Y/N's POV

The night air hung heavy with anticipation as I walked through the dim light alleys, chasing the echoes of a past that refused to release its grip. With every step fueled by an unrelenting determination, I pursued the elusive truth that danced just beyond my reach.

A cryptic lead guided me to an underground club, shadows conspiring in the corners as I listened to whispers that surrounded me despite the loud music blaring around the compacted room. People from my past, whom I thought I had left behind, cautiously shared bits of information. This unveiled a complex web of secrets and lies, painting a picture of intrigue and deceit.

I sat at an empty stall around the corner of a group of guys in a circle each with girls in their lap except for the one I was mainly here for. After a brief moment, I gracefully rose from my seat, shedding the jumpsuit to unveil a sleek one-piece black backless top. Paired with above-the-knee boots and adorned with a dark, snug stocking hugging my legs, I effortlessly exuded an air of mystery. Snatching up a platter of drinks from the bustling bar, I seamlessly glided toward the table, assuming the role of an enigmatic waitress.

I approached the group with a practiced nonchalance, my eyes fixed on the guy who had piqued my interest. As I reached the table, the lively chatter momentarily hushed, their attention shifting from their banter to the unexpected arrival.

With a subtle smile, I set the platter of drinks down, playing the part of the unassuming waitress. "Drinks for the table," I announced with a hint of flirtatious charm, distributing the glasses strategically. His eyes met mine, a flicker of curiosity dancing in them as he took in my transformed appearance.

The other guys exchanged glances, momentarily caught off guard by the unexpected allure I exuded. Seizing the opportunity, I leaned in subtly, ensuring my words were only for his ears. "Special delivery," I whispered, a mischievous glint in my eye as I made eye contact, leaving the nature of the delivery deliberately ambiguous.

The atmosphere around the table shifted, a newfound energy charging the air. The guy, the one I was focused on, smirked in response, clearly intrigued by the mysterious turn of events. As I continued to play the part of the discreet waitress, my interactions carried a subtle tension, a magnetic pull drawing him into the web of the unexpected encounter.

The night unfolded with a delicate dance of glances and shared secrets, the guise of the ordinary waitress concealing the hidden agenda beneath. The group, initially oblivious to the clandestine exchange, gradually became entangled in a subtle game of intrigue, their attention shifting as I seamlessly wove myself into their circle.

Once, he was drowned with enough alcohol, I pulled on his loose tie, alluring him to stand up and follow me. "Boys, we'll be back," I smirked at them, ensuring that their boss should be just fine.

Little did they know, this chance meeting held the promise of a night filled with unexpected twists and turns, as the undercover narrative continued to unfold in the dimly lit ambiance of the establishment.

After tying him down on a chair at a motel far from the underground club, he propped his head to look at me. "You're a feisty woman," he drunkenly whispered. I smirked at him in response, turning around to pick a specific torturing tool on the small bedside table, he was oblivious enough not to notice it.

"So Mr..." I trailed off, turning to face him back now holding a machete.

"Blake," he finished as if I hadn't already known.

"Tell me something I don't know," I sat on his lap, both thighs locking him down.

He chuckled, "Well, sweetheart if I told you something you don't know, how will you ever catch up with my level of knowledge?"

I rolled my eyes and retorted, "Oh, please. I'm not interested in a contest of arrogance. I asked for something interesting, not an ego boost."

"Easy there sweetheart, you—" he didn't finish his sentence as I pressed the knife on his neck.

"I, what?" I challenged and he gulped audibly, "That's what I thought. Now tell me something I don't know or I'll have this knife down your throat."

The dim light cast eerie shadows as tension hung in the air. The room seemed to shrink, amplifying the palpable sense of threat. The douchebag's bravado wavered, replaced by a visible gulp that echoed in the charged silence.

His eyes darted nervously around the room, searching for an escape route that didn't exist. I held my ground, the glint of the knife catching the faint light as I maintained my gaze. The atmosphere crackled with the unspoken ultimatum.

Seconds passed like hours before he stammered out a piece of information, anything to quell the rising unease. "Okay, okay! Did you know honey never spoils? Archaeologists found pots of it in ancient Egyptian tombs, still perfectly edible."

A cynical smile played on my lips as I withdrew the knife, the threat lifted but the lingering intensity remained. "Well, congratulations. You bought yourself another minute. Now, try not to bore me." The room exhaled as the fragile equilibrium teetered on the edge of the unknown. "Do you know this person in the picture?" I ask, golding up the picture in my hand even though was still on top of him and that the lack of light did nothing for him to give me a wrong answer. "Yes or no?" I glared at him, he glared back.

