Broken Crown excerpt

Oh Lazarus

His arm ached, but his hand had remained hooked against Natasha's wrist for the entire night. It had been the first night that they had spent together in the same room, and he realized quickly what the Red Room had done to her, conditioned her to think. She had started to cuff herself to the bed frame, but instead, he had slept in the floor with one hand on her wrist, doing the only thing that he could think of to keep her from hooking herself to the bed.

How did your debts get paid?

He cursed beneath his breath as he struggled with his tie, awkwardly trying to pull it into position. His entire body shook with nerves and anxiety as he stood there, trying to get ready for his own wedding. He wanted nothing more than for this night to be perfect, but something kept telling him that it wasn't going to be. He fiddled more with the tie before Bruce Banner, the man that he had helped get ready for his own wedding, strode toward him and adjusted the tie for him before smiling and turning away, disappearing out of the room silently.

Oh Lazarus

He had a smoking habit once upon a time, a habit that he had kicked a long time ago. He had started when he was still in that freakshow – the literal freakshow, not the new, not-so-literal one that he called the Avengers – and he had kicked it a little after joining S.H.I.E.L.D. But he still picked up a cigarette every now and again, whenever something was going wrong, or whenever he was in pain. So when he came back home without his hearing, it wasn’t much of a surprise when he got a nasty, disapproving look from Bruce Banner for smoking in the laboratory.

Were you so afraid?

Her lips tugged upward slowly, slyly, revealing two rows of razor-sharp teeth, practically looking like needles. They were too long to have let her close her mouth without digging into her skin, so it wasn't too shocking to find that they were covered in blood. He watched as she dragged her tongue over the needle-thin teeth and smirked maliciously. "What? You've never seen a mutant before?" The woman hissed before a gunshot rang out and she crumpled over dead, dead at the hand of none other than Natasha Romanoff.

When the fires

Broken glass shattered around his feet as he cautiously stepped into the apartment, the cracked remains of vases and photographs and all of the other things that you were supposed to have when you were married splintering beneath his feet. Inside sat Bobbi Morse, hair matted and mascara smudged and clothes torn, near-empty bottle of vodka still in hand. She laughed manically, coughing as she did so, sputtering out what seemed to be vomit as it dribbled down the corner of her mouth, just before she spewed it out all over the carpet. "We're all going to die, Clint Barton." She slurred.

When the fires have surrounded you

Sweat began to bead at his brow as his eyes scanned frantically for Natasha Romanoff. She had to make it through the maze. She had to make it through. She was too strong not to. His eyes darted wildly around the room, but before his eyes could meet hers, there was a deafening shriek... "Bobbi! She's not here!"

And the hounds of Hell are coming after you

He watched as her face went completely blank, like she was lost in complete distraction and complete concentration all at once. Her eyes were like marble, glassy but impossible to read. Her arms swung out quickly, almost lazily, flicking out a set of weapons that she had stolen from the scientists down at S.H.I.E.L.D... And then there was a dangerous - deadly, even - smile across her blood red lips as she swung.

I've got blood

He was covered in blood, the sticky red stuff dripping from every single part of his body. So was Natasha, staining her bleached blonde hair. It almost looked the way that it had before, before she'd gone and dyed it. It was just another hotel room, just another dead target. But suddenly, Natasha was laughing... And then, despite everything, despite what he knew and what was happened and everything else, he was laughing too. And they laughed harder and harder as the sirens drew closer to their shady motel room, laughing until it stung his ribcage and his lungs hurt.

I've got blood on my name

Her eyes were distractedly darting around the room, but her quick, elegant movements were not. She pulled him aside, grabbing his arm and whipping out a knife, movements so fast that they blurred together. Before he could even comprehend it, her knife was digging into the side of his neck, and for a split second, he thought that perhaps she had betrayed him. But her quiet, steady voice erased those fears as he felt the pain of skin being sliced apart and the blood slowly trickle down his neck. "They got you with a tracker. Now be quiet, and be still. I could hit a major artery if you move." She whispered.