The Pasts

Chapter 16

The rain pounds down relentlessly, turning the forest floor into a muddy swamp, but Natasha doesn't slow down. She races through the woods with a singular focus, her breath coming in short, controlled bursts, her sharp eyes scanning the terrain for any sign of you. The familiar weight of her weapons strapped to her body is a comfort, but right now, it's not enough to calm the storm of fear brewing inside her.

Every second that ticks by feels like an eternity. The sound of your gunshot, the abrupt end to your transmission it all replays in her mind, pushing her to move faster, to close the distance between you and the danger closing in around you.

"Baby, respond!" she snaps into her comms again, but there's nothing only the static crackle of the rain hitting the comms and the heavy sound of her own breathing. The silence on the other end fuels her desperation, a gnawing dread that she's too late.

The trees blur past her, the wet leaves and branches slapping against her as she runs. The forest is dense, the rain making it even harder to navigate, but Natasha knows these woods well enough but studying the map. She's calculated every step, every turn, her mind running through every possible scenario.

She's the Black Widow trained to stay calm under pressure, to think clearly when everything is falling apart but this is different. This is you.

Her boots skid on a patch of mud, but she catches herself, not missing a beat as she charges forward. She's getting closer; she can feel it. The terrain is starting to change steeper inclines, thicker underbrush. It matches the last coordinates she had for you, the direction your gunshot had come from.

Then she hears it the faint but unmistakable sound of a dirt bike engine, cutting through the rain soaked silence of the forest. It's close, too close. Natasha's heart lurches as she picks up the pace, pushing herself to the limit as she closes in on your position.

"Baby, I'm almost there," she breathes into the comms, hoping against hope that you can still hear her, that you're still out there fighting. "Just hang on."

She ducks under a low hanging branch, her eyes narrowing as she catches sight of tire tracks in the mud, the fresh imprints leading deeper into the woods. They're recent she's on the right track. Natasha's mind races as she follows the tracks, the sound of the bike growing louder with every step.

The forest suddenly opens up into a small clearing, and Natasha's breath catches in her throat as she spots the dirt bike, parked haphazardly at the edge of the clearing. Her eyes scan the area frantically, searching for any sign of you.

And then she sees you.

You're being dragged through the mud by two riders clad in dark gear, your hands bound behind your back, your clothes soaked through with rain and mud. The first rider's gun is pressed firmly against your back, their grip unyielding as they force you forward. The second rider is flanking, his weapon raised and scanning the area, ready for any threat.

Rage flares in Natasha's chest, hot and blinding. Her heart slams in her chest, each beat a reminder of the love she has for you, a love that now fuels her every move. You're the love of her life, and they have you.

Without hesitation, she draws her pistol, her eyes locking onto the first rider as she moves forward, silent and deadly. The distance between her and the riders closes quickly, but she knows she has to be precise one wrong move, and they could use you as a shield.

Natasha's chest rises and falls with rapid, shallow breaths, her heart hammering with both fury and fear. Every muscle in her body is tensed, ready for action, but her mind remains razor sharp. Her gaze flickers between the two riders, her finger hovering over the trigger, waiting for the right moment.