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Chapter Text

Emperor's Shadow

Mark Grayson, once known as Invincible, inherited the Viltrumite Empire at the age of 30 after a bloody ascent to power. His father, Omni-Man, had trained him to be the ultimate ruler, and by the time Mark took the throne, he was well on his way to becoming the strongest Viltrumite in history. For 500 years, under Mark's iron grip, the empire thrived. Though he allowed his conquered planets more freedom than his predecessors, he was ruthless in his enforcement of order. Any hint of rebellion was crushed without mercy, and those who challenged his authority met swift and brutal ends.

Mark was not just feared—he was revered. His people adored him, for he was a ruler who was not afraid to dirty his hands for their prosperity. But beneath this facade of benevolence, darker ambitions simmered. Mark's conquests were not merely to expand his empire; they were a means to control and manipulate, to bend entire civilizations to his will. He believed in the Viltrumite way: strength above all, and the subjugation of the weak. His empire was a reflection of this belief, a testament to his unyielding dominance over the universe.

Then came the Scourge Virus, a biological weapon of unparalleled lethality. It tore through the Viltrumite population like wildfire, leaving only Mark standing. Immune to the virus, he watched helplessly as his people—the very foundation of his power—perished. His enemies, long held at bay by the fear of Viltrumite retribution, seized the opportunity to attack his worlds. The empire crumbled, and Mark, once the most powerful being in the universe, was left alone.

For 30 years, he drifted through space, consumed by grief and rage. The death of his empire had shaken him to his core, and in his despair, he sought a new purpose. When he crash-landed on Mars, he glimpsed Earth and saw in it the potential for a new beginning.

In 1976, Mark arrived on Earth, a world ripe for conquest. But this time, his approach would be different. Humanity was fragile, naïve, and utterly unprepared for the dangers that lurked in the cosmos. Mark saw their ignorance as an opportunity. He would not conquer them openly as he had done with other worlds. Instead, he would manipulate them from the shadows, guiding their evolution in a direction that suited his darker desires.

Mark's vision was clear: he would forge a shadow empire, an invisible hand that would shape the destiny of Earth. He saw himself as the architect of humanity's future, one where he would rule from behind the scenes, controlling the strings of power while the world remained blissfully unaware of his existence. He did not see this as a benevolent act but as a necessary evil. Humanity, in its current state, was weak, and Mark despised weakness. He would mold them into something stronger, something that could withstand the challenges of the universe—and, more importantly, something that would serve his interests.

To achieve this, Mark created Shadow Company, a clandestine organization of spies, soldiers, and operatives. They were his eyes and ears, his instruments of control. Through them, he manipulated governments, influenced wars, and destabilized economies—all to further his agenda. He cultivated key alliances, most notably with Commander Philip Graves and Baron Helmut Zemo, who became his most trusted lieutenants. Under their leadership, Shadow Company grew into a formidable force, an underworld empire that operated with ruthless efficiency.

By 2006, Mark's shadow empire was fully operational, a well-oiled machine that required little direct oversight. His influence was everywhere, yet nowhere to be seen. And as he moved his pieces into place, Mark awaited the day when he could reveal his true power—when humanity would be ready to accept him as their ruler, whether they knew it or not.

However, Mark’s immediate concerns were more mundane, at least by his standards. He had business to attend to in Ostrava, a city that housed one of his secret bases. Whether it was to meet with agents or check on operations, his presence there was necessary. Little did he know that this trip would set into motion events that would change the course of his life—and that of a certain Natalia Romanova—forever.

Chapter Text

The gravel crunched under the tires of the black 70 Series Land Cruiser as it rolled steadily along the winding, unpaved road. Mark Grayson sat behind the wheel, his eyes focused on the darkening path ahead. He had just left one of his organization's bases in a redacted location—a visit that had been more routine than eventful, yet necessary to keep the gears of his shadow empire well-oiled. The base was well-hidden, far from prying eyes, nestled deep in the forest on the outskirts of Ostrava. As he drove, the trees on either side of the road seemed to close in, their silhouettes growing darker as the sun dipped below the horizon.

The Land Cruiser hummed with power, its engine a low, steady rumble that resonated with the beat of the Runrig track playing through the vehicle’s speakers. Mark had modified the truck extensively, outfitting it with armor, reinforced suspension, and enough hidden compartments to hold an arsenal. It was the kind of vehicle that could withstand a small war, but right now, it served as little more than a means to traverse the isolated backroads of the Czech countryside.

The deeper Mark ventured into the wilderness, the darker it became. Soon, the only light came from the high beams and light bars of the Land Cruiser, casting harsh, white light onto the gravel road ahead. His mind, ever calculating, was already planning his next move. Tonight's visit had been about ensuring the security of one of his most critical operations, but there were always more threads to weave, more pieces to move into place.

Suddenly, out of the darkness, a figure staggered into the middle of the road. Mark's eyes narrowed as he reflexively slammed on the brakes, the tires skidding slightly before the truck came to a halt just a few meters from the person. The high beams illuminated the figure, revealing a woman with vibrant red hair, her right arm lifted to shield her eyes from the blinding light.

Mark's gaze sharpened as he took in the sight before him. The woman was dressed in a black tactical bodysuit, her form obscured by the array of weapons strapped to her—knives, grenades, but notably, no firearms. His mind immediately registered the similarity to the uniforms used by the Black Widow assassins trained by the Red Room. His eyes moved swiftly, noting the way she clutched her left arm tightly to her midsection, the limp in her step, and the blood—so much blood—that stained her suit. He couldn't tell if it was all hers, but he suspected a good portion of it was.

In less than a second, he assessed her situation: she was gravely injured and likely in need of immediate medical attention. But Mark was not moved by compassion. No, his interest was piqued by the possibility of who this woman might be. A Black Widow assassin could be a valuable asset, especially in his world. Information, leverage, potential alliances—these were the currencies he traded in, and this woman might be worth more than her weight in gold.

As he stepped out of the Land Cruiser, the cool night air hit him, but Mark remained unaffected, his focus entirely on the woman. She stumbled forward, her strength failing her, and as she looked up, their eyes met. For a brief moment, Mark felt a flicker of something he hadn’t experienced in years—a small sense of unease, perhaps, as he was momentarily caught off guard by the intensity of her vibrant green eyes. But just as quickly, he shoved the feeling aside, regaining his calculated composure.

"Can I help you?" His voice was calm, steady, revealing nothing of the thoughts racing through his mind.

The woman opened her mouth to respond, but only a faint sound escaped before she collapsed onto the gravel road, unconscious. Mark’s eyes narrowed slightly. The amount of blood she had lost was significant, and despite his calculated interest, he knew she wouldn’t survive long without intervention.

He moved quickly, his actions efficient and precise. He reached her side, lifting her limp form effortlessly into his arms. Her body was surprisingly light, considering the weapons she carried. With her safely in his grasp, he walked back to the truck, opened the rear door of the crew cab, and carefully laid her across the back seats. He didn't care about the blood that would inevitably stain the leather; such things were trivial in the grand scheme of his plans.

Mark opened a storage compartment and pulled out a well-stocked medical bag. He wasted no time in returning to her side, laying the bag on the floor beside her and opening it with practiced ease. He began his examination, his movements meticulous as he removed the top portion of her bodysuit, revealing her upper body clad only in a bra. Bruises, cuts, and scrapes marred her skin—evidence of a recent and brutal encounter. But it was the wound in her abdomen that drew his attention. A gunshot wound, close to the liver. The bullet had not exited.

Mark set his jaw, his expression hardening as he considered his options. He needed to remove the bullet, but he was far from any advanced medical facilities. Still, he was no stranger to field medicine—centuries of warfare had honed his skills. Using the tools at hand, he carefully extracted the bullet, his hands steady despite the rough conditions. Once the bullet was out, he cleaned and dressed the wound as best he could, ensuring that the bleeding had stopped and her breathing had stabilized.

She was still unconscious, her breathing shallow but steady. She would need better medical care soon, but for now, she would survive. Mark took a moment to study her face—calm, serene even in her current state. This woman, whoever she was, had been through hell and back. And now she was in his care, whether she liked it or not.

Mark closed the medical bag and stepped out of the truck, his mind already calculating the next steps. He climbed back into the driver’s seat, glancing once more at the unconscious woman sprawled across the back seats. She was a potential asset, a puzzle piece that had fallen into his lap. And Mark Grayson, ever the strategist, knew how to make use of every piece on the board.

As he drove off into the night, the Land Cruiser’s lights cut through the darkness, guiding the way towards his destination—a safe house in the Alps. The road ahead was long, but Mark was patient. The woman behind him, unknown and unconscious, was now a part of his world. And in Mark Grayson’s world, nothing happened by chance.

Chapter Text

Mark’s eyes scanned the dark forest as the modified Land Cruiser rumbled over the gravel road. The sun had completely disappeared, leaving only the truck’s lights to cut through the pitch-black wilderness. The hum of the engine was steady, and the faint sound of Runrig echoed through the cabin—old tunes, the kind that helped Mark focus.

The woman—her unconscious form lying across the back seats—was still as death. Mark glanced in the rearview mirror, watching her chest rise and fall slowly. He knew her injuries were serious, but he wasn’t exactly racing to save her. If she was who he suspected—a Black Widow from the infamous Red Room—then there might be more use to her than just a dead body. His mind flickered back to her blood-soaked figure as she collapsed in front of his truck.

Her vibrant green eyes flashed briefly in his thoughts, the one thing that had thrown him off balance for a split second. They had locked eyes before she passed out, something about the intensity of her gaze had been... unsettling. He quickly dismissed it. This was just another calculation to him, another piece on the board.

As the truck rolled on, Mark’s sharp instincts picked up movement. In the distance, headlights approached—three black SUVs moving with too much purpose to be casual drivers. He slowed the Cruiser down just slightly, the vehicles were on the same path but in no way were they following him. They were heading toward the area where he had found the woman. Whoever they were, they were looking for someone, and Mark had a solid guess as to who.

Mark tapped the side of the steering wheel and dialed a number on the vehicle’s console.

The voice on the other end crackled to life. “Graves here.”

“Commander. It’s done,” Mark said, his tone calm and measured. “The Ostrava compound is secure. Made sure the protocols were followed.”

“Good to hear, boss.” Graves sounded slightly more relaxed, his voice carrying that rough edge Mark had come to expect. “We still on for that safe house?”

“We are. I’ll be at the Hinterglemm location in a few hours. Best equipped, you said?”

“Hell yeah. Top of the line stuff. Medical supplies, tech, all of it. Place is a fortress, too,” Graves replied with a casualness that only came from years of knowing each other. “You takin' care of business yourself this time?”

Mark glanced back at the unconscious woman again. “Got a situation that requires discretion.”

“Yeah? You’re always runnin’ into interesting shit, huh?” Graves chuckled lightly. “You need backup or somethin’? Or you just flyin' solo with whatever this is?”

“No backup. I’ll handle it,” Mark said coolly, his mind already several steps ahead. “I’ll fill you in later. Status on Shadow Company?”

Graves’ tone shifted slightly, though he still remained laid-back. “Everything’s running like clockwork. We’ve got a few more assets in play for the Langley op. That’s coming along nice. Rest of the boys are deployed or gathering intel, as usual. No signs of any cracks.”

“Good,” Mark nodded. “Keep it that way.”

The line went quiet for a second before Graves spoke up again. “You alright, man? You sound... I don’t know. Different.”

Mark’s eyes narrowed slightly. “It’s nothing.”

“Right, right. Well, just watch your back out there. Something feels off about these recent moves we’ve been hearing about.”

“I’m watching,” Mark assured him. “Keep me updated.”

“You got it, boss. Talk soon,” Graves said, the call ending with a soft click.

Mark’s thoughts lingered for a moment before returning to the road. The woman stirred in the back, groaning quietly. It was just a brief noise, but it was enough to draw his attention. She was likely coming in and out of consciousness, her body trying to fight off the blood loss.

He glanced at her again through the mirror before shifting his focus back to the road. It was going to be a long drive, and the last thing he needed was unnecessary distractions.

A few hours later, Mark pulled into a secluded gas station. The lights buzzed dimly overhead as he refueled the Land Cruiser. No other cars were around, and that suited him just fine. After filling up, he drove the truck to a far corner of the parking lot, ensuring it was as discreet as possible.

Once parked, Mark opened the back door, climbing into the back seat next to the unconscious woman. He reached for his medical kit again, knowing her wounds would need tending. Carefully, he unwrapped the blood-soaked bandages from her abdomen, revealing the gunshot wound. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but infection was still a concern. He cleaned the wound thoroughly, working in the dim light of the truck’s interior.

As he worked, the woman suddenly stirred, her hand shooting up to grab his arm with surprising strength for someone in her condition. Her eyes snapped open, those same vibrant green eyes locking onto his once more. For a moment, Mark was caught off guard—her gaze filled with intensity and confusion.

She muttered something in Russian, her voice slurred and weak, the words unintelligible. Then, just as quickly, her grip on his arm slackened, and she fell back into unconsciousness.

Mark remained still for a moment, her reaction lingering in his mind longer than he wanted to admit. It wasn’t just the fact that she’d woken up—something about the way she’d looked at him...

He finished cleaning the wound, wrapping it in fresh bandages before slipping out of the back seat. Once back in the driver’s seat, Mark picked up his phone again and dialed.

A familiar voice with a heavy Sokovian accent answered. “Zemo.”

“Zemo, it’s Grayson,” Mark greeted, his tone controlled.

“Ah, Mark. It’s been some time,” Zemo replied with a slight warmth in his voice. “How are things on your end?”

“Steady. How’s your family?”

“They are well, thank you for asking,” Zemo said, his voice light but tinged with that ever-present seriousness. “And yourself?”

“Busy,” Mark said simply, keeping it brief. “I need an update on the intelligence network.”

Zemo’s tone shifted immediately into business mode. “Hydra, Red Room, and others are all moving. Hydra, in particular, has unleashed their ‘dog’—the Winter Soldier. He’s active, and there seems to be a temporary alliance between Hydra and the Red Room.”

“Interesting,” Mark said, his brow furrowing slightly. “They wouldn’t join forces unless they were after something big.”

“Our analysts believe the Red Room has a rogue Widow in the field. They’ve deployed many of their agents near Ostrava, searching for her,” Zemo continued, his tone measured. “With the Winter Soldier involved, it’s clear Dreykov wants this one back badly.”

Mark's eyes flickered to the rearview mirror, to the unconscious woman. “They wouldn’t bring out the Winter Soldier unless she’s valuable.”

“That’s the consensus,” Zemo agreed. “Whatever she’s carrying—or whatever secrets she knows—it’s enough for both organizations to be on high alert.”

“I might have what they’re looking for,” Mark said coolly.

There was a pause. “Oh?”

Mark explained briefly how he had come across the injured woman, leaving out unnecessary details. He mentioned her tactical gear, the injuries, the potential connection to the Red Room.

“I’m taking her to a safe house in the Alps,” Mark finished. “She needs medical attention, but I’ll handle her until we figure out her worth.”

“Then you’ve already made a move. Smart, as always,” Zemo replied, his voice carrying a hint of admiration. “Keep me informed. I’ll have our analysts dig deeper into the situation. Hydra’s partnership with the Red Room may be more fragile than it seems.”

“Good,” Mark said. “I’ll be in touch.”

“Safe travels, my friend,” Zemo said before the call ended.

Mark slipped his phone back into the center console and glanced out at the quiet gas station. He pulled the Land Cruiser back onto the road, the dark night stretching ahead of him as he continued his drive toward the Alps.

The Land Cruiser’s tires hummed steadily against the winding mountain roads, the sound of gravel crunching beneath them a constant companion. Darkness engulfed the landscape, with only the occasional cluster of stars peeking through the thick clouds above. The silence was thick, broken only by the gentle vibration of the engine and the rhythmic tap of Mark’s fingers on the steering wheel. He liked the quiet; it gave him time to think, to calculate the next steps in this increasingly complex game.

Ahead of him, the road twisted sharply, lined by towering pines that loomed like sentinels in the night. The headlights illuminated their trunks for a brief second before plunging them back into darkness. The deeper they traveled into the mountains, the more isolated they became. Just the way Mark preferred it.

The woman, unconscious in the back, had remained still after her brief moment of wakefulness. Mark had heard her mumble in Russian, though he hadn't caught the words. He glanced back at her briefly. Her face was pale, her breathing shallow, but steady. Whatever strength she had left was fading fast. The sooner they reached the Hinterglemm safe house, the better. Not that he was in any hurry to play the hero—he just needed to get her patched up enough to be useful.

He felt the cold mountain air creeping in through the cracks of the windows, an icy reminder of the altitude they were reaching. His fingers flexed on the steering wheel, and he shifted in his seat, trying to stave off the dull ache in his muscles from the hours spent driving. The cabin was filled with the scent of leather and antiseptic, lingering from when he’d cleaned her wounds earlier.

A low groan from the back seat caught his attention. He flicked his eyes to the rearview mirror again, watching as she stirred, her head shifting slightly on the seat. Her lips moved, forming silent words before she settled once more. Mark let out a small breath, leaning back in his seat. She wasn’t waking up—not fully. Her body was in a state of exhaustion. How long had she been running before he found her? How long had she been bleeding out before collapsing on that road?

His thoughts drifted back to those black SUVs he’d spotted earlier. Whoever they were, they were organized, methodical, and they weren’t giving up the hunt. He wondered how many more were out there, combing through the town, spreading out into the surrounding areas. If they were after her, it wouldn’t be long before they broadened their search radius. The thought of it caused a slight tightness in his jaw. He didn’t enjoy being hunted, but he had the advantage. The Hinterglemm safe house was one of his best-kept secrets, nestled deep in the Austrian Alps, far from prying eyes. Even if they figured out she had escaped, finding her there would be next to impossible.

Mark's thoughts drifted as the terrain around him shifted, the incline growing steeper. The mountains were imposing, their jagged peaks cutting into the horizon like ancient teeth. He’d been here before, many times, but the sheer scale of the landscape never failed to impress him. It was a reminder of the insignificance of most things. He had conquered worlds, toppled empires, and yet, in the face of nature’s raw power, even he felt a strange sense of smallness.

As the road leveled out for a stretch, he reached over and turned the dial on the dashboard, adjusting the temperature inside the vehicle. The air that flowed from the vents was warm, a small comfort against the frigid night outside. The headlights cut through the gloom, revealing the narrow road that snaked ahead of him. Snow was beginning to fall lightly, dusting the ground and swirling in the beams of the headlights. He frowned slightly—while it wasn’t unusual for snow at this altitude, it did mean the drive would become more treacherous as they climbed higher.

He was almost tempted to call Graves again, just for the distraction. The conversation earlier had been efficient, professional, but Graves always had a way of lightening the mood with his rough-around-the-edges attitude. Mark let a faint smile play on his lips, remembering their last operation together. Graves had made some crack about how Mark’s meticulous planning left no room for any “fun.” It was a comment only someone like Graves could make—one of the few people who could speak to him with such familiarity and not suffer any consequences.

The Land Cruiser hit a bump in the road, jostling the woman in the backseat. Mark shot a quick glance at her, noting how her brow furrowed in discomfort. He eased off the gas slightly, keeping the ride as smooth as possible. Her body was fragile, and she needed to rest if she was going to survive long enough for him to figure out exactly who she was and why the Red Room had gone to such lengths to retrieve her.

As the snow continued to fall, Mark’s mind turned over the puzzle piece by piece. If the Red Room had partnered with Hydra, as Zemo had suggested, then this rogue Widow—if that’s what she was—had something of immense value. Secrets, perhaps? Intel on Hydra or S.H.I.E.L.D.? Or maybe she had something else... something Dreykov wanted badly enough to unleash the Winter Soldier.

Mark’s grip on the wheel tightened at the thought. Bucky Barnes—another variable to consider. If the Winter Soldier was on the hunt, things were more complicated than he’d initially thought. Barnes was an efficient killer, relentless when given an objective. Mark had crossed paths with him once, long ago, and he knew better than to underestimate Hydra’s deadliest asset.

A gust of wind blew across the road, rattling the truck slightly. Mark adjusted his speed again, navigating the narrowing path with precision. The Hinterglemm safe house was still another hour or so away, tucked in the heart of the mountains. The seclusion made it perfect for times like these when absolute discretion was required.

The woman let out another small sound—a faint whimper of pain, though her eyes remained closed. Mark flicked a glance at her once more, feeling the faintest stirrings of something he quickly buried. Compassion wasn’t useful here. She was an asset, nothing more. If she proved valuable, he’d use her. If not, then... well, there were other ways to deal with that.

Finally, after what felt like hours of winding through the narrow, snow-covered roads, the silhouette of the safe house appeared in the distance. It was a large, well-fortified cabin, hidden deep in the forest, barely visible from the road. Mark had made sure of that. As he approached, he keyed in a code on the console, and the hidden gates slowly creaked open, allowing him to drive the Land Cruiser into the enclosed area.

The drive had been long, but they’d made it. He parked the truck in the secure garage, shutting off the engine. The silence that followed was almost jarring, but Mark welcomed it. It meant they were safe, for now.

Chapter Text

Mark stepped out of the Land Cruiser, his boots crunching softly against the gravel as he breathed in the crisp, alpine air. The cold mountain breeze brushed against his skin, carrying with it the scent of pine and fresh snow from the nearby peaks. He stood for a moment, taking in the stark contrast between this tranquil, secluded location and the tense, urban chaos of Ostrava. Here, in the Austrian Alps, silence reigned. It was a place so remote and isolated that even nature seemed to move in slow, deliberate patterns.

The safe house stood before him, a modest structure nestled deep within the snow-covered forest. Its wooden exterior blended almost seamlessly with the surrounding wilderness, giving it a humble appearance that belied the sophisticated defenses woven into its design. This was one of Mark’s countless hidden properties scattered across the globe, a relic of his long-standing shadow empire. It had been years—perhaps even decades—since he had last needed this particular location. But as Graves had assured him, everything seemed intact.

He approached the front door, his footsteps steady, and swiped his key card across the hidden scanner embedded in the doorframe. The lock clicked open with a quiet hum, the sound barely audible in the stillness of the night. Mark pushed the door inward and stepped into the cabin, greeted by the familiar scent of pine wood mingling with the faint metallic tang of reinforced steel.

The interior was dark, save for the faint glow of moonlight streaming through the windows, casting long shadows across the floor. Mark flipped the lights on, the soft hum of electricity filling the air as the room was bathed in a warm glow. He paused for a moment, his sharp eyes surveying every corner of the room. Everything appeared untouched, exactly as he had left it. The furniture was sparse but functional—an old leather couch near the fireplace, a wooden table in the corner, and a few chairs strategically placed around the room. The safe house had never been about comfort, only survival.

Moving methodically, Mark began a quick security sweep, his senses attuned to the slightest irregularity. Centuries of survival had honed his instincts, making him hyper-aware of his surroundings. Each shadow, each corner was inspected with calculated precision. He checked the windows, doors, and hidden defense systems, ensuring that every possible point of entry was secured. Only when he was satisfied that the house was safe did he allow himself to relax, if only marginally.

Next, he descended the wooden stairs to the basement. The creak of the floorboards beneath his weight was the only sound in the house, a reminder that despite all the advanced technology, the cabin still held an old-world charm. However, as he reached the bottom, that charm began to fade.

The basement opened up into a long, dimly lit hallway. The walls were cold, reinforced steel, a stark contrast to the rustic warmth above. The hallway branched off into several rooms, each with heavy doors. To the left, he passed by a storage room and an armory, their contents concealed behind metal doors. The air down here felt clinical, clean—sterile even—lacking any of the woodsy scents that lingered upstairs.

At the far end of the hallway, he entered the medical room. This space was different from the others. The walls gleamed under the harsh, white lights that illuminated the sterile environment. Medical cabinets lined one side, filled with bandages, syringes, and antiseptics. A medical bed took up the center of the room, its steel frame and crisp white linens standing out against the concrete floor. The scent of antiseptic was faint but unmistakable, making the space feel like a hidden infirmary—a cold reminder of survival.

This room, unlike the others, wasn’t meant for comfort. It was for efficiency, for emergencies that might turn the cabin from a safe haven into a bunker.

Mark wasted no time. His movements were swift but precise as he prepped the medical bed, laying out the necessary tools. IV bags were hooked up, monitors activated, and a tray of sterilized instruments placed within easy reach. The hum of the equipment filled the room as everything powered up, ready for use. Once the room was prepped to his satisfaction, he ascended the stairs again, moving with the same efficient purpose.

The wind outside had picked up, sending a cold chill through the air as he stepped back into the night. He made his way to the Land Cruiser, his eyes scanning the surrounding forest out of habit. The darkness around him was thick, impenetrable to most, but Mark’s Viltrumite senses allowed him to see far beyond what any human could. Even now, he remained alert, his mind constantly calculating potential threats and outcomes.

Reaching the vehicle, he opened the back door and paused. His eyes fell on the unconscious woman sprawled across the back seats, her body eerily still except for the shallow rise and fall of her chest. She hadn’t moved since he’d left her, and in the harsh light from the overhead lanterns, her condition appeared even more dire.

Mark took a step closer, crouching down to observe her more closely. Her face, smeared with dirt and blood, still held an ethereal beauty despite the toll the night had taken on her. Strands of vibrant red hair clung to her cheeks, tangled and matted from the events that had led them here. Her skin, normally a pale ivory, was now almost ghostly, a clear sign that she had lost far too much blood. Her tactical bodysuit, designed for both protection and mobility, clung to her form, revealing the curve of her waist and the lean, muscular build of her legs. It was functional, yet despite himself, Mark’s gaze lingered for a moment too long.

But it wasn’t lust that motivated him. Mark’s attraction to her, if it could be called that, was something more subtle, more calculated. He saw potential in her—a potential ally, a dangerous foe, or perhaps something else entirely. His mind, always strategizing, weighed the possibilities. If she was indeed a rogue Black Widow, defecting from the Red Room, she could prove to be a valuable asset. Yet, her current vulnerability stirred something unfamiliar within him.

He shook the thought away and reached down to lift her from the vehicle. Sliding one arm beneath her knees and the other under her shoulders, Mark gently hoisted her into his arms. She was surprisingly light, her body fitting naturally against his chest as he held her. Her head lolled against him, the fiery strands of her hair brushing against his arm as he adjusted his grip.

As her body pressed closer to his, a strange warmth spread through him. It wasn’t just the heat from her skin—though she was warmer than he had expected—it was something deeper. Something... unfamiliar. He couldn’t quite place the feeling, and it caught him off guard. Without thinking, Mark instinctively pulled her closer, holding her a little tighter than necessary. The sensation of her resting against him was strangely... pleasant.

It was a fleeting feeling, one he quickly dismissed. He wasn’t one for sentimentality, and certainly not now, not with a mission at hand. Still, he couldn’t entirely shake the odd sense of comfort her presence provided. As if, for just a moment, the weight of his centuries-long existence was eased by the warmth of another being.

As he began walking toward the safe house, her body stirred. She shifted slightly in his arms, her face pressing against his chest as though she were seeking the warmth his Viltrumite physiology generated. Her breathing deepened, and Mark felt her arms weakly clutch at his jacket, pulling herself closer to him. It was a purely subconscious action, a reflex of survival, but it still caught him off guard.

He could feel her heartbeat, faint and irregular, against his chest. Her seeking his warmth triggered something faint and distant within him, a sensation he hadn’t felt in centuries. His mind tried to rationalize it—she was cold, near death. Her body was instinctively seeking heat, something primal and necessary for survival. And yet... the feeling lingered. It wasn’t just her survival instincts at play. Something else, something far more human, stirred between them.

Mark’s footsteps crunched against the gravel as he reached the door of the cabin. He glanced down at her, surprised to find that her eyelids had fluttered open. For a split second, they locked gazes, her vibrant green eyes cutting through the haze of her injuries. The intensity of her stare caught him off guard. It was a mix of confusion, fear, and something primal—something that almost mirrored the sensation he felt.

Her lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came out. A faint, hoarse whisper was all she could muster before her eyes fluttered shut once again, her body going limp in his arms.

Mark exhaled sharply, pushing the door open with his foot and stepping inside the warmth of the cabin. The sudden change in temperature made the woman stir once more, but she quickly settled as he descended the stairs to the basement. His hold on her remained firm but gentle, her body still seeking his warmth even as unconsciousness claimed her again.

Reaching the medical room, Mark carefully lowered her onto the bed, her limbs falling naturally by her sides. He took a moment to observe her, her pale face framed by strands of red hair that clung to her forehead. Her breathing was shallow, but steady.

Without wasting any more time, he set to work. Mark removed the blood-soaked bandages from her abdomen, grimacing at the sight of the wound. It was worse than he had initially thought—deep, ragged, and dangerously close to vital organs. Yet, there was no sign of infection, at least not yet. He sterilized the area, wiping away the dried blood and applying antiseptics. His hands were steady and precise as he stitched the wound, his Viltrumite physiology giving him the ability to perform the delicate procedure with near surgical precision.

Once the wound was closed, he considered the next step. She had lost far too much blood. Even with the wound closed, her body was weak, and her recovery would be slow. Fortunately, the medical supplies Graves had stocked included IV fluids and blood transfusion equipment. Mark quickly inserted the IV, hooking up a bag of fluids to restore some hydration.

But as he connected the blood transfusion equipment, Mark paused, staring at the empty bags stored on the shelf. Human blood, while available, wouldn't be enough. Not quickly. Her fragile body needed something more potent, something that could heal her faster. He knew his Viltrumite blood was dangerous—lethal if incompatible—but it also carried regenerative properties unlike anything on Earth. It had saved lives before, although at a cost.

He hesitated, calculating the risks. If it worked, she would heal rapidly, possibly gaining enhanced strength and stamina, but it could also destroy her. If her body rejected it...

Mark clenched his jaw and made his decision.

Without another moment of hesitation, he took a sterile syringe from the tray and pierced the vein in his own arm, watching as his blood, darker and more viscous than human blood, filled the tube. Quickly, he attached the syringe to the IV line, injecting just a small amount into her system. Not enough to overpower her, but enough to trigger her body’s regeneration. He hoped.

As his blood mingled with hers, Mark watched the monitor intently. Her vitals faltered for a moment, her heartbeat stuttering in response to the foreign substance, but then... it steadied. Slowly, her breathing deepened, becoming more stable. The transfusion was working.

He exhaled, leaning back slightly, though his eyes never left the woman on the table. The Viltrumite blood would accelerate her healing, but it might also change her in ways he couldn’t predict. Only time would tell.

Mark stood back after securing the IV, watching the fluid drip slowly into the woman’s veins. The rhythmic sound of the monitor beside the bed beeped softly, tracking her vitals. For now, everything seemed stable, but Mark knew better than to relax completely. He had seen enough to understand how fragile the human body could be after severe trauma, especially when left unattended for too long.

His gaze drifted down to her face again. In the dim light of the room, her features looked softer, almost peaceful. The lines of tension and pain had faded, replaced by an unconscious calm that belied the struggle her body was enduring. But it wasn’t her physical beauty that held his attention—it was the quiet strength she exuded even in her weakened state. There was something about her that drew him in, something that stirred memories from a distant part of his past.

He couldn’t help but admire the resilience she’d shown, surviving this long with such a severe wound. Few would have made it through. He studied the way her chest rose and fell, each breath shallow yet consistent. It was a fragile balance, but a balance nonetheless. His attention shifted to the subtle tremor in her hand as it lay by her side. The involuntary movement was a sign of the strain her body was under, but also of its determination to survive.

Despite himself, Mark felt a flicker of admiration. She was a fighter, just like him.

Turning away from the bed, Mark moved to the small counter at the far end of the room where a sink and medical equipment were neatly arranged. He washed his hands, the cold water numbing his fingers as he methodically scrubbed away the blood and antiseptic. The sterile scent of the room clung to him as he dried his hands on a towel, his thoughts wandering.

This woman—this Black Widow—was a complication he hadn’t expected. Whatever her story was, it was clear she was no ordinary operative. She was a loose end, one he would need to deal with carefully. He had no intention of abandoning her, not yet, but he couldn’t allow himself to get too involved either. Attachments, in his line of work, were dangerous.

And yet...

He looked over his shoulder at her still form. There was a nagging curiosity building inside him. Who was she, really? Why had she been running? Was it from the Red Room, as he suspected, or something else entirely?

The shadows of her past were tangled with the present, but Mark had a feeling that untangling them would lead to something far more complex than he anticipated. She wasn’t just a target or a mission—there was something more. Something that gnawed at the edges of his carefully constructed detachment.

His eyes narrowed as he considered his next move. He would need to monitor her closely, not only to ensure her recovery but to understand who she was and what she wanted. Trust, if it came at all, would take time. But Mark was nothing if not patient. He had the time.

Stepping away from the counter, Mark returned to the bedside, his gaze tracing over her form again. He hesitated for a moment before reaching out, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders. She barely stirred, but the slight movement of her head against the pillow signaled some small awareness of his presence. Her face softened even more, her brow smoothing out as if the warmth of the blanket brought her some small comfort.

Mark stood there, his hand lingering for a second longer than necessary, before stepping back. His emotions, always kept in check, flickered in that moment—a strange mixture of protectiveness and calculated interest.

He hadn’t felt this way in years.

Mark walked over to a small chair against the far wall and sat down, leaning forward with his hands clasped between his knees. He would stay here, watching over her recovery through the night. Not because he cared—at least that’s what he told himself—but because she was an unknown variable. A potential asset, or threat. And he couldn’t afford to leave anything to chance.

As the hours passed, the soft sound of the monitor filled the room, a constant reminder of the delicate balance her life now hung upon. Mark’s thoughts drifted back to his own past, to the many times he had been in similar situations. He had faced death more times than he could count, had been on the edge of oblivion and clawed his way back each time. It was a familiar sensation, one that had shaped him into the man he was now.

But for all his experience, something about this moment felt different.

Mark’s eyes returned to her, his thoughts quieter now. He didn’t know her name, didn’t know her story, and yet... there was a connection, however faint. He had carried her through the night, held her in his arms, and now, watching over her as she fought for survival, he couldn’t help but feel... responsible.

It was a strange feeling, one he wasn’t accustomed to. Responsibility, yes, but not in this way. Not on a personal level. He had ruled planets, commanded armies, but this—watching over one injured woman in the dead of night—felt more intimate, more personal than anything he had experienced in a long time.

The hours dragged on, the soft glow of the medical equipment casting long shadows across the room. Mark sat silently, unmoving, watching the rise and fall of her chest, the faint flicker of her eyelids as she dreamed, or perhaps remembered. His mind was calm, yet alert, constantly analyzing, constantly calculating.

And yet, for all his calculations, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. Something he couldn’t quite define, but it was there, lurking in the quiet spaces between his thoughts.

A movement from the bed drew his attention. She stirred, her fingers twitching as her hand moved slightly. Her breathing hitched, her chest rising sharply before settling again. It was a small, almost imperceptible change, but Mark noticed immediately.

He rose from his seat, moving to her side in an instant. His hand hovered over hers, watching for any further signs of distress. Her face, still pale, twisted slightly, a faint frown creasing her brow. She was dreaming—perhaps reliving the events that had led her here. He could see the tension building in her body, her muscles tightening beneath the blanket.

Without thinking, Mark placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch firm but gentle, as if to ground her in the present. She shifted again, her eyes fluttering beneath her lids, but the tension in her body slowly eased. Whatever nightmare had been gripping her began to fade, and her breathing evened out once more.

Mark didn’t move, his hand remaining on her shoulder for a moment longer than necessary. His thumb brushed lightly against the fabric of her suit, and he felt the warmth of her skin beneath it. There was something oddly comforting in that brief contact, a reminder that despite everything, she was alive.

He stepped back, watching her as she sank deeper into sleep. The tension in her body had dissipated, replaced by a peaceful stillness.

Mark knew better than to let his guard down. This woman, whoever she was, could still be a threat once she regained her strength. But for now, in this quiet moment, she was just another wounded soul fighting to survive. And despite his best efforts to remain detached, Mark couldn’t help but feel a flicker of something deeper. Something that tugged at the edges of his carefully constructed walls.

He sighed, moving back to the chair and sitting down once again. The night was still long, and there would be plenty of time to unravel the mysteries surrounding her. For now, he would wait, watch, and be ready for whatever came next.

Chapter Text

Mark stirred awake, the soft creak of the old wooden chair beneath him bringing him to full consciousness. His eyes slowly blinked open, adjusting to the dim, muted light filtering through the heavy curtains that shielded the room from the morning sun. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic and pine, a combination that had become oddly familiar over the last few days. His muscles ached from sleeping in the chair all night, but he barely noticed the discomfort anymore. He had been here so many times since bringing her to this safe house that the physical strain was just background noise.

He looked over to the bed, where she still lay, silent and unmoving. Her pale skin, barely illuminated in the low light, was smooth and unmarred except for the faint bruises still lingering around her neck and arms. Her chest rose and fell with the rhythmic steadiness of deep sleep, her body focusing on healing. The machines beside her beeped softly, the low hum of their operation the only consistent sound in the room apart from her breathing.

Mark felt a pang of something unfamiliar in his chest as he studied her face—vulnerable, peaceful in her sleep. She was still a mystery to him in so many ways. He barely knew her, yet he couldn’t help but feel connected, tethered to her in ways he hadn’t anticipated. The mission had been simple enough: extract, protect, and wait for her recovery. But something about this woman had shifted something inside him, something he couldn’t quite put into words.

He shifted in his chair, the wood creaking again as he stretched his arms above his head. His body was tense from hours of keeping vigil, but his mind was sharp, alert as always. Mark glanced at the clock—just after dawn. The sun was only now beginning to rise above the horizon, casting long shadows through the curtains. He’d spent another entire night by her side.

The room was cold, a reminder of how deep they were in the Austrian Alps. Despite it being mid-summer, the mornings were chilly, especially at this altitude. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine trees and distant mountain streams. Mark had always appreciated the quiet isolation of the Alps, the way the world seemed to slow down here, as though time itself was taking a break. It made for the perfect hideout.

He stood up, his joints cracking as he rose to his full height, towering over the small, intimate space of the medical room. A quick check of her vitals showed everything was stable. Her pulse was strong, the medication in her IV drip working as intended. Still, he lingered, his eyes tracing the contours of her face for a moment longer. He found it strange, this urge to stay close to her, to make sure she was alright even though he knew she was still deep in recovery. Maybe it was the part of him that had spent centuries watching over people, ruling, commanding, keeping them safe from the shadows.

After a few more moments, Mark turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him softly. His steps were light on the wooden stairs as he ascended to the main level of the safe house. The structure was a modest log cabin, tucked away in the remote wilderness of Hinterglemm. It had served as a fallback location for years, one of many spread across the globe, each meticulously maintained and ready for use at a moment’s notice. The cabin had a rustic charm—simple wooden furniture, exposed beams on the ceiling, and windows that offered breathtaking views of the surrounding mountains.

Mark moved through the house, his senses alert as he took stock of everything. The pantry was well-stocked with non-perishable food items, though he made a mental note that a few things were running low. He scanned the shelves, making a list in his mind—dried meat, canned vegetables, grains, coffee. These were the essentials, the kind of supplies that could last through a long stay, especially if they had to stay off the grid for an extended period.

He continued his rounds, checking the water supply and making sure the electricity was running smoothly. The solar panels on the roof were enough to power the cabin during the day, though he had a backup generator in case the weather turned foul. The systems were all in order, just as he had expected. The safe house had been designed to be self-sufficient, capable of sustaining its occupants indefinitely, should the need arise.

As Mark finished his check, he stepped out onto the front porch. The view was breathtaking. The sun was higher now, casting golden light across the endless expanse of forested mountains that stretched as far as the eye could see. A light breeze rustled the leaves, filling the air with the scent of pine and earth. He stood there for a moment, taking it all in—the towering peaks, the rolling valleys, the untouched beauty of the natural world.

For a man like him, who had seen entire civilizations rise and fall, the timelessness of the mountains was a reminder that some things endured. The universe was vast, and yet here, in this remote corner of the world, everything felt so small, so distant from the grand schemes of power and control that had defined his existence for so long.

Mark’s thoughts drifted back to the woman downstairs. Even in her current state, she represented something different, something unexpected. He wasn’t entirely sure why he had brought her here, to this place. It had been instinctual, a decision made in the moment, but now, standing here, he wondered if it was something more. He shook the thought from his head. There was work to do.

With a sigh, Mark descended the steps of the porch and made his way to the woodshed. The structure was tucked away behind the cabin, a small building filled with neatly stacked firewood. The supply, however, was lower than he liked. He could see the gaps in the stacks where the wood had been used up over time. Though summer days were warm, the nights in the mountains could get cold, and he wanted to be prepared.

He grabbed an axe from the wall, running his fingers along the blade to check its sharpness. It was duller than he preferred, so he carefully pinched the tip between his fingers and applied pressure, dragging them along the edge of the blade. The metal peeled away in thin shavings as he honed the edge to razor-sharpness. Mark had always been meticulous when it came to his tools. A dull axe was dangerous, and even though he could split the wood with his bare hands, there was something calming about the act of using the axe, of feeling its weight in his hands.

Satisfied with the blade’s sharpness, he walked into the nearby forest. The trees stood tall and proud, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. He selected a few suitable ones and began to swing the axe. Each strike landed with precision, the sharp thwack of metal against wood reverberating through the forest. The tree groaned before it finally gave way, crashing to the forest floor in a burst of leaves and splintering branches.

Mark worked methodically, cutting the fallen tree into manageable sections, each about a foot long. He stacked them neatly before moving on to the next tree. The repetitive motion was soothing, and for a time, he let his mind go blank, focusing only on the rhythm of the work. Swing, split, stack. The cycle continued, the hours passing unnoticed as he immersed himself in the task.

After a couple of hours, Mark had restocked the woodshed, the neatly split logs filling the space. He wiped the sweat from his brow, though the physical exertion barely taxed him. The work had served its purpose—it had cleared his mind, given him a sense of focus in the quiet isolation of the mountains.

He carried a bundle of firewood back into the cabin, stacking it beside the fireplace in the main room. The fireplace was the centerpiece of the living space, an old, well-used hearth that had warmed the cabin through countless winters. Mark knelt before it, arranging the logs carefully before striking a match. The fire caught quickly, the flames licking up the dry wood, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. The heat spread slowly, chasing away the morning chill.

Mark sat on the couch, staring into the fire as it crackled and popped. His mind wandered again, this time to the future, to what would happen once she woke up. She would undoubtedly have questions—about where she was, why he had helped her, what his intentions were. He wasn’t sure how he would answer those questions. He wasn’t sure if he even had the answers himself.

