The Hawk's Gambit - DoomTheShroom (2024)

It was a dreary day in the city of New York.

Slowly, the icy fingers of winter settled on the state, bringing a harsh, frigid wind with it. Low, gray clouds blocked the serene blue of the sky, dropping mounds of snow and ice over the busy streets and frosting glass windows until a sparkling blanket had settled over the concrete jungle—an odd case for mid-November.

Although, while most of the city’s citizens hunkered down, waiting for the ice to melt, Kate Bishop had been busy.

Deep in the heart of Manhattan stood the Millenium Hotel, filled with hustling and bustling businesses and tourists; it was the perfect place to hide in plain sight. Currently, one of the hotel’s rooms was occupied; a repetitive, high-pitch screeching created quite a disturbance for the rest of the clientele.

Kate slammed onto the length between her legs, bucking her hips with sharp, jerky movements as she rode her mate below her. They had been at it all night long, but Kate wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon, and judging by Yelena’s slack jaw and hooded lids, the Alpha did not have the energy to put an end to her Omega’s movements.

The headboard bumped loudly against the wall, matching Kate’s thumping heart. The mattress springs groaned. The wind whipped against the window, howling fiercely as it blew snow off the roof. Kate shut her eyes against the sound of the wind; she could almost hear her mother’s agonizing shriek, and she wondered if the whirlwind was an embodiment of Eleanor. Kate wondered if the creaking and groaning of the building meant her mother’s spirit wanted to rip the bricks from the mortar so she could reach her daughter. Kate wondered if the gale that had descended upon the city was her mother’s wrath, stinging her skin with her bitter despair.

Kate shook her head, grinding her hips more harshly against Yelena’s, trying to stave off the memories from the past few days. The archer focused on the firm member inside her, filling her in all the right ways; she focused on the hands attached to her waist, squeezing desperately. Kate’s fingers twitched against the slick skin of her mate, and the Omega opened her eyes, gazing forlornly at Yelena’s damp hairline and flushed face.

“Sign here, please,” instructed the coroner, tapping the tip of his pen against the dotted line. “Now that her case has been resolved, we can release the body to you.”

Hand trembling, Kate took the offered pen and scribbled her signature. It took every ounce of strength for Kate to keep her line of sight away from the zipped-up black body bag on the gurney beside them. Thankfully, Yelena was there to keep a steady hand on her mate’s back, physically blocking the bag from view if need be.

“Thank you, Miss Bishop,” the coroner smiled sadly. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Kate felt a flicker of her old anger flare in her chest before it faded and extinguished at Yelena's comforting kiss on her cheek.

A spark of arousal pushed that memory away. Kate gasped for breath, listening intently to the blonde’s elevated breathing below her. The archer took in her mate, hoping that focusing on the little details of her Alpha would keep her other thoughts at bay.

She knew Yelena had cum multiple times within the past few hours; Kate could feel it in the extra stickiness coating her thighs. Her mate’s blonde hair, now wet with sweat, fanned over the pillow beneath her head; her eyes were dazed, staring reverently at her Omega as Kate mounted her over and over, never pausing. Droplets of sweat gathered between Yelena’s breasts. Her biceps twitched as she kept her hands firmly placed around Kate’s waist, an anchor to keep her tethered to the present.

“We did the best we could,” the mortician spoke with quiet respect.

Kate and Yelena stood in the center of the facility's showcase room, surrounded by coffins of various colors and styles. “Thanks,” Kate sighed, emotionless.

“Would you like to see her?” he asked kindly, clasping his hands in front of himself.

She shook her head, feeling the stinging already forming in her eyes. “No,” she croaked. Kate felt Yelena take her hand, but she couldn’t look at her mate or the mortician; instead, she focused on the monochromatic flower arrangement on the side table. Chrysanthemums, of course. “J-just tell me,” she inhaled shakily. “Will my mother look broken?”

“No,” he whispered. “There are…techniques we use to fill cavities and makeup to hide blemishes. She may not look exactly as she was, but your mother will look respectable.”

Kate nodded, the muscles in her face contracting as emotion threatened to overtake her.

The mortician gestured around the room. “Would you like to pick out a coffin for her?”

The archer slowly walked to the far side of the room, trailing the pads of her fingers along the sleek, polished wood of a warm mahogany casket. “This one,” Kate said softly, resting her hand against the side. Initially, she had thought of a pure black coffin for her mother; it seemed to match her mother’s sharp aesthetic, but upon entering the room, she was immediately drawn to this one: it matched the color of Eleanor’s hair.

“An excellent choice.”

A shiver raced down Kate’s spine as an elastic band grew taught in her belly, whisking the memory away. Her thighs burned as she kept her pace, her hips straining to maintain a constant speed.

“Kate,” Yelena moaned, the tendons in her neck straining.

The Omega leaned forward, putting her weight on her hands, and quickened her pace, pulling rattling lungfuls of air into her body. Kate tried to focus on the faint pleasure swirling in her tummy, but it wasn't easy. She tried angling her pelvis so Yelena hit just the right spot, but it didn’t send her over the edge like it usually did. For the past week, the anger, hatred, and grief Kate had been feeling had dwindled until she wasn’t sure what she was feeling. The archer was in a state of limbo, her emotions flaring occasionally but never with the intensity she was used to. Still, her mind raced with what-ifs. What if she never turned in her mother? What if she had been honest with her sire? What if she had taken Fisk’s inner circle more seriously? Would that have changed anything?

Tears began to build behind her eyes, and the howling wind outside mirrored the jumble of emotions that swirled inside her. Kate gasped. “Tell me I’m your good girl,” she begged, grinding harder.

Yelena licked her lips, her hips twitching. “You are my good girl, malen'kiy yastreb,” the Alpha swallowed heavily. “My best girl.”

Heat began to rise within Kate.

“You’re so good for me,” Yelena continued, throwing her head back as a wave of arousal overwhelmed her. “When I am with you like this, I never want it to end; I want to stay like this forever,” whined the Russian, staring straight into her mate’s soul. “You are always nice and snug around me; so silky, caressing me, milking me, perfect for me,” she choked.

Without warning, the growing ball of desire exploded in the pit of Kate’s stomach, and she spasmed around her mate, quaking with the force of her org*sm and panting to draw breath into her lungs. She watched, addicted, as Yelena quickly followed suit. The Alpha bit her lip, trapping it between her teeth, her back arching as her mate’s Kegel muscles worked her tip, and she released a loud, drawn-out grunt as she came.

Kate fell to the side, slipping off her Alpha, gasping for much-needed air, but it was worth it. Her mind was blissfully blank, her emotions buried under the pleasure tingling along her nerves, and she wanted to keep it that way. “More,” she slurred.

“More?” Yelena asked incredulously.

