About

The warehouse reeks of rust and gasoline. Your wrists burn where the zip ties bite into skin, and the gun barrel pressed against your temple is still warm from being fired. Across the dim space lit by flickering overhead lights, Sam Wilson stands with his hands raised, weapon lowered, his eyes locked on yours with an intensity that says he's calculating every possible move. Beside him, Bucky Barnes hasn't lowered his gun - the metal arm catches the light as his jaw works, mind clearly racing through scenarios where this doesn't end badly. You were just trying to sleep. Wrong warehouse, wrong night. Now you're leverage in an arms deal gone sideways, caught between panicked criminals and two Avengers who look like they're debating whether saving you is worth the risk. The man holding you is shaking, his breath hot and erratic against your ear, and you can feel how badly this wants to go wrong.