Code Name: Untraceable

Chapter Eighteen: Not Yours, Yet Still Here

The bunker door sealed behind them with a hiss that sounded way too final.

They stood in the entry chamber, eyes roaming the tech, the weapons, the walls covered in quiet warnings and silent war stories.

"This is..." Yelena started.

"Paranoid," Ava muttered.

"Awesome," John said at full volume.

Frankie didn't look at them. She led them deeper inside, her boots making no sound as they moved into the dim light of the command room.

"Sit or don't," she said. "You're here now."

John plopped into a steel chair, stretched like he owned the place. "Okay, real question. Why haven't you been helping us lately?"

Frankie raised an eyebrow.

He held up his hands. "I mean-it's not like we need help or anything, but still. You know. We've noticed."

Ava patted his arm. "Smooth, John. Real diplomatic."

Frankie stared at them a second longer, then sighed and dropped into her own chair. The light from the monitors lit her face just enough to show how tired she really was.

"Because someone found me."

The room stilled.

"Wait," Bob said. "Not us?"

Frankie shook her head. "Not you. Someone else. I don't know who."

She tapped on the tablet beside her. Pulled up a sequence.

"They've been sending messages. Pictures. They've been inside every mission zone. Watching me. Watching you."

She flipped the screen toward them.

A photo.

The Thunderbolts.

Outside.

Mid-step, just arriving at the edge of the bunker-branches snapping under boots, Yelena looking annoyed, John smirking, Alexei pointing at nothing, Bob floating overhead.

And at the back of the group?

Frankie.

Standing behind them.

Speaking.

The moment she'd revealed herself.

"This was... two minutes ago," Ava said, staring.

John's voice cracked slightly. "That's the exact moment you told us to shut up."

Frankie nodded once. "Which means someone else was already there. Watching me... watch you."

No one spoke.

Then-another chime.

Frankie's jaw tensed. She turned back to the screen and opened the new message without a word.

No text.

Just another image.

But this one-

Bob stepped closer, breath catching.

"That's... you."

Frankie stared at it. A close-up of her face. Caught in motion. Backlit by forest light. Just before she spoke.

Just before they even knew she was there.

The photo was taken from behind her.

"They're not tracking me," she whispered.

She looked up at the team, eyes sharp, voice dark.

"They're hunting me."