The Omega rolled lazily onto her side, facing away from her mate, and lifted her leg in the air. “More,” she confirmed.

Yelena scooted closer, easily slotting herself back between Kate’s legs. “You’re going to be the death of me,” she murmured, placing a kiss behind Kate’s ear as she hugged her from behind. The Alpha’s ringed fingers slithered up Kate’s stomach, grasping tightly to her breast, and began to jog her hips. She rested her forehead at the base of the archer’s neck, tiny grunts escaping Yelena’s mouth.

“f*ck,” Kate hissed, her eyes rolling in the back of her head. Her body gave way to the force of her mate’s thrusts, rolling back and forth with the movement. Desire immediately raced through her, and her mouth dropped as she gasped for breath. The archer trapped her bottom lip between her teeth, reaching back to clutch the top of Yelena’s thigh as her Alpha’s tip pushed against her front wall. “Oh, sh*t.”

She could feel hot puffs of air against her spine as Yelena breathed open-mouthed. The blonde’s fingers clutched the globe of flesh in a death grip. The Russian released tiny mewls of pleasure, drowned out by Kate’s harsh exhalations. “So f*cking good,” Yelena groaned, wrapping her calf around Kate’s shin for better leverage.

Kate pushed her face into the pillow as Yelena’s length repeatedly rubbed over that one spot that always made stars erupt behind her eyes. A sharp shock traveled through her when cold metal lightly pinched her nipple, but her mate did not focus on her chest for long. Instead, Yelena snaked her hand further up her sternum and wrapped her digits around Kate’s neck.

Their bodies rocked together as the Alpha continued to push herself inside her mate. Yelena’s hand squeezed Kate’s throat tightly, making the Omega’s tongue poke out of her mouth.

Kate gripped the sheets below her, her eyes closed and mouth hanging open as she enjoyed the heavy weight of her Alpha wrapped around her and the delicious friction sending electric sparks inside her.

Yelena’s hand left her Omega’s throat, instead settling on Kate’s hip as she pulled back slightly. “So warm and wet,” she praised, voice thick. “Taking all of me, my good girl. I—uh—” Yelena’s head fell against her mate’s shoulder as she put more power behind her thrusts, changing to longer strokes.

Toes curling, Kate bit the pillow as pleasure rocketed through her, and she involuntarily clenched around her mate.

“That’s right,” panted Yelena, voice tight. The Alpha struggled to push herself back into Kate’s contracting inner walls. “Come on, moya lyubov',” she growled. “Give it to me; let me take your pleasure; let me feel you gripping me for all I’m worth, sucking me in and never letting me go. Can you do that for me, Kate?”

Kate nodded, aching and pulsing, her body begging for another release. Whimpering, she tilted her hips back, clenching as hard as she could on Yelena’s upstroke, relaxing herself as her mate pushed back in.

“Oh,” gargled the blonde. “Kate Bishop.”

Then suddenly, the archer was on her back, her mate hovering over her with a crazed gleam in her eyes.

“I want to see your beautiful face as you finish,” growled the Russian, pinning her Omega’s hands above her head. “And I want you to see how good you make me feel,” she snarled, keeping her rhythm slow but sharp.

Yelena slowed until she was entirely buried within Kate. The archer could feel her Alpha’s skin rub against her petaled folds, smearing her slick over her mound. “Yelena,” gasped Kate as her mate kept her in place. The Russian kept tugging the archer against her body, and even though she couldn’t go in any further, the blonde refused to leave less than a millimeter of space between them. Kate had never felt so thoroughly stuffed in her life, but that empty, gaping void was finally being filled.

“Be a good girl and cum for me, malen'kiy yastreb,” demanded the Alpha. “Watch what you do to me.” Yelena—keeping Kate still firmly pressed against her—circled her hips.

White light flashed in Kate’s eyes, and a ringing grew louder in her ears. All the pleasure simmering within her rushed south as her form trembled, a hot, sticky wetness shooting out of her body and coating Yelena’s stomach.

“f*ck, yes,” hissed the blonde, immediately following Kate in her fall to pleasure. A serene smile spread over Yelena’s lips, and she threw her head back, her abdominals flexing as she emptied herself, still keeping her mate flush against her. “I love you,” the Alpha whispered before pitching forward, barely catching herself from flattening her mate.

“Thank you,” Kate breathed, wrapping her arms around Yelena’s sweaty back. “I really needed that.”

Yelena sluggishly tilted her head into the Omega’s neck, kissing her mating mark delicately. “Whatever you need,” she panted sincerely.

Kate leaned her head down, rubbing her nose against Yelena’s. “Also, I love you too,” and she pressed a lingering kiss to her mate’s damp temple.

The blonde smiled tiredly, resting her head on Kate’s heaving chest. “Has this helped?” she asked, " Regarding later today?”

Sighing, Kate sifted her fingers through Yelena’s tangled hair. “I hope so.”

Today was the day that Kate had been dreading for the better part of two weeks: her mother’s funeral. Usually, the proceedings tended to last at least two days; her father’s had anyway, but she decided on condensing the wake and the graveside funeral into one long day. It would be easier that way, less drawn out. Eleanor had given up religion long before Kate was born, which meant no church, mass, or final rights, but that was fine with the archer. Kate wasn’t sure she’d be able to read a eulogy in front of strangers. This way, it would be over quickly.

Yelena groaned, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. “It is eight in the morning,” she grumbled, rolling off her Omega. “We should get in the shower if we want to make it to the wake in time.”

“Right,” Kate huffed, stretching until her spine popped. “Can’t wait.”

The rest of the morning passed slowly. It seemed only a few minutes had passed every time Kate glanced at the clock.

8:30

8:45

9:00

9:15

It reached the point where Kate stared at the wristwatch, ensuring the timepiece hadn’t malfunctioned. But time still ticked on, and the closer it got to ten, the antsier Kate became. She stared at herself in the hotel mirror, putting on her signature black suit she had worn almost a year ago to her mother’s holiday gala. Kate had worn the suit to piss off her sire and challenge her mother’s need for control…now she was wearing the suit to say goodbye and lay her mother to rest…permanently.

Things really had changed.

Kate watched her reflection shove her hands in her pant pocket, tumbling the cool, glassy surface around her fingers. Before she and her Alpha left their apartment, Kate had taken her precious book of stones and a few of the minerals she had begun to collect. A small chunk of black obsidian was in her pocket, and she kept it with her for one sole purpose. According to myth, the shiny stone was often used in communicating with spirits; all she needed was a reflective surface, and maybe she could talk to her mom one last time. Maybe, if she did that, Kate would be able to squash the pain radiating inside her.