"No," he lied, I pressed the knife harder.

"Thirty seconds, better start talking," I warned.

The silence of the room was a ringing in my ear as I waited for his response. The sweat from his forehead only gathered heavily the longer that he kept his mouth shut.

"Five, four...." I counted him down now, but before I could mouth the last number, he gave in and I quickly stood up, releasing him but without leaving a small glint on his neck.

He breathed out, relieved, but his jaw was clenched. "Fuck you," he muttered, knowing he screwed up.

I continued asking him only questions that muttered and he only answered every time I got close to hurting him, and honestly, I expected that this would be hard, only to be wronged that this guy was a chicken. I wonder how he got the job that he has.

After hours of chitchatting with threat, the door creaked open slowly, making me pause from my movements same as Mr. Blake on still on the chair, revealing the silhouette of Bucky and Natasha as they entered the dimly lit room. Tension hung in the air, the atmosphere thick with the uncertainty of the situation. Their eyes scanned the scene, quickly taking in the dynamics at play.

Bucky's gaze narrowed at the sight of the douchebag, who now wore a mix of relief and confusion on his face. Natasha's eyes flickered toward me, a silent exchange conveying understanding and readiness for whatever unfolded.

Without missing a beat, Bucky spoke with a tone that cut through the tension, "What's going on here?"

The douchebag stammered, struggling to find words under the weight of the unexpected intrusion. I stepped forward, the knife still in hand, and explained, "Just a little chat about sharing interesting facts. Nothing you two need to worry about."

Natasha's eyes flickered toward the guy, gauging the situation with a calculated precision. "We're not here for a trivia night. Release him."

"I was just about to anyway, right pal," I crouched down to level with his eyes and smirked. "You're a good-looking one, aren't you?" I rubbed his neck softly, finding the soft spot, before immediately but carefully cracking his neck.

With a calculated move, Natasha was able to grab my arm before I could reach for the smoke bomb compromising my escape.

"Wanna get caught by his mates, then be my guess," I took this as an opportunity to pull her in and slam her back on the floor, aiming for the door that Bucky just left unclosed and was surprised by how fast I moved.

They both ran after me, leaving Mr. Blake asleep on the chair awaiting when he'll be found out by his said mates. It was already near four in the morning which meant for the next bus to arrive.

A quick stop at a twenty-four-hour convenience store that had a thrift store inside I had lost them both for a good ten minutes before I was running again towards a bus stop. And just when I thought they wouldn't catch up, they both insisted on staying decent as they both followed me on the bus, refusing to leave me on my own.

"Couldn't just let me be?" I muttered even though it was just the three of us and the bus driver at the front that occupied the bus.

"We did let you be and look what happened, you turned out to be a whore," Bucky retorted.

"Fucking judgemental much?!" I slightly exclaimed as I changed my boots to comfortable sneakers.

Bucky sighed. "I was just teasing," he mumbled, sitting back on his chair behind me, already tired from the night.

Natasha sat on the other aisle, right next to mine, watching me carefully as if I would disappear out of her sight again.

"Where are we going?" She started talking after I had wrapped my body with a long coat, all from the store.

I turn to look at her. "Are you fucking serious? You get in a bus and you don't know where you're going?" She glared at me, unamused. "I have alcohol in my system."

She scoffed. "Even without, you still speak the same way." Standing up from my seat, she immediately tensed up. "Relax," I said, scooching over to the empty window seat beside her. "Protect me while I rest my eyes, will ya?" I don't trust her, but I know she wouldn't do anything stupid.

I slumped into the seat, feeling the fatigue from the night settling in. The bus rumbled as it moved through the empty streets, and I closed my eyes, attempting to steal a moment of rest.

Natasha, still vigilant, reluctantly nodded. "Don't think this changes anything. We need answers, and you're not running away from that."

Bucky, who had reclined in his seat, chimed in with a gruff tone, "And no more disappearing acts. We're all in this mess together."

I smirked, finding their sudden concern amusing. "Fine, fine. No more disappearing acts. Happy now?" I shifted in my seat, trying to find a comfortable position.

As the bus continued its journey into the unknown night, I couldn't shake the feeling that our tangled paths were far from straightening out. The pursuit of truth had taken a detour, leading us into a position where alliances were fragile, and everyone had their secrets.

The bus hummed with the rhythmic sounds of the road, carrying us towards a certain destination only I know of.

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