25. 20 HOURS REMAIN

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Imogen and Bucky approach a secluded door at the back of the alley and her steps quicken with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. She glances over at Bucky, noting the furrow in his brow and the tension in his jaw. Despite his rugged exterior, she senses his unease about the meeting ahead.

"So, are you finally going to tell me who we're meeting?" Bucky's voice is laced with impatience as he gestures towards the nondescript door ahead of them. In spite of the intensity of their earlier encounter in the shower, the weight of their precarious situation still looms large in his mind.

Imogen hesitates for a moment, her gaze flickering towards the door before returning to meet Bucky's eyes as a silent battle of wills takes place in the brief exchange of glances. She can sense his frustration, the furrow in his brow, the tightness around his lips betraying his impatience. But she knows that revealing the answer to that one question would not be wise. "Not yet," she replies softly, her tone tinged with reluctance. "You won't like the answer."

Bucky's expression darkens at her evasive response, and he pulls her back by the arm, forcing her to face him. His grip is firm, a silent demand for her attention. "Seriously Gen? I know I was joking earlier about us being a team now, but you're openly hiding this from me? Who was in our room, Imogen?" His words are serious now, his patience wearing thin, his eyes boring into hers, seeking answers.

Grey shifts her arm lightly away, her brow furrowing at his accusation. There's a flicker of frustration in her eyes, a hint of defiance in her stance. "I'm not hiding anything from you. If I was, I'd be here alone," she argues, her voice firm but tinged with a hint of exasperation. She shakes her head, done with the conversation, her mind already moving ahead to the next step. "Can we just head inside? Then I can show you. I'm not telling you out here because if I do, you will do everything in your power to make sure we don't step through these doors, and the answers that are waiting inside might just give us a way out of all this, Bucky." Her tone is resolute, her gaze unwavering as she meets his eyes, determination etched into her features.

Bucky's jaw tenses as Imogen's response registers, a swirl of frustration and concern etching lines across his features. With a resigned exhale, he relinquishes his grip on her arm, his gaze holding onto her for a lingering moment before he reluctantly acquiesces. "Fine," he concedes, his voice tight with tension. "You're lucky I worship the fucking ground you walk on, sweetheart." The words escape him with a gruff edge, tinged with a touch of bitterness, yet beneath lies a sincere affection.

Imogen meets his gaze unwaveringly, exerting every effort to suppress the smirk that threatens to surface at his candid confession. "I'm aware," she acknowledges, pivoting to face the door at last, her hand reaching out to grasp the handle.

As she pushes the door ajar, a surge of uncertainty intertwines with her determination, propelling her forward into the unknown. The corridor looms dimly lit, its length stretching out before them, casting elongated shadows that sway and dance along the walls. With a resolute step, she ventures inside, her senses heightened, leading the way while Bucky trails closely behind.

Inside the building, the atmosphere hangs heavy, each footfall resonating in the profound silence enveloping them as they navigate the elongated passageway. Imogen senses Bucky's reassuring presence at her back, a silent testament to the trust they share, even amidst the lingering tension between them. She clutches his hand firmly, drawing strength from their connection. As they finally approach their destination, Imogen inhales deeply, fortifying herself for the challenges ahead, fully aware that together, they are an unstoppable force.

As Imogen and Bucky step into the final room, their eyes scan the space, searching for any sign of another. Their gazes settle on the cardboard boxes scattered across the floor, the emptiness of the room amplifying the sense of uncertainty that hangs in the air.

𝙾𝚗𝚎 𝙿𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚝 𝙵𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝙼𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚘𝚗 ~ Bucky BarnesWhere stories live. Discover now