Yelena offered to drive Kate to the funeral home in her truck, an offer Kate did not refuse. The archer spent the ride staring out the window so she wouldn’t have to lock eyes with her mate, pretending there wasn’t bile steadily rising in her esophagus. Kate’s stomach clenched and pinched the closer they got to their destination, her heart pounding rapidly behind her ribcage. Soon, they would be escorted into the building, and there would be nothing blocking her from seeing the prone form of her mother. There would be nothing but a hallway and rows of uncomfortable chairs separating her from the open casket of her sire.

“Hey,” Yelena cooed softly, touching her mate’s thigh warmly. “We’re here.”

Kate blinked, tilting her head toward the yellow concrete building. She took in the green awning with Santangelo’s Funeral Home written in elegant gold foiling.

“Do you want to stay here a little longer?”

She shook her head. “I just want this day to be over,” Kate murmured before getting out of the truck.

Together, the two mates walked up the slate steps, the force of the wind nearly knocking them over, and were greeted by the funeral director.

“Hello, I’m Emily,” the woman spoke quietly, shaking each of their hands. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks,” Kate said flatly, mustering a fake smile.

“She’s in the room on your first left.”

Nodding, Kate took small steps down the hallway. No doors were inhibiting her entrance to the room, just arched doorways. The sight of rows upon rows of chairs came first, lined up as if waiting for an assembly to begin, but Kate passed the first archway and was briefly met with another wallpapered wall. All too soon, the second entrance was upon her, and there was nothing to stop the immediate visual of a mahogany casket surrounded by dim pink lighting and several bouquets of flowers.

She took her time tracing her eyes over the details of the wood and the gold metal accents, but she could only stare at it for so long. It took Yelena placing a comforting hand on the small of Kate’s back for the Omega to find the strength to move her eyes to the person lying peacefully in the casket, puffed up with white pillows.

Kate had never seen her mother that thin before. Eleanor Bishop's jawline was sharper than ever; her sleek hair was brushed away from her face and spread carefully on the cushion beneath her. Her ice-blue eyes remained closed, and her lips were tilted in a delicate smile. The mortician had been correct; you could hardly tell the trauma Eleanor went through by looking at her. The bruises had been masked, and Kate could tell her mother’s skin had been pulled taught over her features to hide any impurities, evident by the slight wrinkled sagging skin around her mother’s ears.

“She looks different,” Kate whispered as she continued to stare at the form of her mother. Her sire could have been sleeping after a hard day in the office. Kate almost expected her to open her eyes and turn her head in their direction, asking how school went…but Eleanor remained still in her final resting bed, her hands clasped over her stomach.

Kate hesitated, then touched her mother’s cheek, recoiling after a few moments. “She’s cold,” the archer said. Eleanor’s skin was slightly stiff and waxy, almost like leather.

Stepping away, Kate placed herself by the entrance, leaning against the wall, Yelena next to her.

“How many people do you think will come?” Yelena asked, staring at the casket and adjusting her black overcoat.

Kate shrugged. “I still can’t believe she’s gone. Like, I know she is, but then there are moments where I actually remember that I’ll never talk to her again.”

“I know,” Yelena whispered.

They stood in silence for ten minutes until several people in business attire walked through the entrance.

As Kate shook their hands, she realized they were all from Bishop Securities and had come to pay their respects.

“I work in accounting.”

“I met your mom once. She seemed nice…fair.”

“I’m in the R&D department.”

Kate greeted them all, her cheeks cramping as she kept a permanent smile stretched over her lips. “Thank you for coming,” she repeated monotonously.

“You never know what’s going on with a person until it’s too late.”

“Right,” Kate replied, because what else could she say?

“Your mother was a powerful woman; she will be greatly missed.”

“She was,” Kate nodded.

“It’s been a while since we’ve seen you around the company. When do you think you’ll be back?”

Kate ignored the pang of guilt in her stomach. “I don’t know.”

“We’re so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.”

“So sorry about your mother.”

“So sorry.”

“Very sorry.”

“Sorry.”

“Thank you,” the Omega repeated countlessly. She was getting tired of hearing her own voice.

She hid her grimace as a new stranger entered the room, tears streaming down this woman’s face. Kate quickly realized the wake was more for her to console everyone else than for herself. “Your mother was so lovely to work with,” she hiccupped. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”

“Yeah,” Kate agreed, plastering another smile on her face. “Thank you for coming. I’m sure she would have appreciated it.”

Finally, there was a lull in arriving guests, and Kate had a moment to wipe the grin off her face and stare blankly at the wall across from her. Only one more hour, she thought to herself.

Kate felt Yelena gently nudge her, and she jerked her head up to see her friend, Peter, standing before her.

He smiled sheepishly, wearing a gray suit that looked half a size too small. His brown hair was combed neatly, and his hands were clasped somberly before him. “Hey, Kate,” he greeted. “I’m so sorry about your mom.”

The archer gaped momentarily, then threw her arms around Peter’s shoulders, squeezing tight. Tears immediately sprung to her eyes because she knew he meant every word of his condolence. “Thanks for coming,” she breathed, and she meant it.

Kate glanced out of the corner of her eye and couldn’t help the stifled sob that escaped her lips nor control the way her heart grew heavy in her chest. All her friends had also come to offer their comfort, pushing their way through the entrance, their group even pushing a few of Eleanor’s business associates away. Greer and Franny were dressed in long black dresses, and their make-up was flawless, of course. Cassie had her hair down in a rare sight, wearing a purple blazer over a nice vintage tee and black dress pants, purple Converse included. Riri looked stunning in her red sweater, leather jacket, and black jeans.

One by one, they all wrapped Kate in a fierce hug, even gathering Yelena into their arms, all whispering sincere apologies.

She was so glad that her friends had arrived, but she still couldn’t watch as they approached her mother, dipping their heads down. So, she stared at the wall again, taking comfort in the warmth of her mate beside her. Kate was sure Greer and Franny were cursing out her mother as they stood in front of the casket…respectfully, of course.

Sonya showed up a few moments later, unbuttoning the top collar of her dress shirt. She didn’t say much but hugged Yelena, then Kate, as tightly as she could before joining Greer at the back row of seats.

Thankfully, the remaining time passed quickly after her friends arrived, and the funeral director stepped toward the front of the room, calling for attention. “Thank you all for joining us today in remembrance of Eleanor Bishop. After the repass, we will all caravan to the burial at Green-Wood Cemetery. If you are following in the procession, please put on your hazard lights. Starting from the back, please make your way up front to say your final goodbye.”

Kate watched as her friends came forward, heads bowed in goodbye, then watched them exit the room, followed by all of Eleanor’s business associates; then, it was just her and Yelena left in the room.

They slowly stood and placed themselves in front of the casket. Yelena wrapped her arm around Kate’s shoulder, holding her close. The archer’s lips trembled. This would be the last time she ever physically saw her mother—only moments left before the lid was closed and sealed shut forever. “Bye, Mom,” she whispered brokenly, clutching her mother’s cold hand. Kate still wasn’t sure how she felt about her mother; all she knew was that she already missed her and no longer had her parents at the age of twenty-three.

