#icywinter

A faint smirk curled at Loki’s lips. “Out?” he echoed, rolling the word on his tongue like it amused him. He turned fully, the faint sheen of his tailored suit catching the light. “Do you think it’s as simple as walking away? You knew what this life required, what it would take, and you accepted it.”

“I didn’t sign up to lose myself,” Bucky snapped, his blue eyes blazing. “You might enjoy playing king in this empire, but I’ve had enough.”

Loki’s expression darkened, the playful glint in his eyes turning cold. He stepped closer, his movements unnervingly graceful. “You’re being dramatic. Sit down, have a drink, and let this ridiculous idea pass.”

“No,” Bucky said firmly, moving toward the door. “I’ve made up my mind.”

But before he could reach the handle, Loki was in front of him, a glimmer of frost in his smile. “And where, exactly, will you go? To the authorities?”

Bucky’s silence was answer enough.

Loki’s smile vanished. “You’re serious.”

“I’m tired of this,” Bucky said quietly, meeting Loki’s gaze head-on. “If I have to give them something to walk away clean, I will.”

The air between them turned razor-sharp. Loki’s expression softened for a brief moment, almost pleading. “James,” he said, voice softer than Bucky expected. “Do not do this.”

Bucky faltered but stayed resolute. “I can’t keep doing this, Loki. It’s killing me.”

Loki’s head tilted, his expression shifting into something darker, more dangerous. “And what about me?” he asked, his tone sharp enough to cut. “What happens to us when you turn coat?”

“I don’t want to turn on you—”

“But you will,” Loki interrupted, stepping closer. His voice dropped, venom lacing every word. “I dare you to betray me.”

Bucky stiffened, Loki’s chilling challenge hitting like a gut punch.

“You think you can walk into a precinct and strike a deal? They’ll bleed you dry for scraps and leave you for dead,” Loki sneered, his elegant mask slipping to reveal fury and hurt. “Or do you think you can outmaneuver me? That I’ll let you waltz out of this unscathed?”

“I’m not scared of you,” Bucky said, though his voice cracked slightly.

“You should be,” Loki whispered, his green eyes glowing faintly.

They stood there, nose to nose, the threat hanging heavy between them. And then, Loki exhaled sharply, his expression hardening into stone. “You’ll regret this, James. More than anything you’ve regretted in your broken little life.”

But instead of following through on his threat, Loki stepped aside, allowing Bucky access to the door.

“Go,” Loki said coldly. “And pray, for both our sakes, that I don’t see your name in a report.”

Bucky hesitated, a war raging within him, but ultimately, he pushed the door open and disappeared into the night.

Loki watched the door for a long time after it closed. The ache in his chest burned deeper than the fury coursing through his veins. If Bucky thought he could outrun this world—or Loki—he would soon learn just how wrong he was.

The precinct smelled of old coffee and cheap floor cleaner. Bucky sat in a small, windowless interrogation room, the only sounds the faint hum of the fluorescent lights and his steady breathing. His heart hammered against his ribcage, each beat a reminder of the betrayal he was about to commit.

The door creaked open, and a tired-looking detective stepped in. She wore a loose blazer over a button-up shirt, a notepad in one hand, and a pen in the other. Her sharp eyes took in Bucky with a mix of skepticism and curiosity.

“You’re the guy who wanted to talk,” she said, closing the door behind her and sliding into the chair opposite him. “James Barnes, right?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah.”

“All right, Mr. Barnes, you’ve got my attention. What’s this about?”

Bucky hesitated, his mind flashing to Loki’s parting words: “I dare you to betray me.” For a brief moment, he wondered if he should stand up and walk out. But the thought of another sleepless night, drowning in guilt and fear, steeled his resolve.

“I want to talk about Loki Laufeyson,” he said finally, his voice steady.

That got her attention. The detective set her pen down and leaned forward, her expression sharpening. “Laufeyson? You sure about that?”

“Dead serious,” Bucky said.

The detective leaned back in her chair, assessing him. “All right. Spill.”

Bucky inhaled deeply and began to talk, recounting Loki’s operations—the shell companies, the bribes, the smuggling routes. He laid everything bare, from the offshore accounts to the list of people Loki had on his payroll, including names he knew would shake the city to its core.

The detective scribbled furiously, her pen barely keeping up with Bucky’s revelations.

When he finally stopped, she looked up at him, her face a mix of amazement and suspicion. “This is big. If this checks out, you’ve handed us one hell of a case.”

“It’ll check out,” Bucky said. “But I need protection. Loki’s not someone who forgives. Once he finds out, he’ll come for me.”

She nodded, standing and gathering her notes. “If you’re serious, we’ll get you into witness protection. But you’d better pray we bring him down before he gets to you. Men like him? They don’t leave loose ends.”

Her words sent a chill down Bucky’s spine, but he nodded. “Just do your job.”

She opened the door and called for another officer to take Bucky’s statement while she prepared a plan. Bucky watched her go, his confidence flickering.

Hours later, Loki sat in his study, swirling a glass of scotch as his phone buzzed on the desk. He picked it up, skimming the incoming message. The words froze the blood in his veins: Barnes is at the precinct. He’s talking.

