The air was cold and damp, heavy with the scent of rust and old concrete. Somewhere above, a single fluorescent light flickered, buzzing faintly. It cast a sickly pale glow over the scene below.

Y/n and Peter were on their knees, side by side. Their wrists were bound tight behind their backs with rough rope. Their ankles were tied too. In front of them stood Tony Stark, his face pale, his jaw tight.

Two men stood behind them. Each pressed the cold barrel of a gun to the back of a head. One to Y/n's. One to Peter's.

Tony's eyes darted between them. His hands were shaking, but he tried to hide it. His mouth opened. No sound came out at first.

The name echoed in the empty space.

For a second, nothing moved. Then the man behind Peter yanked him up by the arm. The gun stayed steady at Peter's temple as he was dragged toward Tony.

Tony grabbed Peter and held him close. He didn't look back.

The man behind Y/n pressed the barrel harder against her skull.

The gun fired.

The sound was deafening. Y/n crumpled to the ground, silent.

The man stepped over her, and the two of them vanished into the shadows, leaving Tony holding Peter, and Y/n bleeding on the cold floor behind them.