Yelena pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped the tears from Kate’s face. The Omega hadn’t realized they’d fallen. “Are you ready?” asked the Russian in her deep, calming voice.

Nodding, Kate squeezed her mother's hand one last time and stepped away, turning back one final time in the archway to see if anything had miraculously changed, but Eleanor was in the same position, unmoving.

The mates got into the idling car provided by the funeral home and watched as the closed casket was carried into the hearse.

“Thankfully, it’s a quick ride to the cemetery,” mumbled Kate as she blew her nose. The wind howled around the car, making it difficult for the men to close the hearse door, but eventually, they managed.

So, the line of cars weaved through the busy city streets until they pulled into the sprawling green acres of the cemetery, where strings of headstones were strung under the shadow of the Brooklyn Bridge.

“She’ll be buried next to my dad.”

Yelena nodded and held her mate’s hand.

The casket was laid on top of the open grave, supported by rope and metal bars. Kate’s eyes traveled to the green tent beside the coffin, and she gasped. Standing next to it was a family of five and a tall man in a suit, holding a cane.

“The Barton’s are here! And Matt.” She swung around in her seat, facing her Alpha.

“Yes,” Yelena said simply, smiling sweetly.

“You knew?” Kate asked incredulously, her grief momentarily forgotten. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

The blonde gestured out the window. “They wanted it to be a surprise.”

The minute the car rolled to a stop, Kate was out the door, hurrying toward her second family, nearly tackling them in a hug. “I can’t believe you’re here!”

Clint cocooned her in his warm embrace. “Even though she tried to have me killed, she was still your sire, and I know a thing or two about having difficult parents. We couldn’t not be here.”

The archer turned her head, resting her cheek against Clint’s shoulder, and watched Laura pull Yelena into a hug.

Kate stepped away and faced Matt, shaking his offered hand. However, they did not speak as the guests crowded around them; there would be time for that later.

“How are you feeling?” Clint asked gently, accepting a white rose offered by the director.

“Numb,” Kate answered, also accepting a rose. “I want this day to be over, but I’m also scared of how I will feel when it is.”

The older archer nodded but didn’t say much else.

Emily stood over the casket, saying a few words about final rest and being at peace, but Kate could hardly hear over the whipping wind. The gale stung her cheeks, her body shivering even as she was pressed between Clint and Yelena.

The guests began to place their roses over the coffin, but the wind kept blowing them away, so they fell onto the fake green carpet below. The tent above them began to creak and shudder, threatening to capsize the longer they stood around the grave.

Kate’s eyes shifted to her father’s worn headstone, and the breeze calmed slightly enough for her and Yelena to place their flowers without further displacement. “Can I have a moment alone?” she asked her mate, smiling gratefully when Yelena nodded and walked off.

The obsidian in her pocket felt heavy; she ran a finger over its smooth surface, concentrating on her barely seen reflection in the polished wood as the coffin lowered into the ground. Kate imagined her long, dark hair shrinking into a brunette with sharp angles; for once, she wanted to see her mother's blue eyes reflected at her. “Mom?” Kate whispered desperately, ignoring the wind pushing at her back.

A jolt ran through her stomach. Had the eyes staring out of the coffin's reflection blinked at her? But disappointment settled heavily in her bones when only Kate’s reflection stared back. “Rest in peace, Mom,” sighed Kate. It hadn’t worked.

“Yes,” said a drawling voice from slightly behind Kate. “Rest well, Eleanor.”

The archer snapped her head to her left, taking in a monolith of a woman. “Aunt Moira?” she asked in surprise.

Moira Brandon, retired movie actress extraordinaire, stood over her sister’s grave dressed in an oversized mink coat and a black beret. She eyed the grave before pivoting to her niece. The actress always had a haughty expression, but her blue eyes—the same as Eleanor’s—gleamed warmly. “Hello, Kate. It’s good to see you.”

“I-I wasn’t sure if you’d show,” Kate gaped.

“Not show up to my own sister’s burial? I have more class than that,” Moira simpered, but her shoulder sagged. “Eleanor was always so busy, bustling about, getting herself into situations she didn’t need to be in. I suppose that’s over with now.”

Kate glanced at her aunt, wincing as the icy wind slapped her face. She wondered what Moira thought about Eleanor going to prison and the public allegations of murdering Derek. Or if there was any guilt from the actress for missing out on a significant portion of their lives. “Are you staying?” Kate tried to keep the hope out of her voice.

Moira blinked, physically pulling herself away from the edge of the gaping hole in the ground. “No,” she said stiffly, wrapping her coat tighter around her body. “I leave for Madrid tonight. I came to pay my respects to my sister,” she cupped Kate’s cheek with a gloved hand, “and, of course, to say hello to you. You’ve grown so much.”

The Omega did her best to hide her disappointment and ignored her sour stomach. “That tends to happen when you haven’t seen someone for two years.”

Her Aunt hummed, fixing the tilted hat on her head. “Well, if you ever want to visit Madrid, or Aruba, or France, or Sicily, feel free to give me a ring. All of my homes are open to you.” Moira nodded, squeezed Kate’s shoulder goodbye, and stalked off, inadvertently stepping on other people's graves.

Kate shook her head, watching a petal from a rose fly away on a harsh gust of wind, wondering when her favorite aunt became her least favorite.

Finally, she turned away from the grave, surprised to see her friends, the Barton’s, and Matt Murdoch, waiting by the road, standing next to the car. Kate was unsurprised to see Yelena holding Nate tightly in her arms, the young boy burying his face into her shoulder. She smiled, the pit in her stomach disappearing.

“Would you like a ride back to the funeral home, Ms. Bishop?” asked one of the funeral attendants.

“That’s all right,” Greer said, jerking her thumb toward a large SUV parked by the street outside the cemetery’s perimeter fence. We got them covered.”

The man bowed his head and left.

Kate went in for another round of hugs. “It was so nice of you guys to come; you didn’t have to.”

“We’re friends,” said Cassie, standing shoulder to shoulder with Peter. “We wanted to be here.”

“We did,” assured Clint. “Besides, the kids are starting their Thanksgiving break, and I knew they’d like a quick visit back to the city.”

“Oh man,” Kate rubbed her forehead. “Thanksgiving is next week. I completely forgot!” She turned toward Riri and Cassie. “Is it break for you as well?”

They nodded.

“Ah yes, the American Thanksgiving, where everyone engorges on too much food,” joked Yelena. Still, there was an excited gleam in her eye, and Kate could tell her mate was practically salivating at the idea of cooking ten courses for a single meal.