His thoughts drifted to the axe beside him. He picked it up, feeling the smooth wood of the handle, the cool metal of the blade. It was a simple tool, but in his hands, it was more than that. It was a reminder of who he was, what he had become over the centuries. He had built empires with tools far more dangerous than this, yet here he was, maintaining something as mundane as an axe.

Mark worked the motor oil into the blade, his fingers moving in deliberate circles as he applied just the right amount of pressure to ensure every inch of metal was properly coated. The scent of the oil filled his nostrils, a familiar, grounding smell that reminded him of countless moments spent tending to weapons, armor, and machinery. Over the centuries, he had learned that the smallest details mattered most. The quiet moments of maintenance, of reflection, had always been a part of his ritual, long before his reign as Viltrumite Emperor. It was in these moments that he allowed himself to focus, to clear his mind, and to recalibrate his purpose.

The fire crackled beside him, casting flickering shadows that danced across the walls of the cabin. He glanced at the flames, watching them twist and rise, consuming the wood he had split earlier. The heat began to fill the room, and Mark could feel it seep into his skin, chasing away the lingering coolness from the mountain air that always seemed to cling to the stone floor.

As he continued to service the axe, his thoughts wandered, drifting toward memories he often tried to suppress. The wars. The battles. The faces of those who had fallen by his hand, or in his name. His empire had been built on blood, violence, and a singular drive for control. He had once believed that control was the only way to ensure survival. To conquer was to preserve, to dominate was to protect. But in the end, it had all crumbled, reduced to nothing by the Scourge virus, leaving him adrift in a universe that no longer had a place for rulers like him.

He set the axe down beside the firewood, its blade now gleaming with the sheen of fresh oil. It caught the light from the flames, reflecting a faint glow that reminded him of the distant past—of weapons forged for battles long won and lost. For a moment, he allowed himself to feel the weight of it all, the centuries of conflict and responsibility that had shaped him into the man he was today. But just as quickly, he pushed the thoughts away. There was no room for sentimentality here, not now. Not when there was still so much to be done.

Mark stood up, stretching his arms overhead as his joints cracked, a reminder that even with his extraordinary abilities, he wasn't immune to the physical toll of time. The fire was burning steadily now, casting a warm glow throughout the room, the light flickering softly against the walls of the cabin. He glanced at the clock on the wall—still early, but the morning had already stretched on longer than he had anticipated.

He made his way back downstairs, the wooden steps creaking beneath his boots. His feet moved quietly on the floorboards as he approached the door to the medical room. He hesitated for a moment, his hand resting on the doorframe as he listened to the soft hum of the machines inside. The steady rhythm of the woman's breathing reassured him that nothing had changed, that she was still deep in the embrace of sleep.

Mark pushed the door open gently, the hinges barely making a sound. Inside, the room was bathed in the same dim light it had been when he left. The thick curtains still blocked most of the sunlight from spilling in, casting the space in muted shades of gray and shadow. He stepped inside, his eyes immediately going to her, lying there motionless, her chest rising and falling in a steady, rhythmic cadence.

He approached the side of the bed, his gaze studying her features with the same detached precision he had used the night before. Her face was peaceful, almost serene, and her skin had regained some of its natural color after days of rest. The bruises were fading, the healing process doing its work, but there was still a long way to go before she would be conscious, let alone fully recovered.

Mark checked the IV bags, ensuring the medication dosage was correct. The fluids were nearly depleted, so he replaced them with practiced ease, careful not to disturb her in the process. He adjusted the monitoring equipment, making sure everything was operating smoothly. She remained deep in sleep, undisturbed by his presence, her body still focused on mending itself.

For a long moment, Mark just stood there, watching her, the silence of the room pressing in around him. He wondered what she would say when she finally woke up. Would she remember him? Would she question why he had brought her here, to this remote place hidden in the mountains? He wasn't sure he had answers that would satisfy her. He had acted on impulse, something rare for him, especially now, after all these years of careful planning and strategic thinking.

But there was something about her—something he couldn't quite define. Maybe it was the way she had fought against the odds, the way she had resisted the forces that had been sent to hunt her down. Or maybe it was the vulnerability he saw now, in her unconscious state. He had never been drawn to weakness, but this felt different. This felt like potential. Like something waiting to be unlocked.

Shaking off the thought, Mark turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. He ascended the stairs once more and decided it was time to take care of himself for a change. His body needed the reset, and the grime of yesterday's work still clung to his skin.

He made his way to the bathroom, stripping off his worn clothes and stepping into the shower. The water was hot, almost scalding as it ran over his body, washing away the dirt and sweat. The sensation of heat against his skin helped loosen the knots in his muscles, relaxing him in ways nothing else could. The steam filled the small space, creating a fog that clouded his thoughts for a brief moment.

As the water cascaded over him, he allowed his mind to wander once again. He thought about the months ahead, about the uncertainty of what would come next. The mission had been to protect her, but what would happen when she woke up? What would happen if the world found out where she was? Mark was used to dealing with contingencies, but this situation was different—delicate. And he knew that delicate things had a tendency to break under pressure.

After what felt like an eternity, he turned off the water and stepped out, toweling off quickly before dressing in a fresh set of clothes—still rugged and practical, suited for the remote environment they were in. He glanced at himself in the small mirror above the sink. His reflection stared back, calm, composed. But beneath the surface, there was a restlessness, a feeling that had been growing since the day he had first encountered her.

Mark left the bathroom and returned to the kitchen, where he began preparing a simple breakfast. His movements were efficient, automatic, as he went through the motions of frying eggs, toasting bread, and brewing a pot of coffee. The smells of breakfast filled the cabin, the warmth of the food and the fire merging to create a sense of home. It was strange, almost foreign to him, to feel that way. This place had always been a sanctuary, but it had never felt like home. Now, with her presence in the medical room below, something had shifted.

He ate in silence, savoring the moment of quiet as the fire continued to crackle in the background. Once he was done, he cleaned up the dishes and went about the rest of his day, maintaining the fire, checking on the supplies in the basement, and reinforcing the security measures around the perimeter of the cabin.

By the time the sun had reached its peak, casting long shadows across the valley outside, Mark felt the need to stretch his legs. He stepped outside, the crisp mountain air hitting his face as he inhaled deeply. The sky was clear, the blue so deep it was almost overwhelming, and the distant peaks of the Alps stood tall and majestic against the horizon.

He walked down a narrow path that led away from the cabin, the soft crunch of gravel under his boots the only sound as he made his way deeper into the forest. The trees surrounded him, their leaves rustling in the gentle breeze, and for a moment, it was as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. Here, in the wilderness, there was no empire to rule, no enemies to fight. There was only the present, the simplicity of life reduced to its most basic elements.

As he walked, his thoughts drifted once again to the woman in the cabin. What would she say when she woke up? What would she think of him? Mark had never been one to care about the opinions of others, but something about her made him curious. There was a part of him that wanted to know how she would see him, how she would react when she finally opened her eyes and realized where she was.

Mark spent the rest of the afternoon in a similar routine, going about his tasks with the same methodical precision he always did. He chopped more wood, brought it inside, and added it to the fire. He checked on her multiple times throughout the day, though she remained as still as ever, locked in the deep sleep of recovery.

As the day came to a close and the sky began to darken, Mark found himself back in the main room, sitting in front of the fireplace. The flames were lower now, casting softer, more subdued light. He glanced at the clock—late evening. It had been a long day, yet he didn’t feel tired. Not really.

Still, he knew he needed rest. He couldn't afford to be running on empty, especially with her condition still so fragile. But instead of heading to the master bedroom upstairs, as he once might have, Mark made his way back down to the medical room. It had become a habit by now—sleeping in the chair by her bed, keeping watch over her as she healed. For reasons he couldn’t fully explain, it was the only place he felt at ease, the only place he could let go of the tension that seemed to grip him throughout the day. He was no stranger to insomnia, to the endless nights spent staring at ceilings in the many places he’d called home over the centuries. But here, in this cold medical room, beside a woman he barely knew, something felt… different.

Mark stepped inside, the familiar hum of the machines greeting him. The air was still, thick with the sterile scent of medical supplies, and the faint sound of her breathing filled the silence. He glanced at her—she hadn’t moved. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, her face relaxed, untouched by the burden of conscious thought. She was still deep in her slumber, her body focused on healing, repairing the damage from the violence that had left her on the brink of death.

He pulled the chair closer to the bed and sank into it, his body instantly relaxing into the worn leather. The fabric creaked softly under his weight, familiar now after days of this routine. For a moment, Mark just sat there, letting the quiet wash over him, his gaze drifting to her sleeping form.

There was something calming about her presence, something that kept him tethered in a way he hadn’t expected. He had known many women in his long life, crossed paths with warriors, queens, and assassins, but she was different. She had a quiet strength about her, even in her most vulnerable state. It was that strength that had drawn him to her, that had compelled him to intervene when he could have walked away.

It wasn’t like him to act on impulse. Not anymore. The old Mark Grayson had been impulsive, driven by emotions and the thrill of battle. But those days were long gone, buried under the weight of centuries of experience and loss. Now, he calculated every move, weighed every decision. And yet… here he was, sitting in a remote safe house in the Alps, keeping vigil over a woman whose name he didn’t even know.

Mark leaned back in the chair, his eyes wandering around the room, taking in the muted glow of the equipment and the dim light that filtered in through the small window near the ceiling. The cabin was quiet, save for the occasional crackle of the fire upstairs and the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Outside, the mountain air had turned crisp as the sun set behind the distant peaks, casting long shadows over the valley below.

He listened to the wind as it whispered through the trees, a constant companion in this isolated part of the world. There was a time when such solitude would have driven him mad, when the silence would have been a reminder of everything he had lost. But now, he found it comforting. Peaceful, even. It was a far cry from the chaos of his past—his empire, his conquests, the constant struggle to maintain control. Here, in the Alps, he could let all of that go, if only for a little while.

His thoughts drifted to her again, his gaze settling on the faint rise and fall of her chest. He wondered what she was dreaming about. Did her mind still cling to the trauma of the attack, or had it found some measure of peace in sleep? Would she wake up soon, or would she remain in this strange limbo, caught between life and death, for days or even weeks to come?

Mark shifted in his seat, feeling the weight of his exhaustion settling in. He hadn’t realized how tired he was until now, sitting here in the dim light, with nothing but the steady rhythm of her breathing to lull him into a sense of calm. He ran a hand through his hair, the weariness pressing down on him. It had been a long day, filled with tasks and distractions, but now, in the quiet, there was nothing left to occupy his mind.

His eyes began to close, the pull of sleep stronger than he had anticipated. He fought it for a moment, his instincts urging him to stay alert, to remain vigilant. But the exhaustion was too much. Slowly, his body relaxed, sinking deeper into the chair as his mind began to drift.

As he slipped into sleep, his last thought was of her—of the way her fingers had twitched ever so slightly earlier in the day, a faint sign of life stirring beneath the surface. He wondered if she would wake soon, if she would look at him with those same vibrant green eyes that had caught him off guard when he first saw her. And then, as the weight of sleep finally claimed him, Mark let go, his mind going blank as the world around him faded into darkness.

The room was quiet, the steady hum of the machines the only sound. Outside, the wind continued to whisper through the trees, and the fire upstairs crackled softly, casting faint shadows against the walls. Time passed slowly, the hours slipping away as the night deepened.

And then, in the stillness of the medical room, something changed. The woman’s hand, resting motionless on the bed, twitched again—just once, a faint movement, but enough to disturb the air around her. Her fingers curled slightly, the muscles contracting as if she were reaching for something, or someone, just out of reach.

It was a small sign, almost imperceptible, but it was there. Her body was waking up, slowly but surely, responding to the healing that had taken place. Soon, she would open her eyes. Soon, she would wake. But for now, in the quiet of the cabin, she remained asleep, her body still at rest, as the night carried on around them.

Mark, lost in the depths of sleep, didn’t stir. Not yet. But something was changing, and soon, everything would be different.

Chapter Text

The soft hum of machines barely disturbed the silence as low lighting bathed the medical room in a muted, warm glow. Shadows fell gently across the space, creating pockets of darkness that lent the room an almost surreal calmness. The medical bed, tucked into the corner, was the focal point of the room, a sterile white sheet draped neatly over the figure resting on it. The bed’s sleek, metallic frame was in sharp contrast to the lived-in feel of the room.

Beside the bed stood an armchair, its fabric worn and molded slightly, showing signs of frequent use. A footrest sat just in front of it, positioned perfectly for someone to sit and watch over the figure in the bed. A light blanket, folded haphazardly, was draped across the back of the chair, and an empty cup rested on the floor nearby, its faint scent of coffee still clinging to the air. Mark had spent many hours in that chair, watching, waiting, and occasionally drifting off to sleep, ensuring that she never woke up alone.

The rest of the room, while still clinical, had softened. A small table with some personal belongings—a knife in its sheath, a few books stacked carelessly, and a water bottle—sat beside the armchair, giving the room a sense of occupancy. The sterile environment of medical instruments and diagnostic equipment seemed almost out of place against the signs of human presence, creating a juxtaposition of life and necessity.

On the bed, the woman stirred slightly, her fingers twitching involuntarily. Her hand shifted just a fraction, but it was enough to signal the first signs of returning consciousness. Her body, though still sore, had healed remarkably well, and as she began to surface from the deep well of unconsciousness, her senses slowly sharpened.

Her fingers twitched again, this time with more force, and a faint groan escaped her lips. Her head rolled slightly to one side, the movement subtle but purposeful. She murmured something in Russian, her voice barely a whisper, as though her mind was testing the waters of awareness. The grogginess lingered like a heavy fog, clouding her thoughts as she tried to piece together where she was and how she had gotten here.

Her eyelids fluttered open, but the soft, dim light made the transition from darkness to sight easier. The first thing she noticed was the ceiling—a plain, metallic surface, interrupted by soft panels of light. Blinking slowly, she let her gaze drift across the room. Medical equipment surrounded her—IV drips, monitors, a tray with surgical instruments neatly arranged. She could feel the tug of the IVs in her arm, their thin needles embedded in her veins. The beeping of a heart monitor ticked steadily beside her, the slow rhythm matching her heart’s pace.

It didn’t take long for her to realize she was in some kind of medical room, though not a typical hospital. The military-like efficiency of the space combined with the small signs of personal touches confused her. Her mind, still sluggish, fought to put the pieces together. The room wasn’t just a medical station—it had been lived in, or at least frequently visited. She could see the signs of care in the chair that had clearly been occupied many times, the small stack of books, and the subtle warmth that made the sterile setting feel somehow less cold.

Her muscles ached faintly as she tried to shift, testing her body’s limits. There was soreness, but it was a distant echo compared to the pain she remembered before she had lost consciousness. She felt stronger than she had any right to be after what she had gone through. Healthier, even. There was something about the way her muscles felt—more responsive, more vital—as if her body had healed faster than it should have. The thought lodged itself in her mind, but she didn’t have the clarity to dwell on it just yet.

Her gaze drifted down to the IVs attached to her arms. They were still delivering a steady drip of fluids into her body. Without hesitation, she yanked them out, suppressing the wince that came with the slight sting. Her training took over, instinctively dulling the sensations of pain. Her hands moved to her face, feeling the coolness of her skin and the dampness of sweat that had collected on her brow. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, her body protesting slightly, though the pain was far more manageable than she had expected.

She took a deep breath, her eyes falling on the table next to her bed. Beside her battered and bloodstained combat suit, folded neatly, was a fresh set of clothes—511 strike tactical pants, a red flannel shirt, socks, and underwear. The sight of the torn suit brought back flashes of memory—chaos, violence, the feeling of being hunted. She shivered slightly, not from cold, but from the thought of how vulnerable she had been in that moment. Her chest tightened briefly as she looked at the hospital gown she was now wearing, realizing someone had seen her in this state of helplessness.

A note was placed carefully on top of the clothes. She picked it up, scanning the brief message: Clothes for you when you wake up. Winter jackets can be found in the supply room down the hall.

The mention of winter jackets meant they were somewhere cold, she noted, her tactical mind immediately cataloging the clue. She wasted no time changing into the new clothes, relishing the feeling of warmth as the soft fabric enveloped her. It was a marked difference from the rough, utilitarian gear she had grown used to with the Red Room.

Once dressed, she stood and let her eyes sweep the room again. It was still empty, and the faint feeling of something missing gnawed at her. It wasn’t a physical absence—there was something else. Some odd sensation that stirred within her, like a flicker of warmth had left with someone. It was an unfamiliar emotion, one she couldn’t quite place—loneliness? Longing? The absurdity of it struck her hard, and she quickly buried the thought, focusing instead on the task at hand.

Her face settled into a blank expression as her training snapped back into place. This was not a time for emotions. There were too many unknowns. Where was she? Who had brought her here? Was this Hydra, or something worse? Was she still under the Red Room’s control? The sterile but militaristic feel of the room didn’t match what she knew of the Red Room’s facilities—too utilitarian, too impersonal.

Her body felt stronger, more agile. It was as if the soreness had faded quicker than it should have. She took stock of herself, stretching her arms slightly, rotating her shoulders. There was a palpable difference, though subtle enough that she couldn’t quite place what had changed. Every inch of her seemed to be functioning just a little bit better, though she couldn’t explain why.

Her instincts told her she needed to move. Laying here was no longer an option. Whoever had placed her here, friend or foe, would return soon enough, and she couldn’t afford to be caught off guard. She moved to the edge of the bed and swung her legs down, her bare feet pressing against the cold floor. The chill sent a shiver through her body, though it was more invigorating than uncomfortable.

She scanned the room once more before heading toward the door. Her combat suit lay on the nearby table, bloody and torn. Whoever had tended to her hadn’t thrown it out, though they had clearly left her something more suitable to wear for her recovery.

After a brief hesitation, she stepped out into the hallway beyond. It was long, narrow, and bare, its design more functional than anything else. The military-like utilitarian feel was even more pronounced here. She had no idea where she was, but judging by the cold atmosphere, the mention of winter jackets, and the sterile environment, it was clear this place was designed for survival.

The air was cool, biting in a way that confirmed her earlier thoughts—they were definitely in a cold climate. The hallway itself was simple, no decorations or unnecessary features. She walked slowly, cautiously, taking note of the rooms she passed. One door caught her eye, leading to an armory. She tried to peer inside, but found it locked tight.

She continued down the hall, keeping her steps light and soundless. Every instinct told her to remain on guard, ready to attack or flee if needed. Her training dictated that she assess her environment, locate potential threats, and plan an escape route. Eventually, she reached the end of the hallway, where a staircase led upward.

As she ascended, the scent of wood and something warm—perhaps the remnants of a fire or cooking—greeted her. The stark contrast between the utilitarian basement and what awaited her above gave her pause. When she reached the top of the stairs, she found herself in a spacious log cabin, the rustic charm immediately enveloping her.

The cabin's interior greeted her with a sense of warmth and familiarity, yet it was completely foreign to her. The scent of aged wood mixed with the faint aroma of something recently cooked—a stew, perhaps—lingered in the air. The cozy atmosphere was a stark departure from the sterile, utilitarian space she had just emerged from. The walls were made of thick, weathered logs, giving the place a rustic charm, with large windows letting in the midday light. Sunbeams streamed through, casting a soft glow across the wooden floors, which creaked slightly underfoot as she ventured deeper into the room.

A stone fireplace dominated one corner of the living area, its hearth cold, though the faint scent of charred wood suggested it had been used recently. A large, deep-seated leather couch was arranged near it, with a knitted throw draped casually over the back, as if someone had tossed it aside after a long night. Beside the couch, a low wooden coffee table held a few personal effects: a couple of open books, a ceramic mug stained with the remnants of coffee, and an empty plate with crumbs still visible.

Her sharp eyes swept over every detail, taking in the space and committing it to memory. Despite the homey atmosphere, she remained cautious. There were too many unknowns. Was this a safe house? If so, for whom? And where was the person who had taken care of her?

Her fingers flexed instinctively, as if preparing for a confrontation, but her mind was busy cataloging everything she saw. The warmth of the cabin seemed… familiar, in a way she couldn’t quite place. But there was still a nagging feeling at the back of her mind, an awareness of something—or someone—that was conspicuously absent.

She stepped deeper into the room, passing a kitchen area where everything was meticulously organized. Pots and pans hung from hooks above a large island, and a few herbs were drying by the window, their fresh, earthy scent mingling with the warm air. On the counter, she noticed a half-eaten loaf of bread and an open jar of preserves. It all felt lived-in, as though someone had just stepped away, fully intending to return at any moment.

Yet, despite the signs of life, there was no one here. The silence felt heavy.

She paused at the entrance to the kitchen, leaning slightly against the doorway as she tried to orient herself. The sensation of being watched crept into her mind. She knew it was irrational—there was no one here, no sound, no movement—but the feeling was strong. It was that same odd sensation she had felt when she woke up in the medical room, the sense that something was missing. Or perhaps, someone.

Shaking the thought, she pushed forward, her steps still quiet, cautious. Her movements were fluid and precise, betraying her extensive training as she moved through the cabin like a shadow. She passed a dining table, its surface bare except for a couple of mismatched chairs pushed under it, and then moved down a narrow hallway that led deeper into the cabin.

Several doors lined the hallway, each closed. She approached the first one on the left, pressing her hand against the wooden surface before quietly turning the handle. The door creaked softly as it opened, revealing a small bedroom. The bed was made, the covers smooth and tucked in tightly, military style. A small desk sat against the far wall, with papers and what looked like maps scattered across it. She didn’t move further inside, only noting the sparse, functional layout before moving on to the next room.

The second door opened into what seemed to be a storage room. Boxes were stacked against the walls, labeled neatly with various contents: food supplies, tools, ammunition. There was also a rack of winter coats and boots, confirming her earlier suspicion that they were indeed in a cold climate. She took a mental inventory, noting where everything was located in case she needed to make a quick escape or gather supplies.

The third door opened into a bathroom, small but well-maintained. She paused for a moment, her eyes catching her own reflection in the mirror above the sink. She looked… different. Paler than usual, perhaps, with dark circles under her eyes, but otherwise healthy. Her hair was slightly disheveled, a stark contrast to how meticulously she usually kept it, but she could see that her skin had healed—no visible bruises, no cuts, nothing to indicate the injuries she had sustained before losing consciousness. That, in itself, was unsettling.

Something about her recovery didn’t make sense. Her body felt stronger, more agile than it should after such trauma, but she couldn’t quite explain why. Her mind was racing, trying to put the pieces together, but it was as if she was missing a key part of the puzzle.

She moved away from the bathroom, returning to the main room, still cautious but now with a growing sense of purpose. The quietness of the cabin had a weight to it, and despite the warmth and coziness of the space, there was an underlying tension that kept her on edge. She glanced around once more, her eyes narrowing slightly. She had been in enough hideouts, safe houses, and compounds to know when something was off.

The absence of the person who had taken care of her was becoming more noticeable, and for reasons she couldn’t explain, she found herself growing restless. Her training had taught her to be suspicious, to never let her guard down, but there was an unshakable feeling of… longing? It didn’t make sense. She hadn’t felt this kind of disquiet before, not in situations like this. Yet here she was, in a strange place, alone, and feeling the nagging absence of something—or someone—she couldn’t place.

The sound of the door creaking open jolted her from her thoughts. Her instincts kicked in immediately, her muscles tensing as she whipped around to face the entrance.

Standing there, framed by the midday light streaming in from outside, was a man. He stepped inside, his movements deliberate, but when his eyes locked onto hers, he stopped in his tracks.

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Her vibrant green eyes met his, sharp and unyielding, but there was a flicker of something else—a brief moment of recognition, perhaps, though she couldn’t place why.

He didn’t seem surprised to see her standing there, awake and alert. In fact, there was a calmness in his gaze, a calculated coolness that unnerved her more than she cared to admit. He wasn’t what she expected—whoever he was, he was not ordinary.

Her body instinctively shifted into a defensive stance, though she didn’t strike out just yet. Her mind was racing, calculating her options. Was this man her captor, or her savior? Had he been the one to tend to her, or was he here to ensure she stayed where she was? She couldn’t tell. His expression gave away nothing.

The silence stretched between them, thick with tension. She wasn’t sure if she was prepared to fight or flee, but one thing was certain—she wasn’t going to stand there and do nothing.

They both stood still, locked in place by the weight of unspoken questions and potential conflict.

And then, without warning, the tension snapped. The standoff had begun.

Chapter Text

The midday sun hung high in the sky as Mark Grayson moved steadily through the wooded perimeter surrounding the safe house. His steps were purposeful, well-practiced, each footfall barely making a sound against the leaf-littered forest floor. The air was cool and crisp, typical for this time of year in the mountains, and the dense canopy above provided intermittent shade as he maneuvered his way through the terrain. The distant sound of a stream trickling through the rocks blended with the rustle of leaves, creating a peaceful backdrop for his daily routine. He had already completed his usual tasks for the morning—waking up, checking on the woman still resting in the basement medical room, ensuring that she was stable. Then came the chores around the cabin, minor maintenance and restocking supplies. Afterward, he ventured out to walk the perimeter, a necessary precaution to ensure that no one had come too close to the property.

As always, he kept a sharp eye on his surroundings. The dense woods could conceal a threat, but he had walked this path so many times now that he could spot even the subtlest change. A fallen branch, a disturbed patch of grass, or a misplaced rock would alert him that something or someone had been nearby. Thus far, though, his inspection had revealed nothing out of the ordinary. No tracks, no signs of movement other than the usual signs of wildlife. It was clear that no one had breached the outer perimeter, at least not today.

As he neared the end of his route and began the trek back to the cabin, his thoughts wandered back to the woman. She had been a mystery from the moment he found her, broken and bleeding in the middle of the road, on the verge of death. It had taken a great deal of medical intervention to stabilize her, including the Viltrumite blood transfusion, which had rapidly accelerated her healing. By his estimate, she should be back on her feet in about a week or so. Perhaps she would be coherent enough then to provide more answers. She remained an enigma, one he was determined to unravel. Who was she running from? Hydra? Red Room? Whoever it was, they had sent highly skilled agents, and her condition spoke of a relentless pursuit. Mark had his own suspicions, but he needed her awake and talking before he could confirm any of them.

His focus shifted as he approached the cabin. He was still deep in thought as his boots hit the creaking wooden steps leading up to the front door. Absently, he twisted the handle and pushed the door open, stepping inside the cabin. The moment his eyes locked onto the set of green ones staring back at him, he froze.

For a brief second, his mind stuttered, caught off guard by the sudden, unexpected presence of the woman standing in the center of the room. Her eyes were sharp, alert, though there was a faint glaze of weariness in them. He recovered quickly, his thoughts snapping back to the present as he took in the situation at hand. His gaze flicked over her body, assessing every detail. She was upright, standing on her own, despite the wounds she had sustained. By all medical logic, she should still be in bed, unconscious and recovering for at least another week. Yet here she stood, albeit with pale skin and dark shadows under her eyes, but showing no visible signs of pain or struggle. She had healed far faster than he anticipated.

The two of them stood in silence for a moment, an unspoken standoff hanging between them. Her posture was defensive but not overtly hostile. There were no weapons visible on her, but the way she held herself screamed of someone prepared for a fight if necessary. Mark, ever analytical, processed each of these observations quickly. She was surprised by his arrival—that much was clear from the subtle widening of her eyes—but she was also ready, her muscles tense, coiled like a spring. The fact that she had regained consciousness and mobility this early was unexpected, and it only heightened his awareness of the situation’s unpredictability.

“I see you’re awake,” Mark said, his voice calm, measured, and confident. He knew that any hint of alarm or emotion would put her more on edge, and he wanted to avoid that for now.

The woman didn’t respond immediately. Instead, her eyes remained fixed on him, scanning him with a level of intensity that spoke of a trained mind. She was assessing him, calculating. Behind those green eyes, there was a storm of thoughts, each one passing like rapid-fire. Mark could see it in the way her gaze lingered on certain points of his body, in the minute shifts in her expression as she processed the information before her.

Her mind churned with thoughts, dissecting every inch of the man before her. His words echoed in her head—calm, confident, with just a hint of emotion. They lacked the cold detachment of someone who was simply doing a job, but there was also no warmth in them. This man, whoever he was, spoke like someone used to control, someone accustomed to assessing and commanding situations. He was formidable, there was no question about that.

She allowed her gaze to sweep over him again, this time with the careful, methodical scrutiny drilled into her by years of training. The man was tall, significantly taller than her, with broad shoulders and a powerful frame. The muscle mass was undeniable, his physique sculpted through years of rigorous physical conditioning. Up close, she could see the subtle veins running along his forearms, his hands large and capable. Every inch of him screamed danger in close combat. If it came to a fight, his superior size and strength would make him lethal up close. He could overpower her if he got a hold of her, pinning her with sheer force.

But his strength, she noted, could also be his weakness. That much muscle came at a cost. He wouldn’t be as agile as she was. His movements would be slower, less precise. In a fight, she could exploit that. If she stayed out of his reach, if she kept moving, she could find openings. A fight between them would be a delicate balance of her speed versus his power, her agility against his brute force. Her odds weren’t great, but they weren’t impossible either. Still, she had no intention of testing those odds unless absolutely necessary. For now, she needed to figure out who this man was and what his intentions were. He could be her savior, or he could be someone far more dangerous than whoever had been chasing her.

After a long, tense silence, she finally spoke, her voice cautious but steady. “Where are we? Who are you? What did you do to me?”

Mark didn’t move, his gaze remaining steady on her as he considered her words. There was an underlying tension to her questions, the caution of someone who had been hunted and wasn’t sure if she had escaped the predators just yet. Her stance, the way her muscles were still taut, told him she wasn’t fully convinced she was safe here. Not yet. He had expected that.

“You’re in a safe house,” he said, keeping his tone neutral. “As for what I did—I saved your life. You were half-dead when I found you.”

His words hung in the air between them. Mark could tell from the way her eyes narrowed slightly that she wasn’t fully satisfied with his answer. She wanted more, needed more, but wasn’t ready to trust him just yet. Smart. She was cautious, and that was good. It meant she hadn’t survived this long by being reckless.

“What do you remember?” he asked, curious to hear her side of the story before he gave her more information. He needed to know how much she recalled and whether her memory had any gaps that could work to his advantage.

She hesitated, her mind running through what little she could piece together. Flashes of memory surfaced—pain, the sharp crack of a gunshot, the searing heat in her shoulder. Her breath quickened as she recalled the frantic escape, running through the dense forest, her feet stumbling over roots and rocks. And then, the headlights. The car. She blinked, grounding herself back in the present.

“I remember being shot,” she said slowly, her voice quieter now. “Running. Through the woods. Then the road. Bright lights. I saw your car... then nothing.” She paused, her eyes narrowing again as she gauged his reaction. “Who was chasing you?”

Mark stayed silent for a moment, his mind turning over the possibilities. Hydra was the most obvious guess, but he needed confirmation. She was still a mystery, and he needed to peel back the layers carefully.

“Hydra,” she finally said, the word leaving her lips with a bitter edge. It was a half-answer, one that provided just enough to suggest she was willing to talk, but still withholding the full truth.

Mark nodded, his expression unreadable. He could sense the guarded nature of her response, her wariness still palpable. This woman was far from trusting him, but at least they were making progress. She had given him something to work with, and that was enough for now.

“And who are you?” she asked, her tone more pointed this time.

Mark observed her carefully as the silence stretched between them. He knew what she’d just told him wasn’t the full truth—it was a half-truth at best. Hydra was involved, yes, but they weren’t the only ones hunting her. He also knew that the Red Room had sent their agents after her. And yet, she chose to only mention Hydra. She was hiding something, probably unsure how much she could trust him, but he couldn't blame her for that. After all, trust was a fragile thing, especially in a situation like hers.

He exhaled quietly, making a mental note to revisit the matter later. For now, there were more pressing questions—on both sides. She was clearly waiting for him to respond, her guarded eyes locked on his as if weighing every word. He decided to start with what she wanted to know.

"My name is Mark Grayson," he said, his voice calm and measured. "And no, I don’t work for Hydra. I don’t work for any of their allies either."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, clearly unsatisfied with the brief explanation. He could almost feel the weight of the questions she was holding back. But before she could probe any further, Mark cut in, raising a hand slightly in a gesture that implied a trade.

"I can tell you more," he said, "but only if you’re willing to share in return. We’re both in dangerous situations here, and if this conversation is going to be productive, it needs to go both ways." He gestured toward the small couch near the fireplace. "Why don’t we sit down and talk this through?"

She hesitated, weighing her options. There was a flicker of doubt in her eyes, but it passed quickly. Slowly, she nodded, still on edge but seemingly accepting his offer, and moved to sit on the couch.

Mark grabbed a sealed water bottle from a cabinet and handed it to her, knowing full well she wouldn’t trust anything else he might offer right now. She accepted it, twisting the cap, hearing the seal break and taking a careful sip. As she drank, he noticed how the water seemed to soothe her parched throat, her entire body relaxing just slightly.

"I’ll be honest with you," he began, sitting across from her but keeping his tone steady and calm. "But I expect the same in return. There’s no point in playing games when both of our lives are at risk."

She didn’t respond immediately, but after a long pause, she finally spoke. "Natalia Alianova Romanova," she said, the words quiet yet clear. It was a calculated move on her part, a careful weighing of her options. Mark noted the slight tension in her jaw, the way her fingers clenched the bottle just a little too tightly, betraying the internal conflict she likely felt at revealing even this much.

Mark raised a brow. The name was significant, but he kept his expression neutral. He knew of the Romanova legacy, but her identity was only part of the larger picture. She was still an enigma, one with layers he had yet to peel back.

"You wanted to know how I ended up here?" Natalia asked after a moment, her voice steady but laced with fatigue. She took another drink of water before continuing. "I was on a mission, a high-level target. Someone protected, rarely seen, hard to get close to. The Red Room assigned me to eliminate him. It wasn’t supposed to be possible."

Mark leaned back slightly, listening intently as she recounted her story.

"I succeeded," she said flatly, her eyes flicking to meet his, unflinching in the face of what she’d done. "But the extraction team never came. They told me I had to make my way back on my own—no support, no backup. It was my chance to run. So, I took it." Her voice hardened, and there was a glint of something sharp in her eyes. Defiance? Anger? Survival.

"For three days, I was on the move, keeping ahead of them," she continued. "I made it to Ostrava, but they found me. The Red Room and Hydra—both were after me. I thought I could lose them, but it didn’t work out that way." She paused, her hand reflexively brushing her side, where the faintest shadow of a scar likely still lingered. "They cornered me more than once, Red Room agents and Widows. They kept coming, cut me off at every turn. I fought, but they knew how to wound me without killing me. I barely got away."

Mark’s jaw tightened slightly as he listened. The brutal efficiency of her pursuers wasn’t surprising, but hearing it in her voice made the stakes clearer. She’d been running on borrowed time.

"It wasn’t until the Winter Soldier showed up that I thought... that I knew I was done for," she admitted, her voice quieter now. "He shot me when I was trying to escape the city. If it had been a direct hit, I wouldn’t be sitting here now. But he missed my heart... barely. I ran for the tree line, made it into the woods." She stopped, her brows furrowing slightly as if trying to recall the sequence of events. "After that, my memory... it’s blurry. I remember running, hearing them behind me, closing in. And then... there were headlights. A car." Her gaze flicked to Mark. "Your car."

Mark nodded slowly. "You stumbled onto the gravel road," he confirmed. "I saw you collapse in front of my truck. You were unconscious by the time I reached you. I knew you didn’t have long, so I brought you here, treated your injuries as best as I could."

She was silent, processing his words. Her fingers absently tapped against the water bottle, eyes focused somewhere past him as she pieced together the fragments of her escape.

"You were unconscious for nearly five days," he continued. "Your wounds were serious—deep lacerations, a gunshot wound, and severe blood loss. I didn’t think you’d wake up this soon. Frankly, you shouldn’t have."

Her brows furrowed at that, lips parting slightly as she glanced down at herself, taking stock of her condition. "Why?" she asked cautiously. "Why am I awake, then?"

Mark hesitated. This was the moment he’d dreaded, the moment he knew he had to explain something she’d never expect. He locked eyes with her, reading the guarded curiosity in her gaze.

"I think I know why," he said slowly. "And it’s something I need to tell you."

Her body tensed subtly, her posture shifting ever so slightly as she prepared for whatever revelation was coming. Mark leaned forward, his voice lowering.

"You lost a lot of blood, Natalia. More than I could replace with anything I had here. The only option left was... me."

Her brow creased, confused. "What do you mean, you?"

He straightened, holding her gaze as he continued. "I gave you my blood. A transfusion."

She stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in slowly. "You... gave me your blood?" she repeated, incredulous.

"Yes," he affirmed. "It was the only option. Without it, you would’ve died from blood loss."

Natalia’s face hardened, her mind clearly racing. "And that’s why I’m awake now? Why I’m healing faster?"

Mark nodded. "That’s part of it, yes. But there’s more to it than that. My blood... it’s not like yours. I’m not like you."

Her expression shifted again, this time to one of cautious confusion. "What are you saying?"

Mark leaned back, inhaling deeply as he prepared to share what he rarely told anyone. "I’m not human," he said, his voice calm but laced with seriousness. "I’m what’s called a Viltrumite. We’re a species very similar to humans in appearance, but we’re biologically different. Stronger. More durable. And our blood—"

"It’s... dominant," he explained, carefully choosing his words. "When mixed with human blood, it either kills or... adapts. And in your case, it adapted. That’s why you’ve healed so fast."

Natalia stared at him, absorbing this new information. "So... you’re saying I’m—"

"You’re still human," Mark clarified. "But you’ve been enhanced. You’ll heal faster now. You’ll be stronger. Not on the same level as a pure Viltrumite, but you’ve been changed."

Her eyes flickered with disbelief, but beneath it was a deep sense of wariness, mixed with a grudging acceptance. "So, that’s why I’m alive," she murmured, more to herself than to him.

Mark nodded. "That’s why.

Natalia was quiet for a long moment, absorbing everything he’d said. Her life had just changed in ways she couldn’t yet understand, and the implications of what Mark had done...

She finally spoke, her voice low. “Why are you telling me this? Why trust me with this?”

Mark hesitated for the briefest second, then answered. “Because whatever happens next... you need to know what’s inside you. And because I trust you to keep this between us.”

Natalia met his gaze, the weight of his words settling between them.

As evening settled in, the weight of the day had finally begun to show its strain. The sun had long dipped below the horizon, casting the cabin in a soft, dim glow, the fireplace providing the only warmth and light within the room. Natalia sat in silence, absorbing everything Mark had told her, her mind whirling with a thousand thoughts. She pushed herself to her feet, her muscles stiff but steady, still adjusting to the strain of recent movement.

"It's a lot to take in," she muttered, more to herself than to Mark, but her voice was firm despite the exhaustion in her tone. Her gaze was sharp, flickering briefly to Mark before returning to the floor. "I’ll have more questions tomorrow."

Mark stood by the fireplace, watching her with an unreadable expression. His hands rested in his pockets, his posture relaxed, though the tension of the conversation still lingered in the air between them. He nodded once, a simple acknowledgment. “I expected as much.”

Natalia’s eyes scanned the cabin, as though searching for an answer to an unspoken question. Her body screamed for rest, but the thought of where to sleep brought a new challenge. She glanced toward the wooden staircase that led to the upper floor, where she knew the master bedroom was. That bed—soft, inviting—would be the ideal place to rest after everything, yet there was a problem.

Mark noticed her hesitation. His gaze followed hers, understanding the silent dilemma she wrestled with. “There’s only one bed upstairs,” he said, matter-of-factly. “I sleep there.”

Natalia’s gaze flickered to him for a moment, testing his resolve. She wasn’t naive. If she insisted, she knew he wouldn’t outright refuse her, but something in his tone made it clear that the bed upstairs wasn’t up for debate. Mark was firm—stubborn even—and while she was far from the kind of person to back down easily, there was another concern.

Trust.

Despite the long conversation and the odd sense of ease she felt when around him, she didn’t trust Mark yet—not fully. She couldn’t risk sleeping in the same room as him, not when so many unknowns still lingered between them. And Mark, for all his claims and strange revelations, was still a potential threat. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down. Not yet.

“I’ll take the medical bed,” she said finally, her voice steady, though there was an unmistakable note of resignation.

Mark nodded once again, not pressing the issue further. “It’s downstairs. You know the way.”

With that, Natalia turned, her legs still sore but functioning far better than she would have thought. She descended the staircase into the lower level of the cabin, where the faint scent of antiseptic still lingered in the air. The medical bed was simple, nothing like the comfort she might have found upstairs, but it was a bed nonetheless.

She settled in, the sterile sheets cool against her skin as she lay on her back, staring up at the dim ceiling above. The events of the day replayed in her mind like a reel of fragmented memories. Mark’s words echoed, each revelation sinking deeper into her thoughts, intertwining with her own instincts and suspicions.

"A Viltrumite," she repeated in her mind, the word foreign yet strangely compelling. The idea of someone not being human was not entirely new to her—she had seen too much in her life to discount such things. But still... an entire alien species with such power and dominance? And now, part of that power coursed through her veins, subtly altering her body, making her something... more.

She pressed her hand against her chest, feeling the steady beat of her heart. How much of her was still her? How much had changed? Would she even notice, or would these changes reveal themselves over time? The thought unnerved her, and she couldn't help but feel as though she was a ticking time bomb—waiting to see what damage had been done.

Then there was Mark. His calm, controlled demeanor seemed almost too perfect. No one was that unbothered, not when they had just revealed something so monumental. And yet, he’d been honest—at least, as far as she could tell. The way he spoke of the blood transfusion, the risk he’d taken... it seemed genuine. But why? What did he really want from her?

She mulled over his words, piecing together a puzzle that still lacked too many critical pieces. What was his connection to Hydra and the Red Room? Was he just a lone actor, or was there more at play here? And why did he seem so intent on helping her, going so far as to trust her with such dangerous knowledge?

Then came her own secrets. Natalia clenched her fists, jaw tightening as she remembered how easily she had fallen back into the cold habits of deception. She hadn't told him everything. There was no way she could. The Red Room, Hydra... they were both after her, but she couldn’t afford to reveal the full extent of her past. Not yet. Not when she didn’t even know who else might be watching or waiting.

As sleep began to tug at her consciousness, Natalia asked herself the same question she'd been avoiding since she woke: Can I trust him?

Upstairs, Mark lay in the bed, staring up at his own ceiling, lost in thought. The day had been eventful, to say the least. Despite his usual control over his emotions, something about Natalia stirred feelings within him he couldn't quite place. There was a calmness in her presence, a strange sense of comfort, as if she belonged here, even though she was a stranger—a dangerous one at that. He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts wander.

