I apologize for this long ass tag in which nothing was actually said. Wanda has ~feelings.
Wanda felt nothing; she couldn't echo Wicked's horror or embrace Clint's outrage. She couldn't even feign surprise when this was simply the inevitable confirmation of exactly what she'd thought and feared and hoped wasn't true from the moment her brother had gone. Of course their father had Pietro because that was the only logical conclusion to the nightmarish farce life had become lately.
The only actual surprise in these latest catastrophes was how stupid they had all been. Pietro, for bewilderingly returning to their sadist father, the man who routinely tortured his own children and couldn't care less if every human being on earth were dead. Tony, for keeping her at the tower and not expecting that something horrible would happen. Wanda, for ignoring all of it and not speaking out because for months all she'd wanted to do was crawl into a hole and pretend that life everywhere wasn't falling down around her head. They were all to blame for this.
To have thought, even for a moment, that she and Pietro would ever be free of their father's influence was pure fantasy. He had a hold on them that couldn't be shaken. A hold that made Pietro, even after twenty eight years of abuse and cruelty, believe that Magnus still had something to offer. A hold that made Wanda terrified of this distant man, living her life with the constant fear in the back of her mind that at any moment he very well would, and could, show up and kill her. Her father was a monster, even the end of the world hadn't changed that, and Wanda was afraid that she would never escape him.
Even in the midst of hell on earth when he ought to have been the last worry on her mind, Magnus knew just how to hurt Wanda most, how to make her feel completely empty and inhuman. The decimation of the tower and the people still inside had been a terrible blow, but it was only par for the course to Magneto, just like the lifetime of tortures and manipulation his children had suffered at his hands. Magneto invariably destroyed everything he touched and he was going to break his daughter now by keeping her from the one thing she knew she needed to survive, to keep going, in a world where it would be easier to just die. The emptiness and cold were merely the calm before a storm that Wanda was sure would break at its first opportunity- but not yet.
She only held herself in check now because what Tony had said-no, the way he'd said it- was all wrong. That they were standing here listening, that was wrong. Tony safe and hidden in his armor, staring out from behind the barren glow of his implacable gold mask, wrong. This conversation shouldn't have even been happening, not here, not in the eerily silent halls of a museum in New York City. They should have found out in transit on the way to Genosha to make a stand because there was still that slim hope that they could get him back and Wanda wanted to hold onto that and so why weren't they doing anything yet?
Wanda waited for Iron Man's answer to the others' calls to action, already afraid she knew what he would say. She stared at him, gaze full of silent accusation for things he hadn't said, with her fists clenched and her nails digging into her palms. She didn't realize she was shaking.