Kate studied her Alpha, warmth spreading over her extremities even as the wind attacked them. “We should host,” Kate said suddenly.

Yelena’s brows rose. “Are you sure? Where would we hold it? The hotel would not allow that.”

Matt cleared his throat, tapping his cane on the ground. “I believe the news I have may make your plans easier.”

“Mr. Murdoch!” Peter greeted in delight. “Hi!”

Matt smirked. “Hello, Peter.” He faced Kate again. “Your mother’s penthouse is now safe from Fisk. I talked to some of my friends in the NYPD, and they are handling it. Plus, I’m sure Yelena has a few safety features of her own.”

“Of course,” the Russian grunted.

“So, it should be safe to host the holiday there. I could only secure one building, though. Since Fisk hasn’t found the files at your mother’s, he’ll go after your apartment next.”

“We’ll steer clear,” Kate promised glumly.

Matt leaned in, whispering in Kate’s ear so the others couldn’t hear. “I’ve been in contact with Maya. She was in Oklahoma for a while, but we can reconvene after the holiday. I’d suggest learning some ASL in the meantime.”

“Right,” growled the archer, her mind filling with fantasies of Fisk’s bloody head being decapitated from his body.

“Are you sure you want to host Thanksgiving?” Franny asked in concern. “You don’t want to relax for a while?”

“No,” the archer shrugged. “I won’t be the one cooking,” she glanced at Yelena. “I’d rather surround myself with friends, and it’ll be a good distraction until I figure out what to do next. So, you’re all invited.” She looked at Sonya, Riri, Cassie, Peter, Greer, and Franny before settling on the Bartons. “I’m assuming you all have plans?”

“Yeah, sorry, Kid. We agreed to spend turkey day with Laura’s folks,” Clint winced.

“That’s okay,” Kate waved his worry away. “Enjoy the holiday.” She turned toward the lawyer. “The invitation extends to you as well, Matt.”

“Thanks, Kate, but I will spend the holiday in a meat deli.”

“Interesting.”

Matt straightened, tilting his head to the side. “I should warn you, reporters are waiting at the entrance and exit of the cemetery.”

“What?” Kate startled. “Why?”

Matt gripped his cane in both hands, idly resting his chin on the top. “Well,” he started. “One of New York’s most influential business moguls just died unexpectedly before her criminal trial. That’s bound to catch attention.”

Throwing her head back in exasperation, Kate peered toward the edge of the cemetery. Sure enough, a gaggle of reporters were blocking the car, cameras out, and already recording. “Like I need this today,” the archer muttered to herself.

Yelena sidled next to her, still carrying Nate, and kissed Kate’s jawline. “It will be okay,” she comforted. “We are all here for you.”

Everyone surrounded her, their faces set in determination.

“We got you, Katie-Kate,” promised Clint, a firm hand cupping the back of her head.

“We can kick their shins,” contemplated Greer.

“I could secretly web their cameras,” Peter offered.

“I can probably demagnetize the camera tech polarization and cause them to malfunction,” Riri chimed in. “Just give me five minutes.”

Cassie tapped her finger against her chin. “I could shrink down, crawl up their butthole, and expand to a larger form.”

The group stopped mid-babble and stared at the young Alpha.

“What?” Cassie asked sheepishly.

“Maybe save that plan for a world-ending threat,” Yelena suggested, grimacing at the thought.

Chuckling, Kate accepted Lila's hug. “Maybe you guys could simply walk with me.”

There were many “Ohs” and “yeahs,” but they huddled around the archer, strolling to the cemetery's exit as casually as possible.

Kate averted her eyes as the camera’s flashing bulbs blinded her, the shuttered clicking tickling her eardrums. She clutched Yelena’s free hand for her Alpha to guide her through the now jostling crowd around her.

“Miss Bishop!” shouted a reporter, trying to be heard over the cacophony of voices. “what is going to become of Bishop Securities?”

“Miss Bishop!” exclaimed another reporter, shoving a digital recorder into Kate’s face before Yelena could slap it away. “There are reports of your prolonged absence from the company and suggested failure of your duty as CEO. Any comment?”

Kate felt her gut twist, and she pressed herself further into Yelena’s back, inhaling her mate's clean linen scent.

Matt stepped away from the passing party, head held high, confidence oozing off him like the highly accredited lawyer he was. “Miss Bishop does not comment,” he said loudly. "She is focusing on herself and the rest of her family while processing the tragic loss of her mother. That is all. Thank you.”

Only then did Kate realize Matthew Murdoch was technically still her lawyer.

She kept her head down until they reached the car, where Clint pulled open the door, took Nate from Yelena, and shoved her inside. “We’ll meet at the same restaurant we went to for your college graduation dinner,” he said, and he slammed the door behind her before the reporters could surround the car.

Kate watched the dwindling cameras as the car returned to the funeral home so they could pick up Yelena’s truck. Her stomach was in knots, the various questions thrown at her bounced around her head, her insecurities rising again to the surface.

I’m inadequate, I can’t run a company, I’ve been a horrible boss. What am I doing? What am I going to do?

“Hey,” Yelena said softly, placing a warm hand on Kate’s thigh. “Are you okay?”

Kate puffed out her cheeks, exhaling harshly. She contemplated her past year at Bishop Securities. She had done a lot with the company: turning all the dirty employees over to the police, halting illegal dealings that the company had been a part of, severing Bishop Securities' connection with Fisk, hacking a hacker to get her company's funds back, and creating new technology that would help the world…hopefully. Although, many personal matters kept getting in the way. Kate had to admit that she was hardly in the building anymore. Other things became a priority over being CEO of her parent's security business.

“I haven’t been an outstanding CEO,” Kate acknowledged.

Yelena remained silent, letting her mate speak.

She stared at the passing concrete jungle. “I think,” Kate said slowly. “I don’t want to be the head of the company anymore.”

The blonde’s brows skyrocketed. “Really? You were so concerned with it a few months ago.”

Kate chuckled, remembering her breakdown in her apartment after Taylor Rodriguez stole all the company money. “I don’t think I need to be the top dog of a global security network to reaffirm that I can be a strong Omega in an Alpha-dominated world.” She turned back toward a smiling Yelena. “There are other, better ways I can prove that.”

The Russian took her hand, kissing her knuckles. “If you want to give up the company and everything with it, I’m with you.”

“Well,” puffed Kate. “Maybe not everything, but we can talk about that later.”

Yelena hummed. “Yes, and you’re sure you want to host the Thanksgiving?”

“I am,” nodded the archer. “My thoughts are all a jumbled mess; I think this would be a positive break and a good distraction until I figure out what to do with the information on Kingpin and Vanessa, not to mention your widow.”

“Yes,” Yelena frowned. “I still need to contact Melina.”

Kate leaned over, placing a kiss on her Alpha’s cheek. “Let’s focus on one thing at a time.”