His grip tightened on the glass until it shattered, the amber liquid spilling across the polished surface. He sat motionless for a moment, the rage simmering beneath his calm facade.

“So,” Loki murmured to himself, his lips curling into a twisted smile. “The little fool followed through.”

He reached for his coat, his mind racing with plans. Bucky thought he could run to the law, that their fragile little system could protect him from the consequences of his betrayal.

I warned him, Loki thought darkly as he stepped out into the night.

But as far as he was concerned, the game was just beginning.

-

The bunker beneath Loki’s upscale mansion was cold and dark, its walls lined with weapons and screens displaying live feeds of the city. At the center, Loki stood with hands clasped behind his back, watching a monitor that flickered with surveillance footage of the precinct. His sharp green eyes fixated on Bucky's figure in one of the rooms.

“Sir,” a man at his side ventured hesitantly, “what’s the plan? Do we intercept at the precinct?”

“No,” Loki said, his tone cold and deliberate. “Not yet. I want him to feel the weight of his decision first.”

The man shifted uncomfortably. “And what if the cops move faster than we anticipate?”

“They won’t,” Loki said, his voice dripping with confidence. “The wheels of justice turn far too slowly to save him from me. Prepare a message. Something personal.”

-

In a dim hotel room paid for by the police department, Bucky stared out at the city lights. The safe house they’d promised was a far cry from security; it was more of a layover while they determined the scope of his information.

The exhaustion in his bones felt like lead. Despite the tension in his chest, Bucky almost felt a glimmer of relief. He had finally done something to step away from the criminal life he loathed.

The feeling vanished as his phone vibrated on the bedside table.

He stared at it, dread pooling in his stomach. He hadn’t given the number to anyone but the detectives. The caller ID was blocked.

With shaky hands, he answered.

“Hello?”

“Well, James,” Loki’s unmistakable, icy voice purred on the other end, “are you enjoying your freedom?”

Bucky froze, his heart racing. “Loki.”

“Surprised?” Loki continued, ignoring the tremble in Bucky’s voice. “I told you before, you can’t outmaneuver me. I see everything. I know everything. Including where you’re hiding.”

Bucky scanned the room as if expecting Loki to appear out of thin air.

“Relax,” Loki said. “I’m not coming for you tonight.” There was an unsettling calmness in his tone. “No, James, I want you to stew in your cowardice a little longer. But rest assured, this is not forgiveness.”

“What are you gonna do?” Bucky forced himself to ask, though the question came out weaker than intended.

Loki’s laugh sent chills down his spine. “What I’ve always done: remind you why betraying me is a mistake no one survives. Goodbye, James.”

The line went dead, but the silence was worse. Bucky gritted his teeth, anger and fear colliding within him.

Three nights later, Bucky’s world came crashing down.

He returned to the safe house after a brief meeting with the detectives to find his room destroyed. The television lay shattered on the floor, the bed overturned, the meager belongings he had scattered in disarray.

And on the wall, scrawled in blood-red paint, were the words: You dare betray me, and this is only the beginning.

Panic surged, but before Bucky could react further, his phone buzzed again. A message this time.

The image attached made him stop cold. It was a picture of Steve Rogers, his oldest and dearest friend. Steve was standing in front of his apartment, unaware of the shadowy figure in the foreground snapping the shot.

The accompanying text was simple: Next time, it’s someone you care about.

Bucky collapsed into the nearby chair, his head in his hands. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Loki wasn’t bluffing.

Several days passed with Bucky moving like a ghost through the motions. The precinct assured him they were closing in on Loki, but Bucky knew better. Loki’s reach was longer, his network deeper, than they could comprehend.

It wasn’t until late one night, when Bucky was stepping out of a diner, that Loki confronted him.

“You look well, considering your betrayal,” Loki said smoothly, emerging from the shadows. His immaculate suit stood in stark contrast to the grime of the alley they were in.

Bucky instinctively reached for the weapon tucked into his waistband, but Loki tutted and flicked his wrist. A blade shimmered into existence, catching the faint light.

“You betrayed me,” Loki continued, his calm façade cracking as a flicker of fury crossed his face. “You spat on the trust I gave you. On us. And for what? The chance at playing the hero?”

“I didn’t want to destroy you, Loki,” Bucky said, his voice steady despite the fear creeping up his spine. “I just wanted out.”

Loki stepped closer, his blade lowering slightly. “You knew that was never an option. But no matter,” he said with a sly grin. “We’re far past negotiations, darling.”

A fight broke out, raw and chaotic. Bucky fought hard, his training from both Hydra and the mafia coming into play, but Loki was faster and unrelenting. Eventually, Loki had him pinned, his blade pressed to Bucky’s neck.

“Go on,” Bucky growled, defiant even now. “Finish it.”

But Loki hesitated, his breath uneven as he stared into Bucky’s eyes. For a fleeting moment, there was something other than anger—a shadow of the bond they’d once shared.

“You’re lucky I care for you more than you deserve,” Loki spat, stepping back and lowering the blade. “But don’t mistake this for mercy. You’ve left me no choice, James. Cross me again, and I will end you.”