Radioactive | Bucky Barnes

IRON MAN: CHAPTER ELEVEN

She had walked away from Dylan.

Said no.

She hadn't realized that defiance would be the spark that ignited his rage.

The motel hallway had stretched endlessly behind her, lit in flickering yellow, buzzing with faulty electricity. Her boots, soaked in slush and blood, had left faint, fading footprints on the stained carpet. The blade in her hand had still been warm from where he had pressed it into her palm, fingers lingering with a twisted intimacy that made her skin crawl.

Four hours. That was how long she'd been stuck in the loop.

Slice. Heal. Slice again.

The Phoenix Force kept her from dying—until it didn't.

Until the power that burned in her veins began to flicker, not flare. Until her body stopped resetting as fast. Until pain began to outpace the regeneration. Her ribs felt cracked. Her stomach had split open three times. Her arms were wrecked from elbow to wrist. Her body had always been a battlefield, but now it was just... exhausted.

And then—like a breath punched through smoke—JARVIS called.

Just a ping.

Just a voice.

A lifeline.

"Miss Rhiley," the British AI said, formal but urgent. "I apologize for the intrusion, but I felt you should be informed immediately. Sir's home has just been destroyed in an aerial assault. He is currently unaccounted for."

She'd stopped breathing. The blade slipped from her hand and clattered to the motel floor.

Her world, already burning, tilted sideways.

"J?" Her voice was hoarse. "What? What do you mean unaccounted for? What the hell happened?"

"Miss Potts is safe—for now. Sir has not permitted me to alert you, but I took the liberty of ignoring him."

He was alive. Or had been.

That was all she needed to hear.

"Where is Pepper?" she demanded.

"A secure residence. Shall I send the address?"

"Yes," Rhiley breathed. "Now."

-

-

-

She didn't knock.

She never had time for polite.

Her fist slammed once against the door—sharp, deliberate—before she twisted the handle and shoved it open. Her breath came hard, each inhale scraping like broken glass in her throat. Her blood had dried beneath her shirt. She could feel it crack when she moved. Every step was a war against gravity.

"Pepper?" she called out, her voice more rasp than sound.

From the living room, Pepper stood up fast. Her hair was tangled, her face pale. She looked like she hadn't slept in days. "Rhiley?"

Rhiley crossed the space between them in two long strides.

"Are you okay?" she asked urgently. "Jarvis told me—God, are you hurt?"

Pepper blinked, disoriented. "No. I mean—bruised. Shaken. But I'm okay."

Rhiley exhaled, her shoulders sagging in relief. Her hands hovered for a second, as if tempted to touch Pepper's arms to double-check, but she pulled back.

"Okay. Good," she said, barely above a whisper. "You're okay."

Pepper sat heavily back onto the couch, brushing hair out of her face. "Tony... he took off. He had a prototype suit. No comms. I haven't heard anything since. I don't know where he is."

"I'll find him." Rhiley's voice was cold steel, sharp and certain. "I swear to you, I'll bring him back."

Pepper looked up then—really looked at her—and her expression shifted. Concern darkened her face. Her eyes lingered on the raw bruise under Rhiley's eye, the streaks of red on her collar, the way she was barely holding herself upright.

"Rhiley... what happened to you?"

Rhiley flinched. Just slightly. Her body was screaming in a dozen different places, but she could ignore it. She always had.

"It's nothing," she said too quickly.

"It's something," Pepper said, not backing down. "Did someone do that to you?"

Rhiley didn't answer.

Instead, she dropped to her knees in front of Pepper and took her hands. Her grip was trembling, but gentle.

"Listen to me. I need you to trust me. Please." Her voice cracked. "Let me fix this. Let me bring him home. And then... I'll tell you everything. Everything I should've told you weeks ago."

Pepper hesitated. Her eyes searched Rhiley's, looking for the truth behind the shadows.

Rhiley stood with a sharp inhale. Her muscles screamed in protest. She barely kept herself upright.

"Rhiley?" Pepper said softly. "He'll be okay, right?"

Rhiley froze.

The question sliced straight through her.

She turned slowly, her eyes softening with something old and broken.

"I know what it's like to lose the love of your life," she whispered. "I will not let you feel that pain."

And with that, she walked out into the storm.

The snow bit into her as she stepped off the porch. Her coat clung to her in frozen folds. Every step left a trail of red in the white.

She hailed the first cab that came into view, ignoring the way the driver paled at the sight of her.

He looked back at her, eyes flicking from her blood-soaked sleeves to the wild look in her eyes. "Where to?" he asked cautiously.

"Tennessee," Rhiley said without hesitation.

He blinked. "That's... far."

She shoved a crumpled wad of hundreds into his hand. "Not asking."

He hesitated for only a second more before the car rumbled to life beneath them.

Rhiley slumped into the back seat, the leather sticking to the blood on her shirt. The snow swirled thick outside the windows, and the cold bit at her through the broken seams of her coat. She leaned her head against the glass, watching the world blur by, her breath fogging the surface.

Her body trembled from the cold. From the pain. From the fear.

She would find Tony.

Or she would burn the world trying.