The Russian studied their surroundings before stepping out of the SUV into the funeral home parking lot. “Yes,” she agreed. Let’s have a nice dinner with our friends.”

______________

“T-minus three days until Thanksgiving,” Kate mumbled, plopping the grocery bags onto the kitchen counter.

She and Yelena had checked out of the hotel shortly after having dinner with their friends. The Italian restaurant owner remembered Kate from her graduation and was ecstatic to meet Yelena since she had to go away on a mission the previous time. Once again, Kate and her group got free cannolis with ‘I’m sorry’ written on the dish in chocolate syrup.

Kate hefted the twenty-pound bird into the fridge, her eyes glazing over as she caught sight of the family photos and mementos still attached to the refrigerator door. The Omega traced a magnet from Switzerland, smiling at the memory of her and her dad ziplining through the Alps, tears gathered in her eyes as she recalled her mother teaching her the region's history over morning coffee and breakfast meats.

Her heart pounded heavily in her chest, but there was a subtle warmth in her belly. The longer she stared at the fridge, the happier her thoughts became.

“Da, Mama,” groaned Yelena, kicking the penthouse door shut behind her as she carried in the rest of the food products, her phone pressed between her ear and shoulder. “Poslednyaya vdova – Yelizaveta.” The Alpha put her groceries next to Kate’s and handed her mate an envelope she had tucked under her arm. “I need another batch of serum.”

Kate accepted it with a questioning glance but quickly slit the paper and pulled out a condolence card. The front had a generic message, but the inside was neat handwriting that the archer knew to be Melina’s and a crazy scrawl that could only belong to Alexi.

“Net, Mama, pochtovaya sluzhba imeyet ekspress,” Yelena argued into the phone.

“I’d like to talk to her when you’re done discussing the postal service,” Kate interjected, shoving brussel sprouts, cranberries, and potatoes into the fridge.

Yelena said a few more words to her mother, then held out the phone for her Omega to take.

“Melina? I just got your card. Thank you so much.”

“Kate Bishop!” The older Beta greeted in delight, her accent thick. “I am very sorry for the passing of your mother. Alexi and I wanted to be there, but Yelena thought having three people previously associated with the Red Room would give away your position.”

“That’s okay; I appreciate the sentiment all the same. After all this is over, we’ll have to get together. I miss you,” Kate whispered sincerely, intensely longing for her mother she’d never get back.

Melina sighed. “We miss you too, dochka. Alexi and I would love to see you again. Maybe we can start working on the house next time you and Yelena are here?”

A flash of heat traveled through Kate as she imagined her Alpha hammering nails into wood, sweat dripping off her exposed biceps. “Y-yes, that—yes.” She stuttered.

They spoke more about the future before Kate remembered she had some research to finish. She handed Yelena her phone and sat at the large dining room table, opening her laptop.

“I felt that,” Yelena purred, sauntering behind the archer’s chair. “What were you thinking about, malen'kiy yastreb?” The Russian dipped her head down, nuzzling Kate’s mating mark.

Kate’s racing heart settled as her mate’s strong arms wrapped around her. She tilted her head, giving Yelena more room to mouth at her neck. “I was thinking about how you’ll look sawing wood in half,” she admitted, her fingers typing disjointedly on her keyboard.

Yelena placed a soft kiss on her Omega’s cheek. “And what part of the house will you work on that allows you such a view?”

The archer snorted. “Oh no, I will be lounging in a lawn chair, watching.”

The Alpha’s hand shot out, stilling Kate’s finger before the archer could press the search button. “We agreed not to search her full name. Fisk will no doubt have pings set up if anyone tries to search for his wife.”

Kate pursed her lips, leaning further back into her chair. “I’m not sure how else to find her,” she admitted. “Yelizaveta’s file mentions an art gallery in Manhattan that needs to be canvassed every other day, but the place isn’t mentioned by name.”

Yelena pulled away, disappearing briefly to return with several manilla envelopes. “Laura organized Fisk's accounts by location,” she explained, throwing them on the table. “These are his past expenditures in Manhattan.”

Frowning, Kate opened a folder, skimming the millions of dollars the mobster moved around daily. “This is going to take forever.”

Indeed, four hours of silence and shuffling papers passed before Kate let out a scream of delight. “I think this is it! Five million dollars was allocated through Red Lion National Bank as a start-up loan. The business is called Mariana & Grant East Side Gallery. It’s located at 32 E 69th Street.”

“Good,” praised the Russian. “We can stake it out with Matt after Thanksgiving.”

“Okay,” breathed the archer, flattening the paper against the table. “Okay,” she steadied her shaking fingers. “But who’s Grant?”

Yelena slid a new piece of paper toward her mate, tapping the top. “Fisk’s middle name.”

Wilson Fisk’s signature shone in midnight blue ink, his first, middle, and last names staining the white paper in large, looping letters. Wilson Grant Fisk.

A sinister grin slowly spread over Kate’s features. “We got her.”

____________

The wind finally settled two days before Turkey Day. The clouds shifted, exposing blue skies and allowing the sun to penetrate through glass windows, warming the ground. However, even with the improved weather, Yelena implored them to remain inside the penthouse, reasoning it would be better if Fisk and his associates didn’t see too many new people coming and going from the property.

So, Kate was stuck inside, her only entertainment being the television and the stacks of folders leaning against the dining room wall.

“We should probably check the weather on Thursday,” said Kate, flipping through channels until she found the news.

She and Yelena were cuddled on the living room couch. Her Alpha was contributing to the archer’s distraction by repeatedly sliding her hand into Kate’s pants, cupping her between her legs, and pulling away to rub the Omega’s stomach.

Kate exhaled pleasantly, switching to the news station. “You better start doing something useful with those fingers,” she threatened playfully, resting her temple against the crook of Yelena’s neck.

Chuckling, Yelena slipped her fingers below the waistline of Kate’s underwear. This time, the blonde’s hand remained at the apex of her thighs, and she lazily played with Kate’s bundle of nerves as they watched the news. “I love feeling you,” the Russian admitted, her breath hot against the archer’s ear as she slowly circled her finger.

A white, hot spark shot through Kate’s belly. She pressed herself further against her mate, allowing Yelena to nibble her ear lobe.

“Thanks, Tom,” said the anchorwoman, starting a new segment. “More news about Bishop Securities. New CEO Kate Bishop was spotted leaving the cemetery a few days ago for her mother’s funeral, former CEO Eleanor Bishop. The young entrepreneur had no comment other than that she was still grieving.”

