The Widow's Daughter ✔︎

Chapter Twenty-Eight

I switched Tony's jet into auto-pilot and, for a few long, boring hours, we drifted through the darkened sky. None of us felt like talking, so we just sat in silence, me almost having a heart attack whenever we entered a turbulent area of cloud.

It was about three in the morning and Evie was snoring in the back seat. "Do you think we'll get kicked off the Avengers for this?" Ben asked, his voice sleepy.

"You weren't even on the Avengers," Peter reminded him. He glanced at me and yawned. "But yes. Kira will probably get kicked off the team when we get back."

I scowled at him. "Well, aren't you a Negative Nelly," I chided. 

Evie yawned. "Nah, Kira won't get kicked off the Avengers. She's Black Widow's daughter. That's gotta account for something."

"You're Black Widow's daughter too," Ben piped up, poking her. "Technically."

Evie rolled her eyes. "I think of Natasha more of an aunt, really," she admitted. "Even though she's my biological mother. You're still my brother, squirt. And Tina's still my mum." She ruffled his hair and he giggled.

I looked out of the window, thinking of Nat. The sky was dark and cloudy, scattered with stars. I could see the faint golden lights of cities down under me: we were probably passing over England right now. I was about to doze off when a buzz from my pocket distracted me. I pulled out my phone, which had previously been turned off in Aeroplane Mode, and looked at it. A billion messages from the Avengers group chat flooded the screen, most from my mum. I had one hundred and fifty-two missed calls. "Woah," Peter looked over at my screen. "That's... a lot of texts."

"Quite the detective," I teased him, responding to the group chat by saying: I'm OK. Don't worry. Gtg. That resulted in about fifty more texts coming in, most of them from Nat, who was texting in all-caps. I switched my phone off. "Did you bring your phone?"

"Nope." Peter shook his head. "It's back at the Tower. So they can't track us."

I frowned at him. "That's probably smart."

Evie snorted and started to sing 'Genius' by LSD. I threw my phone at her head and she squeaked, ducking to avoid the Evie-bound piece of technology. Ben gave me a high-five and Peter laughed. "What's your favourite song?" Peter asked me.

I thought about it for awhile. "Probably a mixture between every Disney song ever written, Thriller by Michael Jackson, and... Timber by Pitbull and Kesha."

He made a face. "Pitbull? Seriously?"

I nodded. "It's a pretty good song actually."

"I beg to differ," said Evie. "Pitbull's music videos are like, one percent actual music and ninety-nine percent underdressed girls."

"And zero percent hair," Ben added, giggling. "I like Dua Lipa."

"Good taste," I remarked, laughing. "So does Nat. She was blasting 'New Rules' at full volume when she had a shower yesterday morning."

Just as Peter was about to say something, I heard a massive bang coming from the end of the plane. I whipped my head around to see a cloud of dark black smoke pouring out of the left engine, which was hanging limp and lifeless, a great big hunk of metal, off the side of the plane. A red light started to flash on the dashboard, saying in big letters: ENGINE DOWN. I swore. "The left engine's dead," I said. "I'll have to fix it." I switched the plane off autopilot and grabbed the steering stick, veering it right. The plane let out a judder as it passed through some particularly dense cloud and Ben yelped as the entire body of the jet tilted to a terrifying angle.

"We're heading over Ireland," Peter yelled, his usually calm face panicked. "We just have to find a safe place to land!"

"You're insane," Evie screamed, holding on tight to Ben. "This is so insane."