You sat silently in the back of the black SUV, eyes fixed on the passing scenery as the city slipped away into rolling hills and dense woods. Natasha Romanoff, the legendary Black Widow herself, was at the wheel, and the air between you was thick with a tension that was hard to shake. She’d barely said a word since arriving to retrieve you, her expression a mask of practiced detachment, eyes sharp and calculating. You were grateful for her help, of course—you knew the threat against you was real—but the silence was uncomfortable, and her distant demeanor kept you from feeling at ease.

Eventually, the car turned onto a narrow dirt road, and Natasha pulled up in front of a small, secluded cabin nestled among the trees. She climbed out without a word, grabbing your bag from the trunk and waiting impatiently as you climbed out after her. The cabin itself was simple, almost rustic, but secure. Natasha’s every movement seemed controlled, efficient, as she unlocked the door, led you inside, and immediately began checking the perimeter.

You tried to make conversation, asking what the plan was or how long you’d be staying, but each time you spoke, she gave you nothing more than short, clipped answers.

After a while you would ask the question again, watching her as she scanned the windows and secured the locks.

"Until the threat is neutralized." she replied flatly, not bothering to meet your gaze as she inspected the security system she’d just activated.