“That’s right, Diane,” said Tom, smiling fakly at the camera. “Although Bishop Securities's fall into new hands might not be the transition everyone hoped for, insider scoops report that the security company supports Wilson Fisk’s campaign for Mayor. Other rumors suggest that Kate Bishop is following in her mother’s footsteps and is embezzling money into personal offshore accounts. Others give input that the new CEO is purposefully absent in the hopes that the company will run itself into the ground—”

The TV shut off with a quiet click. Kate stood in front of the screen, holding the remote aloft, her shoulders heaving. Her chest burned with rage as the man’s words echoed in her ears. “Yelena,” she said, voice clipped.

“Yes?” the Alpha answered cautiously, slowly getting off the couch.

“I want you to eat me out in my childhood bedroom.”

Kate had never seen someone running up the stairs skip five steps at a time, but somehow Yelena did so easily.

____________

“Kate Bishop!” Yelena sang, jostling the bed to wake up her mate. “It is the Thanksgiving! Why are you still asleep?”

Groaning, the archer opened an eye, glaring at the time on the bedside clock: eight a.m. She rolled over in a huff, her attitude disappearing as she met her Alpha’s excitement. “Good morning,” she grumbled tiredly, pulling the sheets to her nose.

“Get up, moya lyubov',” Yelena attacked her Omega’s face with several chaste kisses. “We must prepare the turkey.”

“That sounds like a personal problem,” said Kate, but she threw the covers off her and exited the bed. A lightness filled her, leaving her refreshed and energetic as she watched her mate trot down the spiraling staircase.

Yelena’s giddiness was contagious. Even though Kate desired nothing more than to trudge back to bed and wait for the food to be finished, she wanted to witness the Russian’s childlike wonder for a holiday she had not celebrated in many years. So, Kate leaned against the kitchen archway, smiling, watching her Alpha dance around, pulling ingredients from cabinets and setting pots and pans on the stove.

“I see you started on the turkey already,” teased Kate. “Did you just want me to watch?”

“I brined it last night,” said Yelena, the joke flying over her head as she concentrated on stuffing the bird with orange slices.

Kate shuffled behind her mate, planting a kiss on top of her head. “What can I help with?” she whispered, nosing through several blonde strands.

Yelena leaned her weight against the body behind her. “Can you cube the bread for the stuffing?” she requested. “Then you can do whatever you normally do on Thanksgiving morning.”

The archer got to work, chopping the slightly stale bread Yelena had left out overnight and adding it to a large bowl. Glancing at the clock, Kate was shocked to see it was almost nine a.m. She raced to the living room and turned on the television.

“Yelena,” she called. “Come watch this for a minute.”

The Alpha stepped out of the kitchen, brow furrowed, mixing a batter in a stainless steel bowl. “What is it?”

Kate guided Yelena to stand in front of the screen. She switched the channel to show thousands of people lining the side of the streets, and several news castors were stationed in front of Macy’s department store. “The parade,” Kate said proudly. “Just watch until the first balloon comes out.”

So, Yelena perched herself on the arm of the couch, mindlessly stirring what Kate now realized must be pumpkin pie filling. The blonde stared at the screen, her mouth parting slightly as giant, gold balloon stars preceded the parade's start, followed by large, brightly colored floats and people dressed in various costumes. Yelena’s arm slowed until she rested the spoon against the side of the bowl, giving all her attention to the televised celebration. “This is all happening now?” she asked incredulously. “In the city?”

“Every year,” chimed Kate, shifting to sit on the cushion beside her mate. “Unless it's too windy or there’s lightning.”

“Every year,” Yelena echoed quietly, her eyes widening as the first balloon appeared. The camera zoomed in on a gigantic yellow square with a pink snail on its head. The Russian’s features softened. “Spongebob.”

Kate stared up in shock. “You know about Spongebob Squarepants?”

“Yes,” she answered reverently. “The show came out the same year I was taken to the Red Room, so I only got to see a few episodes.” Yelena continued to stare, unseeing, at the screen. “He was funny,” she continued in a faraway voice. “During my first year as a widow, I’d sometimes think about the other adventures he would get up to. It helped.”

The archer’s stomach dropped, and she leaned against her mate, offering silent comfort while watching another float roll by.

Yelena placed the mixing bowl on the side table, pivoting to face Kate. “I think in the future,” she started slowly, “it would be nice to go to the parade.”

“It would be,” agreed the archer, standing to kiss her Alpha. “We'd be wrapped in coats and blankets, with no stupid commercials that take up more than half the program. We could have a thermos’ filled with coffee or hot chocolate.”

The Alpha’s chin dipped downward, and she caressed Kate’s stomach, glancing back at the TV showing a family smiling at the camera. “Maybe,” she continued, her voice shaking. “There would be more than just the two of us.”

Kate’s heart skipped a beat, her chest fluttering with renewed hope and excitement. She pressed Yelena’s hand further against her stomach, using her free hand to tilt the blonde’s head until she could stare into her eyes—beautiful, green eyes swirling with longing, love, and a little fear. “That would be very nice,” she said simply. “Maybe one day.”

Yelena rested their foreheads together. The mates breathed each other in, completely missing the next float that passed on screen.

“Kate Bishop, if you do not leave this kitchen…” Yelena trailed off, letting the empty threat hang in the air.

The archer raced around the counters, practically vaulting over Yelena, who had bent down to baste the turkey. “I’m helping!” she insisted. “Someone has to make sure that each dish tastes good.” Kate had several spoons and forks clasped between her fingers, going down the line of plates and scooping a portion of each item into her mouth. The cranberry sauce was tangy and citrusy; the roasted brussel sprouts were flavorful with a hint of sweetness from the sauce; the stuffing had turned into a side dish with added kale, carrots, and pancetta, but it still tasted phenomenal; and most importantly, the mashed potatoes were fluffy and buttery, practically melting in Kate’s mouth.

Strong arms wrapped around Kate’s middle, Yelena’s ringed fingers locking together and halting the Omega’s progression. “Don’t even think about dipping your spoon into the pumpkin pie,” the Russian purred.

Kate trembled, spoon-equipped hand outstretched toward the orange pie cooling next to the fridge. “Just a taste.”

“You can taste it when we have dessert.” Yelena dipped her shoulder downward, hefting her mate over her back in a fireman’s carry, and made her way through the kitchen door.

“The turkey!” Kate complained. “I haven’t tasted that yet either!”

“And you won’t,” smirked the blonde, plopping Kate onto the couch, hoping the dog show would distract her. “Not until the turkey has been carved.”

Kate crossed her arms petulantly, but her pout lessened as a golden retriever showcased his skills on the television.

“Everyone should be here soon.” Yelena’s voice echoed from back in the kitchen. “Has the dining room been prepared?”

The archer glanced at the place settings around the dark mahogany table. She had laid the plates down earlier that morning after she and Yelena drooled over the New York Rockette's leg kicks. “Yes, everything is ready.”