Her sharp, questioning eyes, her methodical movements as she sized him up. It all fascinated him in a way he couldn’t explain. Beneath her defensive exterior, he could see a fighter—someone who had faced endless battles and emerged alive, scarred but unbroken. There was strength in that, a strength that he... admired. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but he felt a growing respect for her, despite everything.

And then there was the lingering mystery of her identity. She had given him her name, Natalia Romanova, but that wasn’t enough. He knew there was so much more to her than what she had revealed, just as there was more to him that she didn’t yet know. But those revelations would come in time. For now, they both needed space—space to think, to trust, to find common ground.

But why did her presence calm him in ways he hadn't felt in years? There was a warmth that settled over him when she was near, a strange feeling that made him lower his guard ever so slightly. He couldn't afford that, especially not now. Yet here he was, lying in bed, his thoughts consumed by her.

Perhaps it was the simple fact that she was the first person he had encountered in so long who didn't fear him outright. She challenged him, questioned him, and didn't fall to pieces under the weight of his revelations. There was something refreshing about that—a connection, however fragile, that he hadn’t felt in years.

With those thoughts swirling in his mind, Mark let the day's exhaustion finally catch up to him. His eyes closed, and for the first time in a long while, he felt... at peace.

Downstairs, Natalia’s thoughts eventually quieted as sleep overtook her. But even as she drifted off, the questions lingered, hovering just out of reach, waiting to be answered in the coming days.

Chapter Text

The cold mountain air lingered outside the cabin, but within, the warmth of the fireplace provided a stark contrast to the frigid world beyond the walls. Natalia had spent much of the past few days sitting by that fire, its crackling flames her only consistent companion. She had regained her physical strength, her pallor replaced by the healthy glow that spoke of her assassin’s endurance. But her mind… that was another matter.

Mark had observed her from a distance, continuing his routine, ensuring she had space. There had been no intrusions, no attempts to pry into her thoughts or push her into conversations. Yet, even with his efforts to make her comfortable, Natalia remained cautious. Her eyes often flicked to him when she thought he wasn’t watching, filled with that silent wariness. The question of trust hung between them, unspoken.

Today, on the fourth day since their last real conversation, Natalia had approached Mark with a request—a simple one, but layered with the uncertainty she still carried. She had asked him if it was okay to sleep on the couch by the fireplace tonight. Her tone had been careful, measured, like someone who wasn’t sure of the rules. And though he reassured her she could do as she pleased, the hesitation in her voice had not gone unnoticed.

Now, as the night deepened, the firelight cast flickering shadows across the cabin’s interior. Natalia had wrapped herself in a blanket, lying on the couch as the warmth of the hearth lulled her into a fragile sleep. Mark had remained upstairs, seated at his desk, his eyes drifting over intelligence reports from his network. Yet despite the work in front of him, his attention kept pulling back to the woman downstairs. He was used to calculating variables, assessing threats—but this… the vulnerability he sensed from her, was something else. Something he wasn’t used to dealing with.

Sometime past midnight, the cabin was filled with an unsettling stillness. Mark could hear the occasional crack of the fireplace, the sound of the wind rustling the trees outside. And then, breaking that quiet, a soft sound—a muffled whimper, faint at first, then growing louder.

Mark's head snapped up, his senses immediately sharpening. He stood and moved quickly down the stairs, his steps silent as he approached the living room. Natalia was twisting in her sleep, her face contorted with terror, her breaths coming out in short, ragged gasps. Her hand clawed at the blanket, and soft, incoherent words escaped her lips—fragments of whatever nightmare had gripped her.

Mark hesitated for the briefest moment, his mind processing the situation. Then, moving with a purpose, he crouched beside her and placed a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Natalia,” he said quietly, trying to pull her back from whatever dream had ensnared her. “Wake up.”

Her body jerked, her eyes shooting open, wide and frantic. She gasped, sucking in air like she had just surfaced from drowning. Her chest heaved, her breaths coming fast, too fast. It wasn’t just fear that lingered in her eyes—it was full-blown panic. She sat up abruptly, her hand going to her chest as though trying to calm the wild rhythm of her heartbeat, but it wasn’t working.

Mark’s calculated mind assessed the situation in seconds. She was awake now, but her body was still locked in a fight-or-flight response. A panic attack. Severe. He had never seen her like this, nor had she likely experienced something so overwhelming before. He could see her struggling to catch her breath, her entire frame trembling, her fingers gripping the edge of the couch in a desperate attempt to ground herself.

“Hey,” Mark’s voice was low, calm, cutting through the chaos in her mind. He moved closer, his presence steady, though his heart quickened at the sight of her distress. “Natalia, look at me.”

Her eyes darted toward him, unfocused, filled with a terror she couldn’t shake. Her breaths were rapid, uneven, as if she couldn’t draw in enough air. Mark knew he needed to anchor her, bring her back from the brink.

Without overthinking it, he did the only thing that came to his mind. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a firm but gentle embrace. Her body was stiff, tense, but he held her, grounding her with his presence. She felt small against him, fragile in a way he had never associated with her before.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his voice steady, though there was an unfamiliar tightness in his chest as he spoke. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Natalia’s breathing was still fast, shallow, her body trembling against his. He could feel the rapid beat of her heart through the thin fabric of her shirt. She was still spiraling, her mind trapped in the residual terror of her nightmare. Mark, always methodical, always in control, searched for a way to pull her back to the present.

He gently took her hand and placed it on his wrist, pressing her fingers against the pulse point. “Feel that?” he murmured, his voice still soft, but firm. “That’s my pulse. Focus on it. Match your breaths to mine.”

Her fingers, shaky and cold, rested on his wrist as her brow furrowed in confusion. But she held on, her mind latching onto the one tangible thing she could sense—his pulse. Steady. Constant.

“Breathe with me,” Mark said again, his voice becoming her anchor in the storm. He took slow, deliberate breaths, making sure each inhalation was deep and even. “In… and out. Follow me.”

For a few agonizing moments, Natalia couldn’t find the rhythm. Her body still resisted, still wanted to escape whatever fear lingered in her subconscious. But slowly, gradually, her breaths began to align with his. The rise and fall of her chest steadied, her gasps turning into measured breaths. Her fingers, still resting on his wrist, pressed down slightly, as though she was using the beat of his pulse to keep herself tethered.

Mark could feel the shift in her body, the tension beginning to ease, though her grip on his wrist remained tight. He didn’t let go of her, holding her close, letting his presence be the grounding force she needed.

“That’s it,” he said quietly, the warmth of his breath brushing against her ear. “Just keep breathing. You’re safe.”

Natalia’s breaths, though still shaky, were beginning to fall into a more regular rhythm. Her panic was subsiding, her body slowly relaxing in his hold. For the first time since the nightmare had seized her, she felt like she was regaining control.

After what felt like an eternity, she exhaled a long, shaky breath, her head leaning slightly against his chest. Her fingers remained on his wrist, but her grip had softened, no longer desperate but simply seeking the reassurance of his steady pulse.

“I… I’ve never…” she whispered, her voice hoarse from the earlier panic. “I didn’t know what was happening…”

Mark loosened his hold on her slightly but didn’t let her go entirely. His hand remained on her back, the contact grounding her, though it felt like more than that now. The cold, calculated part of his mind acknowledged that this was just a reaction to the situation—a logical response to her vulnerability. But there was another part of him, a part he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge, that felt something else. Something softer.

“You were having a panic attack,” he explained quietly. “It’s your body’s way of reacting to fear. But you’re okay now. You’re here.”

She nodded against him, her breath still uneven, though the panic had faded. For a moment, neither of them moved. Natalia remained close to him, her fingers still tracing the rhythm of his pulse, as if it was the only thing anchoring her to the present.

Mark, for his part, didn’t move either. He sat there, holding her, his mind strangely at ease despite the unexpected intimacy of the moment. He wasn’t used to this—comforting someone. Letting someone close. But with Natalia, it felt… different. Necessary.

After a long while, she finally spoke again, her voice soft but steadier than before. “Thank you… for not leaving me.”

Mark’s eyes flickered with something he couldn’t quite place, but his response was measured. “I won’t leave.”

He shifted slightly, moving so that his back was against the couch. He kept her hand on his wrist, making sure she could still feel his pulse, still use it to keep herself grounded. But he gave her more space, enough to let her breathe on her own.

“I’ll stay here tonight,” he said, his voice low. “If you need anything… I’ll be right here.”

Natalia didn’t protest. Instead, she nodded, letting the warmth of the fire and the steady beat of his pulse guide her back into a calmer state. The terror of the nightmare had faded, and though her body still remembered the panic, she felt safer now. More grounded.

As the minutes passed, Mark leaned back, closing his eyes, though he remained vigilant. His calculated mind kept analyzing the situation, but there was no denying the subtle shift between them. Something had changed tonight—something he couldn’t fully understand but felt nonetheless.

And as Natalia’s breathing evened out, eventually giving way to sleep once more, Mark remained by her side, his back against the couch, ensuring she wasn’t alone in the dark.

The night continued in silence, the crackling of the dying fire the only sound in the cabin. Mark sat with his back against the couch, his arms loosely folded over his chest, his gaze fixed on the dim, flickering embers. He was still acutely aware of Natalia’s presence behind him, her breathing now slow and rhythmic, a stark contrast to the chaotic panic that had seized her only moments before. She had fallen back into sleep, her hand still resting lightly on his wrist, the connection between them oddly comforting.

Mark found his mind wandering in the quiet of the night, his thoughts drifting back over the past few days. He had followed his routine with military precision—keeping the perimeter secure, ensuring Natalia had everything she needed, and staying out of her way as much as possible. He had assumed that distance was best, that allowing her to adjust at her own pace was the most logical course of action. Yet despite the space he had given her, something subtle had begun to shift between them.

It wasn’t just the way she observed him, her eyes watching with an awareness that went beyond wariness. It wasn’t the way her presence lingered in his thoughts longer than he had anticipated. No, it was something deeper—something he couldn’t quite put into words. Her vulnerability tonight had pierced through the calculated wall he had built, forcing him to confront an unfamiliar sensation. For the first time in a very long time, Mark felt a quiet sense of responsibility for someone else’s well-being, and it wasn’t just out of strategic interest.

He shifted slightly, careful not to disturb her, and looked down at the hand that still rested on his wrist. Her fingers had relaxed, no longer gripping him with the desperate need to ground herself. But even in her sleep, she hadn’t let go. Mark’s gaze lingered there for a moment, and he felt an odd tug in his chest—something subtle, almost imperceptible, but present nonetheless.

He knew what it was. He had felt it before, long ago, back when he had still allowed himself to care. But this was different. This wasn’t the simple camaraderie or loyalty he shared with his closest allies, like Graves or Zemo. This was something softer, something dangerous.

Mark inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, reigning in the unfamiliar emotions. It wasn’t the time for this—he couldn’t afford distractions. Yet, despite his efforts to remain detached, his mind kept drifting back to the moment he had held her, the way her body had trembled in his arms, the sound of her breath against his chest as she slowly came back to herself.

There was something about Natalia, something that had sparked his interest from the moment they first met on that dark street in Ostrava. At first, he had viewed her as a potential asset—a Black Widow assassin with valuable skills and knowledge, someone who could be useful in the larger scheme of his shadow empire. But now… now it was more than that. The way she had looked at him earlier, seeking reassurance from a man she still didn’t fully trust, had stirred something in him he hadn’t expected.

Mark closed his eyes for a moment, forcing his thoughts to quiet. It didn’t matter. Not now. He would deal with these feelings later, if at all. For now, his focus needed to remain on the immediate situation—keeping her safe, ensuring her recovery, and determining the next steps. His mind always worked best when he had a clear goal in front of him, and Natalia’s safety was the priority.

Still, despite his logical approach, the warmth of her hand on his wrist kept pulling him back to the present, reminding him of the quiet connection that had formed between them. He couldn’t deny it any longer—something was growing here, something neither of them fully understood yet.

The next morning, Natalia stirred slowly, the warmth of the fire and the faint sounds of birds chirping outside drawing her out of sleep. Her eyelids fluttered open, and for a moment, disorientation gripped her. She wasn’t in the medical room. She wasn’t alone.

The events of the previous night came rushing back—the nightmare, the panic, the way Mark had held her, anchoring her when she had felt like she was drowning in her own fear. She shifted slightly on the couch and felt the presence beside her. Looking down, she saw him—Mark, seated on the floor with his back against the couch, his head tilted slightly to the side as if he had dozed off at some point during the night.

Her hand was still resting on his wrist.

Natalia blinked, her thoughts a tangled mess as she tried to process the unexpected intimacy of the moment. She hadn’t meant for him to stay with her. She hadn’t asked for his help, yet he had been there, pulling her out of the nightmare and the panic that had gripped her so completely.

Carefully, she withdrew her hand from his wrist, not wanting to wake him. Her mind buzzed with confusion. She had always prided herself on her self-reliance, on her ability to face anything alone. But last night… she hadn’t been alone. And, as much as she hated to admit it, she had needed him.

Natalia sat up slowly, her gaze flickering over Mark’s still form. The man was an enigma—calculated, reserved, with layers of control she could sense but had not yet fully understood. And yet, he had shown her a softness last night, a gentleness that was at odds with the cold, tactical persona he presented. She didn’t know what to make of it.

Mark stirred, his eyes fluttering open as he straightened his posture. His gaze immediately landed on her, and for a brief moment, there was an unspoken understanding between them—a shared memory of the night before. He said nothing at first, simply watching her, assessing as he always did.

“You’re awake,” he finally said, his voice still carrying the weight of sleep.

Natalia nodded, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. “I didn’t mean for you to stay…”

“I know,” Mark replied, his tone even. “But I wasn’t going to leave you like that.”

She glanced down, unsure of what to say. A part of her was grateful, deeply so, but another part of her resisted the vulnerability she had shown. She had spent years in the Red Room, learning to bury her emotions, to control every aspect of her mind and body. But last night, all that control had slipped through her fingers, and Mark had been there to catch her.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, the words feeling foreign on her tongue.

Mark’s gaze softened, but only slightly. He gave a short nod, accepting her thanks without lingering on it. “How are you feeling now?”

“Better,” Natalia admitted. She hesitated before continuing, her voice quieter. “I’ve never… had a panic attack before.”

Mark’s eyes remained on her, and for a moment, she thought he might offer some platitude or brush it off. But instead, he surprised her again. “It happens,” he said. “You went through something traumatic. The body reacts, even if the mind tries to bury it.”

Natalia swallowed, nodding slightly. She hadn’t expected that from him—such a calm, matter-of-fact explanation. It grounded her, reminding her that she wasn’t weak, just human.

Mark shifted slightly, standing up from the floor. He stretched briefly, rolling his shoulders before turning his attention back to her. “If you ever feel it coming on again, you don’t have to handle it alone. Just let me know.”

There was no judgment in his tone, no expectation. Just a simple offer, one that left her feeling strangely reassured. She met his gaze, and for the first time since they had met, she felt a flicker of trust—small, but real.

“I will,” she replied quietly.

Mark gave her one last nod before turning toward the kitchen. “I’ll make coffee.”

As he moved away, Natalia leaned back into the couch, her thoughts still lingering on the previous night. She hadn’t wanted to rely on anyone, but now, she couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to carry everything alone.

And as the warmth of the fire flickered beside her, she let herself relax, if only for a moment, knowing that, at least for now, she wasn’t alone.

Mark returned with two mugs of coffee, the earthy aroma filling the air between them. He set one down on the small table next to the couch, gesturing for Natalia to take it if she wanted. He took a seat in the armchair across from her, his movements slow and deliberate, as though aware of the fragile silence between them.

Natalia reached for the coffee, cradling the warm ceramic in her hands. She stared down into the dark liquid, her mind still replaying fragments of the nightmare that had shaken her awake. But even more than that, it was Mark’s presence in the aftermath that lingered in her thoughts. She took a slow sip, savoring the bitter taste, and glanced up at him.

He was watching her—not in the way she had grown accustomed to being watched, not with suspicion or an agenda, but with a quiet patience that was somehow disarming. It made her feel… seen.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mark asked, his voice cutting through the silence. He didn’t press, his question offered more as an option than a demand.

Natalia hesitated, unsure of how to answer. She had never been one to open up, especially about something as vulnerable as a nightmare. But something about the way Mark had been with her, the way he had grounded her without judgment or pity, made her reconsider.

“I don’t even know where to start,” she admitted, her voice low, almost as though she were speaking more to herself than to him.

Mark leaned back in the chair, his expression calm, waiting. He was good at that—giving space without making her feel cornered. It was something she hadn’t expected from a man like him, someone who exuded power and control at every turn.

“I’m not even sure what the nightmare was,” Natalia began, her gaze still fixed on the coffee in her hands. “It was just… flashes. The Red Room. Hydra. Running. The forest. But then there were things that didn’t make sense, things that felt… wrong.” She paused, trying to grasp the images that had slipped away the moment she woke up. “There was something—no, someone. Chasing me. But it wasn’t them.”

Mark remained silent, listening intently. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t push her to explain further. He simply waited, letting her piece together what she could.

Natalia set the mug down, her hands tightening in her lap as she continued. “I’ve been trained to handle fear, to control it. But last night… it was different. It felt like I was losing control of my mind, like I couldn’t escape the panic even after I woke up.”

Mark nodded, his expression unreadable but attentive. “Your mind is reacting to trauma. It’s not something you can fight the way you would an enemy in combat. It’s not about strength or training. It’s the body’s way of processing what’s happened.”

Natalia let out a quiet breath, some of the tension easing from her shoulders. “I didn’t expect it to hit me like that. I thought… I thought I was stronger than that.”

Mark’s gaze sharpened, though his voice remained calm. “Strength isn’t about never feeling fear or pain. It’s about how you handle it. And last night, you handled it. You got through it.”

She blinked, surprised by the unexpected reassurance in his words. It wasn’t soft or comforting in the traditional sense, but it was honest. And coming from him, it carried more weight than she had expected.

For a moment, they sat in silence, the crackling of the fire filling the space between them. Natalia allowed herself to relax a little more, her body sinking into the couch as the tension from the night before slowly ebbed away.

“How do you do it?” she asked, her voice quiet but curious.

Mark raised an eyebrow. “Do what?”

“Stay so… in control. You don’t seem rattled by anything.”

He studied her for a moment, as though weighing how much to reveal. “I’ve had a lot of time to learn how to control my emotions,” he finally said, his tone measured. “It’s necessary for someone in my position. Emotions can be used against you. They make you vulnerable.”

Natalia nodded, understanding more than she wanted to admit. “That’s what the Red Room taught us too.”

Mark’s gaze flickered, something unreadable crossing his features. “It’s not just training. Time changes you. When you’ve lived long enough, you learn how to detach yourself from certain things.”

His words were simple, but Natalia caught the deeper meaning beneath them. She had sensed from the beginning that Mark was far older than he appeared, far more experienced than most men she had encountered. But now, sitting here with him in the quiet of the cabin, she began to realize just how much weight he carried, how much he had seen and lived through.

“How long?” she asked softly.

Mark met her gaze, his expression unreadable for a moment before he answered. “Over five hundred years.”

Natalia’s eyes widened slightly, though she quickly schooled her features. She had known he wasn’t human—not entirely. But five centuries? It was hard to wrap her mind around.

“That’s… a long time,” she said, her voice softer now, as if she were speaking to someone who had seen more than anyone should.

Mark’s lips twitched, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “It is.”

Natalia fell silent, unsure of how to process the information. She had encountered immortality before, in various forms, but this felt different. Mark wasn’t just a man with extended life; he was someone who had carried the burden of it for centuries, shaping his view of the world in ways she couldn’t fully understand.

“What does that feel like?” she found herself asking, her curiosity overriding her hesitation. “Living that long?”

Mark glanced away for a moment, his gaze distant as if he were looking back over the centuries he had lived. “You lose people. You watch the world change, and sometimes, it’s hard to find your place in it. After a while, you stop trying to fit in. You learn to operate from the shadows, to control what you can from behind the scenes.”

Natalia listened carefully, absorbing his words. It made sense now—the way he moved, the way he spoke, the way he seemed to always be one step ahead of everyone else. He wasn’t just surviving. He was controlling the narrative, playing a game that spanned lifetimes.

“And now?” she asked, her voice quieter. “Do you still feel that way?”

Mark’s gaze returned to her, something thoughtful in his eyes. “Sometimes. But then, sometimes… things change.”

Natalia’s breath caught slightly at the weight of his words, the unspoken meaning behind them. She didn’t press further, sensing that the conversation had reached a point where they both needed to let it settle.

The rest of the day passed in quiet, unspoken understanding between them. Mark kept to his routine—checking the perimeter, ensuring their safety—but there was something different in the way they interacted now. The walls between them had started to crack, just a little, allowing a sliver of trust to slip through.

Natalia spent most of her time in the living room, curled up on the couch, her thoughts a mix of confusion and clarity. She found herself thinking more and more about Mark—the way he had grounded her during her panic, the way he had listened without judgment, the way he had revealed a part of himself that was vulnerable, even if only for a moment.

As night fell and the fire once again crackled in the hearth, Natalia felt a sense of calm settle over her that hadn’t been there before. It was strange—comforting, even—but she didn’t question it. Not tonight.

Mark made his usual rounds, checking the windows and the door before finally settling in the armchair across from her. He didn’t say much, but then again, he didn’t need to. The silence between them was no longer strained; it was comfortable.

“Are you planning to stay here again tonight?” he asked, glancing at the couch.

Natalia hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “I think I will.”

Mark gave a slight nod, as if he had expected her answer. “I’ll be close by if you need anything.”

She met his gaze, and for the first time since she had arrived at the cabin, she believed him. He would be there—not as a guard or a captor, but as someone who, despite his calculated exterior, was starting to care.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Mark didn’t respond with words. He simply gave her a look—a quiet acknowledgment that said more than any words could.

As she lay down on the couch, pulling the blanket over herself, Natalia felt a sense of peace that was unfamiliar but welcome. She didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but for now, she felt safe.

And that, she realized, was more than enough.

Mark remained seated in the armchair, his gaze fixed on the glowing embers of the fire. He hadn’t intended for things to evolve this way—not with her. But he couldn’t deny the shift that had taken place between them. Something had begun to grow, something fragile and dangerous but undeniably real.

As he watched her fall into a peaceful sleep, Mark felt the stirrings of something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in centuries.

A soft spot.

He exhaled slowly, his gaze softening as he looked at her one last time before turning his attention back to the fire. He would protect her, as he always had, but this time, it wasn’t just out of strategy.

It was something more.

And though he couldn’t quite name it yet, he knew that whatever it was, it was changing him—just as much as it was changing her.

Chapter Text

The days had begun to blend together, the rhythm of life at the cabin settling into an odd, unspoken routine. Mark would rise before dawn, making his rounds outside, checking for anything out of place. Natalia, though still cautious, had relaxed somewhat in his presence. She no longer flinched when he entered the room or scanned the cabin for escape routes. Her body, once coiled like a spring ready to snap, had softened, though there was still that edge of readiness behind her eyes.

Each day was marked by quiet conversations, moments of understanding, and stretches of comfortable silence where neither felt the need to fill the space with words. They weren’t friends—at least, not yet—but something was undeniably growing between them.

Natalia stood by the large window in the living room, her arms folded across her chest as she gazed out into the snowy expanse beyond the cabin. Her breath fogged the cold glass, and though she looked calm, her mind was a whirlwind. The isolation, though necessary, was beginning to wear on her. The nightmares were a constant companion now, haunting her every time she closed her eyes. She dreaded sleep, and yet her body, still healing, demanded it.

Mark had been true to his word. He hadn’t pushed her, hadn’t asked more than she was willing to give. He was patient, and that unsettled her more than anything. She was used to men like him—men who took what they wanted without asking, who controlled every interaction, every conversation. But Mark… Mark was different.

“You’ll wear a hole through that window,” Mark’s voice interrupted her thoughts, the familiar low rumble somehow reassuring.

She turned to see him standing by the doorway, a faint smile playing on his lips, though his eyes held that same calm intensity they always did.

“Better the window than the floor,” she replied, her tone light but edged with tension.

Mark’s smile faded slightly as he moved into the room, his gaze briefly flickering to the fire, which had burned down to glowing embers. Without a word, he grabbed a few logs from the stack by the hearth and added them to the fire, coaxing it back to life.

The crackling flames filled the silence between them as Natalia watched him, her mind still churning. She had been thinking about what to do next—about where to go once she felt strong enough. She wasn’t ready to trust anyone fully, not even Mark, but she couldn’t deny that he had become… something different to her. A protector, maybe. An anchor in the storm she was trying to weather.

“Mark,” she started, her voice unusually soft.

He looked up from the fire, his eyes meeting hers, unreadable as ever but attentive.

“I’ve been thinking…” Natalia hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. She had never been good at opening up, at admitting vulnerability, but the words had to be said. “I can’t stay here forever. I need to figure out my next move.”

Mark’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t react with surprise or concern, just a quiet understanding.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” he said evenly, standing up and dusting his hands off from the logs. “But you’re right. Sooner or later, we’ll both have to figure out what comes next.”

Natalia studied him, the weight of his words settling in. She wondered, not for the first time, what exactly he was doing here. Why had he helped her in the first place? Was it just convenience? Some calculated decision? Or was there more to it?

“And you?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “What’s your plan?”

Mark’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, a flicker of something crossing his face before his neutral expression returned. “I’m handling things.”

That was typical of him—answers without answers. He was a man who kept his cards close to his chest, never revealing more than he needed to. And yet, Natalia found herself wanting to pry deeper, to understand what really drove him.

“Handling things,” she echoed, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “That’s vague, even for you.”

Mark’s lips twitched in response, almost a smile but not quite. “You’ll get used to it.”

The fire crackled louder, its warmth spreading through the room, casting shadows that danced along the walls. Natalia sank down onto the couch, tucking her legs beneath her as she stared into the flames. Her mind wandered again—back to her nightmares, back to the panic she had felt just a few nights ago. It wasn’t something she was used to. Fear, yes, but not this—this uncontrollable, suffocating terror.

She had tried to push it away, to bury it like she had done with everything else. But the truth was, it had shaken her more than she wanted to admit.

“I’ve never felt that kind of fear before,” she murmured, almost to herself, but she knew Mark would hear her.

He paused, looking at her with that same calm patience. “The nightmares?”

Natalia nodded, not taking her eyes off the fire. “The nightmares… and the panic after. It was like I couldn’t breathe. Like I wasn’t in control of my own body.”

Mark’s gaze softened, just slightly, as he moved closer, taking a seat on the chair next to her. “That’s how panic works. It overrides everything you’ve been trained to do. It’s not something you can fight like a physical enemy.”

Natalia clenched her jaw, hating the helplessness that came with it. “I don’t like not being in control.”

“I know,” Mark replied quietly. “But that’s why you need to learn how to ground yourself. When the fear comes, you have to find something to hold on to, something that can bring you back.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, smooth stone—a token of sorts, something she hadn’t noticed before. He handed it to her, his fingers brushing against hers for only a moment.

Natalia looked down at the stone, turning it over in her hands. It was unremarkable, just a simple black stone, smooth and cool to the touch.

“When you feel it coming again, focus on something tangible,” Mark explained. “Something real. Like this.”

Her fingers tightened around the stone as she listened, absorbing his advice. It was practical, and coming from Mark, it felt more real, less like empty words.

But still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more beneath the surface of this man than he let on. Something darker, perhaps, but also something more human than he wanted to admit.

“I don’t know how you can stay so calm through all of this,” she said after a long pause. “It’s like none of this affects you.”

Mark’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. “It does. I just don’t show it.”

Natalia looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, she realized just how much he was holding back. The weight of centuries on his shoulders, the loss he must have endured, the decisions he had made—all of it was there, just beneath the surface.

“Why me?” she asked, the question slipping out before she could stop it. “Why did you help me?”

Mark was silent for a moment, his gaze locked on the fire. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, measured. “Because you’re worth helping.”

The simplicity of his answer took her by surprise. It wasn’t what she had expected. She had thought there would be some grand strategy, some ulterior motive. But instead, he had given her something real, something genuine.

Natalia didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t. Instead, she let the silence stretch between them, the fire casting its warm glow as the night deepened around them.

The days had begun to blend together, the rhythm of life at the cabin settling into an odd, unspoken routine. Mark would rise before dawn, making his rounds outside, checking for anything out of place. Natalia, though still cautious, had relaxed somewhat in his presence. She no longer flinched when he entered the room or scanned the cabin for escape routes. Her body, once coiled like a spring ready to snap, had softened, though there was still that edge of readiness behind her eyes.

Each day was marked by quiet conversations, moments of understanding, and stretches of comfortable silence where neither felt the need to fill the space with words. They weren’t friends—at least, not yet—but something was undeniably growing between them.

Natalia stood by the large window in the living room, her arms folded across her chest as she gazed out into the snowy expanse beyond the cabin. Her breath fogged the cold glass, and though she looked calm, her mind was a whirlwind. The isolation, though necessary, was beginning to wear on her. The nightmares were a constant companion now, haunting her every time she closed her eyes. She dreaded sleep, and yet her body, still healing, demanded it.

Mark had been true to his word. He hadn’t pushed her, hadn’t asked more than she was willing to give. He was patient, and that unsettled her more than anything. She was used to men like him—men who took what they wanted without asking, who controlled every interaction, every conversation. But Mark… Mark was different.

“You’ll wear a hole through that window,” Mark’s voice interrupted her thoughts, the familiar low rumble somehow reassuring.

She turned to see him standing by the doorway, a faint smile playing on his lips, though his eyes held that same calm intensity they always did.

“Better the window than the floor,” she replied, her tone light but edged with tension.

Mark’s smile faded slightly as he moved into the room, his gaze briefly flickering to the fire, which had burned down to glowing embers. Without a word, he grabbed a few logs from the stack by the hearth and added them to the fire, coaxing it back to life.

The crackling flames filled the silence between them as Natalia watched him, her mind still churning. She had been thinking about what to do next—about where to go once she felt strong enough. She wasn’t ready to trust anyone fully, not even Mark, but she couldn’t deny that he had become… something different to her. A protector, maybe. An anchor in the storm she was trying to weather.

“Mark,” she started, her voice unusually soft.

He looked up from the fire, his eyes meeting hers, unreadable as ever but attentive.

“I’ve been thinking…” Natalia hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. She had never been good at opening up, at admitting vulnerability, but the words had to be said. “I can’t stay here forever. I need to figure out my next move.”

Mark’s expression didn’t change. He didn’t react with surprise or concern, just a quiet understanding.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” he said evenly, standing up and dusting his hands off from the logs. “But you’re right. Sooner or later, we’ll both have to figure out what comes next.”

Natalia studied him, the weight of his words settling in. She wondered, not for the first time, what exactly he was doing here. Why had he helped her in the first place? Was it just convenience? Some calculated decision? Or was there more to it?

“And you?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “What’s your plan?”

Mark’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, a flicker of something crossing his face before his neutral expression returned. “I’m handling things.”

That was typical of him—answers without answers. He was a man who kept his cards close to his chest, never revealing more than he needed to. And yet, Natalia found herself wanting to pry deeper, to understand what really drove him.

“Handling things,” she echoed, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “That’s vague, even for you.”

Mark’s lips twitched in response, almost a smile but not quite. “You’ll get used to it.”

The fire crackled louder, its warmth spreading through the room, casting shadows that danced along the walls. Natalia sank down onto the couch, tucking her legs beneath her as she stared into the flames. Her mind wandered again—back to her nightmares, back to the panic she had felt just a few nights ago. It wasn’t something she was used to. Fear, yes, but not this—this uncontrollable, suffocating terror.

She had tried to push it away, to bury it like she had done with everything else. But the truth was, it had shaken her more than she wanted to admit.

“I’ve never felt that kind of fear before,” she murmured, almost to herself, but she knew Mark would hear her.

He paused, looking at her with that same calm patience. “The nightmares?”

Natalia nodded, not taking her eyes off the fire. “The nightmares… and the panic after. It was like I couldn’t breathe. Like I wasn’t in control of my own body.”

Mark’s gaze softened, just slightly, as he moved closer, taking a seat on the chair next to her. “That’s how panic works. It overrides everything you’ve been trained to do. It’s not something you can fight like a physical enemy.”

Natalia clenched her jaw, hating the helplessness that came with it. “I don’t like not being in control.”

“I know,” Mark replied quietly. “But that’s why you need to learn how to ground yourself. When the fear comes, you have to find something to hold on to, something that can bring you back.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, smooth stone—a token of sorts, something she hadn’t noticed before. He handed it to her, his fingers brushing against hers for only a moment.

Natalia looked down at the stone, turning it over in her hands. It was unremarkable, just a simple black stone, smooth and cool to the touch.

“When you feel it coming again, focus on something tangible,” Mark explained. “Something real. Like this.”

Her fingers tightened around the stone as she listened, absorbing his advice. It was practical, and coming from Mark, it felt more real, less like empty words.

But still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more beneath the surface of this man than he let on. Something darker, perhaps, but also something more human than he wanted to admit.

“I don’t know how you can stay so calm through all of this,” she said after a long pause. “It’s like none of this affects you.”

Mark’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. “It does. I just don’t show it.”

Natalia looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, she realized just how much he was holding back. The weight of centuries on his shoulders, the loss he must have endured, the decisions he had made—all of it was there, just beneath the surface.

“Why me?” she asked, the question slipping out before she could stop it. “Why did you help me?”

Mark was silent for a moment, his gaze locked on the fire. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, measured. “Because you’re worth helping.”

The simplicity of his answer took her by surprise. It wasn’t what she had expected. She had thought there would be some grand strategy, some ulterior motive. But instead, he had given her something real, something genuine.

Natalia didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t. Instead, she let the silence stretch between them, the fire casting its warm glow as the night deepened around them.

Mark leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady on the flickering flames. The warmth of the fire softened the sharp edges of the room, but not the tension between them. He seemed to consider her question, weighing it in that quiet, calculating way of his. Finally, he broke the silence, his tone calm but firm.

"We need to stay here for at least another month," he said, his voice low but carrying the weight of certainty. "The longer we remain off the grid, the better chance we have of not being found."

Natalia frowned slightly, glancing at him. "A month? That’s a long time to stay in one place."

Mark’s eyes flickered to hers, calm and unwavering. "Exactly. They won’t expect you to hunker down in one spot for that long. They’ll assume you’ve moved on—maybe even left the continent. Right now, they’re scouring every city, every port. By the time they realize you’re not on the other side of the planet, we’ll have bought ourselves the time we need."

She didn’t respond immediately, mulling over his words as she absently turned the small black stone in her hand. She knew he was right. Natalia had been trained to stay on the move, to never linger in one place for too long—especially not when people were after her. Hiding out for an extended period of time, especially in a remote cabin, was the last thing anyone would expect her to do. Still, the idea of being confined, even in this isolated place, didn’t sit well with her.

"That’s assuming they don’t already know where I am," she said, a note of skepticism in her voice.

"They don’t," Mark replied, his tone resolute. "I’ve taken precautions. No one knows about this place. Not even my own people. If there was any sign of them closing in, I’d know about it."

Natalia studied him for a moment, the confidence in his voice and the unshakable calm he carried himself with. She still couldn’t quite figure him out. He wasn’t like the others she had encountered in her line of work—the arrogant men who believed they were invincible because of their power or connections. Mark was something else entirely, and it unnerved her.

She looked back at the fire, the crackling logs punctuating the silence between them. "You sound pretty sure of yourself."

Mark shrugged slightly, his expression unreadable. "I’ve had a long time to learn how to stay hidden."

A month in this cabin. The thought of it made her uneasy. Natalia wasn’t used to staying still—she thrived in motion, in the chaos of uncertainty. But there was a certain logic to Mark’s plan, and she knew better than to ignore it. If they stayed, if they laid low long enough, perhaps the hunters would look elsewhere. And maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to regroup.

"Alright," she said finally, her voice quieter. "We’ll stay. For now."

Mark nodded, satisfied with her answer but not surprised. He had a way of making decisions sound inevitable, as though he always knew what the outcome would be. But that only made her more curious about his past—how he had come to this point, how he had learned to live in the shadows as she had.

For a moment, she allowed herself to wonder what it must have been like for him, surviving for centuries, watching the world change while he remained constant. There was a weight to him, something ancient and immovable, but it wasn’t without its cracks. She could see it sometimes, in the way his gaze lingered on the fire or the way his shoulders seemed to carry more than their share of burdens.

"And after the month?" Natalia asked, breaking the silence again. "What then?"

Mark’s jaw tightened slightly, as though he had already thought about it, but wasn’t quite ready to share. "We’ll reassess. See where things stand."

It wasn’t much of an answer, but she had grown used to his vague responses. He wasn’t one to lay everything on the table, and she supposed that was part of what made him good at whatever game he was playing.

Natalia leaned back against the couch, her fingers still tracing the smooth surface of the stone he had given her. She wasn’t sure how she felt about the idea of staying here for so long, with nothing but the cold and snow outside and Mark’s quiet presence inside. But maybe, for the first time in a long time, staying still wouldn’t be such a bad thing. She was tired of running, tired of always being one step ahead of her enemies.

"Fine," she said, glancing at him with a wry smile. "But if I start going stir-crazy, I’m blaming you."

Mark’s lips twitched, just the faintest hint of amusement. "I’ll take full responsibility."

For a brief moment, the tension eased, the gravity of their situation lifting ever so slightly. They weren’t friends, not yet. But something was there—an understanding, a shared need for survival. And in the quiet of the cabin, it was enough for now.

Mark stood and moved toward the kitchen, grabbing two mugs from the counter and filling them with steaming liquid. He brought one to Natalia, who accepted it with a small nod of thanks. They sat in silence, sipping their drinks, the firelight casting flickering shadows across the room.

"We’ll be alright here," Mark said after a long pause, his voice steady. "You’ll have time to heal. And when the time comes, we’ll figure out what comes next."

Natalia stared into her mug, feeling the warmth seep into her hands. She wasn’t sure what the future held or if she could truly trust him. But for now, she would let herself believe that maybe, just maybe, they had a chance.

As the flames crackled and the snow fell quietly outside, the two of them settled into the strange, delicate peace that had begun to form between them. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And in this cold, remote place, it was all they had.

Natalia took a sip from the mug, letting the warmth spread through her chest as she glanced back at Mark. His calm demeanor, as always, made her feel like there was more he wasn’t saying. And there was one part of his statement that stuck out to her.

“You said something earlier,” she began, her voice carefully measured. “About your people. You said no one would know about this place, not even them. What did you mean by that?”

Mark’s gaze didn’t falter. He was silent for a moment, as though considering how much to reveal. It was rare for him to let anyone into his world, especially someone like her—a wild card, unpredictable and dangerous. But something about Natalia, her sharp mind and resilience, had chipped away at his usual defenses. Maybe it was time to extend a measure of trust, if only a sliver.

“My people,” he said slowly, as if testing the waters of this new openness. “I wasn’t talking about anyone… normal. Not civilians. I run an organization—off the books. Private. A network of highly trained individuals—intelligence, soldiers, operatives.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. She hadn’t expected him to be that forthcoming. She leaned forward a little, intrigued. “You run a private military group?”

“Something like that.” He met her eyes, the firelight reflecting off his steely gaze. “Shadow Company. It’s a covert group I created years ago. They operate in the shadows, just like the name suggests. Intelligence gathering, black ops, securing assets. Things that governments and even other organizations like S.H.I.E.L.D. don’t know about or wouldn’t want to touch.”

Natalia processed this, her mind already working through the implications. Of course, a man like Mark—cold, strategic, and clearly well-resourced—would have something like this. But the scale of it, and the fact that he was trusting her enough to mention it, surprised her. "And they answer to you."

“Only to me.” His voice was quiet but firm, the words carrying a finality to them. “I built Shadow Company to operate independently of any government or agency. No one knows who runs it, not even most of my own people.”

Natalia leaned back, her grip tightening slightly on the mug. The more she learned about him, the more questions it raised. "Why tell me this now? You’ve been… vague until now. So, what changed?"

Mark’s eyes lingered on her for a moment before he answered, his expression unreadable. “You asked. And you’ve earned a little trust. Whether you realize it or not, we’re in this together now. I don’t bring people to places like this unless there’s a damn good reason.”

She considered his words, her mind dissecting every layer of meaning beneath them. A part of her understood his gesture. Trust was a rare commodity in their world, and the fact that he was offering her even a fraction of it was significant. But it also meant there were still things he was keeping close to the chest—secrets she wasn’t privy to yet. Shadow Company was just the tip of the iceberg.

"So, this cabin," she said, glancing around the room. "It's one of your safe houses?"

Mark nodded. “One of several. This one’s in Austria, tucked away in the mountains. No one’s finding us here unless we want to be found.”

"Shadow Company didn’t find me," Natalia said, watching his reaction carefully. "You did. So, were you out here for a reason, or was it just a coincidence?"

He tilted his head slightly, as if weighing whether to answer that, too. “I was here handling other matters when you crossed my path. I recognized who you were, saw the situation you were in, and made a decision.”

“A calculated one, no doubt.”

His lips quirked ever so slightly. “You could say that.”

Natalia’s mind was racing, trying to piece together what kind of man she was really dealing with. A man who controlled an underground organization, who had resources far beyond what she initially assumed, who spoke of trust like it was a rare and valuable currency.

Still, something about him felt different from the men she had known before—the ones who used power to control or manipulate. Mark was controlled, but in a different way. Cold and calculating, yes, but not reckless or cruel. He had a quiet authority about him that felt... deliberate.

“And what happens when they find out you’re sheltering me?” she asked, testing his resolve. “Shadow Company. They’re not going to question why their leader is hiding a Black Widow assassin?”

“They don’t need to know,” Mark said, his voice unshaken. “And if they do find out, they won’t question my decisions. Graves—my second-in-command—runs things while I’m away. He knows not to ask too many questions.”

Natalia arched an eyebrow at that. “That’s a lot of loyalty.”

“It’s loyalty I’ve earned,” Mark said simply. “I’ve built this network from the ground up, made sure the people in it understand that my word is final. If I say something stays hidden, it stays hidden.”

She believed him. There was something about the way he said it, not as a boast but as a fact. Shadow Company sounded formidable, more so than most organizations she had encountered. And the fact that Mark operated so far beneath the radar meant he was someone to be reckoned with.

"Alright," Natalia said finally, nodding slightly. "Thanks for being honest with me."

Mark inclined his head in acknowledgment, though there was no smugness in his expression. “You’ll learn more when the time’s right. But for now, you need to focus on healing and staying low. This is the safest place for you.”

There was a subtle shift between them now, a sense of mutual respect that hadn’t been there before. The pieces of who he was were slowly falling into place, and Natalia had a feeling that she had only scratched the surface.

She nodded, accepting the olive branch he had extended. It wasn’t much, but in their world, it was everything.

For now, it was enough.

