Wanda felt the magic before she saw it—a thrum deep in her bones that had nothing to do with the dampening field's teeth clamping her wrists. The field still held, still bit into the flesh of her forearms, but the red mist that coiled around her shins and knees didn't come from her hands. It came from the chair. From the concrete floor. From the air between them, thin and hungry.
She felt Selina's whip hand twitch—a micro-movement, barely visible, but the vibration traveled through the floor to the metal legs of the chair. She felt Harley's breath catch, the sudden stillness in her ribcage. She felt Felicia's claws retract a fraction, the finest compression of her fingertips against her palms. The room held its breath with them.
The chair lifted. An inch. Not enough to break the ropes binding her wrists behind her back, but enough to feel the floor leave her bare soles. Enough to feel weight redistribute, to feel the edge of the seat press against the backs of her thighs. Enough to feel the air thicken with her pulse.
Wanda spread her thighs wider. A dare. The slick gleam of her skin caught the dim light, and she held Selina's gaze—flat, green, unblinking. She didn't smile. She didn't need to.
"Oh, I really, really like this." Harley's voice broke the silence, high and bright and hungry. She shifted forward, hands still resting on Wanda's knees, one thumb tracing a slow circle on Wanda's inner thigh. "You're doing a magic trick, Red? Can I see the rabbit?"
Felicia's claws scraped lightly against the back of the chair, a sound like metal on stone. "She's not doing a trick, Harls. She's doing something much more interesting." Her voice purred, deliberate, as she leaned close to Wanda's ear. "You're finding the cracks, aren't you, witch? The field's still eating your hands, but you're feeding through the bones of the room."
Wanda didn't flinch. The red mist coiled higher, wrapping around her ribs, her throat, pooling in the hollow of her collarbone. She could feel the dampening field humming, straining, crackling—but it only covered her wrists. It didn't cover the chair, the floor, the air. And she had learned, a long time ago, that magic didn't need a direct path. It just needed a thread.
Selina stepped closer. Her boots echoed once, twice, three times before she stopped at Wanda's left side. Her hand moved, slow, deliberate, and rested on the back of the chair—not on Wanda's skin, not yet. "You're still tied," she said, low and careful. "You still can't do anything with those hands."
"I don't need my hands." Wanda's voice came out rough, steady, the sound of a blade being drawn. "I never needed my hands." She tilted her chin up, the red mist swirling around her throat like a living collar. "You had your turn. Now I want mine."
Harley's thumb stopped its circle. Her eyes went wide, pupils blown, and she looked up at Wanda with something between awe and hunger. "Your turn," she breathed. "What does that mean, Red? What's my prize?"
Wanda let the chair drift another inch higher. Her bare toes skimmed the concrete, the balls of her feet barely brushing the surface. The ropes around her wrists bit deep, but she didn't feel them anymore. She felt the weight of Selina's hand on the chair, the heat of Harley's palms on her knees, the brush of Felicia's breath against her ear. She felt the room bend toward her.
"Your turn," Felicia echoed, a smile in her voice. "Careful, witch. You're still outnumbered. Still naked. Still wet from what we did to you."
Wanda laughed. Low, breathless, the sound of a woman who had already seen the ending. "I'm not the one who should be careful."
The red mist coiled out from her throat, a tendril that reached for Selina's hand. It didn't touch her—just hovered, waiting, vibrating with a heat that made the air shimmer. Selina's fingers tightened on the back of the chair, but she didn't pull away.
"You think you can take all three of us?" Selina asked, her voice flat, controlled. "Bound to a chair?"
Wanda's smile finally came. Slow. Deliberate. The smile she'd given Ultron before the world ended. "I think I want to try."
The room hummed. The bulb above flickered. The chair settled back onto the concrete with a dull thud, and Wanda leaned forward, her bound wrists pressing against the ropes, her thighs parting wider, her body a question none of them knew how to answer.
"But first," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper that filled the vault, "I want to see how far you're willing to go to keep me here."
Harley's breath hitched again. Felicia's claws extended, a soft snick in the silence. Selina's hand stayed on the chair, steady, calculating. And Wanda sat in the center of them, not free, but no longer trapped—on the edge of something none of them could name, her magic threading through every crack they'd left open.