Eternal Winter

VII: Widowed

December ?? 2025

Area Unknown

Everything was a blur. All Natasha could remember was being dragged into a vacant room. The air was thick and humid. As if they were in an underground heating facility.

Her eyes had to adjust to the blinding light of a single bulb hanging from the molded ceiling. She was on the floor, her legs and arms covered in ash, bruises, scrapes, and scratches. Natasha groaned as she sat up against the wall. She took in her surroundings, she was the only one inhabiting the room.

Then it hit her.

James.

She jolted up, ignoring the pain surging through her body and ran to the steel door. Her hands throbbed from banging it multiple times.

There was no way out.

She screamed, she yelled. Anything to get her out, anything to get her to James.

But nothing.

Not a whisper, not a murmur, not even a hush of wind.

She felt alone, and maybe she was. All she could think about was James. The fact that he could be dead under pounds of ruble. The thought tortured her.

Then the door moaned open. Three men walked in, dipped in black suits and hidden by rubber masks. One of the men stood out of place, his footsteps echoed in the room. The men stopped at the door but he walked closer. She craned her neck up at the towering horror above her.

"Natalia Alianovna Romanova." He breathed her name in. "Moya dorogaya zhena (my dear wife)."

Her eyes widened in fear.

It was him, it was her husband. Alexi Shostakov was alive.

Natasha was speechless. Her lips trembled but nothing came out. Her husband, her ex-husband, was standing above her. A towering ghost.

"What? Nothing to say to your husband?" He opened his arms up.

"You fucking bastard." She whispered.

"Ah," He laughed coldly. "That's my girl." He bent down and touch her cheek.

She froze at the feeling of his coarse skin against hers. Trikov sniggered at her response.

She jerked back his touch and stood up; trying to hide the shock that was gushing through her veins. "So I finally get to meet the one and only Trikov." She smirked ruthlessly.

"Yes, about time. Isn't it?" He took another threatening step forward. "Those eyes, so many questions written across them."

She stood still, her eyes stayed glued to him. "Why the barbaric autopsy's you call murders?"

"I don't call them murders love. I call them entertainment." He licked his lips.

"You see, they were bumps on the road. And I prefer to flatten them."

Chills ran down Natasha's spine. "Seems more like a shortcut to me."

"And is this a shortcut?" Trikov motioned his hand toward the door as two men came in dragging another man.

Natasha bit her raw lips as she saw James' half-conscious being pulled into the room. She could not take her eyes off the deep red mask covering most of his face. As much as it made her insides burn and crumbled she watched the pain veil his eyes.

He slowly tilted his head up towards Natasha. "Natalia..." He could barely speak.

She held her hand to her face and began to tear up.

Trikov saw her reaction and smiled grimly, he then brought his attention to James. He walked up to James and lifted his chin up. Within a blink of an eye, he punched James across the face.

James groaned and spat at Trikov's feet.

Trikov laughed. "You haven't changed a bit James."

James stared into Trikov's impassive eyes. Not a single sign of humanity flashed in his eyes, he was colder than the moon kissing the Antarctica snow. The human he use to be was lost, buried in the dirt below the KGB's feet.

"Alexi." He laughed silently but not in a warm hearted way. "Who dragged you out of hell?"

Trikov ignored his question and turned to Natasha. Who was as hushed as Russia's winter.

He bent down and picked her up by the neck. Like she was lighter than the air around them. She choked on his steel grip. She can feel his grip tightening around her only life support. James pulled on his human chains, rage flushed across his face.

Her eyesight blurred again, spots colored her view. She was running on pain and anger but even that could barely keep herself awake.

She stared at James as he also tried to stay awake, he could barely keep his head up. Trikov watched in amusement.

"This is the part where I get to entertain myself." His devilish grin grew darker. "Take him to the other room."

Natasha was shaking in his grip. "No. No. Please." She was choking on her own words. "Please don't hurt him." Tears began streaming down her face.

He stared into her eyes like he did not hear a thing and she watched as James began to realize what was going on.

He tugged, trying to break free. "Natalia!"

"James!" She called back.

He didn't stop fighting. "Natalia!"

She still struggled in Trikov's grip. Tears rushing down her pale face.

Another man came in and hit the back of James' head with the butt of a gun. James stopped fighting. His focus became weak.

Then he lost consciousness.

"Yasha!" She screamed in agony as they pulled James out of the room.

She watched as she saw his boots disappear from her view. Natasha then banged her head against the devil's.

He did not even flinch.

"Nice try love."

She winced at the word.

"I am not your love." She spat.

The room filled with silence.

He let go of Natasha's neck, red with his imprint.

Trikov then walked to the door and knocked three times. It swung open at the third. He turned around to Natasha.

"You can hear the screams of your lover through that." He pointed at the vent on the left wall.

She yelled but all Trikov could hear was faint mumbles through the now shut door.