Chapter Text

The next day dawned quietly, the air crisp and cool in the mountains surrounding the cabin. Sunlight filtered through the windows, casting a soft glow across the room as Natalia moved through the space with a sense of ease she hadn’t felt in… well, she couldn’t remember how long. She still stayed alert—her training made sure of that—but the constant tightness in her chest had eased a little since she had been here. Since that night, when Mark had helped her through the nightmare.

She hadn’t admitted it to herself fully yet, but his presence, though strange at first, now brought her a sense of calm. Even safety. It was an odd feeling, especially considering the circumstances. She didn’t trust easily, and while her instincts kept her wary of him, something about being around Mark had slowly chipped away at her defenses.

She found him outside that morning, just as she had expected. His routine was precise, always centered around preparation and vigilance. He was warming up, stretching out his muscles in the open air beside the cabin, his movements calculated and fluid. As she stepped outside, the cool mountain breeze ruffled her hair, and she felt an odd sense of peace watching him. That sense of calmness he exuded was becoming familiar, comforting even.

Mark looked over as she approached, his expression neutral but welcoming. “Morning.”

“Morning,” she replied, feeling more at ease than usual. She had been cautious around him for days now, but after the nightmare, after he had helped her through it, something had shifted. It wasn’t trust, not entirely, but something was closer to it. The tension between them was softer now, less rigid.

As she stopped a few feet away from him, Mark eyed her thoughtfully. “You’re healing up well.”

“I have you to thank for that,” she said, acknowledging the Viltrumite blood transfusion with a small nod. It had worked wonders, her body healing much faster than it would have otherwise.

“I’d say it’s time we see how well you’re doing,” Mark said, his tone casual but with a hint of challenge. “How about a sparring session?”

Natalia raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking in amusement. “Sparring? With you?”

“You need to stay sharp,” Mark said, straightening up. “And it’s better to work off some energy than let it build up while you’re stuck here. Besides, you’ll get a feel for my fighting style.”

His suggestion made sense, but Natalia wasn’t entirely sure if this was a good idea. Sparring with Mark would give her more insight into who he was—his strengths, his weaknesses—but it also meant letting him get closer, physically and mentally. Still, the idea intrigued her. It had been a long time since she’d had a proper sparring partner, and something told her Mark wasn’t going to be an easy opponent.

She gave him a slow nod. “Alright. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Mark nodded in response, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips. There was something different in his eyes now—perhaps an eagerness to gauge her skill, or maybe even to test their slowly growing bond. Either way, it was clear this was more than just a physical challenge. This was about trust, about lowering defenses and learning to move together rather than against each other.

They moved to a flat area nearby, clearing some space. Natalia stretched out her arms, loosening her muscles as she watched him. She could feel the tension humming under her skin, the excitement of the challenge, and a part of her that had been dormant for too long woke up. This wasn’t about survival—it was about control, about finding her limits and, maybe, finding his as well.

Mark stepped back, giving her space. “Rules?”

Natalia shrugged slightly. “You’re the one who wanted this. Let’s keep it simple. No weapons, just hand-to-hand.”

“Agreed,” Mark said, his posture relaxed but ready. His eyes were focused, studying her movements, just as she was studying his.

For a moment, they stood still, facing each other, the silence between them heavy with anticipation. Then, without warning, Natalia moved. She darted forward with a quickness that might have taken anyone else off guard, but Mark was ready. He sidestepped her strike, his movements fluid as he blocked and countered, testing her reactions.

Natalia felt a small thrill of excitement. He was fast—faster than she expected for someone his size—and strong, his blocks solid, but there was more to him than just brute strength. His movements were calculated, measured. He wasn’t just reacting; he was thinking two steps ahead.

She circled him, testing his defenses with quick jabs and kicks. Each time, Mark met her strikes with an easy grace, as though he was holding back, waiting to see what she would do next. It wasn’t frustrating—it was exhilarating. It had been too long since she had sparred with someone who could keep up with her.

After a few minutes, she switched tactics, feinting to one side before spinning low, aiming a sweeping kick at his legs. Mark reacted quickly, leaping back just in time, but she saw the brief flash of surprise in his eyes.

“Not bad,” he said, a hint of admiration in his tone.

“Not bad yourself,” she replied, catching her breath. She couldn’t deny that sparring with him was pushing her in ways she hadn’t been pushed in a long time.

They continued, the pace increasing, each of them testing the other more and more. Natalia found herself moving faster, hitting harder, and for the first time since arriving at the cabin, she felt truly alive. Mark was pushing her limits, but in a way that felt… right. She didn’t feel threatened by him; instead, she felt challenged, like they were on equal footing, matching each other strike for strike.

At one point, she landed a solid hit on his shoulder, and he grunted slightly, but there was no anger in his eyes. Just amusement.

“Getting comfortable, are we?” he teased, stepping back to reset their positions.

She smirked. “Just warming up.”

But even as they sparred, something else was happening. With each move, each block and counter, the gap between them was closing. They were learning to read each other’s movements, predicting where the other would go. The tension that had once been between them was melting away, replaced by something else—a growing understanding, a sense of mutual respect.

Mark moved forward again, this time faster, catching her off guard as he closed the distance between them. He reached out, grabbing her wrist in a firm but not painful grip, pulling her close. For a brief moment, they were face to face, their breathing heavy, eyes locked.

Natalia’s heart raced, not from exertion but from the sudden proximity. She could feel his warmth, the solidness of him, and something in her stomach twisted—something she wasn’t used to feeling. It wasn’t fear, but something deeper, something unexpected.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Mark released her wrist, stepping back to give her space. The look in his eyes was calm, controlled, but there was a softness there too, a glimmer of something she hadn’t seen before.

“That was… good,” he said, his voice quieter now. “You’re impressive.”

Natalia felt her defenses lowering even further, her usual walls crumbling just a little more. “You’re not bad yourself.”

There was a long silence between them, but it wasn’t awkward. It was as if the sparring session had shifted something between them—brought them closer in a way that words couldn’t.

For the first time in a long time, Natalia felt like she was on even ground with someone. And it wasn’t just about skill. There was something about Mark that made her feel… secure. Safe, even. It was unsettling, but at the same time, it was what kept drawing her closer to him.

She exhaled, letting go of the tension in her muscles. “We should do this again,” she said, her tone lighter now, almost playful.

Mark gave her a nod, a small smile on his lips. “I think that can be arranged.”

And just like that, another barrier between them fell.

As they stood there, catching their breath from the sparring match, the cool mountain air washed over them, but Natalia felt a warmth between them—a newfound connection. She hadn’t expected the spar to feel so… natural, almost as if they were syncing up in a way that went beyond just physical combat. The way he moved, the way he read her strikes, it was like they were starting to understand each other on a deeper level.

Natalia smirked, wiping the light sheen of sweat from her forehead. "For someone who looked like he was holding back, you weren’t too bad. Though, I think you were taking it easy on me."

Mark raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a small smile. "You think so? I was just trying not to embarrass you too much."

She rolled her eyes, letting out a soft laugh. "Oh, please. You were definitely holding back. I bet if you went all out, I wouldn’t have stood a chance."

His smile widened slightly, but his voice remained casual. "Maybe. Or maybe I just didn’t want to knock you out on your first day back in action."

"How thoughtful of you," she replied, her tone laced with sarcasm. "But next time, don’t hold back. I can handle it."

He gave her a look, his blue eyes gleaming with a hint of amusement. "Is that a challenge?"

"Depends," Natalia said, stepping closer, her gaze steady on his. "Can you handle it?"

Mark tilted his head slightly, clearly enjoying the banter. “You might be surprised at what I can handle.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it,” Natalia replied, a teasing edge to her voice. "But I like surprises. Keeps things interesting."

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling, and Natalia felt a flutter in her chest that surprised her. Sparring had brought out a different side of him—a lighter side, one that made her feel more at ease around him. It was still odd, the way she felt a sense of safety when he was near, but she wasn’t ready to question it. Not yet, anyway.

Mark leaned back slightly, crossing his arms over his chest, still catching his breath. "I have to admit, you’ve got some impressive skills. You didn’t make it easy for me."

Natalia raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a mischievous grin. "You really think I was going all out? I didn’t even use my best moves."

He eyed her, clearly intrigued. "Best moves, huh? And what exactly are those?"

"Oh, I don’t think you’re ready for that yet," she teased, turning to walk back toward the cabin, her steps light and confident. She knew she was playing with fire, but there was something about the way they were bantering that felt… fun. Almost like they were edging toward something more playful, something more personal.

Mark fell into step beside her, shaking his head with a faint smile. "Now I’m curious. You’re not going to let me in on your secret moves?"

Natalia glanced at him, her eyes gleaming with a playful glint. "Maybe someday. If you earn it."

Mark chuckled again, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. "I’ll keep that in mind."

As they reached the cabin, Natalia felt a strange sense of contentment settle over her. It was still hard to fully trust him, her instincts always on alert, but that tension between them had lessened significantly. She didn’t feel like she needed to constantly be on edge around him anymore. In fact, she found herself liking the moments when they were able to drop the guardrails just a bit.

And he seemed to be doing the same.

They entered the cabin, the warmth of the interior wrapping around them as Natalia headed for the fireplace. She could feel Mark’s presence behind her, that steady, calm energy he always carried. As she sat down on the couch, stretching out her legs, she looked up at him, her eyes still glinting with amusement.

"You know," she said, her tone light, "you could probably use a few pointers from me. I mean, if you ever want to stand a chance in our next sparring match."

Mark raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Pointers? From you?"

"Yeah. You may have the strength, but I’ve got the finesse," she replied, her lips curving into a playful smile. "You’d be unstoppable with a few of my tricks."

He stood there, arms still crossed, clearly playing along now. "Alright then. What kind of tricks are we talking about?"

Natalia leaned back against the couch, pretending to think. "Well, for starters, you need to work on your footwork. You’re a bit too stiff. You have to learn to be lighter on your feet."

"Stiff?" Mark echoed, raising an eyebrow. "I think I was just being… considerate."

"Uh-huh, sure you were," she said, stifling a laugh. "And while we’re at it, your reaction time could use some work. You were just a hair too slow a few times."

Mark let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. Next time, no holding back. I’ll remember that."

"You better," she replied, her voice teasing. "Or I’ll have to go easy on you again."

Mark smirked, and for a moment, they just stood there, the banter between them feeling natural, easy. It was a strange feeling, this growing bond, but neither of them seemed to mind. The walls they had built around themselves were slowly lowering, piece by piece, with every moment they spent together.

There was still a long way to go, but Natalia was starting to feel like she wasn’t alone anymore. And that was something she hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

The past few days had settled into a comfortable rhythm, almost like they were creating their own little world within the walls of the cabin and the surrounding woods. Sparring had become a part of their daily routine, a way for both Mark and Natalia to release the tension that still lingered between them. Each session felt more fluid, their movements more in sync as they learned each other’s patterns and reactions.

Natalia still had nightmares, but nothing like the one she had the night Mark had been there to calm her. Every night, she held the black stone close, its weight and cool texture grounding her when her dreams threatened to turn dark. It didn’t stop the restlessness, though. She still slept recklessly, her subconscious always half-alert, always on edge. But the worst of the night terrors had stayed away, and that was something.

Mark had taken to sleeping in the living room with her for those first few nights, just in case. He stayed close by without crowding her, his presence a silent reassurance in the background. But last night was different. Natalia had insisted she could handle it on her own. She was determined, and Mark, despite a brief hesitation, had agreed, retreating to the bedroom for the first time since she’d asked. Still, before turning in, he had made sure to tell her, “If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

This morning, they were back outside at their usual sparring spot, the crisp mountain air biting at their skin but doing nothing to cool the heat that rose between them as they clashed again and again.

They moved in perfect sync at first, testing each other, probing for weaknesses, but today was different. There was a playful edge to their strikes, a teasing challenge in the way Natalia darted in and out of his reach, smirking as she dodged his attempts to catch her.

“You're getting slow,” Natalia taunted, her voice light, a grin tugging at her lips as she ducked beneath his arm.

“Or maybe you’re just getting overconfident,” Mark replied, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he sidestepped her next move with ease.

Her laugh rang out, genuine and free. “Overconfident? Please. I’m barely breaking a sweat.”

“Oh really?” Mark's eyes gleamed, and before she could react, he swept his leg out, catching her off guard. She stumbled slightly, but instead of falling, she pivoted and lunged at him, using her momentum to try and take him down.

They collided, their bodies tangling as they grappled, neither willing to give the other the upper hand. Mark was careful, mindful of his strength, but it still surprised Natalia just how strong he was. Stronger than any normal man, but nothing overwhelming—at least not yet.

“Not bad,” Natalia breathed, her face close to his as they struggled, both trying to gain control of the situation.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Mark teased, his voice low, their proximity making the banter feel different this time—more charged.

They shifted, and suddenly, Natalia found herself pinned beneath him, her body trapped against the ground. But she didn’t back down. Instead, she arched an eyebrow and smirked up at him. "I thought you weren’t supposed to be holding back anymore."

Mark's lips curved into a faint smile, his breath warm against her cheek. "I’m not. I’m just better at this than you."

Natalia scoffed, the sound playful but defiant. “Keep telling yourself that,” she said, twisting her body with a sharp movement. She managed to slip out of his hold, rolling them both until she was the one on top, her legs straddling his waist, her hands gripping his shoulders.

For a brief second, the playful air between them paused as they both realized just how close they were. The banter faded, leaving only the sound of their breaths and the sudden awareness of each other’s bodies pressed together. Natalia could feel the hard lines of Mark’s chest beneath her hands, the rise and fall of his breathing, and Mark could feel the heat of her body against his, her weight light but solid.

His hands instinctively rested on her waist, and for a heartbeat, neither of them moved.

Natalia’s heart raced, but it wasn’t from the sparring anymore. She wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but there was a shift in the air around them, something unspoken passing between them as they stayed locked in that position.

Then, as if to break the tension, Natalia quirked a brow. “What’s wrong? Finally realizing I’m the better fighter?”

Mark let out a breath, shaking his head slightly. “You’re really pushing your luck.”

Her smirk widened. “Maybe. But you seem to like it.”

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “Maybe I do.”

There was another brief pause, and Natalia could feel the weight of his words hanging in the air, heavier than the teasing banter they’d been exchanging. But before either of them could linger on it too long, she shifted again, rolling off him and standing up, offering him a hand.

Mark took it, rising to his feet, and for a moment, their hands lingered together before they let go.

"That was close," she said, brushing off the dirt from her clothes.

"You mean for you," Mark corrected, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Next time, you won’t get so lucky."

Natalia tilted her head, her eyes glinting with challenge. "Is that a promise?"

Mark’s gaze met hers, and though his expression remained neutral, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that felt like more than just friendly competition. "Yeah. It is."

They stood there for a moment, the space between them filled with unspoken things, before Natalia gave him a small, almost playful nudge with her elbow. "You’re not bad, Grayson. For a guy who’s a bit slow."

Mark huffed a quiet laugh, his eyes never leaving hers. "And you’re not bad… for someone who still hasn’t used their ‘best moves.’"

She laughed softly, shaking her head. "One day, maybe I’ll show you."

"Looking forward to it," he said, and the smile he gave her felt genuine—less guarded than before.

As they headed back toward the cabin, Natalia felt an odd warmth spread through her chest. Something had shifted between them. It wasn’t just the sparring or the banter—it was the way they were beginning to trust each other, the way they were starting to lower their defenses.

And as much as it unsettled her, Natalia couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t mind it. Not as much as she thought she would.

The sun was starting to dip lower, casting a golden glow over the landscape as Mark and Natalia made their way back to the cabin. There was a quiet peace between them, a stark contrast to the charged moments they had just shared. Natalia’s mind kept drifting back to the feel of Mark’s hands on her waist, the way his breath had brushed against her skin. She tried to shake the thoughts away, but they lingered.

Sparring had become something more than just practice, more than just a test of skill. It was a way to connect, to feel each other’s strength, to push boundaries—and maybe, unintentionally, it had broken down more than just physical defenses.

Over the next few days, that unspoken connection continued to grow. Sparring remained part of their daily routine, something they both looked forward to. Each session was filled with the same teasing banter, playful jabs, and close moments of grappling. They laughed more, and Natalia found herself relaxing around Mark in a way she hadn’t expected.

The nightmares still came, but they were nowhere near as bad as the one she had when Mark had been there to pull her out of it. Every night, she clutched the black stone close, and somehow, it helped. It kept her grounded. Still, her sleep was never truly peaceful. It was restless, plagued by half-formed memories and echoes of her past, but the terror didn’t consume her like it had before.

Mark had continued sleeping in the living room for the first few nights after their talk, always nearby in case she needed him. He never said anything about it, never asked her if she wanted him there, but his presence was a quiet comfort. She hadn’t realized just how much it helped until the night she decided to sleep alone.

Last night had been the first time in days that Natalia insisted on being by herself. She needed to prove, if only to herself, that she could handle it. Mark hadn’t argued. He simply nodded, retreating to the bedroom with a calm, “If you need anything, you know where to find me.” His trust in her, in her strength, had felt like another step in whatever fragile understanding was forming between them.

Now, as they sparred once again, there was a new level of ease between them, a familiarity that hadn’t been there before. They knew each other’s rhythms, each other’s strengths and weaknesses. And today, like so many of their recent sparring sessions, it kept leading to them grappling.

Natalia threw a kick, quick and precise, but Mark dodged it easily, his movements fluid as he countered with a low sweep. She jumped back, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You’re not even trying anymore.”

“I’m trying not to embarrass you,” Mark replied smoothly, his eyes gleaming with that teasing spark she’d grown used to.

She laughed, lunging at him in response, but once again, he anticipated her move, catching her in mid-air. Before she could react, they were grappling again, their bodies pressed close as they struggled for control.

Natalia gritted her teeth, using her legs to lock around his waist in an attempt to pull him down, but Mark’s strength kept him grounded. She could feel the hard muscle beneath his shirt as her body pressed against his. It was infuriating how effortlessly he held his own, even as she used all her training against him.

“Still think you’re holding back?” she challenged, her breath coming in shorter bursts as they shifted again, rolling together on the ground.

Mark’s arms wrapped around her, pinning her close as he tried to gain the upper hand. His voice was low, almost a rumble against her ear. “You’d know if I wasn’t.”

The way he said it—calm, controlled, but with that underlying edge—made something flicker in her chest. Their faces were close, too close. She could see the faint scars on his skin, feel the heat of his breath against her cheek, and for a moment, the fight between them stilled.

Neither moved.

Mark’s hands, still gripping her arms, loosened slightly, and Natalia could feel her heart pounding in her chest, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the exertion or something else entirely. His gaze locked on hers, and there was something unspoken in the way he looked at her—something that made the air between them feel heavier.

“You're distracted,” Mark murmured, his tone teasing but softer now, almost like he was testing her reaction.

“Maybe you’re just in my way,” Natalia shot back, though her voice was quieter than she intended. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his, and despite herself, she felt a warmth spreading through her at their proximity.

Mark’s lips quirked into a small, amused smile. “In your way, huh?”

In a swift move, he shifted again, rolling them both until he was the one on top, his hands bracing on either side of her as he hovered above. His weight was steady but not crushing, and Natalia’s breath hitched slightly as she felt his chest brush against hers.

This was different. Sparring was supposed to be just that—sparring. But now, the closeness between them felt charged, like something else was bubbling beneath the surface, something neither of them were quite ready to confront.

Natalia’s smirk returned, though it was weaker now, more out of habit than anything else. “Looks like I’m still better,” she muttered, though her voice lacked the sharpness it usually held.

Mark’s gaze softened, his smile fading into something more genuine. “Maybe. But you haven’t won yet.”

The words hung between them, carrying a weight they both felt. And for a moment, they simply stayed like that, caught in the in-between space of teasing and something more. Neither of them moved, neither of them spoke, but there was a shared understanding—a silent acknowledgment that things were changing.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Mark pushed himself off her, standing up and offering her a hand. Natalia took it, her heart still racing, but she didn’t pull away once they were both on their feet.

“Same time tomorrow?” she asked, trying to keep her tone light, though she wasn’t sure why her voice felt tight.

Mark nodded, his expression unreadable. “Yeah. Same time.”

As they walked back to the cabin, the quiet between them wasn’t uncomfortable. It was different—heavy with unspoken things, with the slow realization that something had shifted between them.

And though neither of them was ready to name it, they both knew that the distance between them was shrinking. Bit by bit.

Chapter Text

The past week had slipped by almost unnoticed, each day a seamless blend of routine, camaraderie, and quiet comfort. Natalia and Mark had grown into something neither of them had anticipated, something deeper than just two people sharing space for survival. They’d fallen into an easy rhythm—sparring for hours in the crisp mountain air, chatting and laughing as they worked on the little tasks that kept the cabin running smoothly.

Natalia, once guarded and vigilant, now moved freely through the cabin with none of the hesitation or fear that had once gripped her. The walls she had so meticulously built from years of Red Room conditioning had crumbled, piece by piece, under Mark’s quiet, steady presence. There was no more wariness in the way she asked for something, no subtle flinch or fear of reprisal when she made a request or offered a differing opinion. The Red Room’s shadow over her had faded, and she no longer expected punishment, cruelty, or harsh consequences for her words or actions.

She trusted Mark now—trusted him in a way she hadn’t thought possible. He wasn’t like the others. He wouldn’t hurt her. She could tell, in the softening of his expressions, in the way his calculating demeanor would falter when he looked at her. He hadn’t said it, but she could feel it—he cared about her. In his own quiet, reserved way, Mark had let her in. And she had wormed her way into his guarded heart without even meaning to.

Mark had changed, too. The cold, unreadable mask he’d worn for weeks had gradually melted away when they were together. He smiled more often now, though it was never a full, easy grin. But it was real, and when he looked at her, it was softer, warmer than it had been. She’d come to notice those small shifts in him, the way he’d subtly relax around her, the way his voice softened when he spoke to her. He’d developed a soft spot for her, and though he’d never admit it aloud, Natalia could see it in his eyes. Somehow, she’d become important to him.

And, in truth, he had become important to her, too.

The day passed smoothly, like so many before it. After sparring and sharing a meal, they had fallen into their easy routine of conversation, working together to maintain the cabin, and just enjoying each other’s presence. By the time the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the mountains, both were exhausted but content, the familiarity of their routine grounding them in a way that neither had experienced in a long time.

As the night settled in and the fire in the living room crackled softly, they both prepared for bed. It had become a pattern for them—Mark would retreat to his room, and Natalia would stay by the fire, wrapped in her blanket on the couch. They didn’t speak of it, but they both knew there was a quiet comfort in their routine. Mark always bid her goodnight, offering to help if she had any more nightmares, as he had done every night since that first terrible one. And every night, Natalia would smile and gently decline, though she knew he’d be there if she needed him.

Tonight was no different.

Mark stopped at the doorway to his room, his eyes finding hers across the room. “Good night, Natalia. If you need anything…” His words trailed off, the offer left hanging in the air like always.

Natalia, curled up on the couch with her blanket draped over her, smiled softly at him. “I’ll be fine, Mark. But… thank you. Really.” There was a warmth in her voice, an appreciation for his constant presence, for the way he cared about her well-being, even if he didn’t say it outright.

Mark gave her a slight nod, lingering for just a moment longer than usual. Something about the way she smiled at him made him feel… lighter. “Alright,” he murmured, his voice almost too soft to hear. “Good night.”

With that, he turned and disappeared into his room, leaving Natalia alone by the fire. The warmth from the flames danced across the room, wrapping her in a cozy, familiar embrace. She settled deeper into the couch, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders, and held the black stone close to her chest.

It had become a small comfort, this stone. She wasn’t sure why it worked, but it did. The nightmares hadn’t stopped entirely, but they were manageable now. They weren’t as suffocating, and she was able to handle them. Maybe it was the stone, or maybe it was simply Mark’s presence that had helped keep the worst of the terrors at bay. Either way, she felt more secure than she had in a long time.

As she closed her eyes, her thoughts drifted to him again, to the man who had somehow become her steady anchor in this place. His quiet strength, his unwavering calm—it had a way of grounding her, making her feel safe in a world that had always been uncertain and dangerous.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Natalia wasn’t afraid of what the night would bring. She knew she could handle it, and if she couldn’t, Mark was there. Even if she didn’t call for him, she knew he’d be close enough to hear.

With that comforting thought, she let the warmth of the fire and the quiet of the cabin lull her into a peaceful sleep. The night stretched out ahead, calm and steady, as the crackling flames flickered softly beside her.

Tomorrow would come, just like every day before it. But for now, in this moment, everything felt right.

The silence of the cabin was shattered by a sudden, violent crash. Mark shot up in bed, his senses on high alert, heart racing. He could tell immediately that something was wrong. The cabin had been so peaceful for days, but the crash sent an icy jolt through him. He flung the blanket aside and bolted out of his room, sprinting down the hallway toward the living room. His mind raced, already trying to piece together what might’ve happened.

When he reached the living room, the fire had dimmed down to embers, casting an eerie, flickering glow. But his attention was immediately drawn to Natalia. She was on the floor beside the couch, her body curled into itself, thrashing as if fighting something invisible. Her breath came in panicked gasps, and her wide green eyes were wild with terror. She clutched the black stone to her chest with a vice-like grip, but it clearly wasn’t helping. Whatever nightmare had gripped her, it was one of the worst.

Mark was by her side in an instant, assessing the situation. He could see it—this wasn’t just a bad dream. This was far worse. A full-blown panic attack, worse than the one she’d had weeks ago. Her body shook uncontrollably, her muscles tense, as though she were fighting to hold onto reality. Her breaths were shallow, erratic, and her face was wet with tears.

“Natalia,” Mark called out, his voice calm but firm, as he crouched beside her. His hands hovered just over her, unsure of where to touch, how to help. “Natalia, look at me. You’re safe. You’re here with me.”

Her eyes darted frantically until they found his. When their eyes locked, she froze for a second, the panic and fear still raw in her gaze. Before Mark could say anything else, Natalia lunged at him, her body crashing into his chest, clutching onto him as though he were the only thing anchoring her to this world. Her sobs were wracking her body now, her face buried against his chest.

Mark’s arms instinctively wrapped around her, holding her tight. The shock of her sudden embrace quickly wore off, replaced by a fierce protective instinct. He gently rubbed her back, his touch soft but steady, as he whispered soothing words into her ear.

“It’s okay… I’m here. You’re safe,” he murmured, his voice low, warm, and filled with care. “I’ve got you, Natalia. I won’t let go.”

But even as he spoke, he could feel how tightly she clung to him, her body shaking with sobs, her breathing still ragged and uneven. She wasn’t calming down, not yet. He glanced at the couch, thinking maybe if he sat her down, it might help—but the moment he shifted even slightly, her grip tightened.

“I don’t want to be in here,” she stammered through gasping breaths, her voice broken and desperate, almost incoherent. “Not… not in this room tonight.”

Mark nodded quickly, his thoughts racing. “Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?”

Natalia’s only response was a weak nod against his chest, her tears still flowing, but her body easing just a fraction at his offer. Without another word, Mark stood up, carefully lifting her in his arms, still clutching onto him like her life depended on it. She was so light in his arms, yet the weight of her fear and pain made his heart heavy.

He carried her down the hallway and into his room, the soft creak of the floorboards the only sound besides her quiet, desperate sobs. When he reached the bed, he attempted to set her down gently, thinking he could take the couch instead. But as soon as he started to pull away, her arms and legs tightened around him, her voice barely a whisper but filled with raw emotion.

“Please… don’t go. Don’t leave.”

Mark froze. He hadn’t expected her to say that, but there was no hesitation in his response. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, his voice resolute and gentle.

He rewrapped his arms around her, pulling her close once more. She clung to him with every ounce of strength she had left, her face still buried against his chest. Without breaking her hold on him, Mark carefully sat on the edge of the bed and then leaned back, pulling her with him. His legs swung up onto the bed, and he gently shifted them both until they were laying down, with Natalia still wrapped tightly around him.

Her head rested on his chest, her breathing still erratic, her body trembling, but she was calming. Slowly. Mark pulled the duvet over them both, cocooning her in warmth and security. He tightened his hold around her, feeling how her body molded against his, desperate for reassurance.

“Breathe with me,” he whispered into her hair, his voice tender as he pressed his lips near her ear. “Feel my chest. In and out. Just match my breathing. I’ve got you.”

For a moment, it seemed impossible. Her breathing was too panicked, too ragged. But Mark held her tighter, kept his voice steady and calm, and slowly, agonizingly, he felt her begin to follow his rhythm. Her breaths became deeper, more controlled, until eventually, she was breathing in sync with him.

The sobs didn’t stop entirely, but they lessened. Her body was still tense, but she was no longer thrashing or shaking uncontrollably. She was coming back to herself.

Mark’s chest felt wet from her tears, but he didn’t care. He didn’t move. His hands gently rubbed her back in slow circles, offering whatever comfort he could.

“I’m not leaving, Natalia,” he murmured again, his voice soft and sure. “I’ll be right here. You’re not alone.”

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Natalia stayed latched to his chest, her breathing steadying, though quiet, broken sobs still escaped her lips every now and then. Mark stayed as still as he could, his hands continuing their soothing rhythm along her back.

As time passed, the worst of her panic began to subside. She was still tucked tightly against him, but her breathing had evened out, and her tears had slowed. Mark could feel her calming, though she remained nestled against his chest, as if afraid that if she let go, the nightmare would return.

Mark, feeling her heartbeat slow down, rested his chin on top of her head. His arms were wrapped securely around her, protective and reassuring.

“We’ll get through this,” he whispered softly. “Together.”

And for the first time in a long time, Natalia felt like maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as alone as she’d always thought. Mark’s presence was more than just a comfort—it was a lifeline. And tonight, she was going to hold onto it.

The quiet in the room was thick, with only the faint sounds of breathing and the occasional crackle of the dying fire in the hearth breaking the stillness. Time had passed, though Mark wasn’t sure how much—hours, maybe, or days—it all blurred together as he held Natalia close. Her breathing had evened out, and she seemed calm, nestled tightly against his chest, her body warm beneath the duvet. He hadn’t moved, content to let her cling to him until she was ready to let go.

But Mark sensed the weight of something unspoken between them, something darker than the quiet. He knew the night terror that had sent her crashing to the floor wasn’t a fleeting thing—it had left a mark on her. And though he hadn’t wanted to push her, the need to help her through this gnawed at him.

After what felt like forever, he gently spoke, his voice low and soothing, the kind of tone meant to coax someone out of the shadows of their mind.

“Natalia,” he murmured, running a hand slowly along her back, “do you want to talk about what you saw? In your night terror?”

There was a long silence, the weight of his question settling between them. He felt her body tense slightly, and for a moment, he thought she might not respond. But then, he felt her nod against his chest, a slow and hesitant movement. When she finally spoke, her voice was hoarse and strained, as if the words themselves were painful to summon.

“It was… about my graduation ceremony,” she whispered, her words shaky. “From the Red Room… when I was sixteen.”

Mark’s hold on her tightened instinctively, the mention of the Red Room sending a protective surge through him. He had read about it, knew some of the horrors it contained. But hearing it from her… He didn’t say anything yet, just held her a little closer, silently urging her to continue.

Natalia took a deep breath, as if gathering the strength to keep going. “The ceremony… wasn’t like anything you’d imagine. It wasn’t a celebration. Not even close.” She paused, her fingers gripping his shirt tighter. “It was a final test. A… culling.”

Mark felt her shudder against him, and his hand moved up to stroke her hair gently, offering what comfort he could. “Take your time,” he whispered softly.

She squeezed her eyes shut, the memories playing out in her mind like a cruel movie. Her breath hitched as she continued. “They… they put us in a room together. All the girls. There were about twenty of us left, out of hundreds that started. And they told us… only ten would graduate. The rest…” Her voice broke, and a small sob escaped her. “The rest wouldn’t make it out.”

Mark’s heart clenched in his chest. He wrapped his arms around her more tightly, as if his embrace alone could shield her from the pain of her past. “Natalia…” he whispered, his voice thick with empathy.

She buried her face deeper against his chest, her tears wetting his shirt as she fought to keep speaking. “We… we had to fight each other. They forced us to. They… they pitted us against each other like animals.” Her voice cracked again, and her grip on him tightened. “I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to hurt anyone. But… but if I didn’t…”

Her body trembled as the sobs overtook her, her voice barely audible through her tears. “I had no choice. I had to survive. I had to make it. I couldn’t die there. Not like that.”

Mark’s hand moved to the back of her head, his fingers gently threading through her hair as he pressed his lips to her temple. “You did what you had to,” he said softly, his voice filled with reassurance. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Natalia shook her head against him, her tears still flowing. “The things I had to do… the things they made us do… I can’t forget them, Mark. I still see their faces. The girls I—” Her voice caught in her throat, and another sob wracked her body. “They were my friends. And I—”

“You survived,” Mark interrupted gently but firmly, his grip on her tightening protectively. “You survived, and you made it out of that hell. That’s what matters.”

She sobbed into his chest, clutching him as though she feared he might slip away, her body trembling with the weight of the memories. He held her close, not saying anything for a moment, just letting her cry, letting her release the pain she had kept bottled up for so long.

“I remember… I remember the last girl I fought,” she whispered after a long pause, her voice barely a breath. “She was my closest friend. Her name was Anya. We had trained together for years. And when it came down to the final fight… she… she hesitated. She didn’t want to hurt me either.” Her breath hitched again, and she let out a broken sob. “But I… I couldn’t hesitate. Not if I wanted to live.”

Mark felt her body shake with the force of her sobs, and he hugged her even tighter, wishing he could take away the pain that was tearing her apart. “It wasn’t your choice,” he murmured softly. “They forced you both into that situation. It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.”

“I killed her,” Natalia whispered, her voice so quiet it was almost inaudible. “I killed my best friend, Mark.”

The raw pain in her voice hit Mark like a physical blow, and he felt his heart break for her. He didn’t know what to say that could make it better, so he did the only thing he could—he held her tighter, pulling her closer to his chest, as if by holding her, he could somehow shield her from the crushing weight of her guilt.

“You didn’t have a choice, Natalia,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You did what you had to do to survive. That doesn’t make you a monster.”

Her sobs grew quieter, but she still clung to him, her grip so tight it was almost painful. Mark didn’t mind. He would’ve taken all her pain if he could.

“They made me into this,” she said after a long pause, her voice hollow. “They made me into a weapon. And no matter how far I run… I’ll always be that weapon. I’ll never be free of it.”

“You’re more than that,” Mark said firmly, his voice strong but filled with warmth. “You’re not just what they made you. You’re so much more. You’re strong, and you’ve survived things most people couldn’t even imagine. But you’re still human. And that part of you—the part that feels, that cares—it’s still there. They couldn’t take that from you.”

Natalia sniffled, her tears beginning to slow, but she didn’t loosen her grip on him. She stayed curled against his chest, her breathing still shaky but steadying. “How do you know?” she whispered.

Mark’s hand continued to stroke her back gently, his voice soft and reassuring. “Because I see it in you, every day. I see the strength, the kindness, the courage it takes to keep going. You’ve survived, Natalia. And that means something.”

For a long time, they stayed like that—wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of the past slowly easing in the safety of the present. Mark didn’t know how long they stayed there, but he didn’t care. He would hold her as long as she needed.

Natalia's breathing had slowed, the sobs turning into quieter, broken gasps as she clung to Mark, as if he were the only thing tethering her to the present. After a long silence, she spoke again, her voice trembling and hoarse, almost as if she didn’t want to give life to the next memory.

“There was… more,” she whispered, her grip tightening around him again, her fingers clutching at his shirt. “After the graduation… they did something else to us. To make sure we would never… never be distracted by things like family. Or children.”

Mark’s heart sank at her words, a heavy feeling of dread settling in his chest. He had read about the Red Room’s cruel methods, but hearing her say it was another level of horror. He instinctively pulled her even closer, his hands running up and down her back in a soothing rhythm, trying to offer her some sense of security.

“They… they made sure we could never have children,” she continued, her voice cracking under the weight of the memory. “They… they took that from us. From me.”

Mark felt a surge of anger—an icy rage toward the Red Room for the cruelness they had inflicted on her, for stripping away something so fundamental, so personal. He held her tightly, as if his embrace could protect her from that deep, old wound.

“They made us believe it was for the mission. That we would be better killers, more loyal to them if we had nothing to lose, nothing to worry about except the next target.” Her breath hitched, and her voice broke again. “But in my dream… my nightmare… I relived it. I was back in that room. On the operating table.”

Mark’s arms tensed around her as he braced himself for what she would say next. His mind raced, trying to imagine the pain she had endured, but he knew it was something far worse than anything he could understand.

“They didn’t use anesthesia,” Natalia whispered, her voice trembling. “They… they said we didn’t deserve it. I don’t know why. I don’t know what we did to deserve that kind of punishment.” Her body shook with the intensity of the memory, and she pressed herself harder against Mark, as if seeking refuge from the images playing out in her mind.

Mark tightened his hold on her, wrapping her in his arms as securely as he could, offering his presence as a barrier between her and the haunting memory. “I’m so sorry, Natalia,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “You didn’t deserve any of that. None of it.”

She let out a choked sob, her fingers digging into his back as she struggled to speak through the tears. “I was awake the whole time,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I felt everything. The pain… it was unbearable. And they just stood there, watching. Like it was nothing. Like we were nothing.”

Mark closed his eyes, fighting to keep his own emotions in check. His chest tightened, and he pulled her even closer, one hand gently cupping the back of her head as he pressed his cheek to her hair. “You’re not nothing,” he murmured softly, his voice filled with quiet intensity. “You are not what they made you. You’re so much more than that.”

Natalia’s grip on him tightened, her breath hitching as she tried to calm herself, but the memories kept pouring out. “They took everything from us. From me. They didn’t just take away my ability to have children. They took away my choice. My future. They made sure I would never… never be able to think of myself as anything but a weapon.”

Mark could feel her trembling in his arms, her entire body tense as she relived the trauma. He gently rubbed her back, pressing her closer to his chest. “You’re not just a weapon, Natalia,” he whispered, his voice steady and filled with reassurance. “You’re a survivor. You’ve endured things that would have broken most people, and you’re still here. You still have a future, no matter what they tried to take from you.”

Her sobs grew quieter, but her tears still flowed, soaking the fabric of his shirt as she pressed her face into his chest. “It still hurts,” she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “Even after all these years, it still hurts.”

Mark’s heart ached for her, the depth of her pain almost too much to bear. He wished he could take it away, that he could erase the horrors she had endured. But all he could do was hold her and let her know she wasn’t alone in her suffering.

“I know,” he murmured softly, his lips brushing her hair as he spoke. “I know it does. But you don’t have to carry it alone anymore.”

Natalia sniffled, her fingers gripping his shirt tightly as she buried herself deeper into his embrace. “I don’t know how to let it go,” she admitted, her voice small and fragile.

Mark gently tilted her head up, his hand resting on the side of her face as he looked into her tear-filled green eyes. “You don’t have to let it go right now,” he said softly. “You’ve been through so much. But you don’t have to face it alone anymore, either. I’m here, Natalia. I’m not going anywhere.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his for any hint of doubt or insincerity, but all she found was a quiet, steady assurance. And in that moment, something inside her began to loosen, a small crack in the wall she had built around herself for so many years.

Natalia let out a shaky breath and rested her head back against his chest, her grip on him still tight but less frantic now. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible but filled with a sincerity that went beyond words.

Mark didn’t say anything more. He just held her, his arms wrapped securely around her as they both lay there in the quiet darkness. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Natalia didn’t feel entirely alone.

Mark lay there in the darkness, his arms wrapped around Natalia as she slept soundly on his chest. Every so often, her hand would unconsciously grip his shirt or his arm, as if to make sure he was still there, and each time she did, he would hug her just a little tighter, silently reassuring her that he wasn’t going anywhere.

He stared up at the ceiling, his thoughts swirling with everything she had shared—the horrors of her past, the trauma she had endured. It reverberated in his mind like a haunting echo, but instead of pushing it away, he allowed himself to sit with it. He couldn't stop thinking about how much she had gone through, how strong she had been to survive it all, and how much she had changed since they'd first met.

In the beginning, Natalia had been nothing more than a potential asset. He had seen her as a tool, something valuable that could be leveraged for information or strategic advantage. It was cold, calculated. That’s how he had been trained to think for so long. But as the weeks had passed, his perspective had shifted. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, he realized that he couldn’t see her like that anymore. She wasn’t just an asset or a chess piece in some grand plan.

She was something more.

Mark swallowed hard, his heart beating a little faster as he thought about how much she had come to mean to him. There was a time when he thought the walls he had built around himself were impenetrable, that no one would ever be able to break through them. But somehow, she had. Little by little, with each conversation, each shared moment, she had slipped past his defenses. He hadn’t even realized it until now, but it was undeniable. She had broken down most of his walls, leaving him vulnerable in a way he hadn’t been in centuries.

He looked down at her, the soft moonlight filtering through the window and casting a pale glow over her features. Her breathing was calm now, the tension that had consumed her earlier completely gone. She looked peaceful, even fragile, as she rested on his chest. And he knew, without a doubt, that he couldn’t use her. Not as a pawn. Not for some agenda.

Natalia wasn’t just a tool for his empire anymore. She wasn’t just another part of the game.

She was more than a friend. She was important—more important than anyone had been to him in a long time. And tonight, after everything they had shared, after the vulnerability she had shown, it had only solidified that in his mind. She had carved out a place in his heart, and there was no going back now.

Mark’s jaw tightened as he came to a decision. He would protect her. No matter what happened, no matter what dangers or threats came their way, he would do everything in his power to keep her safe. He knew he wouldn’t always be able to shield her from harm—he was realistic about that. But he would try. He would fight for her, for the future she deserved.

As he lay there, the room filled with the quiet sounds of her breathing, he realized something else too. The subtle feelings he had been pushing aside, those quiet thoughts that had slowly crept in over the past few weeks—they were something more.

He loved her.

The realization hit him with a strange, almost serene clarity. He had never expected it, had never allowed himself to even consider the possibility. But now, there was no denying it. He loved Natalia. And that changed everything.

With that final, quiet admission to himself, Mark let out a slow breath, his body relaxing into the bed. His arms remained securely around her, and he held her close, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest against his.

For the first time in a long time, Mark felt something other than cold calculation. Something warm. Something real.

And with that, he finally drifted off to sleep, holding Natalia close as the night wrapped them both in its quiet embrace.

Chapter Text

The first light of dawn filtered through the small window, casting a pale, silvery glow over the room. Mark slowly stirred, his consciousness surfacing from a deep and restful sleep. He shifted slightly beneath the weight on his chest, and the soft movement brought back a flood of memories from the night before. His eyes opened fully, blinking as he glanced down, seeing the familiar tangle of red hair sprawled across his chest.

