The room was freezing, the fluorescent lights humming faintly above them. Steve’s head pounded, his jaw ached from the last punch, and his wrists burned against the ropes. Robin sat slumped beside him, breathing unevenly but still holding on. Across from them, you struggled against your restraints, defiance flickering in your terrified eyes. Steve hated seeing you like this. You shouldn’t have been here. You could’ve left—but, of course, you stayed.

The Russian guard with the shaved head paced the room, muttering orders Steve couldn’t understand. When the man’s eyes locked on you, Steve’s stomach twisted.

“Don’t,” Steve rasped. “Don’t touch them.”

Your sharp glare begged him to shut up, but Steve couldn’t help it. If they laid a hand on you—

The guard grabbed Steve’s collar and yanked him forward, snarling in Russian. The punch to his stomach came fast, forcing the air from his lungs. He doubled over, gasping.

“Stop it!” your voice cracked as you shouted. “Just stop!”

The second guard snapped, “Shut up!” and grabbed your arm. That was it. Steve thrashed against his chair, his wrists screaming, the wood creaking beneath him.

“HEY! I said don’t touch them!”

Robin hissed through clenched teeth, “Steve, stop! You’re making it worse!”

She was right, but how could he sit still while they threatened you? His vision blurred, but he forced himself to meet your gaze.

“I’m gonna get us out of this,” he whispered, quiet and desperate. “I promise.”

Your eyes filled with tears as you nodded faintly. That look broke him, but it also fueled him. No matter what, he’d get you out of here.

The guards barked more orders, the tension thick in the air. Steve braced for what was coming next. But one thought burned brighter than the pain.

If they made it out alive, he was never letting you go again.