough reason for you to flee, James knows better. You wouldn't just leave without a trace, right? At least, that's what he tells himself.

〄

700 miles away, it's just another ordinary day for you. Coffee, TV, nap, walk. Coffee, TV, nap, walk. It's become second nature by now. As the weeks pass, fragments of James take over your mind, repeating over and over, making you question whether running away was the right decision. But it was.

Today is going to be different, you tell yourself. Instead of following your usual routine, you decide to add something else to your itinerary for the day: tourist attractions. You might as well, being all the way in Chicago. And so, you set out in search for the Navy Pier, hopping into various taxis and tipping them generously on the way out.

After about an hour of driving and tipping, you're finally standing in front of the glorious Navy Pier, which is significantly less crowded today than you thought. In fact, you count only two men in sleek black suits admiring the view. What's with the suits? Is there some sort of wedding going on here? You pay it no mind. After all, you're in the rich part of town, where men generally walk the streets in suits and designer clothing. It reminds you of James.

As the Sun goes down and spreads an orange hue atop the sparkling sea, you breathe in the salty air, allowing it to wash away your worries. For a moment, you're finally at peace. For a moment, you feel safe. For a moment, you can finally breathe.

It all happened so fast. Too fast. All you can remember is the stinging, unbearable pain in your abdomen. Collapsing to the floor, you grip your stomach, feeling the warm blood ooze over your hand. Your vision closes off to the same two men from earlier wrapping cloth around your head, and what happens next is nothing but a mere memory.

〄

Turns out, the men in the suits at the pier knew you would be there. Who had sent them? Why did they kidnap you? Why did they shoot you. The questions take over your unconscious mind, conquering every image of James. Erasing everything else.

Your eyes flutter open slowly, painfully, hesitantly. You are inside what seems to be an abandoned warehouse. Huge cardboard and steel boxes cover the floor. The warehouse seems old, the chipping paint on the walls proving you right. The ceiling lights flicker and flash in random rhythms, struggling to stay on. Your observations are interrupted by the pang of pain in your lower abdomen. When you go to grip the throbbing skin, you freeze in place. Both your hands are tied back. Your feet are strapped tightly around the chair you're situated in.

Initiate panic mode. Your eyes widen, looking aimlessly for a window... something to escape through. There has to be one. There has to! But there is none. The warehouse is completely locked and sealed shut, eliminating any possibility for freedom.

Suddenly, a loud boom sounds from behind you, yet you're unable to get a clear view. A tear falls from your cheek onto your quivering lap. What the hell is happening?!

You listen for a voice. A sound, anything that can be used to your advantage. Nothing. There is nothing but the sound of footsteps thumping towards you. As much as you try, you fail to control your trembling body and the loud pulsing of your heartbeat. For the first time, you fear the unknown.

"Hello, darling."

Your breath hitches at his voice. His cold, heartless voice. The memories flood back. The trauma. The terror. The abuse. It all comes back in a tsunami of remembrance. You lift your head slowly, as if to delay what happens next. Tears stream down your cheeks in absolute terror. The Don stands in front of you, a sinister smile plastered on his face. His inked hands are clasped in front of him, a collection of gold rings decorating his frigid fingers.

He smooths down his Dolce and Gabbana silk suit. He wears a black dress shirt underneath and black dress shoes to match. His dark hair is sleeked back with way too much gel. He hasn't changed one bit, you think to yourself.

"Oh how lovely it is to see you again." He raises his eyebrow, looking you up and down, "And you look absolutely delicious, darling."

You go limp. Words get lost in your throat. You sit in utter silence, staring up at the Don. The man who tortured you for two years of your life stands in front of you, eyeing you down maliciously.

As if he has plans for you.

"Gone quiet have we, darling? I'll make this easier for you. Why did you run." His voice is deep and wolfish as he crouches down in front of you, eyeing your lips with his piercing gaze.

Again, you can do nothing but whimper and tremble in your seat. If it were anyone else, you could easily knock them out with your skills. But not with the Don. You know better.

"ANSWER ME!!" His voice booms and echoes through the steel walls.

"I...P-Please don't k-kill me, Don..." You manage to get the words out in between sniffles and cries of fear.

"Kill you? Alexandra. If you don't answer my question, you'll only wish I killed you."

He lifts his finger and traces your neck lightly. You cry out, begging him to let go of you. But he doesn't. He wraps his fingers around your neck and grips hard. You can feel your pulse begin to weaken as his grip gets tighter around your skin. You cough and writhe under his hold but he doesn't budge, instead staring deep into your eyes. He looks hungry. He enjoys seeing you like this, writhing and in pain.

"I-I'm s-sorry-"

He flips open a pocketknife, its sharp blade making you shiver. He brings the blade closer to your neck, holding his gaze on your eyes. The cold metal touches your skin, making you whimper, "D-Don... Please..."

"Quiet. Why did you run."

"I-I don't know..."

He smirks, "Surely, you must have a reason, darling. Did you think I would never find you?" He pushes the side of the blade deeper into your skin, threatening the worst if you don't cut to the chase.

"I-I had to...Y-You were hurting me..." Upon hearing the words coming out of your mouth, he cocks his head to the side in irritation, "Oh? I was hurting you? No, Alexandra. I never hurt you. But now... Now I will."

With one swipe, he grazes the tender skin on your neck with the tip of the blade, making you cry out in agony. Although he didn't cut deep, he left a mark, and you can feel the warm blood dripping down your neck.

"Now, why did you run, darling?" He sits down in front of you, paying no attention to the gash covering your neck.

"B-Because I was scared... I wasn't thinking, Don... I-I should've known better..."

Though you don't mean the words, you choose the safe route, the option that makes you the idiot, and it works. He beams, feeling proud of himself, "Good girl. Onto the next question. Why the FUCK are you still alive?"

You freeze, searching for the right answer. It's near impossible, but the words spill out anyway, "I-I ran away..."

He laughs, "Always running, huh, darling? Well, you can't run now, and it's clear those imbeciles couldn't get the job done, but I'll be happy to do it myself." He rises from his seat and walks away, making your heart pound furiously in your chest out of fear.

"Don, wait!"

But it's too late. He's already gone, leaving you alone in the dim warehouse with nothing but your bleeding skin and trembling body.

I-I'm going to die here.