Natalia was still fast asleep, her head nestled against him, her arms draped over his torso as if it were the most natural thing in the world. For a moment, he simply lay there, taking it all in—the warmth of her body against his, the steady rise and fall of her breathing, the subtle way her fingers occasionally flexed, as if subconsciously making sure he hadn’t moved.

The events of last night came rushing back. The nightmare. Her panic attack. The way she had latched onto him, trembling in fear, seeking comfort in his arms. And then, the quiet realization that had taken root in his mind and heart during those dark hours—he loved her.

It had been a revelation as unexpected as it was profound, and now, in the quiet stillness of the early morning, he let himself fully accept it. She was no longer just a potential ally, a tool for his empire, or even a friend. Natalia was something far more precious.

He shifted slightly, careful not to wake her, but as he did, he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. There was something about waking up to find her still clinging to him, so comfortably wrapped up in him, that stirred a feeling deep within him he hadn’t experienced in centuries. It wasn’t just desire—though that was certainly there, bubbling just beneath the surface—but something softer, more intimate.

Mark didn’t blush often, but there was the faintest warmth that spread across his cheeks as he thought about how close they had become. He wondered how things had progressed so naturally between them—how they had moved from strangers to… this. Whatever this was.

A few minutes passed as he lay there, simply enjoying the quiet moment, the feeling of her so near. Eventually, he felt her stir. She shifted slightly, her eyelashes fluttering as she slowly blinked herself awake. Mark kept still, watching as her mind slowly returned to the present.

Natalia blinked once, then twice, her bright green eyes focusing as she looked up at him. For a brief moment, there was confusion in her gaze as if she wasn’t sure why she was lying on his chest. But then, recognition flashed, and her lips quirked into a small, sleepy smile.

“Morning,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

“Morning,” Mark replied, his voice just as quiet, a subtle warmth in his tone. His heart gave a small leap when her smile widened ever so slightly.

They stayed like that for a moment longer, neither in a rush to move. There was no awkwardness, no tension. It was easy, comfortable, even with the proximity of their bodies. Natalia’s head was still resting on his chest, her arms wrapped loosely around him, and he found himself in no hurry to disrupt the tranquility of the moment.

Finally, though, Natalia pushed herself up just a bit, propping herself on one elbow as she looked down at him, her messy red hair falling over her shoulder. She was still close—close enough that he could feel her warmth, close enough that her scent, soft and faintly floral, filled his senses.

“You stayed,” she murmured softly, her voice quiet but laced with something deeper—something almost vulnerable.

Mark’s eyes met hers, and he nodded. “Of course. I told you I wasn’t going anywhere.”

There was a pause, a beat of silence that hung between them as they held each other’s gaze. Mark could see a faint blush rising to Natalia’s cheeks, a soft flush of color that spread across her pale skin. Her eyes flicked down for a moment, as if suddenly aware of just how intimately they were still lying together. But when she looked back up, the blush was accompanied by a small, almost teasing smile.

“I appreciate it,” she said, her voice slightly more playful now, though there was still an undercurrent of sincerity. “For last night. For… everything.”

Mark’s lips twitched into a smile of his own, and he felt the warmth in his chest grow a little more. He was about to respond, but before he could, Natalia leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek. The gesture was brief but tender, and he felt the warmth of her lips spread across his skin, leaving behind a tingling sensation that stayed with him long after she pulled back.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice softer now, more intimate.

Mark blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the kiss. It had been unexpected, but not unwelcome. He felt his face heat up just a little, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks despite himself. He rarely blushed, and yet, there it was. Natalia noticed it too, her teasing smile widening ever so slightly, as if she was pleased to see him reacting in such a human way.

“You’re blushing,” she noted, her voice light, almost playful, but there was a softness in her eyes that told him she found it endearing.

Mark cleared his throat, trying to will away the heat in his face, but he couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at his lips. “Am I?”

“Just a little,” she said, her tone teasing but gentle. “I didn’t know you could blush.”

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know,” he replied, his voice low and quiet, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

They shared a small, quiet laugh, the tension between them subtle but undeniable. The air around them seemed to shift slightly, growing thicker with something unspoken, something electric. It wasn’t awkward, but there was a certain awareness now—a heightened sense of each other’s presence, of how close they were.

Neither of them moved for a while. Natalia didn’t shift away, didn’t pull back or make any attempt to create distance between them. Instead, she seemed content to stay exactly where she was, her body still partially draped over his. Her hand remained resting on his chest, her fingers occasionally flexing against the fabric of his shirt as if she was still grounding herself in his presence.

Mark, for his part, wasn’t in any rush to move either. He felt the warmth of her body seeping into his, the soft weight of her presence a comforting reminder that they were no longer just allies or friends. Something had shifted between them, something significant, and he found himself unwilling to let go of it just yet.

They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity, simply lying there together in the quiet of the morning, the faint light of dawn casting soft shadows across the room. The intimacy between them was palpable, but neither of them felt the need to rush it. They were comfortable like this, content to exist in the shared space they had created.

Eventually, though, Natalia broke the silence. “You know,” she began, her voice thoughtful, “maybe we should… I don’t know, share the bed from now on. I mean, it’s big enough for both of us, and we’re clearly not going to kill each other in our sleep.”

Mark raised an eyebrow at her, but he didn’t object. The idea made sense, especially after how the past few nights had gone. He had already been sleeping on the floor near her, and the bed was large enough that they could both be comfortable. But there was something more than just practicality behind her suggestion. He could see it in her eyes, in the way she looked at him.

“I think that could work,” he agreed, his voice calm but carrying a hint of something deeper. “If you’re comfortable with it.”

Natalia gave a small nod, her eyes meeting his once more. “Yeah… I think I am.” She paused, her voice softening. “You make me feel safe, Mark.”

Something in his chest tightened at her words. It wasn’t just the fact that she felt safe with him—it was the way she said it, the vulnerability behind it. It was a level of trust he hadn’t expected, and it made him realize just how far they had come.

“I’m glad,” he said quietly, his voice sincere. “And I’ll keep making sure you feel that way.”

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing, the quiet stillness of the cabin around them. Then, Natalia gave him a small, almost shy smile before she finally pulled herself away from his chest. She shifted off of him, moving to the edge of the bed as she prepared to stand, but not before placing one more lingering kiss on his cheek—a soft, gentle gesture of thanks.

As she stood and stretched, her long-sleeved shirt and fleece pajama pants clung to her form, covering her skin but leaving just enough to stir something in Mark’s chest. He couldn’t help but watch as she moved, her hips swaying ever so slightly as she walked toward the door.

“Thanks again, Mark,” she said over her shoulder, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. “For everything.”

Mark watched her go, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. His eyes trailed after her as she disappeared into the hallway, the tension between them lingering in the air like a charged current. He felt his heart beat a little faster, his mind replaying the moments they had just shared.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Mark let out a slow breath, his body sinking back into the mattress. There was no denying it now—the connection between them had grown deeper, more intense, and with every passing day, it became harder to ignore.

He wasn’t sure what the future held for them, but for the first time in a long time, he found himself looking forward to finding out.

The quiet hum of the day settled over the cabin, a peaceful contrast to the charged intimacy that had lingered in the bedroom that morning. Mark sat at the small kitchen table, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns on the wooden surface as the scent of coffee filled the air. Across from him, Natalia was seated comfortably, her red hair still slightly tousled from sleep, her posture more relaxed than it had been in the past few days. The tension between them—both sexual and emotional—was still there, humming softly beneath the surface, but it had shifted, growing into something quieter, more comfortable.

They had been talking for the better part of an hour now, their conversation meandering through topics both light and serious. It had started with something as simple as the weather outside—a stark contrast to the more complex emotions swirling between them—but had gradually flowed into stories from their pasts, stories that revealed more of who they were.

“So you’ve always been more of a winter person?” Natalia asked, her voice playful as she wrapped her hands around her warm mug, bringing it closer to her lips. She looked at Mark over the rim, her eyes sparkling with a subtle mix of curiosity and amusement.

Mark tilted his head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I suppose I am. I like the cold. It’s… quiet.” He paused, as if considering his next words carefully. “And it gives you a chance to think. Not a lot of distractions.”

Natalia chuckled softly, nodding in agreement. “I can see that. I’ve always preferred the cold, too. It makes things feel sharper, clearer, you know? Like everything slows down.”

Mark’s eyes flicked toward the window, where the snow outside had piled in soft drifts against the cabin. The scene was peaceful, serene—a perfect contrast to the storm of emotions that had been brewing inside him since the moment he had realized how much Natalia had come to mean to him. It was strange, in a way, to feel this growing connection with someone after so many years of keeping his guard up. But with Natalia, things had begun to change.

“I think,” Mark began after a long pause, “that the cold reminds me of… simpler times. When I first came to Earth, I spent a lot of time alone, traveling. I wasn’t used to everything here yet, so the isolation helped.” He didn’t elaborate too much—there was still so much he hadn’t told her. His time as emperor of the Viltrumites was still a secret, a part of himself he wasn’t ready to reveal. But there were other things he could share.

Natalia arched a brow, her interest clearly piqued. “Where did you go?”

Mark leaned back in his chair, considering his answer. “Well, I spent some time in the mountains. Austria, Switzerland, places like that. I liked being up high, where the air was thin and everything felt... distant.” He glanced at her, his expression softening. “Kind of like this place.”

“I can see the appeal,” Natalia said, her voice thoughtful. She leaned back in her own chair, her gaze moving toward the window as if imagining the places he’d described. “I’ve always liked places like this, too. There’s something about the quiet that makes it easier to… think.”

Mark nodded, watching her closely. There was something different about the way they interacted now, something that had shifted in the wake of last night. They were more comfortable around each other, more open, but the tension was still there, humming softly beneath the surface. He could feel it in the way her eyes lingered on him just a little longer than usual, in the subtle brush of her fingers against his when she passed him her empty mug.

They both knew it was there, but neither of them was rushing it. There was no need. The slow build of their relationship—whatever it was—was something neither of them wanted to spoil by moving too quickly. It was a delicate balance, one that required patience and a certain amount of restraint.

“So,” Natalia said after a moment of comfortable silence, “what about you? What did you do before… this?” She gestured vaguely around the cabin, her eyes flicking back to him.

Mark hesitated, careful not to reveal too much. He had told her about Viltrumite biology, had given her the basics of who he was, but the full story was still locked away. “I’ve had a lot of jobs over the years,” he said, keeping his tone casual. “I’ve done some mercenary work, some private security. Mostly just trying to stay under the radar.”

Natalia tilted her head, her gaze sharpening slightly. “Mercenary work, huh? I can see that.” She smirked, a playful glint in her eye. “I bet you were good at it.”

Mark’s lips quirked into a small smile, his eyes meeting hers. “I managed to get by.”

Natalia laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Somehow, I don’t think ‘just getting by’ is something you’re used to.”

Mark chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Maybe not.”

There was another brief lull in the conversation, but this time it was different. The silence wasn’t awkward or strained; it was comfortable, a shared understanding between them. The connection they had was growing stronger with every passing hour, and though neither of them said it out loud, they both felt it.

“You know,” Natalia said after a while, her voice softer now, more reflective, “it’s kind of nice… not having to be on guard all the time. I’m not used to it.”

Mark’s gaze softened as he looked at her, his heart swelling with an unexpected tenderness. “You don’t have to be on guard here,” he said quietly, his voice sincere. “Not with me.”

She met his eyes, and for a moment, there was something raw and vulnerable in her expression—something that spoke to the years of living with constant danger, of always looking over her shoulder. But there was also a flicker of something else, something that hadn’t been there before. Trust.

“I know,” she murmured, her lips curving into a small, genuine smile. “I’m starting to believe that.”

They lapsed into another silence, but this time it was filled with the weight of unspoken words, of things they weren’t quite ready to say. The tension between them was growing, slowly but steadily, like a current pulling them closer together. It wasn’t just the physical attraction—it was the connection they were building, the bond that was deepening with every conversation, every shared moment.

Natalia’s gaze lingered on him for a little longer than usual before she pushed her chair back and stood. Mark’s eyes followed her as she moved, his gaze briefly catching on the subtle sway of her hips as she crossed the room to grab a book from the shelf. She was still wearing the same pajamas she had slept in—long-sleeved, fleece pants, modest by all accounts—but the way she moved, the way she carried herself, was undeniably alluring.

Mark felt the familiar heat stir in his chest, the same heat that had been building since that morning when he’d woken up with her nestled against him. He tried to tamp it down, to keep himself in check, but it was getting harder to ignore the longer they spent together.

Natalia turned back toward him, the book in her hand, and caught his gaze. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the tension between them thick and palpable. She raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

“You okay over there?” she asked, her tone teasing but soft.

Mark blinked, snapping himself out of his thoughts. “Yeah,” he said, his voice a little rougher than usual. “Just thinking.”

“About what?” she asked, her voice light as she moved back toward the table, sitting down in the chair next to him this time instead of across from him.

Mark hesitated for a moment, then smiled faintly. “About how strange this all is.”

“Strange?” Natalia repeated, her brow furrowing slightly. “How so?”

Mark glanced down at his hands, turning his thoughts over in his mind before speaking. “I’ve spent a long time avoiding… attachments. It’s easier that way, safer. But now… I don’t know. This feels different.”

Natalia’s gaze softened as she looked at him, her eyes searching his face for something unspoken. “Yeah,” she said quietly, “I get that. I’ve been the same way. But this…” She gestured between them. “This feels… safe.”

Mark nodded, his heart swelling with a warmth he hadn’t expected. “It does.”

For a while, they simply sat there, the quiet between them comfortable but charged with an undercurrent of something deeper. The tension was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but neither of them was in a hurry to act on it. They were content to let things unfold naturally, to let the connection between them build at its own pace.

As the morning stretched on, they continued to talk—about random things, stories from their pasts, and plans for the future. They shared more about their experiences, their hopes, and their fears, and with each passing hour, the bond between them grew stronger. The tension—both physical and emotional—continued to rise, slowly but surely, but it was tempered by the comfort they had found in each other’s presence.

By the time the sun had climbed higher in the sky, they had settled into a quiet routine. Natalia had curled up on the couch by the fireplace with her book, while Mark sat nearby, watching the fire crackle and dance in the hearth. Every so often, their eyes would meet, and a quiet smile would pass between them—a silent acknowledgment of the connection they were building, of the unspoken feelings that were beginning to bloom between them.

And though they didn’t say it out loud, they both knew that something had shifted between them, that their relationship was slowly but surely moving toward something deeper, something more romantic. The tension was still there, simmering just beneath the surface, but they were content to let it build, to let their connection grow at its own pace.

After all, they had all the time in the world.

As the day unfolded in the cabin, the hours seemed to pass more easily than they had before. The weight of what had transpired the previous night lingered between them, but it was no longer uncomfortable. If anything, it had created a sense of calm in their interactions, a subtle acknowledgment of the growing bond between them. The sexual tension was still there, building in slow waves, but it was wrapped in a cocoon of mutual understanding. Neither of them felt the need to rush anything, even as that simmering attraction began to grow more insistent.

Mark and Natalia had settled into an unspoken routine for the day. They shared breakfast—simple fare, mostly bread and preserves from the cabin’s pantry—and then migrated to the living room, where the fireplace still crackled, providing a warmth that matched the easy atmosphere between them.

Natalia had her book open, occasionally flipping the pages, but her attention was only half there. She kept glancing at Mark, watching him out of the corner of her eye as he sat across the room, his own eyes drawn to the fire. He looked relaxed—more relaxed than she had ever seen him—and for a moment, she allowed herself to wonder what it was like for him, to live with so many secrets and so much responsibility, but still manage to find moments of peace.

It made her feel closer to him in a way she hadn’t anticipated, and she couldn’t shake the growing feeling of attraction that had been building since that morning. She had woken up in his arms, warm and safe, and for the first time in a long while, she hadn’t felt the need to push someone away.

The memory of his steady presence next to her after her panic attack was comforting. His quiet strength had grounded her in a way she hadn’t expected. She could still feel the warmth of his hand, the soft rumble of his voice as he spoke soothing words to her. It had made her feel safe, and that safety was something she wasn’t used to.

Mark, too, was caught in his thoughts. Every now and then, he found himself glancing at Natalia, admiring the way her red hair caught the light from the fire, the delicate curve of her neck as she leaned forward in her chair. There was a sense of ease between them now that hadn’t been there before—a quiet understanding that came from the night they had shared, from the unspoken acknowledgment of the closeness they were slowly building.

He shifted slightly in his seat, trying to focus on the fire instead of the way Natalia looked, all bundled up in her fleece pajamas, her slender form still enticing despite the layers. The way she had swayed her hips earlier, even unintentionally, had stirred something deep within him, something he was doing his best to keep in check. But it was becoming harder, especially with the way she kept looking at him now, her gaze lingering a little too long each time their eyes met.

It was late afternoon by the time they finished another conversation, their words flowing easily from topic to topic—discussing travels, places they had both been, and comparing their experiences. They laughed more easily, and Natalia found herself teasing Mark more often, poking fun at his stoic nature.

“So, you never told me,” she said, leaning back into the cushions of the couch, her legs curled beneath her, “what's the most trouble you ever got into? I mean, before all of this.”

Mark raised a brow, glancing at her with a wry smile. “I’ve been in a lot of trouble,” he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching. “But I assume you’re asking about something specific?”

“Well,” Natalia said, pretending to consider, “something that won’t give away too many of your secrets.” She winked playfully, the gesture light but the tension still humming beneath her words.

Mark thought for a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He was careful not to reveal too much of his past—his time as emperor of the Viltrumites was something he wasn’t ready to share, not yet. But there were other stories, ones that wouldn’t give away too much.

“There was this one time, back in the '80s,” Mark began, leaning forward slightly. “I was in Egypt, doing some work for Shadow Company. Let’s just say things didn’t exactly go as planned. There were some... misunderstandings with local authorities.”

Natalia raised a brow, her curiosity piqued. “Misunderstandings, huh?”

Mark nodded, a small grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah. Let’s just say I spent a few nights in a Cairo prison before I managed to sort things out.”

Natalia laughed, a genuine, light sound that filled the room. “I would’ve loved to see that. You, behind bars, trying to negotiate your way out.”

“It wasn’t exactly my finest moment,” Mark admitted, his smile growing. “But I got out eventually. Managed to smooth things over with the right people.”

“Of course you did,” Natalia said, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You always seem to find a way, don’t you?”

Mark shrugged, his gaze meeting hers for a moment that lingered just a little too long. “You do what you have to.”

Natalia held his gaze, her smile softening slightly. “Yeah,” she murmured, her voice quieter now, “I know the feeling.”

They fell into another comfortable silence, the fire crackling softly as the evening began to descend over the cabin. The tension between them was growing, slowly but surely, but it wasn’t overwhelming. It was just there, a quiet current pulling them closer together.

Eventually, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the cabin in a soft, warm glow. The fire in the hearth was still burning brightly, casting flickering shadows across the room. Natalia stretched, her body arching gracefully as she pushed herself up from the couch, her limbs slightly stiff from sitting for so long.

Mark watched her move, his gaze following the subtle curve of her body as she stretched. She caught his eyes on her and smiled softly, the tension between them thickening just a little more.

“I think I’m going to head to bed,” Natalia said, her voice low, almost intimate. “It’s been a long day.”

Mark nodded, standing as well. “I’ll join you in a bit,” he said, his voice steady despite the way his chest tightened at the thought of sharing a bed with her again. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep himself in check with the way things were going between them, but he wasn’t going to rush it. Whatever this was, it needed time.

Natalia paused, her gaze lingering on him for a moment before she nodded and made her way toward the bedroom. She moved with a quiet grace, her body still clad in her warm pajamas, but there was something undeniably sensual about the way she walked, a subtle sway to her hips that she had to know would catch his attention.

Mark stood by the fire for a few more minutes, gathering his thoughts, his body still humming with the tension that had built between them throughout the day. He wasn’t sure where things were headed, but he knew one thing for certain—he wasn’t going to fight it anymore. Whatever was growing between them, he was ready to see it through, however long it took.

Finally, he turned off the last of the lights in the living room and made his way to the bedroom. When he entered, the soft glow of the moonlight streamed through the window, casting Natalia in a pale light as she lay on the bed, waiting for him. She looked peaceful, her hair fanned out on the pillow, her body relaxed beneath the covers.

Mark paused at the door, his eyes locked on her for a moment before he crossed the room and climbed into bed beside her. The bed was warm, and the scent of her hair filled the space between them, something sweet and intoxicating that made his pulse quicken.

They lay there in silence for a few moments, the tension between them thick but not uncomfortable. Natalia shifted slightly, her body moving closer to his, and for a moment, Mark felt her fingers brush against his hand.

“Thank you, Mark,” Natalia whispered, her voice soft in the quiet room. “For everything.”

Mark turned his head to look at her, his expression gentle. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Natalia smiled, her eyes softening as she leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. The touch of her lips was warm, soft, and it sent a shiver down his spine. She lingered for just a moment before pulling back, her eyes meeting his in the darkness.

“I mean it,” she whispered, her voice tender.

Mark didn’t respond right away, but his heart swelled with something unfamiliar and undeniable. He felt the warmth of her body next to his, the soft rise and fall of her breath, and for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to relax completely.

Eventually, Natalia settled back into the pillows, her body close to his, and they both drifted into a comfortable silence. The tension was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but it was tempered by the quiet peace that had settled over them.

They didn’t need to say anything more. Whatever was growing between them—whatever it was that had been slowly building over the past few days—wasn’t something that needed to be rushed.

For now, they were content to simply be, side by side, as the quiet night unfolded around them.

Chapter Text

The next few days in the cabin were peaceful, a sharp contrast to the storm of emotions and tension that lingered just beneath the surface. Mark and Natalia had found a rhythm, a way of existing in the space together that felt natural, but the growing attraction between them was becoming harder to ignore. It hovered in every shared glance, every accidental brush of fingers, building with each passing hour.

Mark was seated by the fireplace, checking the satellite phone he had left charging earlier. It had been a quiet morning—Natalia had been reading a book on one of the armchairs, still wearing her cozy fleece pajamas from the night before, while Mark had been mentally preparing for a call he knew needed to happen. He needed to check in with Shadow Company. Zemo and Graves were expecting an update, and, more importantly, he had to set a date for extraction in Madrid.

He glanced over at Natalia, who was absorbed in her reading, her fiery hair catching the light from the fireplace. For a brief moment, he considered delaying the call, but he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. She was bound to hear the conversation, though. Mark had been intentionally vague about his operations, only giving Natalia the bare minimum about his role in Shadow Company, but if they were going to build trust—true trust—he had to stop keeping her at arm’s length.

With a sigh, Mark dialed the encrypted line and waited for the connection to go through. After a few moments, he heard the click on the other end, followed by a familiar voice.

“Graves,” Mark said, his tone neutral as he leaned back in his chair, keeping his voice low but not secretive.

“Boss,” Graves’ voice crackled on the line. “Good to hear from you. Zemo’s with me. Want me to patch him in?”

Mark glanced over at Natalia. She hadn’t looked up from her book, but he knew she was listening. “Yeah, go ahead.”

A few seconds later, another voice joined the line. “Grayson,” Zemo’s smooth, measured tone filled the air, “I take it you’re calling for a status update?”

Mark ran a hand through his hair, his gaze drifting to the window. “What’s the situation on your end?”

“We’re on schedule,” Graves replied. “No issues with the network. Everything’s in place for extraction in three weeks.”

“Madrid,” Mark confirmed, his voice steady. “The same location we discussed.”

“Affirmative,” Zemo responded. “Shadow Company is ready. Nothing’s out of the ordinary on our side.”

Mark nodded to himself, grateful for the smooth operation of his organization, but there was still a quiet tension that lingered. He knew this call would raise questions with Natalia, and he needed to be prepared for that. He had to get ahead of the inevitable skepticism.

“Good,” Mark said. “We’ll stick to the schedule. I’ll check in again closer to the rendezvous. Graves, Zemo—anything else?”

“Negative,” Graves said. “We’re ready when you are. Stay safe, boss.”

“Same to you,” Mark replied before ending the call.

The silence that followed was thick, and Mark could feel Natalia’s gaze on him now. He turned to find her watching him, her expression unreadable, though there was a slight narrowing of her eyes. She was clearly wary, as if processing what she had just overheard.

“Graves and Zemo,” she said slowly, setting her book aside. “Who are they exactly?”

Mark took a breath, preparing himself for the conversation. He had kept things vague for a reason, but it was becoming clear that Natalia needed more than surface-level explanations if they were going to continue building trust between them.

“They’re part of Shadow Company,” Mark began, his tone calm as he leaned forward in his chair. “Graves runs the day-to-day operations, and Zemo is one of my key strategists. They’re both... important to the bigger picture.”

Natalia’s eyes narrowed slightly, her skepticism apparent. “And what exactly is this ‘bigger picture’? You’ve told me about Shadow Company, but you haven’t given me many details. What are you involved in, Mark?”

Mark sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the weight of her question. He wasn’t used to explaining himself to anyone, but Natalia had earned his honesty. She deserved to know the truth.

“Shadow Company is... a private organization,” Mark said carefully. “We operate in the shadows, as the name implies. We handle things that governments can’t or won’t. It’s not always clean, and it’s not always easy, but it’s necessary.”

“Necessary for what?” Natalia asked, her tone sharper now. She shifted in her seat, crossing her arms. “For power? Control? I’ve been involved in enough shady organizations to know when someone’s hiding something.”

Mark met her gaze, holding it steady. “It’s not about power. At least, not in the way you’re thinking. It’s about protecting this world from threats it’s not ready for. Graves and Zemo... they’re part of that mission. I’ve been building Shadow Company for decades, preparing for the day when humanity will need us.”

Natalia was silent for a moment, processing his words. Her skepticism hadn’t fully dissipated, but there was a flicker of understanding in her eyes. She wasn’t naive—she had been part of her own dangerous organizations for years, so she knew what it meant to operate in the shadows. But trust wasn’t something she gave easily.

“You’re asking me to trust them,” Natalia said quietly, her voice softer now, though the edge hadn’t entirely disappeared.

“I’m asking you to trust me,” Mark corrected gently, his gaze unwavering. “I wouldn’t let them get involved if I thought they were a threat to you. Graves and Zemo—they’re not your enemies.”

Natalia leaned back slightly, her arms uncrossing as she studied him. There was a tension between them now, one that had been sparked by the conversation, but it wasn’t the kind of tension that would lead to a fight. It was a different kind of tension, one that came from the careful negotiation of trust. She wasn’t sure yet, but she was listening. That was a start.

“Okay,” she said after a long pause. “I’ll trust you—for now. But I want to know more. I don’t like being kept in the dark, Mark.”

Mark gave her a small nod, his expression softening. “You’ll know everything you need to know. I’ll make sure of it.”

The tension between them seemed to ebb, slowly dissipating as the conversation shifted. They both relaxed a little more, the air between them no longer charged with uncertainty. Instead, it was filled with something else—something warmer, more intimate.

Natalia stood up from her chair, crossing the room with quiet steps until she was standing next to Mark. She gave him a long look, as if weighing her next move, and then, with a teasing smile, she poked him lightly in the chest.

“You’re lucky I’m choosing to trust you,” she said, her tone playful now. “Because if I didn’t...” She let the sentence trail off, but the smile on her face told him she wasn’t serious.

Mark chuckled, standing up to face her. He was towering over her, but there was a softness in his eyes now, a sense of ease that hadn’t been there before. The tension that had briefly sparked between them had transformed into something else—something far more charged and intimate.

“I guess I am lucky,” Mark said, his voice low, matching the energy in the room. He looked down at her, his gaze flickering to the subtle curve of her lips, the way her hair framed her face in soft waves.

There was a moment, just a breath of hesitation, before he reached out and brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered, barely touching her skin, but the gesture was enough to send a spark through the air between them.

Natalia didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into his touch, her eyes meeting his with a quiet intensity. There was something undeniable between them now, something that had been slowly building, and it was finally starting to surface.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she said softly, her voice carrying a teasing note, though her eyes were serious. There was a light flush to her cheeks, but she didn’t try to hide it. If anything, she seemed more comfortable now, more willing to acknowledge the growing connection between them.

Mark’s thumb brushed her cheek, his hand still resting lightly against the side of her face. His heart was racing, but his expression remained steady, controlled. It was in moments like these that he realized just how much he had come to care for her, how deeply she had begun to affect him.

“You should probably know,” Mark said, his voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t make a habit of letting people in like this.”

Natalia smiled, her eyes softening. “I know,” she murmured, her hand resting lightly on his chest now. “Neither do I.”

They stood like that for a few moments, the silence between them filled with the quiet hum of the fire and the steady rhythm of their breathing. The tension that had briefly sparked between them had melted away, replaced by something much more tangible—a shared understanding, a growing connection.

Mark finally pulled back slightly, though his hand still lingered near her. “You’re going to be okay,” he said quietly, his voice filled with more meaning than just the words.

Natalia gave him a soft smile, nodding. “Yeah,” she replied, her tone matching his. “I think I am.”

The rest of the day passed with ease. They talked more, their conversations flowing easily, each one building upon the last. The teasing between them became more frequent, the touches more lingering, the tension more palpable. By the time the sun had set, they were sitting side by side on the couch, the warmth of the fire wrapping around them like a blanket. Their shoulders brushed, neither of them pulling away, and the closeness felt natural, as if it had always been this way.

Mark glanced over at her, his expression thoughtful, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The silence between them was comfortable, filled with the promise of something more. It was a quiet acknowledgment of what was growing between them, unspoken but undeniable.

And for the first time in a long while, Mark felt at peace.

The next few days in the cabin were peaceful, a sharp contrast to the storm of emotions and tension that lingered just beneath the surface. Mark and Natalia had found a rhythm, a way of existing in the space together that felt natural, but the growing attraction between them was becoming harder to ignore. It hovered in every shared glance, every accidental brush of fingers, building with each passing hour.

Mark was seated by the fireplace, checking the satellite phone he had left charging earlier. It had been a quiet morning—Natalia had been reading a book on one of the armchairs, still wearing her cozy fleece pajamas from the night before, while Mark had been mentally preparing for a call he knew needed to happen. He needed to check in with Shadow Company. Zemo and Graves were expecting an update, and, more importantly, he had to set a date for extraction in Madrid.

He glanced over at Natalia, who was absorbed in her reading, her fiery hair catching the light from the fireplace. For a brief moment, he considered delaying the call, but he knew he couldn’t put it off any longer. She was bound to hear the conversation, though. Mark had been intentionally vague about his operations, only giving Natalia the bare minimum about his role in Shadow Company, but if they were going to build trust—true trust—he had to stop keeping her at arm’s length.

With a sigh, Mark dialed the encrypted line and waited for the connection to go through. After a few moments, he heard the click on the other end, followed by a familiar voice.

“Graves,” Mark said, his tone neutral as he leaned back in his chair, keeping his voice low but not secretive.

“Boss,” Graves’ voice crackled on the line. “Good to hear from you. Zemo’s with me. Want me to patch him in?”

Mark glanced over at Natalia. She hadn’t looked up from her book, but he knew she was listening. “Yeah, go ahead.”

A few seconds later, another voice joined the line. “Grayson,” Zemo’s smooth, measured tone filled the air, “I take it you’re calling for a status update?”

Mark ran a hand through his hair, his gaze drifting to the window. “What’s the situation on your end?”

“We’re on schedule,” Graves replied. “No issues with the network. Everything’s in place for extraction in three weeks.”

“Madrid,” Mark confirmed, his voice steady. “The same location we discussed.”

“Affirmative,” Zemo responded. “Shadow Company is ready. Nothing’s out of the ordinary on our side.”

Mark nodded to himself, grateful for the smooth operation of his organization, but there was still a quiet tension that lingered. He knew this call would raise questions with Natalia, and he needed to be prepared for that. He had to get ahead of the inevitable skepticism.

“Good,” Mark said. “We’ll stick to the schedule. I’ll check in again closer to the rendezvous. Graves, Zemo—anything else?”

“Negative,” Graves said. “We’re ready when you are. Stay safe, boss.”

“Same to you,” Mark replied before ending the call.

The silence that followed was thick, and Mark could feel Natalia’s gaze on him now. He turned to find her watching him, her expression unreadable, though there was a slight narrowing of her eyes. She was clearly wary, as if processing what she had just overheard.

“Graves and Zemo,” she said slowly, setting her book aside. “Who are they exactly?”

Mark took a breath, preparing himself for the conversation. He had kept things vague for a reason, but it was becoming clear that Natalia needed more than surface-level explanations if they were going to continue building trust between them.

“They’re part of Shadow Company,” Mark began, his tone calm as he leaned forward in his chair. “Graves runs the day-to-day operations, and Zemo is one of my key strategists. They’re both... important to the bigger picture.”

Natalia’s eyes narrowed slightly, her skepticism apparent. “And what exactly is this ‘bigger picture’? You’ve told me about Shadow Company, but you haven’t given me many details. What are you involved in, Mark?”

Mark sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the weight of her question. He wasn’t used to explaining himself to anyone, but Natalia had earned his honesty. She deserved to know the truth.

“Shadow Company is... a private organization,” Mark said carefully. “We operate in the shadows, as the name implies. We handle things that governments can’t or won’t. It’s not always clean, and it’s not always easy, but it’s necessary.”

“Necessary for what?” Natalia asked, her tone sharper now. She shifted in her seat, crossing her arms. “For power? Control? I’ve been involved in enough shady organizations to know when someone’s hiding something.”

Mark met her gaze, holding it steady. “It’s not about power. At least, not in the way you’re thinking. It’s about protecting this world from threats it’s not ready for. Graves and Zemo... they’re part of that mission. I’ve been building Shadow Company for decades, preparing for the day when humanity will need us.”

Natalia was silent for a moment, processing his words. Her skepticism hadn’t fully dissipated, but there was a flicker of understanding in her eyes. She wasn’t naive—she had been part of her own dangerous organizations for years, so she knew what it meant to operate in the shadows. But trust wasn’t something she gave easily.

“You’re asking me to trust them,” Natalia said quietly, her voice softer now, though the edge hadn’t entirely disappeared.

“I’m asking you to trust me,” Mark corrected gently, his gaze unwavering. “I wouldn’t let them get involved if I thought they were a threat to you. Graves and Zemo—they’re not your enemies.”

Natalia leaned back slightly, her arms uncrossing as she studied him. There was a tension between them now, one that had been sparked by the conversation, but it wasn’t the kind of tension that would lead to a fight. It was a different kind of tension, one that came from the careful negotiation of trust. She wasn’t sure yet, but she was listening. That was a start.

“Okay,” she said after a long pause. “I’ll trust you—for now. But I want to know more. I don’t like being kept in the dark, Mark.”

Mark gave her a small nod, his expression softening. “You’ll know everything you need to know. I’ll make sure of it.”

The tension between them seemed to ebb, slowly dissipating as the conversation shifted. They both relaxed a little more, the air between them no longer charged with uncertainty. Instead, it was filled with something else—something warmer, more intimate.

Natalia stood up from her chair, crossing the room with quiet steps until she was standing next to Mark. She gave him a long look, as if weighing her next move, and then, with a teasing smile, she poked him lightly in the chest.

“You’re lucky I’m choosing to trust you,” she said, her tone playful now. “Because if I didn’t...” She let the sentence trail off, but the smile on her face told him she wasn’t serious.

Mark chuckled, standing up to face her. He was towering over her, but there was a softness in his eyes now, a sense of ease that hadn’t been there before. The tension that had briefly sparked between them had transformed into something else—something far more charged and intimate.

“I guess I am lucky,” Mark said, his voice low, matching the energy in the room. He looked down at her, his gaze flickering to the subtle curve of her lips, the way her hair framed her face in soft waves.

There was a moment, just a breath of hesitation, before he reached out and brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered, barely touching her skin, but the gesture was enough to send a spark through the air between them.

Natalia didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into his touch, her eyes meeting his with a quiet intensity. There was something undeniable between them now, something that had been slowly building, and it was finally starting to surface.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she said softly, her voice carrying a teasing note, though her eyes were serious. There was a light flush to her cheeks, but she didn’t try to hide it. If anything, she seemed more comfortable now, more willing to acknowledge the growing connection between them.

Mark’s thumb brushed her cheek, his hand still resting lightly against the side of her face. His heart was racing, but his expression remained steady, controlled. It was in moments like these that he realized just how much he had come to care for her, how deeply she had begun to affect him.

“You should probably know,” Mark said, his voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t make a habit of letting people in like this.”

Natalia smiled, her eyes softening. “I know,” she murmured, her hand resting lightly on his chest now. “Neither do I.”

They stood like that for a few moments, the silence between them filled with the quiet hum of the fire and the steady rhythm of their breathing. The tension that had briefly sparked between them had melted away, replaced by something much more tangible—a shared understanding, a growing connection.

Mark finally pulled back slightly, though his hand still lingered near her. “You’re going to be okay,” he said quietly, his voice filled with more meaning than just the words.

Natalia gave him a soft smile, nodding. “Yeah,” she replied, her tone matching his. “I think I am.”

The rest of the day passed with ease. They talked more, their conversations flowing easily, each one building upon the last. The teasing between them became more frequent, the touches more lingering, the tension more palpable. By the time the sun had set, they were sitting side by side on the couch, the warmth of the fire wrapping around them like a blanket. Their shoulders brushed, neither of them pulling away, and the closeness felt natural, as if it had always been this way.

Mark glanced over at her, his expression thoughtful, but he didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. The silence between them was comfortable, filled with the promise of something more. It was a quiet acknowledgment of what was growing between them, unspoken but undeniable.

And for the first time in a long while, Mark felt at peace.

As the fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the cabin, Mark and Natalia sat side by side on the couch, the silence between them comfortable. The intimacy of the moment hung between them, neither awkward nor forced, as if they had settled into the rhythm of each other’s presence.

But Natalia had always been observant. Even as she relaxed beside him, her mind was still turning, processing the little hints she’d picked up over the past few days. The conversation Mark had earlier with Graves and Zemo hadn’t slipped by her unnoticed. She had heard just enough to piece together fragments of a larger, shadowy network that Mark had been vague about until now.

She shifted slightly, turning to face him, her gaze sharp but curious. “You said before that Shadow Company handles things the world isn’t ready for,” she began, her voice steady but probing. “But that doesn’t explain everything. What exactly is Shadow Company? How deep does it go?”

Mark’s gaze flickered to her, and for a moment, he hesitated. He wasn’t used to revealing these kinds of details to anyone. For decades, he had kept Shadow Company in the dark, operating from the shadows as the name suggested. It was a vast, unseen network, carefully constructed and meticulously maintained. Even the world’s most secretive organizations had no idea they were being infiltrated by his agents.

But if he wanted to build real trust with Natalia, he had to stop keeping her in the dark.

Mark leaned back slightly, his arm resting along the back of the couch as he looked at her. His voice was calm, measured, but there was a weight to his words that made it clear he wasn’t speaking lightly.

“Shadow Company is bigger than you might think,” he began, his eyes meeting hers steadily. “It’s not just a few agents or soldiers working in the dark. It’s everywhere. We’ve buried our influence deep in the world, deeper than anyone realizes. Governments, organizations—they have no idea how far we’ve reached.”

Natalia’s brow furrowed slightly, her curiosity piqued. “How deep are we talking?”

Mark glanced at the fire for a moment before continuing. “We’ve infiltrated some of the most secretive organizations in the world. S.H.I.E.L.D., Hydra, AIM, the CIA, MI6—you name it. Shadow Company has agents embedded in all of them. And the ironic part is, they think they’re the ones operating in the shadows, that they’re the ones with control.”

He gave a small, almost amused smile, though there was a coldness to it. “But the reality is, they have no idea we’re even there. They think they’re untouchable, that they’re hidden. But my agents are already inside, watching, listening, influencing.”

Natalia blinked, her eyes widening slightly as she processed the magnitude of what he was saying. She had known Mark was involved in something big—she could tell from the way he carried himself, from the strategic mind she had glimpsed in their conversations. But this? This was a level of influence and control that even she hadn’t anticipated.

“No one knows?” she asked, her voice quiet but full of disbelief. “Not even the heads of these organizations?”

Mark shook his head. “No one knows about Shadow Company except for its members and the people I trust. There are rumors, of course—unprovable whispers about a secret organization pulling strings from behind the scenes. But no one can trace it back to us. We don’t exist on paper. We’ve been buried so deeply that even if someone were to stumble upon a clue, it would lead nowhere.”

Natalia was silent for a moment, her mind racing as she thought about the implications of what Mark was saying. The reach of Shadow Company was staggering. It was the kind of control that people like Hydra or S.H.I.E.L.D. dreamed of, and yet, they were the ones being played without even knowing it.

“And you’re the one pulling the strings,” she murmured, almost to herself.

Mark nodded, his expression serious. “For the most part, yes. But I’ve built Shadow Company to be self-sufficient. Graves, Zemo—they handle the day-to-day operations now. I don’t need to oversee every detail anymore. It allows me to... focus on other things.”

His gaze lingered on her for a moment, and though he didn’t say it outright, Natalia understood that she was one of those “other things.” She swallowed, feeling the weight of that realization settle in the space between them.

“I’ve seen a lot of organizations like this,” Natalia said after a pause, her voice careful. “Hydra, the Red Room—they all thought they were unstoppable too. But they always had cracks. Weaknesses.”

Mark’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes softened slightly. “Shadow Company isn’t perfect,” he admitted. “Nothing is. But it’s different. It doesn’t operate on the same principles as Hydra or the Red Room. We don’t conquer or enslave. We prepare.”

“Prepare for what?” Natalia asked, her tone sharper now.

“For the threats that are coming,” Mark replied, his voice low. “There are things out there, Natalia—things that this world isn’t ready for. Aliens, gods, beings from other dimensions. Shadow Company exists to make sure humanity survives, to make sure it’s ready when the time comes.”

Natalia’s mind raced. She had encountered threats from beyond Earth before—aliens, mutants, beings with powers that defied explanation. But the idea that Mark had been preparing for such things, that he had built a secret army to defend against them, was something else entirely.

“You really think humanity needs you to survive?” she asked, her tone a mix of skepticism and curiosity.

Mark’s gaze held hers, steady and unwavering. “I know it does.”

There was a moment of silence as Natalia considered his words. She didn’t doubt that Mark believed what he was saying. He had an air of certainty about him, a confidence born from experience. But there was still a part of her that wasn’t sure. She had been manipulated before, drawn into grand plans by people who thought they knew better. And yet, there was something about Mark that felt... different. He wasn’t trying to control her. He was offering her the truth, unvarnished and unapologetic.

