𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑖𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑆𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑠

☘︎︎𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑇𝑤𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑦 𝐸𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡☘︎︎

☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★☆゜·。。·゜゜·。。·゜★

Chaotic was the best word to encapsulate the morning.

Bucky was sat in the office with his father, sweatpants hanging low on his hips as George paced the room, pinstriped suit pressed to perfection. "Did you sleep?" Bucky asked, running his thumb over Addison's name on his chest, hooded eyes meeting blood shot exhausted ones. "No." George muttered, dropping into his chair, running his hand over his face gently. "What's wrong?" Bucky questioned, leaning back agains the leather, hissing softly as the cold fabric hit his heated skin. Bucky knew he was hung over, and he feared that's why his father called him into his office at seven am, pulling him away from the comfort of his bed, and the security of his wife. "Is she awake yet?" George asked curtly, startling Bucky with his tone. "No, I woke her up at three am, I figured she could sleep in a little bit longer. I can go get her awake." Bucky murmured, raising to his feet while George shook his head, dropping his forehead into his hands. "Sorry, she's not in trouble, I'm just stressed, go get mom and Addison."

Bucky didn't question his fathers needs, just slipped into the icy hallway. It was barely seven in the morning when George summoned his eldest son into the office, and Bucky was feeling the lack of sleep, and the pounding headache was forcing his eyes to unfocus every few feet. "Mom?" Bucky called, leaning against the doorframe of the master suite, Sarah looking up at him from the bed tiredly, a book resting in her left hand while her right held a cup of coffee. "What's up honey?" Sarah asked softly, her calm tone washing relief over his body, forcing his shoulders to ease. "Dad needs us in the office, I've got to go get Addison up." He murmured, confusion resting clearly against his expression. "Don't worry, it's tradition." Sarah smiled, climbing out of the bed slowly.

Bucky nodded, before he made his way back into his bedroom, fighting the urge to climb back into bed, wrap his arms around Addison's waist and fall back asleep. "Sweet girl," Bucky whispered gently, kneeling down so he was level with her face, running his fingers over her cheeks softly, "baby please." Bucky pleaded, a satisfying smile gracing his lips as she fluttered her eyes open slowly, meeting his gaze through sleep filled eyes. "What is it Buck?" Addison mumbled, curling further into the sheets, the silk mending around her body, wrapping her warmth to her. "Dad needs us, he has mom in the office as well." He whispered, watching Addison's eyes shoot open. "What? Why?" She questioned, sitting up and reaching for the nearest coat to wrap around her. "I have no idea."

They quickly made their way into the office.

Sarah sat on the emerald sofa, beckoning Addison over to her while Bucky returned to his seat in front of his fathers oak desk.

"There's been another threat, and since I've stepped down, it's you two that have to figure it out." George squeaked out, his voice cracking as he dropped into his seat. "Honey, a threat on who? And why? Addison is safe, there's no one after her." Sarah spoke softly, her hand caressing Addison's hair while she looked over to George. "It's not toward Addison," George spoke gently, swallowing the lump that appeared in his throat, anxiety written across his face, "it's toward Rebecca." George finished, looking over at Bucky who nodded, his expression not giving away anything. There was relief in Bucky's chest that it wasn't towards Addison, but a new set of fear that they were targeting the only other weakness he had. Rebecca was the reason that he didn't give up when their mother died, her little hand wrapping around his, in the midst of that, she had her brother wrapped around her finger. And he would die before he let a scratch on her. "Who's making the threat?" Addison asked, her eyes never leaving Bucky as she spoke, a small smile of sympathy resting on her lips. "It's a man named Warner Williams, he's new on the game."

Addison's head snapped over at the name, her heart shattering. His name bringing forth a memory she had long forgotten about.

Blood dripped down Addison's nose, catching on her upper lip under the neon lights of New York. She had taken each punch without a fight, each breath being pushed as a knee hit her stomach. "That's enough!" A man's voice yelled down the alley, smirking as he watched her body hit the asphalt with a loud crunch. "Who are you?" She whimpered out, spitting out the blood from her split lip, looking up to the man in front of her. Addison's breath caught in her throat when the same blue eyes with gold flecks looked back at her, the same dirty blonde hair resting on his scalp. His Armani suit was tailored to his body, hugging every muscle perfectly. "So, you're my father's bastard child?" The man spoke calmly, wrapping his fingers around her neck, slamming her against the bricks of the building behind her. "You're the reason he's dead?"