Black Angel

She shifted her weight, testing the structural integrity of the heavy industrial chair she was bolted to. Every limb was meticulously pinned—shoulders pulled back, ankles cinched to the reinforced legs, and a tactical restraint across her chest that made deep breaths a luxury. Across the room, the hiss of a hydraulic door signaled the arrival of her host. Dark Angel lifted her chin, her emerald eyes flashing with a defiant fire despite her vulnerable position. She had spent years operating in the shadows, but as the villain’s footsteps echoed toward her through the cavernous lair, she realized this wasn't just another interrogation; it was a carefully constructed trap designed specifically to break the wing of the agency’s most dangerous operative. As the shadowy figure stepped into the light, a smug grin spreading across his face, Natasha didn't flinch. She allowed a slow, predatory smile of her own to tug at the corner of her lips.