☑ THE SHADOW | Peter Maximoff

f o r t y

~ 𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 ~

When he woke up, it was with a massive jolt, followed by a loud groan. But to his surprise, nothing hurt. The pain that should've appeared in his nose, temple, and even the rest of his body, was gone. Gone was the taste of iron in his mouth, and nothing dripped out of his nose.

As soon as he looked up, he knew why. The girl he presumed to be dead stood in front of him, lurking in the shadows. His heart soared.

"Ames," Peter sighed in relief, immediately scrambling to his feet. "I was so worried, I thought you were-"

He stopped at the pull of something on his wrists. Frowning, he glanced down to see his wrists locked in metal cuffs chained to the wall.

Even more surprisingly, he was changed into a suit. But it wasn't just any suit. It was completely white, from head to toe, and tight, too, though there were thick layers of padding to keep himself protected.

His frown deepened as he looked around. The cell was a square, with every wall made of stone, and a small barred door to his left. The only light entering the room was from the ceiling, which was also barred, and let in the little amounts of light that the gray, overcast sky provided.

His eyes finally landed on Amara. Her getup was opposite to his; completely black. The entire, magnificent outfit was void of any color or any light, making her pale, ghostly white skin stand out. It was a one piece, snuggly fit against her body. The chest dipped into a low v-neck, making the hint of chest, her hands, and her face the only skin he could see.

Draping from her shoulders was a massive cape. It pooled around her feet and lay across the floor, emitting her energy in slow, wistful movements around her. But his eyes were glued to her face. The dark, protruding veins along her skin, her perfectly curled, gorgeous hair that framed her face, and her soulless, demonic eyes that told him Amara was trapped inside her own body.

He inhaled deeply, noticing that her hair and skin were clean. There wasn't a speck of dirt anywhere, and when Peter pulled back his own sleeve, he noticed that he was clean, too.

From what he could see, Amara wasn't chained up to the wall, and by the way her power floated around her, she could use her mutation. That only meant one thing.

He was too late.

"Ames." He tried to keep his voice strong, but it cracked under the pressure in his mind and chest. He had to get her back. He couldn't lose her forever, especially not to these assholes. "I know you're in there, Ames. You don't have to listen to them-"

"They want to rule the world, Peter," she interrupted, a small grin forming on her face. Her voice was echoey, and more like a whisper. "We can do that, too. We can rule the world."

He shook his head. "That's not what you want."

"Isn't it?" she asked, tilting her head and slowly stepping into the light. "Maybe it's the only thing I've ever wanted."

"They're filling your head with lies-"

"Ah, but they're so refreshing," she sighed. Her cape draped along the floor as she stepped up to him, and her finger raised to tickle the skin from his jawline to his chin. "Such naughty thoughts, but so. Much. Fun."

His head shook slightly, his heart beating out of his chest. "My Amara wouldn't want something like that."

"Your Amara?" she chuckled. Her steps continued forward, forcing him to move back.