Revenge Turned Sweet

Chapter 13: I Hate You

Throughout my whole life, I've only ever been to Russia and New York. I've never traveled. Business pleasure, or otherwise. So, as we walk through the streets of Riga, I'm entranced in my surroundings. My eyes are glued to all of the limestone buildings lining the cobblestone street, stained with age but still beautiful.

Zemo has been reprimanding Sam and Bucky about the actions of Sokovia, talking about some memorial. Although, I'm too wrapped up in my surroundings to listen close enough to digest his words. Bucky, on the other hand, seems paranoid about something. He's been looking over his shoulder, peaking around every corner, and walks with his hands clenched into fists.

"We're here," Zemo announces, pulling me out of my pleasant daze. He gestures with a gloved hand towards what looks like a townhouse. Cobblestone stairs feed into the entrance with stained glass double doors.

I jog to catch up to Sam and Zemo while Bucky drags behind. I eye him as I manoeuvre around him, seeing the paranoid look on his face. "I'm gonna go on a walk," Bucky says, making us all turn to look at him.

"You good?" Sam asks before I can get a word in.

Bucky nods briefly as he begins to walk backwards. "Yeah. I'll see you guys in a bit."

My brows pinch together as he turns to walk away. It takes all of the self-respect I have not to dig through his head and find out what's really going on as I watch him walk with his hands in his pockets. I reluctantly turn away from him and follow Sam and Zemo up the steps into the building.

My eyes widen at the dimly lit foyer of the house. Marble flooring clicks under my footsteps and leads into a simple but elegant living room. Behind a large L-shaped brown leather couch are floor to ceiling stained glass windows that let in an absurd amount of natural light. I study the designs on the windows for a moment, trying to decipher what the pictures depict. My attempts are futile, they seem to have faded with age.

I follow Sam to the island seated in the kitchen and raise a brow at him. "What was his problem?" I ask, referring to Bucky and his attitude. I sit on the stool next to him and cross my legs.

He sighs while rubbing his forehead. "I'm the wrong person to ask, Nadya."

Okay, not pushing that subject any farther. I chew on my lip as I continue observing the room. Curiosity begins settling in at the many different doors leading to different areas of the house. Although, no matter what I do, my mind can't help but wander back to last night. My big apology speech makes me cringe in embarrassment and shame when it's obvious it may have made things worse.

"Zemo." I get the attention of the fugitive rummaging through the cupboards. He nods at me, gesturing for me to say what I was going to say. "Why did you try to break up the Avengers?" I ask.

He ponders my question for a moment with a hand grazing over the stubble on his cheeks. "Well-"

"No, Zemo, do not answer that!" Sam points at Zemo and I raise my eyebrows at the dramatics.

"Just trying to start conversation," I mumble, picking the lint off of my jeans.

Sam's eyes dart to me, a glare molded onto his face. "Don't ask questions you already know the answers to," he says in a low voice.

Before I can respond, the front door opens and slams shut. Heavy footsteps thud against the floor, growing louder and louder until they reach us. "Well, the Wakandans are here. They want Zemo." His voice echoes off the walls as he pulls his jacket off. He glances at me but looks away quickly, making me furrow my brows. "Bought us some more time," he adds.

"Were you followed?" Sam inquires.

"No."

I turn to watch all three of them begin to argue, honestly seeing it as a reality show at this point. "Why would they want Zemo?" I ask, trying to get involved in their conversation.