Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
♫ Willow - Taylor Swift.
• Bucky's POV •
The crowd exploded.
They didn't cheer for her—no one ever did. They cheered for the spectacle. For the myth being shattered. For the buyer who brought down the undefeated champion.
They cheered for me.
I stood in the center of the ring, heart hammering, hands shaking inside my gloves. Nadia's body lay limp in my arms like a fallen statue—still warm, still breathing. I'd carried too many like her before. Back in HYDRA, back in war.
But this was different.
This one fought like she still had something left to lose. This one had grit. And now, she knew who I was.
The second her hand hit my arm and her breath hitched, I saw it in her face—even beneath the blindfold. The realization. The betrayal.
And still, she hadn't screamed.
The bell rang again, signaling the end of the match. Someone in the crowd tossed money. Another popped a bottle of champagne.
All of it was noise.
"Nadia's down," I muttered under my breath. "She's safe. Prep for exfil."
"Copy that," Sam's voice crackled through my earpiece, his usual ease cut through with tension. "We see you. She okay?"
"She will be."
"You sure she doesn't know who you are?"
"She knows," Steve answered before I could. His voice was tight. "Buck, stay with her. Keep it controlled until we give the go."
Two club staff entered the ring, flanking me like guards. They bowed low—grotesque, performative. "Congratulations, Mr. Reid. Please, allow us."
I didn't let them touch her.
"I've got her," I said, my voice rough. "She's mine, right?"
They backed off immediately.
I carried her out of the ring and down the corridor, through the velvet-and-gold filth of the House. Applause echoed behind me like thunder in a cage.
Stefano met me at the corridor's end, smiling like he'd just sold a masterpiece.
"You really are something, Butcher," he beamed, gesturing down the hallway to a group of women. "Come, let them get her prepared in your private suite. You've earned her tonight."
I didn't say anything as the ladies quietly approached us, their heads down, their eyes careful. All of them part of the house, all of them forced into silence and servitude. They seemed older in age than the performing girls had been. Likely women who had once been performers, but now preferred to work backstage. I set Nadia down and two of them wrapped her arms over their shoulders, carrying her barely conscious body with the tenderness she deserved, in through the door to the suite, and closed it behind them.
