The Prisoner | Natasha x OC

Chapter Nineteen

"Where there is anger, there is always pain underneath."
____

Yala, Thailand

~Natasha~

A warm breeze blew against her sweaty skin, doing nothing to cool her down. Nat's hand rested against her hip, fingers touching the side of her gun, the metal cold. Her eyes landed on everything that moved, a feeling of unease surrounding her.

A figure in the corner of her eye captured her attention, though the darkness of the night sky didn't aid visually. She saw the figure stop, stare at her, and then turn. Their message was clear. Follow. And so she did.

Nat's hand now grasped her gun securely, still at her hip. She turned the corner of an old building and halted quickly, narrowly avoiding walking into a man, the same figure who'd watched her. Her fingers wrapped around her gun and she raised it quickly. The man's hand landed on her own, pushing it down and away from his chest. He wasn't at all fearful.

Her heartbeat raced against her chest and Nat's eyes darted to his. She could hardly make them out in the dark, his eyes matching their shadowed surroundings.

"This way," He spoke, voice gruff.

Natasha lowered her gun cautiously when he was a few steps ahead. She secured her single duffle bag on her left shoulder and followed him.

The man's steps were surprisingly graceful and light, despite his huge size. Every now and then they'd pass a dying light, causing his shadow to appear, and dousing her in it.

They stopped at a lone building, nothing special about it. As a matter of fact, most people's eyes would probably skip right over it, not even realizing it was there.

Her feet came to a stop when the man didn't continue, standing outside the door. Her gaze flickered all over his concealed face but he said nothing. She took a single breath, securing her bag and gun once more before entering, muttering about how unhelpful this all was.

Her feet echoed softly, normally silent against the floor. There was an emptiness to the building that didn't help ease her panic. Where the hell was Natara?

Not entirely sure where it was she was going, Nat simply followed the dim lights against the walls which seemed to leak an unnatural coldness that had even her suppressing a shiver.

Her feet slowed as she neared a room with a closed door, the only room with bright lighting it seemed. Her fingertips rested against the rotting wood gently before steeling herself and giving it a push. She was surprised when it opened silently.

Natasha's gun was raised as she entered carefully but lowered at the familiar body across the room, back turned and hair shining. The weapon in her hand lowered, safety turning on.

She stood straighter as Natara turned.
"

Natasha," Natara greeted casually. "Never thought I'd see you look so... panicked."

Nat's eyes flickered across Natara's face as she came closer. Her eyes were dull and tired and her lips chapped and raw. There was also some redness above her left brow. Looking down, she saw a bottle of water in Natara's hands, extended towards her. She also saw the healing knuckles attached to the hand holding the plastic bottle, red and bruised.