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CHAPTER XXXVII. The Sokovia Accords
Elina's heart pounded in her chest as she stepped through the sleek glass doors, their weight a stark reminder of the threshold she was crossing. The building loomed above her, cold and impersonal, its reflective surface catching the last traces of the setting sun. She had never been here before, but the coordinates had been unmistakable. This was the place.
The air inside was eerily quiet, the hum of distant machinery the only sound. It felt less like a home and more like a fortress, a private sanctuary hidden within the bustling world. Tony Stark's fingerprints were all over it-the minimalist decor, the state-of-the-art security, the subtle but unmistakable luxury. She wondered how many places like this he owned, scattered across the globe like pieces on a chessboard.
Elina checked the time on her wristwatch. 5:42 PM. She was twelve minutes late. A sharp pang of frustration gnawed at her. She'd been told to arrive at 5:30 sharp, and now, even before stepping into the room, she felt the weight of judgment. Ross's instructions had been painfully clear, as precise as the man himself. She had no doubt he would make a point of her tardiness.
The hallways stretched before her, long and sterile, her footsteps muffled against the polished floors. She clenched her fists, her palms slick with sweat. Each step felt heavier than the last, her mind racing through the possible scenarios awaiting her. She had been AWOL for over a year, completely off the grid, unreachable and silent. They wouldn't have expected her to show up, not after everything.
As she neared the meeting room, the faint sound of voices carried through the air, muffled but unmistakable. She could see them now, through the transparent walls of the glass chamber. Secretary Ross stood at the head of the room, his posture rigid, exuding authority. Surrounding him were faces she knew too well-familiar, yet distant, like ghosts from another life. Natasha, Steve, Sam. Even Tony was there, leaning back in his chair with his trademark nonchalance, though his eyes flicked toward the door with thinly veiled curiosity.
Elina hesitated for a moment, her hand hovering over the door handle. Her pulse quickened, a cold sweat breaking out at the nape of her neck. She didn't belong here. Not anymore. But she had come this far, and turning back now wasn't an option. With a deep breath, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The room fell silent. All eyes turned toward her, the weight of their gazes almost suffocating. Natasha's reaction was the most visceral. She shot up from her seat, her mouth opening slightly as if to speak, but no words came out. Her emerald eyes were wide, a storm of emotions flickering across her face-shock, relief, anger. Elina forced herself to look away, unable to meet her sister's gaze.
