The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the mats where the team ran through their drills.

Natasha moved through a combat sequence with fluid precision—but all eyes were on the figure beside her.

Y/n. Romanov's sister. Moving like she'd been born on the mat.

From the corner of the room, a metal arm gleamed in the light. Bucky Barnes had stopped his own routine. Wasn't even pretending otherwise.