Tony had never felt this good in years.
The moment he woke up, his chest felt... whole. He glanced down—no arc reactor. The shrapnel was gone. No more glowing circle keeping him alive like a glorified nightlight. He flexed his fingers, testing his strength. No pain. No sluggishness.
He grinned. Damn, I feel invincible.
"J.A.R.V.I.S., status update?"
"Welcome back, sir," the AI responded. "Your vitals are stable, muscle function at optimal levels. Dr. Kim suggests limited movement for twenty-four hours—"
Tony swung his legs off the medical bed. "Yeah, we'll ignore that."
He reached for his comms. "Where's Amii?"
There was a long pause. Then, J.A.R.V.I.S.'s voice, softer than usual. "Miss Singh is... not in the facility."
Tony frowned. "She's at the hotel, then?"
Dr. Kim stepped forward. "She might have left early to get some rest—"
"Not buying it," Tony cut in. "J.A.R.V.I.S., locate her."
There was another pause. Then:
"I am unable to find Miss Singh's biometric signature."
Tony's stomach turned. The lightness of victory vanished, replaced by cold dread.
"Run a feed sweep of the lab's external security cameras. Show me everything."
The screens in the room flickered, bringing up grainy black-and-white security footage. Tony's jaw clenched as he watched—Amii pacing. A black SUV. A struggle. Her body going limp as masked men dragged her into the car.
J.A.R.V.I.S. zoomed in, cleaning the image. A figure stepped into frame—blond hair, cocky smirk.
Aldrich Killian.
The screen cracked under Tony's clenched fist.