𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀 ✶ Steve Harrington

12 | 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞?

CHAPTER TWELVE,
what's wrong with steve?

⋆.ೃ࿔*

WHEN SHE BECAME SEPARATED FROM STEVE, a cold dread settled deep in her chest. The soldiers, without explanation, dragged them into separate room, their cold hands gripping her arms as if she were nothing more than a ragdoll. Panic bubbled inside her, and she thrashed against their restraints, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps. She knew, with a sinking certainty, that there was no escape this time. Their grip was ironclad, and their weapons hung menacingly at their sides. She was just Emmy, small and powerless, standing in the shadow of these men who could end her with a snap of their fingers. Every instinct screamed for her to fight, but her heart hammered with fear.

The three soldiers in the room, stood guard, until a fourth soldier entered the room, the door closing behind him. Now, she saw who was in charge. The man, looking harsh as ever, had a firm glare on his face. His hands clasped behind his back, as he took strides to Emmy.

"Where the hell is my friend?" She spat, her voice laced with defiance as she locked eyes with the head soldier. She deliberately left Steve's name out, refusing to give them any more information than they already had. Her pulse raced, and for a split second, she allowed herself to feel a small triumph for keeping her guard up. But then it hit her, like a punch to the gut—his name tag. Steve's name was stitched clearly across his uniform, as obvious as a neon sign. Shit! Her stomach twisted as the realization sank in, and the walls around her seemed to close in. She had tried so hard to protect him, but it was useless. By now, they already knew who he was.

The man raised an eyebrow, a cruel smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You're awfully concerned about your friend," He says, his voice dripping with mockery. "Not so much about yourself, though. Why is that?" His gaze bore into her, sharp and calculating, as if he were trying to peel away her defenses layer by layer. The room felt colder, his words hanging in the air like a threat she couldn't quite place. Emmy clenched her fists, fighting the urge to flinch. She refused to give him the satisfaction.

"Please..." Her voice faltered, barely above a whisper now. "Don't hurt him." The words slipped out before she could stop them, a raw plea filled with desperation she couldn't hide. Emmy's chest tightened, her heart aching at the mere thought of Steve being harmed. She couldn't bear it. The image of him hurt, or worse, twisted her insides, and she felt as if she might shatter under the weight of it. Her throat burned, and for a moment, the strength she had clung to wavered. What would she do if they hurt him? She didn't know. Her heart ached, and the fear of losing him felt heavier than any threat they could throw her way.

The soldier remained unfazed, his expression as cold and unyielding as stone. He studied her for a moment, then leaned in slightly, his voice steady and controlled. "Who do you work for?" He demands, his eyes narrowing with intent. It wasn't a casual question—this was calculated, the next move in his interrogation tactics. He had a job to do, and Emmy could see in his hard, unblinking stare that he was prepared to do whatever it took to get answers. If words failed, force was waiting in the wings, ready to be unleashed.