“And what about me?” Natalia asked, her voice quieter now. “Where do I fit into all of this?”

Mark hesitated for a fraction of a second, his eyes flickering with something she couldn’t quite place. He had been thinking about that question for days now, ever since he had found her in the woods. At first, she had been just another variable, someone who could either become an ally or a threat. But now... now she was more than that.

“You’re not a pawn in this,” Mark said finally, his voice softer than before. “I didn’t bring you here to manipulate you or use you. I wanted to help you, and now...” He trailed off, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. “Now, I don’t want you to be just another part of Shadow Company. I want you to make your own choices, to decide where you fit.”

The sincerity in his voice caught Natalia off guard. She wasn’t used to this kind of vulnerability, especially not from someone like Mark. She had expected him to be more controlling, more calculating, but instead, he was offering her something she rarely experienced: freedom. The freedom to choose her path.

The tension between them was palpable, but it wasn’t the kind of tension that came from distrust or conflict. It was the kind of tension that came from something deeper, something unspoken that was growing between them with each passing day.

Natalia shifted closer to him, her hand resting lightly on his knee. “I appreciate the honesty,” she said softly, her voice steady but filled with meaning. “But I’m still wary of people like Graves and Zemo. I’ve seen men like them before. Men who think they can control the world from the shadows.”

Mark didn’t flinch at her words. Instead, he placed his hand over hers, his touch gentle but firm. “I won’t let them hurt you,” he promised quietly. “You have my word.”

Natalia studied his face for a moment, searching for any sign of deception, but all she saw was sincerity. There was something undeniably comforting about the way he spoke to her, about the way he held her gaze without flinching. It was as if he had nothing to hide from her anymore, and that level of trust was something she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

“Okay,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll trust you.”

The air between them seemed to shift, the weight of the conversation fading as a new kind of energy filled the room. It was more intimate now, more charged with the connection that had been building between them. The teasing smiles, the lingering touches—they were becoming more frequent, more natural, and neither of them seemed to want to pull away.

Natalia’s fingers lingered on his knee, her touch light but deliberate. Mark’s hand remained over hers, his thumb brushing against her skin in a way that sent a spark of heat through her body. The sexual tension between them was undeniable now, but it wasn’t rushed or forced. It was slow, deliberate, building with each moment they spent together.

“Tell me more about Shadow Company,” Natalia said, her voice softer now, as if she didn’t want to break the moment. “I want to know everything.”

Mark chuckled softly, a low, rumbling sound that made her heart skip a beat. “Everything, huh? That might take a while.”

“I’ve got time,” Natalia replied with a small smile, her eyes glinting with amusement.

Mark leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Well, let’s just say... the world has no idea what’s coming.”

The fire crackled in the hearth, but neither of them moved. The night stretched on, but for the first time in a long time, they weren’t in a hurry. Whatever was growing between them could take its time.

And neither of them was in any rush to stop it.

As the night deepened, the warmth of the fire slowly dimmed, leaving only the soft glow of embers casting faint shadows across the room. The silence between Mark and Natalia was comfortable, filled with an unspoken understanding that had grown stronger throughout the evening. They had spent hours talking, exchanging stories, and learning more about each other, the distance between them shrinking with every shared glance, every lingering touch.

Eventually, Natalia stifled a yawn, her eyes growing heavy. Mark noticed and offered a small smile, the corners of his lips tugging up. “I think it’s time we head to bed,” he said softly, his voice barely above a murmur.

Natalia nodded, stretching her arms overhead before standing. The firelight caught the red in her hair, making it glow like embers, and for a moment, Mark found himself captivated by the sight of her. She turned to him, offering her hand, and with a teasing grin, she quipped, “Come on, Grayson. Don’t fall asleep on the couch.”

He chuckled, taking her hand and rising to his feet. They walked to the bedroom side by side, their arms brushing against each other in a way that sent a pleasant tingle through both of them. The cabin had grown colder, the mountain air seeping in through the walls, but neither of them seemed to mind. The warmth they shared was enough.

When they reached the bed, Natalia slid in first, pulling the covers up around her. Mark followed, settling in beside her, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. It wasn’t long ago that they had agreed to share the bed, but already it felt natural, as if they had been doing this for weeks instead of just a day.

For a moment, there was a brief hesitation. Mark wasn’t sure if things would feel different now after everything they had shared tonight, but before he could dwell on it, Natalia made the decision for him. She shifted closer, snuggling into his side without a second thought. Her body pressed warmly against his, and Mark instinctively wrapped his arm around her, pulling her closer. The heat of her body seeped through his shirt, and he felt an unfamiliar sense of peace wash over him.

Natalia rested her head on his chest, her hand splayed gently across his abdomen. “This is... nice,” she murmured, her voice soft with a trace of vulnerability.

Mark’s arm tightened around her just slightly, his thumb brushing lightly against her shoulder. “Yeah,” he agreed, his voice low and steady. “It is.”

They lay there in the quiet, the only sound the faint wind brushing against the windows and the slow, rhythmic beat of Mark’s heart beneath Natalia’s ear. The tension that had hovered between them all day hadn’t disappeared—it lingered just beneath the surface, subtle and charged—but there was something deeper now. A sense of trust, of connection, that neither of them had expected to find.

Natalia shifted again, her breath warm against his neck. “Goodnight, Mark,” she whispered, her lips brushing softly against his cheek in a gentle kiss.

Mark’s heart gave a small, unexpected thud at the gesture, but he smiled, feeling the weight of her words and her presence settle over him like a blanket.

“Goodnight,” he replied softly.

She nuzzled into his chest, and just before her eyes fluttered closed, she whispered in Russian, her voice warm and intimate, “Спокойной ночи, Марк.” (Goodnight, Mark.)

Mark’s chest tightened slightly, a warmth blooming in him at the sound of her voice. The way she spoke his name, the gentleness of her tone, was something he hadn’t realized he’d wanted to hear. He pressed a light kiss to the top of her head, his arm holding her securely against him as she nestled closer.

As her breathing slowed and deepened, Mark stared at the ceiling for a long moment, the quiet weight of the moment settling over him. He had never thought he would find someone like Natalia—someone who made him feel this strange but comforting sense of belonging. And as she fell asleep in his arms, Mark felt a subtle but unmistakable shift within him, a realization that was impossible to ignore.

She had become more than just a companion in this quiet mountain cabin. She was someone he wanted to protect, someone he was beginning to care for in a way that went beyond duty or calculation.

And with that thought, Mark closed his eyes, his mind finally at peace as he drifted into sleep, Natalia tucked warmly by his side.

Chapter Text

The cabin was quiet, wrapped in the comforting hum of mountain solitude. Outside, the wind whispered through the pines, and darkness spread across the sky like a velvet shroud. Inside, the only source of light was the gentle flicker of flames in the stone fireplace, casting a warm, golden glow that danced along the wooden walls.

Mark and Natalia sat together on the couch, nestled under a heavy wool blanket, the fire crackling softly before them. The cabin was chilly, and Natalia had curled herself into Mark’s side for warmth, her legs tucked beneath her. His arm draped lazily over her shoulders, fingers tracing idle patterns on her arm through the fabric of her long-sleeve pajamas. The closeness between them had become effortless, their shared silence a testament to how far they had come.

For a while, they sat without speaking, content in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence. The fire popped, embers shifting in the hearth, and Natalia exhaled softly, the kind of sigh that carried more weight than words. She tilted her head slightly, resting it on Mark’s shoulder as she gazed into the fire, her green eyes reflecting the shifting flames.

It had been days of quiet bonding—of teasing, small touches, shared meals, and lingering glances that carried unspoken promises. But there was a tension still between them, not the kind born of distrust, but of things left unsaid. Natalia could feel it in the way Mark held her now, as if he carried the weight of a burden he hadn’t yet shared. And she knew, without fully understanding why, that it was time to ask the question she had been holding back since the day they first met.

“Mark...” Natalia began softly, her voice almost lost beneath the crackle of the fire. She shifted slightly to look up at him, her expression gentle but serious. “What’s your story?”

Mark tensed, just slightly, the barest flicker of discomfort crossing his features. His hand stilled on her arm, and for a moment, he seemed to retreat inward, his gaze darkening as it fixed on the flames.

Natalia noticed the change immediately. She saw the way his jaw tightened, the distant look in his eyes as if he were staring not at the fire but at memories only he could see. It was a look she had seen before in men who carried the weight of things they could never fully escape. She reached up, placing her hand lightly over his, offering silent reassurance.

“You’ve given me glimpses,” she continued softly, her voice patient, “Viltrumite biology, bits and pieces of your past... but never the whole story. Not really.” Her thumb traced over his knuckles, grounding him. “You’ve listened to my story, Mark. I want to know yours.”

Mark's eyes flicked down to their joined hands, the firelight glinting off the sharp lines of his face. His mind churned, emotions he hadn’t touched in centuries swirling beneath the surface. Telling her everything meant opening doors he had long since locked. Doors he wasn’t sure he wanted to open again.

Natalia shifted closer, sensing his hesitation. "Whatever it is, I can handle it," she whispered. "You don’t have to carry it alone."

Mark exhaled through his nose, his gaze returning to the fire, as if the flames could offer some kind of answer. He had never told anyone his full story before—certainly not with the intention of being understood. Every decision, every burden, had been carried in solitude for centuries, a choice born from necessity. But Natalia’s presence beside him felt different. She wasn’t just another fleeting connection, another part of the world he could manipulate or control. She was something real. And if there was anyone who deserved to know the truth, it was her.

Still, the words didn’t come easily. How do you explain centuries of war, loss, betrayal, and conquest to someone who has lived a fraction of that time? How do you explain decisions that had shaped entire galaxies, decisions that had cost more than you were willing to admit?

He swallowed, the tension in his chest tightening. “It’s… a long story,” he said finally, his voice low and rough.

Natalia smiled softly, shifting so she could better see his face. "Good thing we’ve got time." There was a hint of playfulness in her voice, but it didn’t quite hide the genuine care beneath it.

Mark's lips twitched in the ghost of a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was quiet again, weighing the consequences of what telling her everything might mean—not just for him, but for her. His mind churned, sifting through memories, cataloging the moments that had defined him. There were so many things she didn’t know: the empire, the wars, the Scourge virus, the loss of his people, the centuries of isolation.

He thought of the Viltrumites—what they had been and what he had made them. He thought of the universe’s endless wars, of the planets he had conquered, the people who had fallen under his command. He thought of the Scourge virus that had wiped out his entire species, leaving him the last of his kind, drifting through space with nothing but the weight of survival.

He had buried those memories deep for so long. Bringing them to the surface now, even for Natalia, felt like reopening old wounds.

But she deserved to know. If there was ever a chance for him to truly connect with someone again—to be understood—it was with her. And maybe, just maybe, sharing the truth would lift some of the weight that had pressed down on him for centuries.

The fire popped again, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney. Mark's hand tightened slightly over Natalia's, and he finally glanced down at her, his dark eyes meeting hers with a quiet intensity. There was no fear or pity in her gaze, only patience and a kind of gentle determination that told him she wasn’t going to push—but she also wasn’t going to let this go.

Mark’s jaw clenched, and then he nodded slowly, almost to himself, as if he had made a decision he couldn’t take back.

The fire crackled softly as Mark sat back against the couch, the heavy wool blanket draped over him and Natalia. They were close, their legs brushing beneath the blanket, and her head rested lightly on his shoulder. The night outside the cabin was cold, but the warmth between them, both physical and emotional, made the world beyond the walls feel distant. The only sound was the rhythmic breathing of the two of them, wrapped in the golden flicker of the firelight.

Mark knew it was time. He could feel it. The truth had been buried inside him for so long, locked away with chains forged of regret and loss. There were no half-measures here—if he was going to tell her his story, it had to be everything. No lies. No omissions. Only the raw, unfiltered truth. He inhaled deeply, steadying himself, and Natalia shifted slightly against him, as if sensing his hesitation.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low but steady, each word measured with the weight of centuries.

“The Viltrumites...” he began, “weren’t just any race. We were conquerors. The kind the universe remembers with fear.”

He paused for a moment, glancing down at Natalia. She was silent, her gaze fixed on him with unwavering focus, giving him the space to continue.

“A single Viltrumite was enough to take over an entire planet. We were... unparalleled in strength, speed, endurance, and healing. And when we fought seriously, we didn’t just win—we devastated. Some of the strongest among us didn’t stop at one planet; they conquered multiple worlds on their own. When forced into battle, we weren’t just soldiers. We were extinction-level threats.”

Natalia’s expression remained calm, but he noticed the way her eyes darkened slightly at the implications of what he was saying. Still, she didn’t interrupt.

“For centuries, we carved out our place in the universe through sheer power and domination,” Mark continued. “But everything changed when Emperor Argal—our ruler—was assassinated. That’s when Omni-Man, his son, took the throne. And it was his vision to prepare his heir—me—for the mantle.”

Natalia’s brows furrowed slightly. “Omni-Man... was your father?”

Mark gave a small nod. “Yes. He was the one who trained me. By the time I was thirty, I was already becoming the strongest Viltrumite. That was when everything started falling apart. I watched my father—an unbeatable warrior—be attacked and killed by Thragg.”

Natalia’s head tilted slightly, absorbing every word, her sharp mind piecing together the significance of what Mark was saying.

“Thragg was the most dangerous opponent the Viltrumites ever faced,” Mark said, his tone grim. “Stronger than anyone before him. It was said that he couldn’t be beaten in combat. But I did. I killed him. I took his life with my own hands.”

There was no pride in his voice, only a quiet acceptance of the past. Natalia could tell that victory had come at a cost—one far greater than Mark was letting on.

“With Thragg gone, I inherited the throne,” Mark continued, staring into the fire as if the memories were playing out within the flames. “For the next five hundred years, the Viltrumite Empire thrived. We slowed our expansion—we didn’t need to take over more worlds. The planets we ruled were given more freedom under my leadership, but they still knew who was in charge. I ruled with an iron grip, and I crushed anyone who dared challenge our authority.”

His gaze flicked to Natalia, watching how her expression shifted with every new revelation. “I fought for my people. Protected them. I went to war for them, bled for them, killed for them. There were rumors... that if I wanted to, I could conquer galaxies by myself. Maybe I could have. But I didn’t need to. Just the thought of crossing me was enough to keep most enemies away.”

A flicker of something unspoken passed between them—understanding, maybe. Natalia knew the kind of choices a ruler had to make. She knew what it meant to bear the weight of responsibility, to do terrible things for the sake of something greater.

“My people loved me,” Mark said quietly, his voice softening. “Because I fought beside them. I didn’t rule from a palace while others bled on the battlefield. I was there, always. So they lived better lives, even if the cost was high.”

For a moment, silence settled between them again, the firelight casting long shadows across the room. Natalia shifted closer, her hand resting on his, as if silently urging him to continue.

“Then the Scourge virus hit.” Mark’s voice dropped, heavy with sorrow. “It started slow. A few cases here and there. But within months, it spread across every Viltrumite world. Even with all our technology, all our knowledge... we couldn’t stop it. My people—those who had survived centuries of war and conquest—were dying. And I couldn’t save them.”

Natalia’s hand squeezed his gently, grounding him in the present, reminding him that he wasn’t alone now.

“The virus was relentless. It wiped out our entire species—everyone, except me. I was immune, but they couldn’t extract anything from me to create a cure. I watched... helplessly... as every Viltrumite around me died. I watched my empire crumble, world by world, as our enemies swept in to reclaim what we had taken.”

Mark's jaw tightened, his dark eyes shadowed with the weight of old pain. “Even the Black Order came for us. The strongest race in the universe, brought down by a virus... and me, powerless to stop it.”

Natalia’s breath hitched, and she leaned into him slightly, her presence a quiet comfort. Mark’s voice remained steady, but she could hear the strain beneath it, the grief buried deep.

“That was sixty years ago,” Mark murmured. “The Viltrumite Emperor—Invincible—disappeared after that. I’ve been on the run ever since, keeping a low profile. Empires want me dead. Others want revenge. If they knew I was still alive, they’d hunt me until the ends of the universe.”

He glanced down at her, offering a small, humorless smile. “The Kree hate me. Captain Marvel hates me. Staying low on Earth seemed like the easiest option. I could fight them if I wanted to, but... I’ve spent centuries conquering and destroying. I just want a break.”

Natalia’s gaze softened, and for a moment, the weight of what he had shared hung between them like the tension before a storm.

“You’ve carried this alone for so long,” she whispered, her fingers brushing lightly against his hand.

Mark nodded, the tension slowly unwinding in his chest. “I didn’t think there was anyone I could tell. Until now.”

Natalia smiled gently, leaning her head back on his shoulder. “Thank you for telling me, Mark.”

They sat in silence for a long moment, the crackling fire the only sound in the room. And for the first time in a long, long time, Mark felt something shift inside him—something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel for centuries.

Peace.

Mark leaned back, feeling the weight of his past settle over them. Natalia remained curled against his side, her fingers gently tracing invisible patterns on his forearm. She was quiet, absorbing his story, knowing that there was more he needed to say.

Mark exhaled slowly, his eyes locked on the glowing embers in the fireplace, as if they held the memories of everything that came after the fall of his empire.

“After the Viltrumites were gone,” he began, his voice soft but steady, “I drifted. For thirty years, I just... wandered through space. I had nothing left—no purpose, no direction. I floated through the void, hoping it would swallow me whole.”

Natalia shifted closer, her arm draped over his stomach now, silently encouraging him to continue.

“Eventually, my ship crashed on Mars. I hadn’t even noticed I was heading toward it. But... that impact—it woke me from the stupor I’d been in. And when I looked out from the Martian sands, I saw Earth.” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “A small blue dot in the blackness.”

Natalia glanced up at him. “What did you think when you saw it?”

Mark gave a slight shrug. “That it was... a second chance, maybe. A chance to start over.” He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “I left Mars and arrived on Earth in 1976. I didn’t know what I was going to do—I just knew that I wanted something different.”

He ran a hand through his hair, eyes still locked on the fire. “At first, I tried to blend in. I took in their ways, learned their customs, and watched quietly from the sidelines. But the longer I stayed, the more I saw. I saw how divided humanity was, how... flawed. I saw a civilization that was tearing itself apart, blinded by politics, greed, and short-sightedness.”

Natalia’s expression softened, understanding what was coming next.

“Humans reminded me of my people—brilliant, ambitious, full of potential. But also reckless and painfully naïve to the threats out there.” His voice deepened, and she could hear the conviction in it. “They had no idea what was waiting for them beyond the stars. The enemies I made, the things lurking in the dark corners of the universe—they wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Mark’s jaw tightened. “So I decided... I’d be the one to guide them. I’d fix this broken world from the shadows. If they couldn’t unite on their own, I’d unite them. If they were unprepared, I’d prepare them. Whether they wanted it or not.”

Natalia nodded slightly, resting her head back on his chest. “That’s when you decided to build Shadow Company.”

“Yes.” Mark’s tone softened, though there was still steel beneath it. “I knew I couldn’t do it alone. So I created an empire in the underworld—a force that could infiltrate, manipulate, and control the systems that kept humanity fractured. I built Shadow Company from nothing. Spies, soldiers, assassins... men and women with nothing to lose. People willing to do whatever it took.”

He gave a small, humorless chuckle. “And I did it quietly. No one knows Shadow Company exists—not really. There are rumors, sure. Whispers in the dark. But no proof. No one realizes that my agents are inside every major organization on this planet—Hydra, S.H.I.E.L.D., the CIA. They think they’re secret, hidden... but we’re already there, watching. Steering.”

Natalia looked up at him, intrigued. “That’s... bold.”

Mark gave her a faint smile. “I learned long ago that boldness is the only way forward. For years, I ran everything myself, but... building something this large takes time. Trust.”

His expression softened slightly as he continued. “That’s when I met Philip Graves. He became one of my closest allies, someone I could depend on. Over time, I gave him full command of Shadow Company. I trust him completely.”

Natalia smiled knowingly. “And Baron Zemo?”

Mark chuckled. “Zemo... He’s different. But over the years, he’s also become one of my most trusted men. He and Graves handle the day-to-day operations now. They’ve made the organization self-sufficient.” He glanced down at her, a flicker of warmth in his gaze. “That’s why I was in Ostrava, not watching my back every second.”

Natalia gave a soft hum of acknowledgment, her fingers trailing lazily along his side.

“So,” she murmured, “after centuries of conquest... after everything you’ve done... now you’re here.”

Mark nodded. “Yeah. I’ve spent so long fighting, conquering, and building. But now... I just wanted to step away. Just for a while.” He gave a small sigh. “I didn’t expect to meet someone like you.”

Natalia’s hand rested on his chest, and she could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm. “And now?” she whispered.

Mark didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stared into the fire, the weight of centuries pressing down on him.

“I think,” he finally murmured, “I’ve spent so long preparing for war... that I forgot what it’s like to just live.”

Natalia pressed closer, wrapping herself tighter around him. “You’re not alone anymore, Mark.”

For a long time, they sat in silence, the firelight flickering across their faces. Outside, the night was cold and still, but inside, there was warmth—something fragile, but growing.

Mark tightened his arm around Natalia, pulling her closer.

And for the first time in a long, long time, the weight of the past didn’t feel quite so heavy.

The fire burned low, crackling softly in the quiet cabin as the night settled in around them. The warmth of the flames danced across Mark’s face, softening the sharp angles of his features. His breathing had grown slow and even, the tension that usually clung to him fading as sleep took hold. Natalia remained curled against him, his arms draped protectively around her. Her cheek pressed to his chest, rising and falling with the steady rhythm of his breath.

But Natalia couldn’t sleep. Not yet.

She lay still, cocooned in Mark’s embrace, her mind swirling with thoughts she couldn’t quite organize. The weight of his revelations from earlier pressed down on her like a dense fog. He had peeled back the layers of himself—his story, his empire, his sorrow. No lies, no masks. Just the raw truth, laid bare before her. It was more than she had expected, and more than she knew how to process.

His warmth grounded her, but the weight of her own uncertainty kept her from relaxing fully. She had lived her entire life surrounded by betrayal, by manipulations and double-dealings. Trust was not a currency she gave freely. Yet, with Mark... she didn’t feel like she had to stay guarded. A man like him could have ruled Earth as easily as he once ruled the stars, and yet, here he was. Holding her. Choosing to stay with her. That thought lingered in her mind, both comforting and unsettling in its depth.

She shifted slightly, trying not to disturb him. Mark stirred only briefly, tightening his arm around her before settling again, his breath brushing softly against her hair. The simplicity of the gesture—his unconscious need to keep her close—sent a flutter through her chest.

What was she going to do now? She had asked herself this question many times over the past few days, but it felt different tonight. The woman she had once been—an assassin of the Red Room, always calculating her next move—would have already planned her escape, leaving no room for uncertainty. But tonight, there was no plan. No fallback strategy. She was here, in this moment, with Mark... and she didn’t want to leave.

The thought surprised her.

She had never allowed herself to depend on anyone before, never let herself need someone. Not truly. She’d always been a shadow, slipping through lives without leaving a trace, always prepared to run the moment things grew too complicated. It was safer that way. Safer to be alone.

But with Mark...

She sighed softly, the sound barely audible over the crackle of the fire. Mark had promised not to leave her, and for the first time in a very long while, she found herself believing in that promise. And she didn’t want to be alone, either. The realization was both terrifying and freeing. She wanted to stay with him. That simple truth settled heavily in her chest, warming her from the inside out.

But what would that even mean? What would their lives look like if she stayed?

She thought briefly about trying to start over somewhere else—find a job, disappear into the anonymity of a new identity. But the idea seemed absurd now. After everything Mark had told her, after all they had shared, there was no going back to the life she had before. She couldn’t imagine herself fading into the background again, not after knowing what it felt like to be seen and held by someone like him.

A faint smile ghosted across her lips as she thought of the way they had grown closer these past few days—how the guarded distance between them had slowly dissolved. Mark had been patient, careful in a way that belied the power she knew he carried within him. She could sense the weight of the centuries in his gaze, the tiredness of a man who had fought for far too long. But with her... he let that weight lift, if only slightly.

And she? She had let her walls come down in ways she hadn’t thought possible. It was subtle at first—small gestures, stolen glances—but now she found herself craving his presence in ways she wasn’t ready to admit aloud. She liked the way his touch lingered on her skin, the way his voice softened when he spoke to her. There was a tenderness between them now, something unspoken but deeply felt. And tonight, wrapped in his embrace, she realized she didn’t want that to end.

Mark shifted slightly in his sleep, and she adjusted with him, her arm slipping around his waist. The fire flickered low, casting shadows along the cabin walls, and she found herself tracing the patterns of light and dark as if searching for answers.

What did she feel for him? Could this—whatever this was—be something real?

She didn’t know. Not yet. But she knew that leaving him wasn’t an option she could consider. Not now. Not when every fiber of her being told her to stay.

Her thoughts drifted as the firelight dimmed, the weight of the night pressing down on her. She could feel sleep tugging at the edges of her mind, blurring her thoughts and making it harder to hold on to the questions swirling in her head. But that was okay. She didn’t need all the answers tonight.

Not when she was wrapped in the warmth of Mark’s arms, his presence steady and reassuring beside her.

Her eyelids grew heavy, and she nestled closer to him, letting herself relax for the first time in what felt like forever. The world outside could wait. Whatever decisions she needed to make would come in time. For now, she was here. With him. And that was enough.

As she drifted closer to sleep, she felt a quiet peace settle over her—a peace she hadn’t known she was searching for.

And with that thought lingering softly in the back of her mind, Natalia closed her eyes, letting sleep finally claim her as the fire burned low, and the night stretched on.

Chapter Text

The cabin was still. Outside, the snow blanketed the forest in pristine silence, a thick white veil draped over the trees and rocks, muffling the world. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, sending flickers of amber light across the wooden walls. Natalia sat curled on the couch, knees tucked to her chest, wrapped in one of Mark’s old wool blankets. The warmth from the fire seeped into her skin, but it did little to calm the storm in her mind.

The past few days had been a whirlwind—emotional, confusing, and unlike anything she had experienced before. Mark had given her space after their last deep conversation, never prying, never forcing her into another discussion. But she knew that every passing day brought her closer to decisions she could no longer avoid.

She stared at the glowing embers, her thoughts swimming in circles. The weight of everything—the revelations, the uncharted emotions, and the question of what came next—pressed down on her like an anchor. Her life had always been defined by control. The Red Room had taught her to compartmentalize everything: emotions, decisions, even her fears. There was always a mission, always an objective, and everything else was just noise to be silenced.

But here? There was no mission. No objective. And the noise she used to block out now filled every corner of her mind.

She thought back to the night on this very couch, when Mark had opened up to her in ways she hadn’t expected. His story haunted her—not just the tragedy of it, but the sheer weight of his existence. Five centuries of war, loss, and isolation. Watching his people wither away to nothing, knowing he was the only one left. She couldn’t begin to imagine that kind of grief. And yet, Mark carried it with a quiet, understated strength, not out of pride, but because there was no other choice.

A part of her had wanted to tell him how much his story resonated with her—how she, too, knew what it felt like to carry a burden no one else could understand. She had lived most of her life in shadows, an assassin without a past, trained to erase herself from existence. Yet, for all the horrors she had endured, her pain felt insignificant compared to his. And it scared her how deeply that realization affected her.

For as long as she could remember, she had told herself that she didn’t need anyone. Dependence was a weakness. Attachment only led to pain. But Mark was… different. He didn’t ask anything of her, didn’t demand or manipulate. He gave her the freedom to choose. And that freedom—something she’d craved for so long—terrified her more than any Red Room mission ever had.

What was she supposed to do now?

Leaving seemed ridiculous. She knew, deep down, that no place on Earth could offer her what this cabin—and Mark—already did. She could disappear, assume a new identity, but she would still carry the weight of her old self. And more than that, she knew she didn’t want to leave Mark behind. The mere thought of walking away from him, of returning to a life of isolation, twisted her stomach into knots.

Her fingers brushed against the wool blanket absentmindedly as she thought about him. He had been so careful with her, giving her time to find her own footing. And yet, every interaction with him felt like the threads of her carefully constructed defenses were unraveling. Bit by bit, he was getting through to her, in ways no one else ever had. She wasn’t sure if that scared her or comforted her. Maybe both.

Natalia thought back to the small, unspoken moments between them—the way Mark would glance at her when he thought she wasn’t looking, the warmth in his voice when he asked if she was comfortable, the way his hand would brush against hers, lingering just a little longer than necessary. There was a gentleness in him she hadn’t expected, especially from someone who had spent so many centuries in battle. But it wasn’t just gentleness—it was understanding. He saw her, not as a weapon or a tool, but as a person. And for the first time in years, she felt like she could breathe.

But breathing wasn’t enough. Not anymore.

She let out a soft sigh, her eyes drifting toward the hallway where Mark had disappeared a little while ago, heading to the basement to finish one of his routine checks. He was always moving, always keeping himself busy. She knew it was his way of coping—staying in control of his environment, ensuring everything was in place. It was a habit she recognized all too well.

She had spent most of her life doing the same, chasing control in a world that never truly offered it. And yet, with Mark, she had started to let go of that need. Bit by bit, she found herself wanting to be vulnerable around him. To trust him. To stay with him.

The thought made her heart race. She wasn’t used to this—wasn’t used to caring about someone in ways that didn’t involve a mission or an agenda. And it was more than just caring. There was a connection between them, something deeper than attraction or convenience. She felt it every time he looked at her, every time his hand brushed against hers. It was a kind of warmth she hadn’t realized she was missing.

But did he feel the same?

Mark was an enigma—a man who had lived for centuries, seen the rise and fall of empires, and yet, here he was. With her. Choosing to stay by her side. She knew he wasn’t the type to make promises lightly, and when he told her he wouldn’t leave her, she believed him. But was that enough?

Natalia shifted on the couch, drawing the blanket tighter around her shoulders. The fire crackled softly, casting dancing shadows across the walls. She knew that the path ahead wouldn’t be easy. There were still so many questions, so many uncertainties. But for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel like she had to face them alone.

Mark returned a few minutes later, his footsteps soft against the wooden floor. He paused in the doorway, his eyes flicking toward her with that familiar, unreadable expression. She offered him a small smile, and without a word, he crossed the room and sank down beside her on the couch. His presence was steady, grounding her in ways she couldn’t explain.

For a moment, they sat in comfortable silence, the only sound the crackling of the fire. Then, without thinking, Natalia shifted closer, resting her head against his shoulder. Mark’s arm slid around her without hesitation, pulling her gently against him.

She closed her eyes, breathing in the faint scent of him—something warm and familiar, like cedarwood and smoke. It felt right, being here with him. Like the pieces of a puzzle she hadn’t known she was missing were finally falling into place.

And maybe that was enough for now.

As the fire burned low and the night stretched on, Natalia let herself relax into Mark’s embrace. Her thoughts still swirled, questions unanswered, but they didn’t seem as overwhelming as before. Whatever came next, she knew she didn’t have to face it alone. And that was enough.

As Natalia rested against Mark, her mind wandered back to the story he had shared—every word lingering like a shadow in her thoughts. She tried to imagine the enormity of his past: centuries of warfare, conquest, loss, and isolation. What must it have been like to carry the weight of an empire for five hundred years, only to see it all reduced to nothing by a virus he could not stop?

She shifted slightly in his arms, careful not to wake him, though he didn’t stir. His breathing was steady, slow—more peaceful than she would have expected from someone with so much blood on his hands.

Mark’s story weighed heavily on her, more than she wanted to admit. The Viltrumites were monsters—conquerors so powerful that a single one of them could claim an entire world. Mark had told her of his father, Omni-Man, and the brutal training that shaped him into a ruler before he had even reached thirty. He hadn’t shared those details with pride or regret—it was just fact. His entire life, from the moment he was born, had been shaped by a relentless expectation to dominate and lead. And he had risen to that challenge, becoming the most powerful of them all. Invincible.

A cold shiver ran down her spine, but it wasn’t from the air—it was from the gravity of the truth. Mark could have conquered everything if he wanted to. Even now, as he lived quietly in hiding, there were rumors of his strength, of the galaxies he could take if he chose. She thought of the Kree and Captain Marvel—just a handful of the many enemies who still hunted him. He could easily obliterate them, and yet, here he was: lying on a couch in a secluded cabin, curled around her.

The contrast unsettled her. How could someone who once ruled with an iron grip, unflinchingly crushing those who defied him, now offer warmth and comfort so freely?

Mark had told her of the freedom he gave his conquered worlds—how he ruled with a kind of mercy compared to the emperors before him. And yet, mercy to Mark still meant absolute control. He allowed those under his rule to live better lives, but they only thrived because he ensured it. Those who challenged him were destroyed without hesitation. It was paradoxical—he was both their savior and their tyrant.

Natalia knew a thing or two about being a weapon, about doing what needed to be done for the sake of survival. But Mark’s burden was different. He hadn’t been a pawn like she was. He had been the one giving the orders, making the decisions, and bearing the consequences. How many lives had he taken? How many wars had he waged? And yet, she didn’t feel fear in his presence—just a strange, unspoken understanding.

What haunted her most was the way he described the end of it all: not through battle, but through a plague. The Scourge virus had decimated the Viltrumites, leaving Mark as the last of his kind. All his strength, all his power, had been useless in the face of that invisible enemy. And that, she realized, was what had broken him—not the battles, not the conquests, but the helplessness. He had been forced to stand by, unable to save his people, as the empire he built crumbled around him.

Natalia swallowed against the lump in her throat. She understood that helplessness all too well. It was the same feeling that gnawed at her every time she thought about the Red Room, about the people she couldn’t save—the person she couldn’t save. And now, here they both were: two broken souls, scarred by the past, searching for something they couldn’t quite name.

She exhaled slowly, her mind drifting back to those thirty years Mark spent drifting through space. Thirty years in isolation—grieving, lost, and directionless. She wondered how close he had come to giving up entirely. Would he have just floated through the void forever if he hadn’t crashed on Mars? If he hadn’t seen Earth from a distance and decided to try again?

It was that decision that stayed with her the most. He could have chosen to disappear, to become a ghost. Instead, he had come to Earth—not to dominate, but to rebuild. Not just for himself, but for the people of this planet, whom he had come to see as his own. It was a strange kind of kindness—one wrapped in control and calculation, but kindness nonetheless. And that kindness had extended to her.

She thought about the promise he had made. He had told her he wouldn’t leave her. He had said it so simply, without ceremony or expectation, but it meant more to her than she could admit. For someone who had spent her life as a tool—disposable, replaceable, and always alone—the promise of staying was everything.

But what did she want?

That was the question she kept circling back to. She could leave. There were options, even if they weren’t ideal. She could slip into the shadows again, find some semblance of a new life, but it wouldn’t be real. Not after this. Not after Mark. She couldn’t just walk away, not when she knew that he would honor his promise if she asked him to.

And she didn’t want to walk away.

The realization hit her harder than she expected, knotting her chest with emotions she wasn’t ready to face. She didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay—with him.

It wasn’t just that she needed him, though that was part of it. She wanted him. Not as a protector, not as an escape, but as something more. The connection between them was undeniable, and it wasn’t just physical. It was in the way he looked at her, the way he listened without judgment, the way he understood her silence without needing to fill it.

She wanted more nights like this—wrapped in his warmth, the world outside fading away. She wanted to know what it would be like to wake up beside him, to build something new, not just for herself, but with him. The idea scared her, but it also gave her a strange sense of hope.

Natalia’s eyes softened as she looked at Mark, his face relaxed in sleep. For the first time in a long while, she felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be. And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to be alone anymore.

The fire crackled low, the embers glowing softly in the hearth. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and rested her head against Mark’s chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Natalia shifted slightly, careful not to disturb Mark as he slept soundly beside her. His arm remained draped over her waist, his hold instinctively protective even in sleep. The warmth of him, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the quiet comfort in his presence—it all felt so strange yet so right. She had never allowed herself to be this close to anyone, not in any real way. But here she was, curled against the last Viltrumite, the man who once ruled entire worlds, and for the first time in her life, she didn’t want to leave.

She traced the edges of her feelings cautiously, testing them as if they were sharp glass, afraid they might cut her. Falling for someone was dangerous. She had been trained to avoid attachments—to bury emotions, to become a weapon and nothing more. Love had no place in her life. At least, that’s what she had told herself for years.

But now, as she lay with Mark, she couldn’t ignore the truth that had slowly taken root within her.

She loved him.

The realization came not like a sudden spark but a quiet certainty that had been building for some time. It wasn’t the kind of love she had imagined when she was younger—back when she allowed herself to dream of such things before the Red Room stripped her of those fantasies. No, this love was complicated, messy, and filled with contradictions. It was born from nights spent in quiet companionship, from whispered promises, from shared scars and haunted memories.

It wasn’t about perfection. Mark had rough edges—many of them. He had ruled an empire with cold precision, crushed his enemies without hesitation, and carried the weight of entire worlds on his shoulders. He was not an easy man. But Natalia knew that real love wasn’t about finding someone without flaws. It was about finding someone whose broken pieces fit with your own. And somehow, against all odds, Mark’s jagged edges matched hers.

She thought about the things he had told her, the burdens he carried. He had done terrible things, yes, but he was trying—trying to be more, trying to change. And that mattered. She could see it in the way he treated her, in the way he tried to protect her without smothering her, offering her the choice to stay or go. He didn’t demand anything from her, and that, in itself, was a gift she had never known before.

Her heart ached at the thought of the lonely years he had endured—centuries of loss, betrayal, and isolation. She could understand that pain in a way few others could. Maybe that’s why they fit together so well—both of them had spent far too long walking through life alone.

And she didn’t want to be alone anymore.

A knot tightened in her chest as the admission settled within her. She loved him. She loved him despite his past, despite the blood on his hands, despite the fact that he had once worn the crown of a tyrant. She loved him because she saw the man beneath all of that—the man who carried her when she was broken, who stayed by her side when nightmares took hold, who promised her she would never be alone again.

The fire crackled softly, its warmth filling the room. The flames cast flickering shadows across Mark’s face, softening the sharp lines, making him look almost vulnerable. She reached up carefully, her fingertips brushing against his jawline in a featherlight touch. He didn’t stir, but his arm tightened slightly around her, as if even in sleep he knew she was still there.

A soft, bittersweet smile ghosted across her lips. She had spent her whole life running—running from her past, from her enemies, from the idea that she could ever have something real, something good. But there was no running from this. Not anymore.

“I love you,” she whispered to herself, the words barely audible in the stillness of the room. They felt strange on her tongue, but also right, like a truth she had been waiting to speak for a long time.

The weight of that confession settled over her, both terrifying and comforting. She wasn’t sure what would happen next—what this thing between them would become. But for the first time, she didn’t feel the need to have all the answers. She would figure it out, one day at a time, with him by her side.

Sleep tugged at her, slow and heavy, and she gave herself permission to let it take her. Her thoughts faded into a quiet hum as she snuggled deeper into Mark’s embrace, resting her head against his chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath her ear, a soothing rhythm that lulled her closer to sleep.

“Spokoynoy nochi,” she murmured, her voice soft and drowsy. (Good night.)

Mark shifted slightly in his sleep, pulling her closer as if to say he wasn’t going anywhere. And neither was she.

With that comforting thought, Natalia let her eyes drift closed, surrendering to the warmth of his arms and the peace that, for once, felt within reach. She might not know what the future held, but she knew one thing for certain: she didn’t want to face it without him.

Wrapped in his embrace, with her heart no longer burdened by fear, she drifted off into a quiet, dreamless sleep. For the first time in a long while, she wasn’t running from anything. She was exactly where she wanted to be.

Chapter Text

The late afternoon sun cast warm golden rays through the large windows of the cabin, filling the room with a soft glow. Outside, the Austrian Alps stretched endlessly, their peaks crowned with the first whispers of winter snow. A crisp breeze stirred the trees surrounding the cabin, but inside, the atmosphere was one of comfort and contentment.

Natalia let out a playful laugh, her head resting against Mark’s shoulder as they both leaned back on the couch. A half-empty bottle of whiskey sat on the coffee table in front of them, next to two mismatched glasses filled with amber liquid. They had been drinking for most of the afternoon—neither of them trying to get drunk, just loosening up, enjoying the rare feeling of being carefree. The fire crackled warmly in the stone fireplace, adding a cozy rhythm to the room.

"How do you always win at cards?" Mark grumbled, though the corner of his mouth twitched with amusement.

Natalia smirked, swirling her drink lazily in her hand. "Years of training," she said with a wink. "The Red Room didn’t just teach me to fight, you know. Cheating at cards was part of the curriculum."

Mark snorted, tipping his head back against the couch, his expression relaxed in a way that felt unfamiliar even to him. "Yeah, I bet that was lesson one. Right after 'How to infiltrate a high-security facility.'"

She chuckled, the sound soft and genuine. For the first time in what felt like forever, she was allowing herself to laugh, really laugh, without fear of what came next. There was no looming mission, no imminent danger, just the two of them, here and now, enjoying each other’s company. It was a rare gift—one she hadn’t realized she needed until this moment.

Mark shifted slightly on the couch, pulling her closer. "You’re a bad influence, you know that?"

"Maybe," Natalia teased, pressing closer to him. She rested her hand against his chest, tracing lazy patterns over the fabric of his shirt. "But you don’t seem to mind."

Mark gave her a soft, content smile. "No, I really don’t."

They sat like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, letting the peaceful quiet of the cabin settle around them. It was strange—after centuries of living on the edge, Mark had never imagined that peace could feel this… normal. And yet, with Natalia beside him, it did.

Natalia let out a little sigh of contentment, shifting so she could look up at him. "You know, I don’t think I’ve ever had a moment like this."

"Like what?"

"Just… sitting with someone. No missions, no plans, no need to look over my shoulder." She gave a small, wistful smile. "It’s nice."

Mark stroked her hair absentmindedly, savoring the weight of her against him. "Yeah. It is."

Natalia tilted her head back slightly, gazing into his eyes. "Do you ever think about what you’ll do next? After all of this?"

Mark raised an eyebrow, his thumb brushing along her temple. "What do you mean?"

"I mean… Do you think you’ll ever stop? Stop fighting, stop planning, stop running?" She looked at him intently, her emerald eyes searching his face.

He hesitated, the question settling over him like the embers of the fire flickering in the hearth. "I don’t know," he admitted. "I’ve been at it for so long, it feels like it’s part of who I am."

Natalia smiled softly, leaning in to rest her forehead against his. "Maybe it doesn’t have to be."

They sat there for a while, foreheads touching, breathing in the quiet closeness of the moment. Mark’s hand drifted down to rest on her waist, his other still cradling his drink. Natalia’s fingers grazed along the side of his neck, and she felt the warmth of his skin under her touch.

"Tell me a story," she murmured, her voice low and affectionate.

