Eris ▷ s.rogers [1] ✔️

11.| A LOVER NOT A FIGHTER

TWO MINUTES.

Eris hadn't actually expected this was how she was going to die.

Steve went rigid and pressed his comms again, trying to reach the others. But Natasha, wherever she was, seemed the only one out of range of the muffling. He swore and turned in a circle, searching the room.

"Nat, can you get out?"

"Well, there's a window. Judging that it's not booby-trapped too, that's one way. But I'm a good five floors up."

Steve's brows furrowed together as he thought. Eris was tempted to just make a run for the door. She hadn't come here, after all, to die.

The others weren't her problem.

"Whatever way you can get out, go. We'll find the others."

She gave Steve a sharp look. But the words were already said and he started toward the door, not giving her a second look. Swearing, Eris started after him.

"I'm not dying here, Spangles."

"That is the plan."

They reached the living room and he glanced between the hallway left and right. His blue eyes flicked to hers. "Take the right."

Eris raised a brow. "I actually get to go alone?"

"Go, Eris." There was no room for amusement in his tone. But she was surprised to hear concern. "If you find the others, get them out. But make sure you get out too."

Her own amusement faded. Eris gazed at him for a long moment before nodding, turning on her heel and starting down the hall. The air seemed to be getting warmer, but maybe it was just her panic. She could hear the ticking louder now. 

Like the house itself was the bomb.

She turned the corner and barely stumbled back as something clicked. But it was no gunshot this time— double blades cut inches before her face, swinging from the ceiling on a thin string.

Eris's heart leaped into her throat.

Two minutes.

It was probably one now.

She ducked around the blades and scanned the room. It was a bedroom of sorts, with a metal bed pushed into the corner. There was a pair of handcuffs attached to the frame, covered in blood. That was enough to make her tense.

Even so, Eris took another step forward. Next to the bed, another book lay on the floor.

A picture book.

She gazed at the open page, seeing a photo of ballerinas. Their hands were pirouetted above their heads, eyes gazing blankly forward. Eris knelt down, running her fingers down the page.