𝑺𝒉𝒆'𝒔 𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒚 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝑨𝑵𝑫 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒅-𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏.
LIKE FATHER, LIKE DAUGHTER.
Charlie, also known as the jet-setter and billionaire Tony Stark's only daughter, is 26 and in a relationship with Steve, soon-to-be successor...
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𝑱𝒐𝒍𝒕𝒔 𝒘𝒐𝒌𝒆 𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒖𝒑, the sound of an engine became clearer in her ears. Voices, too.
"...All of this is fucked up, man."
Charlie had only heard one voice before, sounding older than this one even muffled by its hood, but she was now sure they were at least two men.
Hopping they were only two, for her own sake.
"Don't worry, kid. Once we get what the boss asked for, you'll be free to return to your boring life, bonus some cash in small bills."
She tried to steady herself, the leathery backseat squealing.
"Shit. She's already waking up," Charlie caught the driver juggle starring between the road and her in the rearview mirror. She could only see his ice-cold eyes, the rest of his face hidden from her point of view.
"Then I'll make her sleep again," the man in the passenger seat grabbed the hem of his hood, covering his face again before turning to her. But he couldn't hide the grin in the tone of his voice as he stroke her with the handgrip of his gun, where it was engraved in bold letters: STARK INDUSTRIES.
And for the second time tonight, Charlie felt into nothing.
***
Ow... my head.
The fog in her mind took longer to clear than earlier. How long did she stay unconscious? Minutes? Hours? Days? Was she far away from the Maximoff's mansion?
Knowing her father and Happy, they were already looking for her the second she sent those last texts. They would have tracked her phone first and... Shit. Her phone... She needed her phone. She looked around her, realizing she was sat on a chair, her phone nowhere to be seen. Suddenly, she remembered letting it fall when they grabbed her.
"You were supposed to make her sleep again, not to knock the hell out of her, dumbass," someone said from afar. She recognized the voice of the driver.
"Too tempting. Sorry," the older man only shrugged, not feeling sorry at all.
"Apologize to the lady, not me."
"Did you tie her feet?"
"No need. She ain't going anywhere any time soon," the driver tied her hands behind her back, then leaned to murmur in her ear, only for her to hear. "Right?"
He wore his black hood, but Charlie had no trouble discerning the smirk hidden underneath it. Was it the day she was going to die?
Maybe it was, yes. Oh shit.
"I have a call to make, I'll be right back. Don't screw everything up," the driver continued, louder this time, glancing between his peer and Charlie. He left what was a... studio? She could barely see, her vision blurry, but she finally realized she was sat in a middle of a setup, before a camera and a couple of spotlights. Air stuck in her lungs, she was gasping for breath. She didn't want to know what they intended to do with her... And wished she wouldn't stay long enough to find out.