Mark gave her a curious look. "What kind of story?"

"Anything." She shrugged with a playful grin. "Something that’s not about conquering planets or shadow empires. Surprise me."

He chuckled, lifting his glass to take a sip before answering. "Alright, how about the time Graves and I tried to learn how to play golf?"

Natalia raised her eyebrows, intrigued. "You? Golf?"

"Yeah, it didn’t exactly go as planned," Mark said with a grin. "We thought it would be easy. Spoiler alert: it wasn’t."

He launched into the story, describing the hilariously disastrous day he and Graves had spent on a golf course, complete with broken clubs and confused caddies. Natalia laughed until her sides hurt, imagining Mark—a centuries-old Viltrumite—trying to figure out how to hit a little white ball into a hole.

When he finished the story, Natalia was still chuckling, her head resting on his shoulder. "I would have paid good money to see that."

Mark smiled down at her, his expression soft and full of affection. "Maybe one day I’ll take you. We’ll make a proper date out of it."

Natalia’s heart fluttered at his words, warmth spreading through her chest. The idea of a future—a real future—wasn’t something she had dared to dream of before. But now, with Mark, it didn’t seem so impossible.

She reached for her glass, taking another sip, savoring the burn of the whiskey. "Alright, your turn. What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?"

Mark gave her a deadpan look. "You mean other than trying to play golf?"

Natalia grinned. "Yes. Other than that."

He thought for a moment, then smirked. "There was this one time I tried to cook dinner for Graves. Let’s just say it involved a lot of smoke and an unexpected visit from the facilities’ fire department."

Natalia burst out laughing, her head tilting back as the sound filled the room. Mark watched her with a soft smile, amazed at how easily she could make him feel lighter, as if all the weight he carried could disappear, even if just for a moment.

The fire crackled beside them, and the whiskey warmed their veins, making everything feel a little brighter, a little easier. They continued swapping stories—some funny, some tender, some filled with nostalgia. It was a rare kind of joy, the kind that sneaks up on you when you least expect it.

Eventually, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the room darkened, they fell into a comfortable silence. The fire in the hearth glowed softly, casting flickering shadows that danced along the walls.

Natalia nestled deeper into Mark’s side, her hand resting on his chest, her head tucked under his chin. "I think I could get used to this," she murmured, her voice soft and content.

Mark kissed the top of her head, his arm tightening around her. "Yeah," he whispered. "Me too."

They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, savoring the quiet beauty of the moment. For now, there were no battles to fight, no enemies to face—just the two of them, together, with nothing but the warmth of the fire and the promise of more moments like this to come.

Mark sat quietly with Natalia for a while longer, savoring the peaceful silence. Her soft breathing and the flicker of firelight cast a sense of calm over the room, wrapping them in a cocoon of comfort. But then, an idea formed in his mind—a playful one, something rare and impulsive. A mischievous grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Without a word, he shifted away from her, leaving her nestled in the blanket on the couch. Natalia’s emerald eyes followed him, curious as she watched him walk toward the far corner of the room. There, an old but well-kept record player sat on a wooden stand, along with a small collection of vinyl records.

Mark knelt and flipped through the records, eventually settling on one with a satisfied nod. He slid the vinyl from its sleeve, placed it on the turntable, and set the needle. A soft crackle filled the room before the warm, soulful sounds of "At Last" by Etta James began to play.

Natalia smiled, her heart fluttering as the smooth melody filled the space. She loved the song—its haunting beauty, the way it seemed to reach into the soul and cradle every longing, every hope. And Mark… this was unexpected, but in the best way.

He turned to face her, a playful gleam in his gaze, and extended his hand toward her. "May I have this dance?" he asked, his voice low and teasing, but there was a tenderness beneath it that made her heart skip.

Natalia raised an eyebrow, half-smirking. "You dance?"

"Only for special occasions." His grin widened, a hint of challenge in his expression. "Come on. What do you say?"

Without hesitation, she slipped her hand into his. His fingers were warm and steady as they wrapped around hers, pulling her gently to her feet. He drew her in closer, and the space between them disappeared in an instant. One hand rested on her lower back, the other holding her hand in his, guiding her with surprising grace.

They swayed together in slow circles, moving in time with the music. Natalia let out a soft, content breath, melting into the moment. She wasn’t used to this—being close to someone without needing to keep her guard up. But here, with Mark, it felt natural, as though this was where she belonged.

Mark’s eyes never left hers as they moved, his expression unreadable yet softened in a way she hadn’t seen before. There was something in the way he held her—firm yet gentle, protective but not possessive. He guided her without forcing, leading her in the dance but always attentive to her movements, as if he wanted her to feel as safe and free as she’d ever been.

Natalia's heart beat faster, but not from anxiety—this was something different, something thrilling and warm. As they turned slowly in place, she felt the strength in his arms, the solidity of him, and it grounded her in ways she hadn’t thought possible.

Mark, for his part, was unexpectedly aware of every small sensation—the way Natalia's hand fit perfectly in his, the subtle weight of her resting against him, the brush of her breath against his neck. He couldn’t quite explain the way she made him feel. She stirred something in him that had been dormant for centuries: the need to protect, yes, but also the need to connect, to be seen not as a ruler or a shadow but as simply… himself.

He inhaled the faint scent of her hair, catching hints of jasmine and the lingering traces of whiskey from their drinks. It was intoxicating in a way he hadn’t prepared for.

Natalia felt herself sinking deeper into the warmth of the moment. She rested her head against Mark’s chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath her ear. He smelled faintly of wood smoke and something uniquely him—something that felt like home.

The music swirled around them, wrapping them in the song’s promise of love finally found, of hearts finding rest after long journeys. For the first time in a long time, Natalia allowed herself to believe that maybe—just maybe—this was real. That she could have something good, something lasting, even if it came in an unexpected form.

Mark tilted his head down toward her, his cheek brushing against the crown of her head. His heart ached, though it wasn’t unpleasant—it was an ache born from the realization that he was no longer alone, that he didn’t want to be alone anymore. Natalia had slipped through the cracks of his carefully constructed walls, and now, holding her like this, he wondered how he’d ever managed without her.

The dance slowed, their movements becoming more like gentle swaying than formal steps. Natalia tilted her head back to meet Mark’s gaze, her emerald eyes shimmering in the dim firelight. He looked down at her, his expression soft and vulnerable, as if seeing her was both a relief and a revelation.

"Mark…" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the music. She didn’t know what she wanted to say—only that she felt more than she had words for.

Mark responded by leaning in, his forehead brushing against hers, the intimacy between them deepening without the need for speech. For a long, breathless moment, they stayed like that, suspended in each other’s presence, letting the music carry them.

Natalia’s heart swelled, and without fully meaning to, she whispered the thought that had been circling her mind for days: "I think I’ve fallen in love with you."

Mark's breath hitched, and his grip on her tightened ever so slightly, as if anchoring himself to her. He didn’t speak right away, but the way he looked at her—like she was something rare and precious—said more than words ever could.

"I’m not easy to love," he murmured after a moment, his voice rough with emotion.

Natalia smiled softly, brushing her thumb along the back of his hand. "Neither am I," she whispered, her voice full of affection. "But I think we’ll manage."

Mark let out a quiet chuckle, resting his chin atop her head again as they continued to sway, lost in the music, lost in each other. Whatever storms lay ahead, whatever challenges they would face—they knew, in this moment, that they wouldn’t have to face them alone.

Mark and Natalia remained entwined, slowly swaying to the soft melody that filled the cabin. The fire crackled gently in the background, casting flickering shadows across the room, but neither paid it any mind. The only thing that existed was the quiet music, the warmth of their bodies pressed together, and the silent exchange of emotions passing between them.

Mark’s hand traced slow circles along Natalia’s back, his touch light and deliberate, savoring the feel of her beneath his palm. Her fingers laced with his, their hands resting against his chest, where she could feel the steady rhythm of his heart. Every breath they took seemed synchronized, as if they were attuning themselves to one another.

The song shifted to another slow, romantic piece, but neither moved to change it. Mark leaned down again, brushing his lips across Natalia’s hair, his breath warm against her scalp. She felt the press of his cheek against her temple, a touch so tender it made her heart ache. There was no need to speak—every glance, every caress conveyed what words could never capture.

But with every turn of their slow dance, with every shift of their bodies, something deeper stirred between them—something neither of them could ignore much longer. The comforting warmth of their closeness began to morph into something more. A spark, subtle but undeniable, flickered to life.

Mark’s hand, still resting on her lower back, slipped just a fraction lower, his thumb tracing the curve of her waist. It wasn’t intentional, but the touch sent a shiver down Natalia’s spine, her breath hitching softly. She leaned into him instinctively, pressing herself closer against his solid frame.

He noticed the shift—the way her body softened against his, the subtle change in her breathing—and his grip on her tightened ever so slightly. Not possessive, but grounding. As if he needed to feel her against him, to know she was real, here in his arms.

Natalia’s heart thudded in her chest, not just from the intimacy but from the realization of how much she wanted this—wanted him. The rough edges Mark carried, the weight of his past as a ruthless emperor, none of it scared her anymore. It was all part of him, and she knew now, with absolute certainty, that she wanted all of him.

Mark exhaled slowly, his breath grazing her ear, sending a thrill down her spine. He wasn’t trying to seduce her—at least, not consciously. But the tension between them was building, as inevitable as the pull of gravity, drawing them closer until there was no space left between them.

"Nat…" Mark murmured, his voice low and thick with emotion. His forehead pressed against hers, their lips a breath away from touching, yet neither moved to close the distance. It wasn’t time—not yet. They were savoring the moment, the anticipation, the unspoken promise between them.

Natalia tilted her head slightly, her nose brushing against his, her breath warm against his mouth. "Mark," she whispered in response, her voice barely audible but heavy with meaning.

He smiled softly at the sound of his name on her lips. It wasn’t a grand gesture—just the quiet, simple acknowledgment that they had found something precious in one another. Something neither of them had thought possible.

The music continued, but they no longer moved in time with it. They stood still now, wrapped in each other, content to simply be together. Mark’s hand trailed up her back, brushing along her spine in a way that made her shiver again, her fingers curling against his chest.

He could feel the tension in her—a blend of emotion, need, and vulnerability that matched his own. It wasn’t just desire that hummed between them; it was something far more profound. Trust. Love. A shared understanding that they had both fought battles, lost parts of themselves, and yet, somehow, found a new beginning here, in each other’s arms.

Mark leaned in, pressing a feather-light kiss to her forehead, then another to her temple. Natalia closed her eyes, savoring the warmth of his lips against her skin, a quiet sigh escaping her as her arms wrapped tighter around him. She didn’t want to let go—wouldn’t let go.

After a moment, Mark pulled back slightly, his hand lifting to cradle her cheek. His thumb brushed along her jawline, sending a tingle through her. Their eyes met, and in that shared gaze, everything was laid bare—no more walls, no more hesitation. Just them.

"Let’s go to bed," Mark whispered, his voice tender yet laced with quiet intent. It wasn’t a demand but an invitation—one she had the freedom to refuse. But there was no hesitation in Natalia’s heart.

She nodded, a soft, almost imperceptible smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah… let’s."

Mark’s hand slid down to hers, their fingers intertwining as he led her toward the hallway. Their movements were unhurried, as if they had all the time in the world. The fire crackled softly behind them, the music still playing in the background, but none of it mattered now.

They reached the bedroom, and Mark paused at the doorway, turning to look at her one last time. There was a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze—not because he doubted what they were about to share, but because this was new territory for him. For both of them.

Natalia smiled, a quiet reassurance in her expression. "It’s okay," she whispered, stepping closer until their bodies were pressed together again. "We’re okay."

Mark exhaled, his tension melting away as he leaned down to capture her lips in a soft, lingering kiss—a promise of everything to come. It was slow, tender, and filled with the kind of love neither of them thought they’d ever find.

And together, they slipped into the quiet sanctuary of the night, leaving behind the weight of their pasts. The door closed softly behind them, and the world outside faded into nothingness.

There, in the quiet intimacy of the cabin, they found solace in each other. And as the night wore on, their love unfolded gently, like the slow blooming of a flower, until sleep finally claimed them, wrapped in each other’s embrace.

Chapter Text

Mark lay still beneath the soft morning light filtering through the cabin’s windows, the warmth of the blankets cocooning him and Natalia. His body felt heavy but in the best way, his mind slowly swimming through the fog of waking. He blinked lazily, and as his thoughts began to clear, he became acutely aware of two things: the steady rise and fall of Natalia’s bare form resting atop him and the undeniable fact that they were both completely nude.

Then the memories of the night before flooded back—each kiss, each touch, every shared breath. The way they had moved together as if they’d done it a thousand times, but with the rawness of something entirely new. His chest stirred with an unfamiliar warmth—one that wasn’t just physical. It was happiness. Contentment.

Mark’s gaze drifted down to Natalia, still asleep on his chest, her auburn hair a tousled mess that spread across them both. Her face was the picture of peace, her features softened by slumber, lips slightly parted as she breathed in slow, even rhythms. She looked as though she were safe from the world, from every danger and shadow that had ever tried to claim her. And the thought that he was the reason she felt that way brought a rare, genuine smile to his face.

He let his fingers trace small, aimless patterns on her bare back, careful not to wake her just yet. Her skin was warm under his touch, smooth and soft, and the intimacy of the moment filled him with something he couldn’t fully explain—a feeling deeper than affection. It was love, pure and simple.

A love he hadn’t anticipated, hadn’t planned for, but that had settled deep inside him regardless. And as he looked down at Natalia’s peaceful face, he knew it was a love that he didn’t want to run from.

Then, as if sensing the shift in his thoughts, Natalia stirred. She nuzzled her face lazily against his chest, her brows furrowing slightly as she blinked awake, still caught in the haze of sleep. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, she was disoriented, her vibrant green gaze unfocused.

Mark’s heart clenched when she looked up at him—those eyes, so expressive and vivid, still held shadows of her past, but they were softer now. More open. To him, they felt like both a reflection of his own soul and a doorway to something far more beautiful—her soul, hidden beneath layers of walls she had spent years building.

Natalia’s groggy expression shifted, and then realization dawned. She glanced down between them, noticing their shared nudity, and the memories of the night before clicked into place. A soft, slow smile spread across her lips—one so full of happiness and vulnerability that it nearly took Mark’s breath away.

"Good morning," she whispered, her voice still laced with sleep, but carrying an unmistakable warmth.

"Good morning," Mark murmured in return, brushing a strand of hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear. His fingers lingered on her cheek, as if he couldn’t bear to let go of her just yet.

They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, saying nothing but sharing everything in the silence. It was as though time had slowed, and in the quiet morning light, they were the only two people in the world.

Natalia shifted slightly, resting her chin on his chest, her fingertips trailing absently along his side. "You’re thinking too much," she said softly, her smile tilting playfully as she looked at him with a knowing expression.

Mark huffed a small, amused breath, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. "Caught me," he admitted. "Just… thinking about how lucky I am to have you here."

Natalia’s heart swelled at the sincerity in his words, and she leaned up to press a kiss to his jaw, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. "You’re not getting rid of me that easily," she teased lightly.

Mark’s chest rumbled with a quiet chuckle, his arms tightening around her as if to prove her right. "Good," he whispered, his voice low and full of affection. "Because I don’t want to."

They stayed wrapped up in each other for a little while longer, trading soft touches and quiet smiles. Every glance, every kiss, felt like a reaffirmation of what they had found in one another—something rare, something neither had thought possible.

After a while, though, Mark’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of hesitation crossing his features. Natalia noticed immediately, her brows knitting together. "What is it?" she asked, her hand resting lightly on his chest.

Mark exhaled slowly, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "In three days," he began quietly, "we’ll have to leave the cabin."

Natalia stilled, her gaze searching his. "Leave?" she echoed softly, her voice carrying a tinge of reluctance.

Mark nodded. "I’ve kept us here as long as I could, but it’s time to move on. It’s not safe to stay in one place for too long." He looked into her eyes, his own filled with a mix of regret and resolve. "But we’ll be okay. Wherever we go, we go together."

Natalia’s heart fluttered at his words, the promise woven into them. She knew their time at the cabin had been a sanctuary—an escape from everything waiting for them outside. But she also knew that Mark was right. They couldn’t hide away forever.

"Together," she whispered, her fingers curling around his.

Mark smiled, his gaze warm and steady. "Always."

The moment stretched between them, heavy with meaning but light with the certainty that they were no longer alone. Whatever lay ahead—whatever challenges they would face—they would face them together.

Natalia leaned down, capturing his lips in a soft, lingering kiss, pouring every ounce of emotion she had into it. And Mark responded in kind, his hand cradling the back of her head as if anchoring her to him.

When they finally pulled away, both of them slightly breathless, Natalia rested her forehead against his, her eyes fluttering closed. "We have three days," she murmured, a playful lilt creeping into her voice.

Mark grinned, his fingers brushing along her spine. "Three days," he repeated, his voice low and filled with unspoken promises.

The morning started slowly, just as they both preferred it. Wrapped in the warmth of each other, Mark and Natalia stayed tangled beneath the blankets, savoring the moment before reality would inevitably pull them from bed. Natalia was the first to move, stretching with a lazy groan and giving Mark a teasing smirk when the blanket slipped lower than intended. He chuckled softly, brushing his knuckles across her cheek, and the two finally untangled themselves from the cocoon of warmth, slipping out of bed to greet the day.

Mark brewed coffee on the cabin’s old but reliable stovetop, the rich aroma filling the kitchen. Natalia, wearing nothing but his oversized flannel, padded barefoot across the wooden floor and sat at the small kitchen table. She rested her chin in her hand, watching Mark move with the ease of someone who knew the space intimately. His hair was slightly tousled, giving him a disarmingly casual appearance.

“Could get used to this,” she said with a sly grin, fingers curling around the warm coffee mug he handed her.

Mark gave her a playful look. “What, mornings with me? Or my coffee?”

“Both,” she replied, taking a sip with a pleased hum. “But mainly the coffee.”

He chuckled, taking the seat across from her. The fire crackled gently in the living room, and outside, snow blanketed the forest in a quiet stillness. They talked in the easy way that was becoming second nature—about everything and nothing.

They lingered over breakfast longer than they needed to, the conversation flowing comfortably, punctuated by laughter and the occasional stolen kiss across the table. Mark made eggs, toast, and some bacon he’d kept frozen in the basement. Natalia, ever curious, peppered him with questions about his life before Earth—small, personal things she hadn’t asked before.

He answered honestly, even the odd questions. She learned that he missed the stars sometimes but enjoyed the simplicity of life on Earth. He confessed that the taste of coffee had been a revelation when he first discovered it, and that adjusting to human fashion had taken some time—“Bell-bottoms, Natalia. A mistake of galactic proportions.” She laughed so hard at that, she nearly spilled her coffee.

By the time they finished breakfast and dressed, the day outside was bright, with sunlight glinting off the snow-covered landscape. Mark suggested a walk through the woods surrounding the cabin, and Natalia, ever eager for some fresh air, agreed without hesitation.

Bundled in warm clothes—Mark in his usual black coat and Natalia wearing one of his heavier jackets—they ventured out into the crisp air. Snow crunched beneath their boots as they made their way through the forest, their breath misting in the cold air.

They walked in companionable silence for a while, hands brushing occasionally but never straying too far from one another. The woods were serene, the trees standing tall and bare, their branches dusted with snow.

“Do you come out here often?” Natalia asked, glancing at Mark.

“Not as much as I’d like,” Mark admitted. “But there’s something peaceful about it.”

She nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. The quiet, the isolation—it was a kind of freedom she hadn’t experienced often in her life.

At one point, they came across a small clearing where the snow sparkled beneath the afternoon sun. Without a word, Natalia bent down, scooped up a handful of snow, and hurled it at Mark with a grin.

He blinked, momentarily stunned, before a mischievous glint lit up his eyes. “Oh, you’re going to regret that.”

Natalia shrieked with laughter as Mark retaliated, launching a snowball with pinpoint accuracy. What followed was a playful battle through the clearing—laughter echoing through the trees, snow flying everywhere. Mark held back just enough to let her score a few hits, but he was relentless when it came to dodging hers.

Eventually, she tackled him into the snow, both of them breathless and grinning. Mark caught her wrist, twisting it just enough to pin her beneath him. They lay there, panting and laughing, faces flushed from the cold.

“You fight dirty,” Natalia teased, brushing snow off his coat.

Mark gave her a playful smirk. “You love it.”

By the time they returned to the cabin, cheeks pink from the cold and clothes damp from melted snow, the sun was already beginning to dip toward the horizon. Natalia rubbed her hands together, shivering slightly, and Mark immediately set to building a fire in the fireplace.

Once the flames roared to life, they settled on the couch together, warming their hands and toes. Mark wrapped a blanket around them both, and Natalia leaned against him with a contented sigh.

They spent the afternoon talking—telling stories, exchanging jokes, and reminiscing. Mark shared tales of his time drifting through the galaxy, of strange worlds and stranger creatures. Natalia, in turn, told him stories of her missions—not the dangerous, bloody parts, but the odd, humorous moments she had collected along the way.

They snuggled close on the couch, limbs tangled beneath the blanket. Natalia rested her head on Mark’s shoulder, her fingers tracing lazy circles on the back of his hand.

At some point, Mark got up to pour them both glasses of whiskey, and they drank leisurely, the alcohol warming them from the inside out. The light outside grew dimmer, the fire casting a soft orange glow across the room as the evening settled in.

After a long, comfortable silence, Mark stood, stretching briefly before making his way to the corner of the room where the old record player sat. Natalia watched curiously as he sorted through a few records before selecting one and placing it on the turntable.

The soft crackle of vinyl filled the room, followed by the smooth, romantic strains of “The Way You Look Tonight” by Frank Sinatra. Mark turned, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he walked back toward Natalia, hand extended.

“Dance with me?” he asked, his tone playful but sincere.

Natalia’s heart skipped a beat, warmth blooming in her chest. She smiled, placing her hand in his. “Of course.”

Mark pulled her gently to her feet and led her to the center of the room. He wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her close, while her hand rested on his shoulder. They swayed slowly to the music, bodies moving in perfect sync, their foreheads nearly touching.

Neither of them spoke; they didn’t need to. The moment was enough—simple, beautiful, and filled with a quiet kind of love.

When the song ended, they remained in each other’s arms, reluctant to let go. Mark leaned down, brushing his lips softly against Natalia’s. It wasn’t a hungry kiss but a tender one, filled with unspoken promises and affection.

“Come to bed,” Mark whispered against her lips.

Natalia nodded, her heart full, and they made their way upstairs, hand in hand. The night unfolded slowly, romantically—a continuation of the dance they had started in the living room.

When they finally drifted off to sleep, tangled in each other’s arms, the world outside the cabin felt miles away. And for now, that was all that mattered.

Their last day at the cabin dawned quietly, the soft hum of the forest providing a peaceful backdrop to their morning. Sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled light across the cabin floor. Mark and Natalia moved about the space with a familiar ease, though there was a weight in the air, the kind that lingered when something meaningful was coming to an end.

After breakfast, they began their final preparations. Mark made sure the Land Cruiser was ready to go: tires checked, fuel topped off, and everything secured. Natalia packed the remaining essentials inside, organizing things so they could leave quickly at first light. There was little conversation between them, just the quiet rhythm of shared work.

By midday, they took a break. Mark brewed a fresh pot of coffee, and they sat on the porch steps, sipping slowly. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable—if anything, it was companionable—but there was an unspoken tension hanging just beneath the surface.

Natalia sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, her gaze drifting over the treetops. Mark noticed how her brows were drawn together, a subtle crease forming between them. She was chewing the inside of her cheek—something she did only when she was lost in thought.

Mark lowered his coffee mug. “What’s on your mind?” he asked gently, tilting his head to catch her eyes.

For a moment, she didn’t respond, her thumb tracing circles along the edge of her cup. Then she exhaled slowly, as if releasing a burden too heavy to carry alone. "I’ve been thinking..."

Mark stayed quiet, giving her space to find her words.

“I know we’re going to Madrid tomorrow," she said, her voice soft but laced with hesitation. "And I trust you... I do. But I keep wondering—what happens next? Where do we go from there? How do we stay ahead of... them?”

He didn’t need her to say the names. He knew exactly who she was referring to. Hydra. The Red Room. The forces that had hunted her, controlled her, and tried to break her.

Natalia’s gaze dropped to her hands, her voice growing quieter, more vulnerable. "It’s the Red Room I fear the most. Hydra is dangerous, but the Red Room..." She shook her head, her voice catching slightly. "If they find me—if they take me back—" She stopped abruptly, biting her lip, as if saying it aloud made it too real. "I don’t know what they’d do to me. But it wouldn’t be good."

Mark felt a pang in his chest. It wasn’t often that Natalia let fear show, not like this. Seeing her vulnerable was rare, and it stirred something protective deep within him. He shifted closer, setting his coffee aside, and reached for her hand.

“You know I won’t let that happen,” he said, his voice steady and calm. He wrapped his hand around hers, giving it a firm, reassuring squeeze. “You’re safe, Natalia. No one’s going to take you back.”

She let out a shaky breath, but her fingers curled around his, holding onto him as if grounding herself. "I know," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "I know it’s irrational, but it’s hard not to feel that fear. After everything... I don’t want to go back. Not ever."

Mark’s heart ached for her, but he kept his expression calm and sure. "And you won’t. I’ll make sure of that." He leaned in closer, his gaze locked on hers. "No one will lay a hand on you, Natalia. Not Hydra, not the Red Room. They’ll have to get through me first—and that’s not happening."

A flicker of something passed through her eyes—relief, maybe, or gratitude. It was hard to tell, but she nodded slowly, drawing comfort from his words.

“You’re not alone anymore,” Mark continued softly, brushing his thumb across her knuckles. "Whatever comes next, we face it together. You have my word."

Natalia swallowed hard, her lips pressing into a thin line. Then, slowly, she leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder. Mark wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. For a long moment, they just sat there, wrapped in each other’s presence, the worries of the world outside held at bay.

"You’re really good at this reassuring thing, you know," Natalia murmured, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

Mark chuckled, a soft sound that rumbled in his chest. "Well, I’ve had a lot of practice."

She smiled, a genuine one this time, and Mark could feel the tension easing from her body, her grip on him loosening just a little.

The rest of the day passed in quiet harmony. They spent the afternoon taking care of final tasks—sweeping the porch, securing windows, and making sure the cabin would be ready if they ever needed to return. It felt bittersweet, leaving a place that had become a refuge, but there was also a sense of readiness. It was time to move forward.

As the sun began to dip low in the sky, they sat by the fireplace, the crackling flames casting warm light across the room. Natalia leaned against Mark, their hands loosely intertwined. They talked about small things—the places they wanted to see, the kind of food they’d eat in Madrid. Little dreams for the future, light enough to lift their spirits but grounded enough to feel real.

At some point, Natalia gave a contented sigh, her voice soft and drowsy. "Maybe Madrid won’t be so bad."

Mark pressed a kiss to her temple, his lips lingering just a moment longer than necessary. "It won’t. We’ve got this."

And as they sat there, wrapped in the warmth of the fire and each other’s company, Natalia believed him. For the first time in a long while, she felt like maybe—just maybe—everything would be okay.

The cabin was bathed in the soft, amber glow of the fireplace, the flames dancing lazily behind the glass pane. Outside, the night pressed in, blanketing the world in a deep stillness, broken only by the occasional breeze that rustled the trees. Inside, the quiet felt sacred. Mark and Natalia moved through the space together, cleaning the last remnants of their stay and settling in for their final night here.

Mark stood by the window, hands tucked in the pockets of his sweater as he looked out into the darkness, lost in thought. Natalia watched him from across the room, feeling that familiar warmth bloom in her chest—the kind that had been growing every day they’d spent here together. He looked peaceful, his features softened by the low light, his usual edge replaced with a rare tranquility. It was moments like these that made her realize how deeply she cherished him. How much he had become a part of her, in ways she hadn’t imagined possible.

Without a word, Natalia crossed the room, her bare feet silent on the wooden floor. Mark noticed her approach, his head turning slightly, and a small, knowing smile curved his lips. He could sense it too—this quiet pull between them, a thread that had been woven tighter with every day they’d spent together. When she reached him, he extended his arm and wrapped it around her, drawing her against him with an effortless, intimate ease.

“You’re quiet,” Natalia murmured, resting her cheek against his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent. "What are you thinking about?"

Mark’s fingers traced absent patterns along her back. "Just... the road ahead," he replied softly. "And how much I’ll miss this place."

Natalia smiled. "Me too." She tilted her head up to look at him, their eyes meeting in the low light. "But we’ll be okay. Won’t we?"

Mark cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing gently along her skin. "Yeah," he whispered, his voice certain. "We will."

For a moment, they stood there, wrapped in the kind of silence that needed no words. The fire crackled behind them, casting shifting shadows along the walls. Slowly, Mark leaned down, and Natalia rose on her toes to meet him halfway. Their lips met in a kiss—soft at first, a gentle exploration that deepened as the moment stretched between them.

When they finally parted, they didn’t move far, their foreheads resting together as they caught their breath. Mark’s hand slid down to intertwine with hers, and he gave her a small, teasing tug toward the couch by the fire. "Come with me," he murmured.

Natalia followed him without hesitation, her heart fluttering in anticipation. They sat down, settling close, their bodies naturally folding into each other as if they were two pieces of the same puzzle. Mark's arm draped around her shoulders, and Natalia leaned into him, her fingers tracing lazy patterns along his chest.

They stayed like that for a long while, exchanging soft kisses, shared smiles, and unspoken promises. It felt like the whole world had shrunk down to this moment, just the two of them, the flickering fire, and the warmth of their connection.

Mark shifted slightly, his hand brushing along her side. There was a tenderness to his touch—a reverence, almost, as if he wanted to memorize every inch of her. Natalia felt her pulse quicken, not from nervousness, but from the sheer intimacy of it.

He kissed her again, slower this time, his lips trailing from her mouth to her jaw, then to the soft curve of her neck. She sighed, her fingers threading through his hair, her body instinctively arching closer to his.

There was no rush between them, only a slow, deliberate unraveling of barriers that no longer needed to exist. They undressed one another with the same care, every touch, every glance a silent declaration of trust and affection. By the time they were bare before each other, it felt as though every wall had fallen, leaving only the raw, unfiltered connection between them.

Mark pulled Natalia into his arms, their bodies pressed together in perfect harmony. They sank into the softness of the couch, the world around them dissolving into the background. Their love was quiet but undeniable—a steady, unyielding force that had grown in the cracks of their broken pasts. Here, now, they shared something far deeper than desire. It was understanding, acceptance, and the kind of love that asked for nothing but gave everything in return.

Their movements were slow, unhurried, as if they had all the time in the world. They explored one another with reverence, savoring every moment, every sensation. The fire burned low, casting a soft glow over them as they moved together, a dance that felt both ancient and new.

There were no words needed, only the sound of their breathing, the soft rustle of skin against skin, and the occasional whispered name. In those moments, they were everything to each other—two souls finding solace in one another, healing old wounds through the simple act of being close.

When it was over, they remained tangled together, their limbs a comfortable mess. Natalia rested her head on Mark’s chest, her hand splayed over his heart, feeling the steady rhythm beneath her palm. Mark pressed a kiss to her hair, his fingers trailing soothing circles along her back.

"Stay with me," Natalia whispered, her voice barely audible in the quiet room.

"Always," Mark murmured in response, his voice filled with quiet conviction.

They drifted off together, their bodies warm and sated, wrapped in the comfort of each other’s presence. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its light flickering like a promise that whatever came next, they would face it together.

And in the morning, when the first light of dawn kissed the edges of the cabin, they would leave this place behind—taking only memories and the love they had discovered with them.

Morning sunlight filtered softly through the cabin’s windows, painting the wooden walls with a golden hue. Mark stirred awake first, the weight of Natalia comfortably sprawled across his chest. The rise and fall of her breath was steady and peaceful, her skin warm against his. For a moment, he simply lay there, enjoying the serene moment, feeling her heart beat in sync with his.

He tightened his arm gently around her, the movement causing Natalia to stir. She shifted slightly, her nose brushing against his collarbone before she blinked herself awake. Her vibrant green eyes slowly focused on him, and a lazy, content smile curved her lips.

“Morning,” she whispered, her voice still thick with sleep.

“Morning, Nat,” Mark murmured, his hand tracing light patterns on her bare back. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. "Sleep well?"

She nodded softly, her smile growing. "Always with you."

They shared a quiet moment of stillness, basking in each other’s presence, knowing this would be the last time they woke up together in this cabin. Mark tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and smiled down at her, the tenderness in his gaze unmistakable. Natalia’s fingers trailed idly along his chest, memorizing the feel of him one last time here in this place.

Eventually, they both knew it was time to get up. Mark stretched, then helped Natalia to her feet as they dressed in comfortable clothes, ready for the long journey ahead. With every movement, the air between them felt warm, not with sadness but with quiet acceptance—they were leaving the cabin, but they were leaving together. That was what mattered most.

They worked in tandem, packing up the last of their belongings. Mark folded their blankets neatly, while Natalia carefully zipped up her bag, ensuring everything was in order. They moved efficiently, each action laced with silent communication—after days spent together, they had learned how to flow seamlessly around each other.

Once everything inside was in place, they grabbed their coats and stepped outside. The crisp morning air nipped at their skin as they went about their final tasks. Mark scanned the cabin one last time, making sure everything was as it should be. Natalia joined him, her sharp gaze flickering to the treeline, assessing their surroundings.

"Let’s make one last sweep," Mark suggested. Natalia nodded, and together, they walked the perimeter of the cabin. The forest was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of leaves in the breeze. Their boots crunched softly against the earth as they moved, side by side, the silence between them easy and comfortable.

When they finished the security check, they returned to the cabin’s front porch. Mark gave Natalia a small, reassuring nod. "All clear," he said quietly.

"All clear," Natalia echoed, though there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes.

Mark noticed it instantly but said nothing for now. He went inside one last time, ensuring every lock was secured and the cabin was left exactly as it had been when they first arrived. When he stepped back outside, Natalia was already waiting by the Land Cruiser, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her coat.

Mark approached the truck and gave it a thorough once-over, checking the tires, oil levels, and securing their bags in the back. Satisfied, he closed the door with a firm click and turned to Natalia, who was watching him with a small smile.

He gave her a playful but affectionate look, stepping closer until they were only inches apart. "Ready to hit the road, my little Nightshade?" he asked softly, using the nickname with a warm smile that reached his eyes.

Natalia’s heart swelled at the sound of it. She felt a rush of emotion—a mixture of love, safety, and belonging. Without thinking, she leaned up and pressed a tender kiss to his cheek, her lips lingering for just a second longer than usual.

"With you? Always," she whispered, her voice full of quiet affection.

Mark’s smile deepened, a rare, genuine expression of happiness that seemed to smooth out every sharp edge of his soul. He gave her hand a light squeeze before climbing into the driver’s seat of the Land Cruiser. Natalia followed, settling into the passenger seat beside him.

Mark turned the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life. He glanced at her again, his hand slipping into hers, their fingers interlocking naturally. Natalia smiled softly, a look of peace settling over her face as she returned his gaze.

As Mark pulled out of the cabin's driveway, the tires crunching over gravel, they both looked ahead toward the open road. The cabin faded into the distance behind them, swallowed by the forest that had once been their sanctuary. But neither of them looked back—they didn’t need to.

With small, content smiles lingering on their faces, Mark and Natalia drove down the winding mountain road, hand in hand. Whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together. And for now, in the quiet hum of the Land Cruiser’s engine and the warmth of their joined hands, everything felt exactly as it should be.

Chapter Text

The hum of the Land Cruiser’s engine was a steady companion as Mark and Natalia cruised down the highway, the landscape of Italy unfolding around them like a painting. Fields stretched for miles, golden under the late afternoon sun, dotted with olive trees and old stone houses. They had left Bologna a few hours ago, winding through the countryside as they followed Natalia’s suggestion to explore. Mark hadn't minded. He had enjoyed the rare moments of relaxation—something he seldom experienced before meeting her.

Now, with Florence on the horizon, the atmosphere in the car was light. The window was slightly cracked, letting in a crisp breeze that tousled Natalia’s auburn hair. She had her legs tucked beneath her, one hand lazily draped over Mark’s thigh as she gazed out the window, her thoughts drifting along with the scenery.

“You know,” Natalia mused, breaking the comfortable silence. “I never imagined I'd be... here. Italy, driving down highways with someone I—” She trailed off, her voice soft, almost surprised by the sentiment.

“With someone you what?” Mark teased, glancing her way with the faintest curve of a smirk.

Natalia shot him a look that was playful but carried a hint of shyness, a side of her she rarely let anyone see. “With someone who makes me feel... safe,” she admitted quietly.

Mark’s chest tightened slightly at her words, and his hand left the wheel briefly to give hers a reassuring squeeze. “I’m glad you feel that way,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “Because you are safe. With me.”

She gave him a small smile and looked back out the window, watching the sun begin its slow descent. “I used to think safety was an illusion. That it wasn’t meant for people like us.”

“Maybe it still is,” Mark replied thoughtfully. “But it doesn’t mean we can’t make the most of it when we find it.”

Natalia’s thumb traced a slow, absent-minded circle over his thigh. “Florence will be nice,” she said, changing the subject as if willing herself to focus on the good. “It’ll be... different. I read that the sunsets over the Arno River are beautiful.”

“We’ll see it, then,” Mark said simply. He always spoke with certainty, and somehow, that gave her comfort.

“Do you think we’ll have time to explore the city a bit?” she asked, shifting in her seat to look at him.

Mark gave her a sidelong glance, a flicker of amusement in his expression. “You getting attached to Italy already, Nightshade?”

She rolled her eyes but grinned. “Maybe. It’s hard not to. Italy has charm.”

He chuckled quietly. “We’ll make time. If you want to see Florence, we’ll see Florence.”

The way he said it made her feel like they had all the time in the world. For a moment, she let herself believe they did.

The silence between them was filled with the sounds of the road—tires humming along the asphalt, the distant rustle of trees in the wind, and the occasional soft song playing through the speakers. Mark glanced over at her again, watching as the sunlight touched her face, illuminating her features in warm gold. She looked peaceful, content. And it hit him—he didn’t just feel responsible for her safety. He felt lucky to have her by his side.

Natalia caught him staring and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” Mark said, though there was a flicker of something more in his gaze. “Just… glad you suggested we stop to explore earlier.”

She tilted her head, curiosity glimmering in her eyes. “Why’s that?”

Mark shrugged, his lips twitching into a subtle smile. “It’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed the scenery.”

Natalia’s smile softened at the edges, and she gave his thigh a playful squeeze. “You need to enjoy things more, Grayson.”

“I’m working on it,” he replied, his tone light but honest.

The road curved gently, bringing them closer to Florence. The sky was painted in soft oranges and pinks now, the sun dipping lower toward the horizon. Natalia leaned her head back against the seat, her fingers still resting comfortably against Mark’s leg.

“Do you think we’ll ever stop running?” she asked suddenly, her voice quiet, almost hesitant.

Mark’s expression didn’t change, but the weight of her question settled between them. “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “But if we do... it won’t be because Hydra or the Red Room stopped looking. It'll be because we decided to stop.”

Natalia exhaled softly, a sound caught between relief and acceptance. “As long as we’re together, I think I can live with that.”

Mark’s hand tightened briefly over hers again, a silent promise. “You won’t ever have to face them alone. Not anymore.”

She glanced at him, her heart swelling with emotions too complicated to name. The road stretched out before them, but for the first time in a long while, the future didn’t seem so daunting.

“Thank you,” she whispered, almost as if speaking it aloud would shatter the fragile peace between them.

Mark glanced at her with a rare, gentle smile. “Always, Natalia.”

They fell into another easy silence as the highway signs began to point toward Florence. The city lights were still distant but visible now, shimmering like stars against the twilight sky. For the first time in years, they were both moving forward, not just physically but emotionally, with hope—tentative, but hope nonetheless.

The Land Cruiser hummed steadily along the smooth highway, the sun sinking toward the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold, amber, and violet. The gentle strains of Italian classical music floated through the cab, blending with the rhythmic sound of the tires against asphalt. Natalia rested comfortably in the passenger seat, her head leaning slightly against the window, watching the scenery unfold around them. The warm, late-autumn air drifted in from the cracked windows, carrying the faint scent of olive groves and wildflowers.

They had driven through miles of vineyards, sprawling farmlands, and ancient stone villages, each one a quiet reminder of Italy’s timeless charm. Cypress trees dotted the landscape, standing tall and slender like sentinels guarding the countryside. In the distance, rolling hills climbed gently toward the sky, bathed in the soft glow of twilight.

The Alps, with their jagged peaks and snow-capped summits, still lingered in both their memories, vast and magnificent in their own right. Natalia had marveled at the sharp cliffs and frozen lakes that marked their route through the mountains. Yet, as breathtaking as the Alps were, Italy held a different kind of beauty—softer, more inviting. Here, the land felt ancient but alive, each corner whispering stories of art, love, and history. It was a landscape that beckoned them to slow down, to savor every moment.

They hadn’t spoken much in the past hour, content to bask in the shared silence, the comfort of each other’s presence enough. Natalia shifted slightly, her hand resting casually on Mark’s thigh. He glanced at her, a faint smile playing on his lips. There was something special about moments like these—quiet, unremarkable perhaps, but filled with unspoken understanding.

Just as the road began to curve toward Florence, Mark’s sharp gaze caught something up ahead. A cluster of red and blue lights blinked in the distance, cutting through the twilight like a warning. The outline of a police checkpoint materialized further down the road, vehicles parked on either side of the highway, with uniformed officers waving a few cars over for inspection.

Mark’s body tensed slightly. “Checkpoint,” he murmured, his voice calm but alert.

Natalia straightened, her relaxed demeanor shifting in an instant. She leaned forward, squinting through the windshield to see what he had noticed. Her brow furrowed, and she bit her lower lip in thought. “What do we do?” she asked, her voice low and measured.

Mark kept his eyes on the road as he considered the options. “If we turn around now, it’ll look suspicious. They’d chase us down, for sure.”

Natalia nodded, her mind working through the possibilities. “It’s just a routine checkpoint, right? Probably looking for drunk drivers.”

“Most likely,” Mark replied, his fingers drumming briefly on the steering wheel. “But routine doesn’t mean harmless.”

She glanced over at him, searching his expression for any sign of hesitation or uncertainty. There was none. Mark was calm, collected, the same way he always was in situations like this. She found comfort in that, even though a small part of her heart pounded a little faster. Encounters with authority were never simple—not when you were on the run.

“What do they usually ask?” Natalia wondered aloud, still watching the checkpoint as they drew closer.

