Nat's POV
Yelena and I were walking through the familiar streets of Budapesht (and yes, it's Budapesht, not Budapest, let's get that straight), enjoying a rare moment of peace. Or so we thought. We heard the unmistakable sound of grunting coming from a nearby alley. We exchanged a glance and quickened our pace, heading straight for the noise.
When we get there, we see a kid—no, not a kid. A Widow. What the hell? She's fighting someone, and from the looks of it, she's damn good. Without hesitating, Yelena rushes in and pushes the Widow off the person she's attacking. I follow her lead, landing a solid kick to the girl's abdomen. She's young—way too young—and for a brief second, guilt flashes through me. But this is a fight, and there's no time for second thoughts.
Yelena kneels by the woman the Widow was fighting, but it's too late. She's already dead, a knife sticking out of her abdomen.
"Yelena!" I yell between strikes, barely dodging the Widow's attacks. "You let her die!"
Yelena throws me an incredulous look as she gets back on her feet. "What? No! I tried to save her, сука! Why is it always my fault?!"
I shrug, too caught up in the fight to argue. Then, out of nowhere, the Widow kicks me square in the back. Pain shoots up my spine, and I groan, turning to face her. She's pointing a gun directly at my head.
"Well, shit," I mutter under my breath. But before she can pull the trigger, Yelena uses one of the vials, snapping her out of mind control.
At least, that's what we thought would happen.
Even though she's out of Dreykov's control, the Widow still lunges at us, her fury undiminished. It takes both of us to pin her down. Yelena, always resourceful, grabs a piece of rope from the alley and ties the girl's hands behind her back. She struggles, but we manage to lift her up, dragging her towards our apartment. She fights us the entire way, making things ten times harder than they need to be.
Then, out of nowhere, she goes limp. Unconscious.
I glance at Yelena, who's smiling like she just won a prize. "Yelena, you hit her unconscious? And you're proud of yourself?!"
"Well, yeah," she says, shrugging. "She was resisting, so I knocked her out. Problem solved."
I roll my eyes, wondering if I'm the only adult in the room.
Cleo's POV
Ugh... my head hurts like hell. I blink a few times, trying to clear the fog from my mind. Where the hell am I? Oh, right. I was fighting... the traitors. The traitors. As my vision clears, the first thing I see is a pair of bright green eyes staring back at me.
Wait a second... red hair? For a moment, she looks like a clown. Like, seriously—put her in a clown costume with a red nose, and it's too perfect. The thought makes me snort, and I immediately regret it when I see her eyebrow arch. Yeah, she's definitely thinking, What the hell is wrong with this kid?
That's when I realize I'm tied to a chair. Fantastic.
I'm guessing the questions are coming next, but I've already decided. I'm not saying a damn word. They're traitors. They kicked me, tied me up, and now I'm stuck here staring at these clowns. I have every right to be pissed. So, if they think I'm going to cooperate, they're in for a rude awakening.
Let the interrogation begin.
More updates coming soon! Gotta finish my homework first, but let me know what you think so far! :)