Choices || CAPTAIN AMERICA (Book 4)

Chapter 5

Ross's voice was cold, cutting through the tension in the room like a blade. He stood tall, glaring at Tony as if waiting for one of us to break. I could feel the weight of his gaze shift to me, and I straightened, instinctively squaring my shoulders.

"Miss Stark," Ross began, his tone dripping with condescension. "I don't suppose you have any idea where they are?"

I met his gaze with a steady, unblinking stare. I wasn't going to flinch. Not now, not after everything. I could feel the anger bubbling just beneath the surface, but I kept my expression calm, measured. "No," I said flatly. "I don't."

Ross's eyes narrowed, clearly unimpressed with my response. Before he could say more, Tony stepped forward, placing himself between Ross and me.

"We will," Tony interjected, his voice firm. "GSG-9's got the borders covered. Recon's flying 24/7. They'll get a hit. We'll handle it." I glanced at him, appreciating his defense, though we both knew that this was far from something we could "handle" easily. Steve, Bucky... It wasn't just about them. There were too many layers, too much history.

"You don't get it, Stark," Ross continued, ignoring Tony's confidence. "It's not yours to handle. It's clear you can't be objective. I'm putting Special Ops on this."

My stomach twisted at Ross's words. Objective? How was I supposed to be objective when the man I loved was on the run? Steve wasn't just a name on a list to me. He wasn't some criminal. But Ross didn't care about that. To him, it was black and white.

Natasha's voice broke the tension. "What happens when the shooting starts? What, do you kill Steve Rogers?" She wasn't just asking for herself. She was asking for me, for Tony, for anyone who still believed in Steve.

"If we're provoked," Ross answered coldly, "Barnes would've been eliminated in Romania if it wasn't for Rogers. There are dead people who would be alive now. Feel free to check my math."

Tony sighed, stepping forward. "All due respect, you're not going to solve this with boys and bullets, Ross. You gotta let us bring them in."

"How would that end any differently from the last time?" Ross shot back, his eyes narrowing.Tony, though battered and bruised, kept his resolve. "Because this time, I won't be wearing loafers and a silk shirt. Seventy-two hours. Guaranteed."

Ross was already shaking his head. "Thirty-six hours. Barnes. Rogers. Wilson."

I exhaled quietly, feeling the weight of it all press down on me. Thirty-six hours to find Steve and Bucky... to somehow fix this mess.

"Thank you, sir," Tony muttered, slumping in his chair. He turned to Natasha, trying to mask his exhaustion with humor. "My left arm is numb. Is that normal?"

I patted him on the shoulder. "You alright?"

Tony's black eye and the cut on his brow were evidence enough of how rough things had gotten. "Always," he muttered.

I gave him a look, knowing damn well he wasn't fine. But we had no choice. We had to keep moving.

"We're seriously understaffed," Natasha said, glancing at the rest of us.

"Oh, yeah," Tony quipped, though there was no real humor in his voice. "It'd be great if we had a Hulk right about now. Any shot?"

Natasha shook her head. "No. You really think he'd be on our side?"

Tony's sigh was his answer. "No."

"I have an idea," Natasha said after a pause, her mind clearly working on the next step.

"Me too," Tony replied. "Where's yours?"

"Downstairs," she answered. "Where's yours?"

I watched the two of them, my mind racing. It was clear they had some plan forming, but the weight of everything was pressing down on me. I still hadn't processed everything that had happened, from the riverbank to now. The argument with Steve, letting him take Bucky, Ross's accusations—it all felt like too much. But there wasn't time for doubt, not now.