Mark gave a small shrug, eyes flicking between the checkpoint and the road. “License, registration. Maybe ask a few questions. If it’s just drunk drivers they’re looking for, we’ll be through in a couple of minutes.”

Natalia exhaled through her nose, trying to push away the tension coiling in her chest. The Red Room and Hydra had conditioned her to see every checkpoint as a trap. Every question was an interrogation. But here, sitting next to Mark, she reminded herself that things were different now.

“We’ll be fine,” Mark said gently, sensing her unease. His hand left the wheel for a moment to squeeze hers, grounding her.

Natalia looked down at their intertwined hands, taking a slow breath. She knew she was safe with him—knew it with every fiber of her being. And yet, fear was a stubborn thing.

“I know,” she whispered, mostly to herself. “I know we will.”

Mark glanced at her with a quiet, reassuring smile. “Just stay calm, Talia. We’ll get through this.”

The nickname, soft and affectionate, was enough to bring a small smile to her lips. It was rare for anyone to shorten her name that way. But when Mark said it, it sounded right—intimate, like a promise wrapped in familiarity.

She nodded, squaring her shoulders as they rolled closer to the flashing lights. The checkpoint loomed just a few hundred meters ahead, the figures of officers moving about in the twilight like shadows. Mark’s grip on the steering wheel tightened ever so slightly, but his expression remained composed, as if this was just another mundane part of the journey.

Natalia forced herself to relax, telling herself that she had faced far worse than this. And as long as she was with Mark, she believed, truly believed, that everything would be okay.

Mark eased the Land Cruiser to a smooth stop as he approached the checkpoint, the headlights catching glimmers of reflective tape on the officers' vests. A man in uniform motioned with a flashlight, guiding Mark to pull over to the side. Mark rolled the window down with a deliberate, unhurried movement as another officer approached from the driver’s side, clipboard in hand.

Mark offered the officer a polite nod, his voice smooth and respectful as he switched to Italian. “Come posso aiutarla, agente?” (How can I help you, officer?)

The officer smiled slightly, adjusting his cap. “È solo un controllo di routine. Facciamo questi controlli nei giorni chiave della settimana, come oggi, venerdì, o la domenica e il sabato.” (It’s just a routine checkpoint. We do these on key days of the week, like today—Friday—or Sundays and Saturdays.)

He leaned a bit closer to see the occupants more clearly, his sharp eyes flickering briefly between Mark and Natalia before continuing. “Posso vedere le vostre patenti e la registrazione del veicolo, per favore?” (May I see your IDs and the vehicle registration, please?)

Mark gave an easy, compliant nod and reached into the glove compartment, retrieving the necessary documents. He passed the officer both their fake identification cards and the vehicle’s registration papers. The IDs listed Mark as “Marco Moretti” and Natalia as “Elena Moretti.”

The officer gave the paperwork a quick scan, occasionally glancing between their IDs and their faces to confirm the match. The registration listed the truck under the name of Marco Moretti, suggesting it had been legally purchased and registered to him in northern Italy. The details were clean—professionally crafted to avoid suspicion.

“Quali sono i vostri nomi e la vostra relazione?” (What are your names and your relationship to one another?) the officer asked, flipping the ID cards over in his hand as he spoke.

Mark gave a small, easy smile. “Marco e Elena Moretti. Siamo marito e moglie.” (Marco and Elena Moretti. We’re husband and wife.)

The officer arched an eyebrow, glancing toward Natalia for confirmation. She leaned forward slightly, giving the officer a small smile of her own. “Sì, è vero.” (Yes, that’s right.)

The officer nodded, seemingly satisfied. “E da dove venite?” (And where are you coming from?)

Mark kept his tone casual, as if the answer were of little consequence. “Abbiamo trascorso alcuni giorni in una piccola baita nelle Alpi. Era un viaggio rilassante prima di tornare alla città.” (We spent a few days at a small cabin in the Alps. It was a relaxing getaway before heading back to the city.)

“E dove siete diretti?” (And where are you headed?)

“A Firenze, per una breve pausa. Poi torneremo a Roma, dove viviamo.” (To Florence for a short stop. After that, back to Rome, where we live.)

The officer tapped the clipboard thoughtfully but found nothing out of place with the answers. “Avete bevuto qualcosa stasera? O preso qualche sostanza intossicante?” (Have you had anything to drink tonight? Or taken any intoxicating substances?)

Mark gave a polite shake of his head. “No, niente da bere. Siamo stati sulla strada per la maggior parte del tempo.” (No, nothing to drink. We’ve been on the road most of the day.)

Natalia chimed in with a slight, reassuring smile. “Non abbiamo bevuto niente. Solo caffè e acqua.” (We didn’t drink anything. Just coffee and water.)

The officer’s gaze lingered for a moment longer, as if assessing whether their responses felt too rehearsed. But there was no tension, no hesitance in their delivery. Mark and Natalia's calm demeanor and seamless coordination made their story air-tight. Everything checked out—fake IDs, vehicle registration, and the story behind their trip.

Satisfied, the officer scribbled a quick note on his clipboard. "Bene, sembra tutto in regola." (Alright, everything seems in order.)

He handed back their IDs and registration with a polite nod. "Potete andare. Buon viaggio e godetevi Firenze." (You can go. Safe travels, and enjoy Florence.)

Mark accepted the papers with a smooth, appreciative nod. “Grazie, agente. Buona serata.” (Thank you, officer. Have a good evening.)

The officer tapped the roof of the Land Cruiser with a friendly pat before stepping back to wave them through. Mark rolled the window up, casting a quick glance at Natalia.

“See? Easy,” he said in a low, amused voice as the truck pulled forward, leaving the checkpoint behind them.

Natalia exhaled slowly, leaning back into her seat, a soft smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “You make it look too easy, Marco.”

Mark shot her a playful look, hand resting lightly on the steering wheel. "It’s all about the attitude, Elena.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled warmly, her earlier tension melting away now that they were back on the open road. The lights of the checkpoint faded in the rearview mirror as the Land Cruiser surged forward, carrying them toward the heart of Tuscany and their next stop—Florence.

As Mark slowed the Land Cruiser and rolled down the window to speak with the officer, the unassuming lens of a dashcam inside one of the parked police vehicles whirred quietly, recording everything. It wasn’t a conspicuous setup—just a small camera mounted at the corner of the windshield, its lens reflecting the fading evening light. It captured the truck pulling in, the easy conversation between Mark and the officer, and most importantly, the red-haired woman seated in the passenger seat.

Though the camera recorded without sound, the clear video frame showed Natalia shifting slightly in her seat, her sharp green eyes catching the last rays of sunlight as she briefly turned toward Mark. It was a casual, fleeting glance—but in the world of surveillance, fleeting moments were all Hydra needed.

They had stopped just long enough for a few brief interactions with the officers—nothing that should have drawn attention. Mark had answered the routine questions smoothly, providing their fake IDs and registration. Everything seemed normal: a couple traveling under the names Elena Moretti and Giovanni Moretti, taking a scenic drive toward Florence. Their truck was registered to an international rental agency with no suspicious flags, further reinforcing the harmless facade.

But in the ever-watchful eye of the dashcam, Natalia’s features stood out—her pale complexion, vibrant hair, and striking eyes were too distinct to dismiss. The police officer who checked their documents paid no special attention to her appearance, but the dashcam’s footage, fed into the Italian police’s cloud-based network, painted a different story.

And that network, unfortunately for Natalia, was being quietly monitored. Hidden within Hydra’s digital infrastructure was a sophisticated facial recognition program running at all times, sweeping countless surveillance feeds for the faces of known fugitives and targets. The Widow was one of them.

Far from the peaceful countryside of Tuscany, in a hidden Hydra compound, a lone analyst sat at his desk, scrolling through a sea of data on his screen. Then, a notification popped up, causing him to pause. Ping: High-priority target identified. His brow furrowed as he clicked on the alert. The dashcam footage appeared, freezing for a moment on the frame showing Natalia Romanova in the passenger seat of the truck.

He zoomed in and ran the facial recognition analysis again, just to confirm. There was no mistake. The match was clear: Natalia Romanova, the runaway Black Widow they had been tracking for months. However, what troubled the analyst wasn’t the Widow herself—it was the man driving.

He ran the driver’s face through every system available, hoping for a match—Interpol, military databases, criminal networks. Nothing. Whoever the man was, it was as though he didn’t exist, which in their line of work was a dangerous sign.

The analyst picked up the phone at his desk, a pulse of unease running through him. He dialed an internal number, his fingers steady but his heart racing. After two rings, the line clicked. "Sir," he said, keeping his voice professional. "We have a confirmed sighting—Romanova, ten kilometers outside Florence. Traveling with an unknown male."

The line went silent for a moment, just long enough for tension to settle in the room. Then, heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed down the corridor outside. A tall man in a suit entered the room, his presence filling the space with an air of quiet menace. His red-tinged hair, neatly combed back, glinted in the low light, and his sharp blue eyes scanned the screen with practiced ease.

He stood silently for a beat, absorbing the information, then turned to the man at his side—a rugged, battle-worn figure whose hardened features betrayed years of experience in the field.

“Prep the asset,” the leader ordered in a calm, authoritative tone. “Deploy him in Florence. His mission is to bring the Widow back alive. I don’t care what condition she’s in—just breathing.”

The second-in-command gave a slight nod, already pulling out a secure phone to issue the necessary orders. "And the man?" he asked coolly, his voice carrying a subtle edge.

The leader smiled—a cold, calculating expression that never reached his eyes. "Kill him. No loose ends."

Satisfied, he adjusted the cuffs of his suit, his movements slow and deliberate. Then, with a soft chuckle, he muttered to himself, “Let’s see how far she can run this time.”

Without another word, the leader turned and left the room, his shoes clicking sharply on the concrete floor. Behind him, the analyst watched in silence as the machinery of Hydra began to move, setting into motion a plan that would bring the Widow back into their grasp—one way or another.

Mark and Natalia arrived in Florence under a canopy of deep twilight, the last slivers of sunlight bleeding out over the western hills. The narrow streets glowed with the soft amber hues of streetlamps, and the distant hum of nightlife filled the air with a sense of calm and comfort. In the Land Cruiser, Mark guided the truck through the historic streets, the wheels quietly rolling over cobblestones polished smooth by centuries of footsteps.

They had driven long and hard to make it here, the winding roads and alpine passes now far behind them, with Florence welcoming them like an old friend. The vibrant landscape of Italy had been soothing in its own way, but they were both tired—physically and emotionally.

Mark glanced over at Natalia in the passenger seat. She was resting her head against the window, the faint glow of passing streetlights illuminating the sharp contours of her face. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion, but there was something peaceful about the way she looked—so different from the Natalia he had first met, wounded and guarded.

“We’ll find somewhere soon,” Mark murmured, his voice low and steady, though she barely stirred in response.

A few minutes later, Mark spotted a modest but elegant hotel nestled in a quieter part of the city, away from the bustling heart of Florence. The building was old yet well-maintained, with iron balconies and ivy creeping along the walls. A soft, inviting light spilled out from the lobby windows, giving the place a sense of warmth that was impossible to resist.

Mark parked the Land Cruiser in the small lot out front. They both climbed out of the truck, and the cool night air hit them, refreshing after the long hours on the road. Natalia stretched, her muscles tight from the drive, and gave Mark a small, appreciative smile.

“This looks good,” she said, her voice quiet but content.

Mark nodded, locking the vehicle. They retrieved their bags from the back of the truck and walked toward the hotel entrance. As they stepped inside, the soft chime of the bell above the door greeted them, along with the cozy atmosphere of the lobby. The faint scent of old wood and lavender hung in the air, and the receptionist, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes, smiled warmly from behind the counter.

“Buonasera! Welcome.” Her Italian accent rolled smoothly, though her English was perfect. “Do you have a reservation?”

Mark shook his head, giving the woman a polite smile that came surprisingly easily. “No, ma’am. But we’re hoping you have a room available for tonight.”

The receptionist’s eyes flicked between them, her smile widening knowingly as she took in their appearance—Mark’s protective stance next to Natalia, the way their bodies seemed to unconsciously lean toward each other, and the quiet but familiar intimacy between them. “Ah, a couple traveling through our beautiful city? How wonderful!”

Mark felt Natalia shift slightly at his side, and without missing a beat, he draped his arm over her shoulder. It was a casual gesture, but it felt incredibly natural. Natalia, in turn, rested a hand lightly on his back, playing her part effortlessly. Except it didn’t feel like playing a part at all—it felt right, comfortable. As if they truly were husband and wife, bound together by years of shared experiences and trust.

“Yes,” Mark answered with a soft chuckle, “just passing through. Do you have a room available?”

The receptionist’s eyes sparkled with approval at their banter. “Of course, we do. I have just the thing—a cozy room on the third floor, one queen bed, perfect for a loving couple.” She winked, making Natalia smirk slightly.

Mark handed over the necessary identification—fake IDs, perfectly crafted to match their cover. The names "Giovanni" and "Elena Moretti" were scrawled across the documents, the story of a married couple enjoying a scenic getaway. The receptionist barely glanced at them before sliding a key across the counter.

“Room 304. Enjoy your stay, Mr. and Mrs. Moretti,” she said with a grin. “And I must say—you two make a lovely couple.”

Mark inclined his head in thanks, and Natalia offered a polite smile that carried a hint of something genuine. As they turned toward the stairs, the receptionist’s voice followed them.

“Ah, young love,” she mused softly, almost to herself.

Their room was small but inviting, the walls painted in warm earth tones and a large window offering a view of the city skyline. The bed—a single queen—sat in the center of the room, with crisp white sheets folded neatly over a soft duvet.

Natalia dropped her bag by the foot of the bed, sighing with relief. “It’s nice,” she murmured, her voice relaxed as she ran her fingers over the smooth fabric of the duvet.

Mark nodded, setting his own bag down beside hers. “Yeah. It’s perfect.”

The fatigue of the journey weighed heavily on them, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It was the kind of exhaustion that came after a long, fulfilling day—contentment wrapped in tired bones.

They took turns in the small but clean bathroom, the hot water from the shower washing away the dust of the road. Natalia went first, her silhouette briefly visible behind the frosted glass, and when she returned, her damp hair clung to her shoulders, and she wore one of the hotel’s robes. Mark followed, the warm water easing the tension from his muscles.

When he stepped out of the bathroom, towel-drying his hair, Natalia was already curled up on the bed. She looked at him with a soft smile, her green eyes reflecting the dim light of the room.

Mark slipped into bed beside her, and without hesitation, Natalia snuggled closer, draping an arm across his chest. Their bodies fit together perfectly, as if they had been molded for this very moment. The quiet hum of the city outside was distant and soothing, a gentle lullaby for weary travelers.

Natalia rested her head against Mark’s shoulder, her breath warm against his skin. “It’s nice, isn’t it?” she whispered, her voice low and peaceful.

Mark turned his head slightly to look at her, brushing a strand of damp hair away from her face. “Yeah. It really is.”

For a moment, they lay there in comfortable silence, the weight of unspoken words settling between them like a soft blanket.

“It’s strange,” Natalia murmured, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on his chest. “This... feels so easy. Like we’ve been doing this for years.”

Mark smiled at that, a warmth spreading through his chest that had nothing to do with the room’s temperature. “I know what you mean. It just... fits.”

She tilted her head up to meet his gaze, her green eyes flickering with something between curiosity and contentment. “Maybe we’ve been married in another life,” she teased softly, though there was an edge of sincerity in her voice.

Mark chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “If that’s the case, I’d say we made a good choice.”

Natalia hummed in agreement, her hand resting over his heart, feeling the steady rhythm beneath her fingertips. “I could get used to this,” she whispered, her voice drifting off like the final note of a lullaby.

Mark tightened his arm around her, pulling her closer. “So could I,” he murmured, the words soft and full of promise.

Natalia gave a contented sigh, her breath evening out as sleep claimed her. Mark lay awake for a moment longer, listening to the quiet sounds of the city and the steady beat of her heart against his side.

With a final, peaceful breath, Mark closed his eyes and allowed himself to follow her into sleep, the weight of the world forgotten—if only for a little while.

Chapter Text

Morning in Florence arrived like a painter’s dream—the sky stretched in soft strokes of lavender and rose as the sun slowly crested the horizon, casting a golden light over the terra-cotta rooftops. The air was cool but carried the promise of warmth as the city stirred to life. Birds chirped softly in the nearby olive trees, and the faint murmur of people readying their shops filled the air. It was serene—a perfect moment for rest and escape, if only for a little while.

In their hotel room, Natalia stood by the bathroom mirror, her brows drawn together in concentration. She wore a loose robe, hair gathered into sections as she methodically applied blonde dye. Mark leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching her with quiet interest.

“You sure about this?” he asked. “That’s a big change.”

Natalia glanced at him through the mirror, her green eyes flickering with something unreadable. “Red draws too much attention. Elena wouldn’t take the risk.” She gave a small smirk, slipping into their cover identities with ease. “Besides, Giovanni, I think you’ll like it. You always said I’d look good as a blonde.”

Mark chuckled softly at the playful tone, though part of him still marveled at how seamlessly this “marriage” act between them had formed. It was starting to feel less like a cover.

Once she finished dyeing her hair and rinsed it out, Natalia stood in front of the mirror, toweling her now-wet strands. Her reflection revealed a different person—someone more subdued and less recognizable, but still achingly beautiful in Mark’s eyes.

“Well?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she studied herself in the mirror.

Mark stepped closer, the scent of her shampoo lingering faintly in the air between them. His gaze softened as he took her in. “I think you were right. You do look good as a blonde.”

A flicker of something warm crossed Natalia’s expression, but she turned away quickly, grabbing her coat. “Let’s go. Florence isn’t going to explore itself.”

The streets of Florence welcomed them with open arms. The city was vibrant but not overwhelming, its pace leisurely, as if time moved a little slower here. They wandered past grand cathedrals and quaint cobblestone alleys lined with artisan shops, blending in effortlessly as two tourists exploring the beauty of Tuscany.

They spoke Italian with flawless accents, as though it were second nature. Natalia carried herself lightly, walking close to Mark with easy familiarity. At times, their hands brushed, and each accidental touch felt almost intentional.

They stopped at a small coffee shop nestled in the shadow of the Palazzo Vecchio. The scent of espresso and freshly baked pastries drifted out into the street, drawing them in.

Inside, Mark ordered for them in smooth Italian—an espresso for himself, a cappuccino for Natalia, and a shared cornetto. They sat near the window, watching the flow of people outside as they sipped their drinks.

“This,” Natalia said, leaning back in her chair, her cappuccino cradled between her hands, “is exactly what we needed.”

Mark nodded, taking a sip from his espresso. “Agreed. A little peace before things get... complicated again.”

Natalia’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “You always expect things to go wrong, don’t you?”

Mark gave her a wry look. “Experience teaches that they usually do.”

For a moment, they fell into comfortable silence, the warmth of the café wrapping around them like a soft blanket. Mark took the opportunity to observe Natalia closely—the way her newly dyed blonde hair framed her face, the relaxed slope of her shoulders, and the faint flicker of contentment in her eyes.

She looked different—lighter somehow, though there was still a trace of something guarded beneath the surface.

Out of nowhere, Natalia said softly, “My sister would’ve loved Florence.”

Mark stilled, catching the wistfulness in her tone. He made a mental note to ask about it later, but he didn’t press her now. Instead, he simply nodded. “Yeah?”

Natalia gave a small, almost nostalgic smile. “Yeah.” But she didn’t elaborate, instead taking another sip of her cappuccino as if retreating from the thought.

Mark let it go, sensing that the conversation would open when she was ready. For now, they were just two people, sipping coffee in Florence and pretending the rest of the world didn’t exist.

After their coffee, they wandered toward the local market, the streets alive with vendors calling out in vibrant Italian. The air was filled with the scent of ripe fruit, fresh herbs, and the sea breeze drifting inland. Mark and Natalia navigated the crowd with ease, occasionally stopping to admire handwoven scarves or sample olives from friendly merchants.

It was an easy rhythm between them, almost instinctual. Mark found himself enjoying the way Natalia’s face lit up when she inspected something she liked, the way she teased him over his poor choice in souvenirs.

But then—something shifted.

Mark caught a flicker of movement at the edge of his vision, high above the streets. His gaze snapped to the rooftops, and what he saw made every muscle in his body tense. A figure moved like a shadow along the terracotta tiles, too deliberate to be a casual passerby.

Natalia noticed Mark’s sudden change in posture. “What is it?” she asked quietly, her voice sharp with instinct.

Mark’s jaw tightened as he glanced down at her. “We’re being followed.”

Natalia’s heart skipped a beat. “Where?”

Mark nodded subtly toward the rooftops. “There.”

Her gaze followed his, and the moment she saw the figure—a man dressed in black, moving with precision along the rooftop—her breath hitched in pure dread. She knew that silhouette. She knew that cold, mechanical efficiency.

The Winter Soldier.

Natalia’s pulse pounded in her ears. Memories surged forward like a tidal wave—pain, fear, and the inescapable knowledge of who was hunting them. She fought to keep her expression neutral, but Mark noticed the shift in her demeanor, the way her fingers twitched slightly as if readying herself for a fight.

“It’s him,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Mark’s gaze remained locked on the rooftops, tracking the soldier’s every movement. “Are you sure?”

Natalia gave a stiff nod, her throat tight. “I’d know him anywhere.”

Mark didn’t waste time with questions. His mind worked quickly, assessing their options. They were in the middle of a crowded market—too many civilians, too many risks. They couldn’t confront him here, not without drawing attention.

“We need to move,” Mark said, his voice low and steady. “Slowly. Don’t let him know we’ve seen him.”

Natalia nodded, slipping seamlessly back into her role. They continued walking through the market, their movements casual, but every step was calculated.

Mark kept his arm loosely draped around Natalia’s waist, maintaining the illusion of a carefree couple. But beneath the surface, his muscles were coiled tight, ready to react at a moment’s notice.

Natalia’s heart raced, but she forced herself to focus. She had faced the Winter Soldier before and survived. She would do it again—only this time, she wasn’t alone.

As they made their way toward the edge of the market, Mark’s mind raced through scenarios. The Winter Soldier wasn’t here by coincidence. Hydra had found them. And if the soldier was here, others might not be far behind.

“We need to find a way out,” Natalia whispered, her voice steady despite the fear gnawing at her insides.

Mark nodded, his eyes scanning the streets ahead. “We will.”

And just like that, the quiet morning in Florence shattered, leaving only the cold shadow of danger looming overhead.

Mark gave Natalia’s hand a reassuring squeeze, meeting her anxious gaze with a calm, steady expression. "We’ve got this. Stay with me." His voice was low but firm, as if no one—not even the ghost hunting them—could touch them as long as they stayed together.

Natalia nodded, the fear simmering beneath her composed exterior dulled slightly by his touch. Mark’s grip on her hand was tight and grounding, steadying her heart's frantic rhythm. He led her through the bustling streets, quickening their pace while keeping his movements smooth and casual. They couldn’t afford to draw attention.

The crowds thickened as they neared the market, and Mark used the sea of bodies to their advantage, weaving through vendors and families with practiced ease. His hand stayed wrapped around hers, his presence a steady anchor. They whispered occasional words to each other in Italian, acting every bit the carefree couple on holiday—two lovers lost in the beauty of Florence, hiding in plain sight.

Natalia slipped effortlessly into her role, leaning into Mark as they browsed a stall selling handmade jewelry. Her eyes scanned the crowds subtly, all the while keeping her smile in place. Every part of her was hyperaware of their surroundings—the hum of life around them, the faint smell of spices in the air, and the cold awareness of the predator watching from above.

They were almost out—just a few more meters, and they’d slip into an alley leading back toward the hotel. Relief was beginning to unfurl in Natalia’s chest when the world around them exploded.

The blast was deafening. The explosion tore through the market with a violent roar, sending stalls and debris flying in every direction. Shoppers screamed and scattered, their joyful morning shattered in an instant. Shards of wood and glass whizzed through the air, cutting through skin and fabric like knives.

Mark’s instincts kicked in immediately. He wrapped his arms around Natalia, spinning them away from the blast. His larger frame shielded her completely as they hit the ground. Natalia could feel the heat from the explosion lick at her back, but none of it reached her thanks to Mark’s unyielding body. His arms stayed locked around her, absorbing the impact and protecting her from the chaos.

For a moment, everything was a blur of smoke, fire, and confusion. Mark’s chest rose and fell against hers, his heart a steady drum even in the midst of the mayhem. "You okay?" he whispered urgently, his voice low against her ear.

"Yeah," Natalia rasped, blinking away the dust stinging her eyes.

Before either of them could move, the sharp crack of gunfire cut through the smoke.

Mark’s body jerked as the first bullet struck his shoulder. He gritted his teeth against the irritation but didn’t falter. Keeping Natalia pressed close, he lunged for cover behind a fallen stall. The Winter Soldier’s relentless assault followed, bullets tearing through wood and canvas with terrifying precision.

Natalia cursed under her breath, already reaching for the Glock she carried tucked at her hip. Mark pulled his own pistol free—a sleek 2011—his movements smooth despite the searing pain in his shoulder.

They exchanged a quick glance, wordless but filled with understanding. They had no choice but to fight their way out.

Mark angled his body to shield Natalia from the barrage of bullets as he leaned out and returned fire. His shots were calculated, each one aimed to suppress rather than kill. Civilians still scattered through the smoke, and neither he nor Natalia could afford to hit an innocent.

Natalia crouched beside him, her Glock steady in her grip. She peered through the smoke, her sharp eyes tracking the dark silhouette of the Winter Soldier as he advanced, methodically reloading his weapon. There was no hesitation in his steps, only the cold efficiency of a man with a mission.

"He's not stopping," Mark muttered, firing off another shot to buy them a moment.

Natalia’s lips tightened into a grim line. "He never does."

They moved in tandem, communicating without words. Mark covered their retreat, firing carefully spaced shots as Natalia scanned for an opening. They spotted a narrow alley to their left—a potential escape route if they could reach it.

"Alley, nine o'clock," Natalia whispered.

"Got it." Mark nodded, firing two more shots before tugging her arm. "Go!"

They broke from cover in unison, sprinting toward the alley. The Winter Soldier fired after them, his bullets slicing through the air with deadly precision. Mark kept himself between Natalia and the danger, absorbing the risk as if it were second nature.

They ducked into the alley, the sounds of chaos fading behind them. Natalia’s mind shifted into combat mode, her heart steady now as adrenaline took over. She wasn’t afraid anymore—she was focused, calculating, deadly. The Black Widow had resurfaced.

As they ran side by side, Mark kept his voice low. "Plan?"

Natalia’s mind raced. "We need the truck. It’s about a kilometer north, back at the hotel."

Mark nodded, his breathing steady despite the exertion. "We make for it. Get out of the city, regroup."

Natalia glanced over her shoulder. "He won’t stop following us."

"I know," Mark replied grimly. "But he can’t catch what he can’t see."

The Winter Soldier’s relentless pursuit echoed behind them—his boots hitting the rooftops above like a drumbeat of death. He moved faster than a human should, a shadow that never wavered or tired.

Mark and Natalia pressed forward, weaving through the narrow alleys and side streets of Florence. The city’s ancient architecture provided cover, but it also felt like a labyrinth closing in around them.

"Keep moving," Mark urged, his tone calm and unwavering. He glanced at her, checking for injuries. "You good?"

Natalia gave a curt nod, her breathing controlled despite the tension in her muscles. "I’m fine. Focus on the road."

Mark cracked a small, fleeting grin. "Bossy."

Natalia snorted, her focus sharp but not without a flicker of amusement. Even in the middle of a life-or-death chase, Mark found ways to lighten the weight pressing down on them.

They turned another corner, their boots slamming against the cobblestones. The alley opened up into a wider street, and in the distance, the hotel came into view. The truck—a silver vehicle with rental plates—waited for them like salvation.

"We’re close," Mark said, gripping Natalia’s hand again to pull her along faster.

But the Winter Soldier wasn’t far behind. His silhouette loomed at the edge of the alley, his rifle raised and ready. Mark and Natalia had seconds—maybe less—before he caught up.

Natalia glanced at Mark, her expression hard but determined. "We need to buy some time."

Mark nodded, his jaw tightening. "Let’s give him something to remember."

Mark’s mind raced, calculating their options. The Winter Soldier was closing in fast, and with the alley’s narrow walls boxing them in, they needed something to stall him—anything that would give them a few precious seconds.

His eyes flicked to a row of metal garbage bins stacked against the wall and a fire escape ladder hanging just out of reach. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

“Ladder,” Mark muttered, jerking his head toward it. “Get ready to jump.”

Natalia followed his gaze, immediately understanding. She didn’t need an elaborate plan—just an opening. Her muscles coiled as she prepared to move.

Mark darted to the side, grabbing the nearest trash bin, and with a sharp grunt, he hurled it toward the entrance of the alley. The heavy metal container slammed into the ground, rolling with a deafening clang. Trash spilled everywhere, creating a messy barricade, but it wasn’t enough to stop the Winter Soldier.

They had to do more.

Natalia was already on the move. She leapt, grabbing the bottom rung of the fire escape ladder and swinging her body up with fluid grace. With a quick yank, she pulled it down as Mark vaulted onto it beside her. Together, they heaved the ladder loose from its brackets with a loud screech of metal.

Mark didn’t hesitate—he swung the ladder like a battering ram, launching it down the alley.

The ladder crashed to the ground with a thunderous bang, skidding along the concrete and scattering the rest of the bins like bowling pins. The tangle of debris sprawled across the alley, a twisted mess of metal, garbage, and broken glass. It wouldn’t stop the Winter Soldier for long, but it would slow him down just enough.

“Go!” Mark barked, already dropping back to the ground.

Natalia landed beside him in a low crouch, her movements smooth despite her injuries. They exchanged a brief, wordless glance—neither of them needed to say it, but the plan was simple: no stopping, no hesitation.

Mark reached into his coat and yanked a flashbang grenade from a concealed pouch. Without wasting a second, he pulled the pin, tossed it high into the air, and grabbed Natalia’s arm.

“Cover!” he warned, dragging her behind a corner as the grenade went off.

A blinding flash lit up the alley, followed by a deafening bang that reverberated between the walls.

Mark’s ears rang as they bolted from cover, sprinting down the alley. Behind them, the Winter Soldier staggered briefly, his enhanced senses thrown off by the disorienting explosion.

"That won’t stop him for long," Natalia panted, her hand still gripping Mark’s arm as they dashed toward the hotel.

"It doesn’t need to," Mark replied, glancing back for only a second. "Just enough."

They ran side by side, their footsteps in sync as the narrow alley opened up ahead, and Florence’s streets beckoned beyond. Time was short, and the Winter Soldier was relentless—but so were they.

The narrow alley echoed with their pounding footsteps as Mark and Natalia sprinted for the hotel, the distant sound of the Winter Soldier closing in behind them. Mark's breathing remained steady, his sharp focus fixed on their destination. They were close—too close for the enemy to catch them now. But the Winter Soldier was not one to be outrun easily.

A faint metallic ping caught Mark's ear, followed by a low, ominous clink. His heart sank.

“Grenade!” he barked, pulling Natalia toward him as fast as he could.

The grenade bounced once against the cobblestones before detonating with a deafening BOOM. The force of the explosion sent a shockwave down the alley, rattling windows and scattering debris in every direction. Mark barely managed to shield himself, but the blast caught Natalia full force.

She was thrown like a ragdoll into a stone wall. Her body slammed against it with a sickening thud, the impact knocking the air from her lungs as she crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Blood trickled from a gash on her forehead, and smaller cuts adorned her arms and legs, leaving trails of crimson against her pale skin.

Mark’s heart jolted with fear at the sight of her lifeless form. His mind screamed to check her, to make sure she was still breathing—but there was no time. The Winter Soldier was still coming.

Mark dropped to one knee beside Natalia, sparing a brief moment to brush her blood-matted hair from her face. “You’ll be okay,” he whispered, more to himself than to her. Then, his focus sharpened.

The Winter Soldier stepped into view at the far end of the alley, his rifle already raised. Mark reacted instantly, drawing his 2011 pistol in a fluid motion and squeezing off two shots.

The first grazed the Winter Soldier’s side, tearing through his coat but doing little damage. The second struck the gleaming metal of his left arm and ricocheted uselessly into the wall behind him.

“Damn it,” Mark muttered.

The Winter Soldier, unfazed by the grazing wound, advanced with eerie precision.

Mark holstered his pistol and scooped Natalia into his arms, cradling her gently as he pushed through the pain in his shoulder. With every step, he willed himself to move faster. Natalia’s limp form rested heavily against him, her head lolling against his chest.

He needed to reach the truck—fast.

Mark ducked down side streets, slipping between narrow alleys, using the twisting roads of Florence to his advantage. His footfalls were nearly silent as he carried Natalia, his ears sharp for any sign that the Winter Soldier was still on their trail. For a brief moment, the sounds of pursuit faded, and Mark allowed himself to hope.

The truck came into view just as Mark rounded the final corner. Relief flooded through him, though it was short-lived. He yanked open the door and carefully set Natalia inside, her head resting gently against the headrest.

The door shut with a click—and a bullet slammed into the bulletproof glass with a sharp crack.

Mark’s instincts kicked in, and he pivoted just in time to avoid another round aimed directly at his skull. He flattened himself against the side of the truck, feeling the wind from the bullet as it narrowly missed him.

Mark leaned out and fired the last of his ammo at the advancing soldier. Most of the shots missed in the heat of the moment, but one ricocheted off the Winter Soldier’s rifle, forcing him to pause mid-reload. The lull gave Mark just enough time to discard his empty pistol.

Without hesitation, Mark charged, his boots thudding heavily against the cobblestones as he closed the distance between them.

The narrow alley echoed with their pounding footsteps as Mark and Natalia sprinted for the hotel, the distant sound of the Winter Soldier closing in behind them. Mark's breathing remained steady, his sharp focus fixed on their destination. They were close—too close for the enemy to catch them now. But the Winter Soldier was not one to be outrun easily.

A faint metallic ping caught Mark's ear, followed by a low, ominous clink. His heart sank.

“Grenade!” he barked, pulling Natalia toward him as fast as he could.

The grenade bounced once against the cobblestones before detonating with a deafening BOOM. The force of the explosion sent a shockwave down the alley, rattling windows and scattering debris in every direction. Mark barely managed to shield himself, but the blast caught Natalia full force.

She was thrown like a ragdoll into a stone wall. Her body slammed against it with a sickening thud, the impact knocking the air from her lungs as she crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Blood trickled from a gash on her forehead, and smaller cuts adorned her arms and legs, leaving trails of crimson against her pale skin.

Mark’s heart jolted with fear at the sight of her lifeless form. His mind screamed to check her, to make sure she was still breathing—but there was no time. The Winter Soldier was still coming.

Mark dropped to one knee beside Natalia, sparing a brief moment to brush her blood-matted hair from her face. “You’ll be okay,” he whispered, more to himself than to her. Then, his focus sharpened.

The Winter Soldier stepped into view at the far end of the alley, his rifle already raised. Mark reacted instantly, drawing his 2011 pistol in a fluid motion and squeezing off two shots.

The first grazed the Winter Soldier’s side, tearing through his coat but doing little damage. The second struck the gleaming metal of his left arm and ricocheted uselessly into the wall behind him.

“Damn it,” Mark muttered.

The Winter Soldier, unfazed by the grazing wound, advanced with eerie precision.

Mark holstered his pistol and scooped Natalia into his arms, cradling her gently as he pushed through the pain in his shoulder. With every step, he willed himself to move faster. Natalia’s limp form rested heavily against him, her head lolling against his chest.

He needed to reach the truck—fast.

Mark ducked down side streets, slipping between narrow alleys, using the twisting roads of Florence to his advantage. His footfalls were nearly silent as he carried Natalia, his ears sharp for any sign that the Winter Soldier was still on their trail. For a brief moment, the sounds of pursuit faded, and Mark allowed himself to hope.

The truck came into view just as Mark rounded the final corner. Relief flooded through him, though it was short-lived. He yanked open the door and carefully set Natalia inside, her head resting gently against the headrest.

The door shut with a click—and a bullet slammed into the bulletproof glass with a sharp crack.

The sharp crack of gunfire echoed through the narrow alley as Mark ducked behind the truck, adrenaline sharpening his senses. The Winter Soldier moved with inhuman precision, his silhouette cutting through the haze of smoke like a specter of death. A grenade launcher rested in his metal grip, the muzzle glinting ominously in the dim light.

Mark's gaze darted to the truck behind him, where Natalia lay unconscious, her breathing shallow. The thought of her helpless inside made his chest tighten. He clenched his fists, calculating his options. If he charged head-on, he'd risk exposing abilities he wasn't ready to reveal. But if he waited too long, the assassin would reduce the entire vehicle to shrapnel.

The Winter Soldier fired.

Mark rolled to the side just as the grenade hit the truck’s flatbed, the explosion ripping through the rear frame and sending a deafening shockwave through the air. The force flung him against a wall, but he absorbed the impact, gritting his teeth against the pain. When the dust settled, the truck’s main body was still intact. The flatbed was mangled, its metal twisted and charred, but the cab and engine remained unscathed. Natalia was miraculously unharmed.

The Winter Soldier advanced, his movements deliberate and unrelenting. Mark pressed a hand to the ground, steadying himself as his eyes scanned for something, anything, he could use. His gaze locked onto a broken electrical conduit sparking faintly along the wall.

He moved.

The Winter Soldier fired again, the grenade missing by inches and shattering against a pile of crates. Mark ducked low, sprinting for the conduit as fragments rained down around him. Reaching out, he yanked the sparking wire free, the acrid smell of burning insulation filling the air.

Mark rounded the corner of the truck, crouched low, and waited. He timed his breathing, matching the rhythm of the approaching footsteps. Then, as the Winter Soldier stepped into view, Mark surged forward, whipping the live wire toward the assassin’s metal arm.

The current exploded on impact, a cascade of sparks illuminating the alley. The Winter Soldier staggered, his grip on the grenade launcher faltering as his arm spasmed uncontrollably. Mark didn't hesitate; he lunged, driving his shoulder into the assassin’s chest and slamming him against the brick wall.

The Winter Soldier let out a low growl, his organic hand reaching for a combat knife sheathed at his hip. Mark caught the movement and grabbed the assassin's wrist, twisting hard enough to make the knife clatter to the ground.

For a moment, the two were locked in a brutal contest of strength. The Winter Soldier's enhanced musculature met Mark's restrained Viltrumite power. Mark felt the cold press of the soldier’s metal arm against his neck, the servos whining as it applied crushing force. He twisted free, pivoting to deliver a powerful kick to the soldier’s midsection, sending him stumbling back.

The Winter Soldier recovered quickly, his eyes devoid of emotion, like a machine recalculating its next move. Mark’s grip tightened on the wire in his hand, his mind racing. He needed to end this before the assassin’s relentless assault left Natalia exposed.

Spying a jagged brick near his feet, Mark dropped the wire and snatched it up. As the Winter Soldier closed the distance, Mark swung the makeshift weapon in a brutal arc, striking the assassin across the side of his head. The impact echoed, and the Winter Soldier staggered, the cold precision in his gaze momentarily flickering into something else—confusion.

Mark froze. For a split second, the Winter Soldier’s expression was almost human. His brow furrowed as if fighting against some unseen force, his lips parting as though he was about to speak.

“Who…” The word was barely audible, a hoarse whisper lost in the crackle of distant flames.

The moment passed as quickly as it came. The Winter Soldier’s eyes hardened once more, and he stumbled back, his movements erratic. Mark raised the brick again, his instincts urging him to finish the fight, but a faint sound stopped him.

“Mark…” Natalia’s weak voice carried from inside the truck, pulling his attention.

He turned his head, his resolve wavering. When he looked back, the Winter Soldier was gone. The alley was silent except for the faint hum of the live wire still sparking against the ground. Mark’s eyes scanned the shadows, but there was no sign of the assassin. He had vanished, his retreat marked only by faint, uneven footsteps.

Mark lowered the brick, his chest heaving as the adrenaline began to fade. He glanced at the truck, where Natalia’s pale face was barely visible through the shattered window.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.

For now, she was safe. But the encounter left him with more questions than answers. Who was this relentless killer? Why was he after Natalia? And what had he seen in the Winter Soldier’s eyes in that fleeting moment of hesitation?

Mark pushed the thoughts aside as he turned and sprinted toward the truck. When he opened the door, he was met with an unexpected sight—Natalia, conscious but still slumped weakly in the passenger seat, watching him through half-lidded eyes. Blood streaked her face, but her expression was calm, almost serene. She had been awake long enough to witness the end of the fight, though she hadn’t been in any condition to help.

“You okay?” Mark asked, his voice low and gentle as he leaned in.

Natalia gave a small nod, the corners of her mouth curling into a faint smile. “Could’ve used some popcorn,” she whispered with a raspy chuckle, though pain lingered in her voice.

Mark huffed a quiet laugh and brushed a hand against her cheek, careful not to touch any of the cuts. “Let’s get out of here.”

He shut the door with a decisive click and moved around to the driver’s seat. As soon as he started the engine, the truck roared to life, and they sped through the narrow streets of Florence, the city lights casting fleeting shadows across their faces.

They reached the outskirts of the city before Mark pulled over in a quiet, deserted area to check on Natalia’s injuries. He reached into the first-aid kit stored under the seat, but as he inspected her, a strange realization hit him—her wounds were already closing.

The cuts on her skin, once deep and raw, were knitting themselves together, healing at an unnatural speed. Her flesh had begun to harden, the texture subtly different—more resilient. Stronger.

“Looks like your Viltrumite DNA’s kicking in,” Mark murmured, lightly running his fingers along one of the now-healing wounds.

Natalia gave a weak nod, her eyelids drooping as exhaustion weighed her down. “Good,” she whispered, leaning back into the seat with a sigh. “Don’t think I’ve got it in me to fight another Winter Soldier right now.”

Mark smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "You won’t have to."

There was a beat of silence between them, broken only by the soft hum of the truck’s engine. Natalia’s gaze softened as she looked up at Mark, her expression unreadable for a moment.

“Mark...” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Thank you.”

Mark met her gaze, the corners of his mouth twitching in a subtle smile. “Anytime, Natalia.”

Her eyes fluttered shut, and just before sleep claimed her, she mumbled softly, “...I love you, you know.”

Mark’s chest tightened, but he kept his expression calm. “I know,” he whispered, resting a hand on her shoulder as she drifted off.

With a final glance at her sleeping form, Mark started the truck again and merged onto the highway, the dark road stretching endlessly ahead.

Their destination was Rome, where a Shadow Company plane would be waiting to take them to Madrid.

But even as he drove, Mark knew that Florence had only been the beginning. The Winter Soldier was still out there. And Hydra was closing in.