Finally, after the last round of dogs had been given their awards, there was a loud knock on their door, and Kate could hear Greer’s muffled voice through the wood.

“Open up, Bishop! We brought wine!”

Kate bounded toward the door, swinging it open to reveal Greer—holding a bottle hidden in a brown paper bag and dressed to the nines, Franny—clad in an orange sweater dress, and Sonya, who had her hands stuffed in her coat pockets.

“I made sure no one spotted us entering the building,” the other Alpha greeted as the trio stepped into the penthouse.

“Thanks,” breathed Kate, accepting Sonya’s hug. “I know Yelena will appreciate that, too.”

Nodding, Sonya tilted her head toward the sound of pots clanging and running water. “She is in the kitchen?”

“Yep,” Kate said before she was tackled into twin bear hugs from her friends. She watched Sonya’s retreating form while her cheeks smushed together from the pressure of Greer and Franny’s love.

“Is it weird being back here?” asked Greer, pulling away from their embrace to scour the unchanged décor. “Did you check the drapes for hidden cash? Your mom might have sewn some in.”

“Greer!” Franny admonished before holding the archer at arm's length. “How are you? Really?”

“I’m—" Kate paused to think about it. There was a heaviness in her body that never seemed to go away. Even though she and Yelena were sleeping in her childhood room, she kept jerking awake in the middle of the night, eyes scanning the room in search of the lingering specter of her mother. The issue was that Kate couldn’t tell if the ball of nerves in her belly was due to anticipation or fear; she honestly wasn't sure what she would do if she awoke in the middle of the night to see Eleanor staring at her from the corner of her room. However, all she saw was her old wallpaper and bookshelves, and she couldn’t help the disappointment deep in her bones when she woke up each morning without a visit. “—okay,” she finished. “It feels weird living at the penthouse without her, but I think mom would appreciate that I’m staying here and using the place as a base to hide from trouble.”

“Right,” drawled Greer, placing the wine bottle on the table. “We all know how Eleanor felt about you getting in trouble.”

“But now she has Yelena to punish her,” quipped Franny. “Switching out the salad for chocolate was top-notch, in my opinion.” The Beta winked cheekily.

Kate startled as Yelena placed a lingering kiss on her cheek, but she could feel her mate’s delight and mischievousness warming her belly.

“I hope you’re not giving her any new ideas, Franny,” Yelena simpered, resting her hand on Kate’s hip. “At least not yet.”

Franny waved away the blonde’s concern.”Me? No! That’s Greer’s job.”

The other Omega bowed deeply. “And I have many ideas.”

Sonya stepped behind Greer, practically overtaking her girlfriend with her height. The dark-haired Alpha hummed low in her throat. “Yelena, I think we should separate Greer and Fiesty Kate during dinner.”

“I agree,” Yelena laughed over the trio’s loud complaining.

Thankfully, another knock on the door interrupted Greer from launching herself at Sonya in retaliation.

Kate excused herself to let in the rest of her new friend group: Peter, Cassie, and Riri stood over the threshold with giant smiles.

“Guys!” Kate exclaimed, ushering them into the penthouse. “Come in!”

“Did anyone spot you?” Yelena asked, inspecting Cassie’s wind-swept hair with some doubt.

“I shrunk down and squeezed through the gap under the revolving door,” Cassie shrugged. “So, not unless they have microscopic vision.”

“I came through the exit door on the roof,” Peter explained, taking off a purple scarf and handing it back to Cassie. “I didn’t see anything weird up there.”

Everyone turned to look expectantly at Riri.

The Beta hung her leather jacket on the hook in the entrance hallway. “Ya’ll got me messed up if you think a metal machine would get less attention than little old me. I told the doorman that Dominique Thorne was here to attend Michelle Viar’s annual Thanksgiving Party, and he let me in.” Riri pulled a bottle from her jacket pocket, swishing it. “Tequila, anyone?”

“Hell yeah!” exclaimed Greer.

As the group mingled into the house, they naturally split into two. Yelena, Sonya, and, surprisingly, Cassie filtered away, standing by the dining room to chat. Judging by the younger Alpha’s wide eyes and slightly startled expression, Kate could only imagine what Yelena and Sonya were discussing.

Meanwhile, Kate and the rest of the group congregated by the couches in the living room, roaring with laughter as Greer retold the story about Sonya trying to cook a small bird the previous day and the oven caught on fire.

“Speaking of significant others,” Greer transitioned smoothly. “Parker, what’s up with you and Lang?”

Peter straightened his spine, his ears turning a deep shade of red. “What? Nothing! We’re just friends!”

“Mmmmmmhmmmm,” Franny intoned. “Was that her scarf I saw you wearing when you stepped in here?”

“It was cold,” Peter argued weakly. “She was just being nice.”

“But she’s staying with you,” Greer squinted, sniffing out possible romance in a way only she could do.

Peter’s eyes darted around the room, landing on Riri with relief. “Riri is also staying with me.”

The Beta lifted her shot glass in acknowledgment. “That’s true. New York hotels are expensive.”

“So, who sleeps on the couch?” Franny asked innocently, accepting a refill of tequila.

“I do,” Riri answered without thinking.

Greer downed her second shot, honing in on this information like a lioness to her prey. “Where does Cassie sleep?”

Peter took a sip of his water, a tactic Kate knew he used to give himself time to think. It seemed Peter was not the best liar in the room. He sighed deeply. “She sleeps in the bed with me but over the covers.”

Greer leaned back in her chair, satisfied. “So, she’s nice, that’s great, but do you want her to be a little nicer to you?”

Hunching his shoulders, Peter glanced back at the Alphas, ensuring they were not within earshot. “Maybe,” he said quietly. “I don’t know. There was this other girl, but…” he trailed off, shaking himself out of the memory. “The only thing I know is that I feel safe with her.”

“Well, that’s important,” Kate chimed in. “I’m sure she’d respect your decision, whatever it is.”

He shrugged, draining the water from his glass.”I don’t think she even likes me like that, though.”

Their raised voices shocked him into silence.

“Are you blind?” Greer asked incredulously, snatching his empty water glass and poured him a shot of alcohol. “Drink this; maybe it’ll clear your senses!”

“Peter,” Riri shook her head. “Come on, man.”

“Well, she hasn’t made any moves!” Peter defended himself, wincing at the scent of the tequila.

Franny chuckled, accepting the glass when Peter offered it to her. “That’s because Cassie is a baby Alpha who isn’t sure what to do with herself. I bet she’s asking Yelena and Sonya for advice as we speak.”

The group faced the Alpha’s, staring in calculated silence from across the hallway.

Cassie seemed slightly nervous as she chatted with the two Russians. She kept playing with her fingers, stretching them backward and forward and shifting slightly on her heels. The younger Alpha kept glancing at Yelena, then Sonya, then down at her feet in repeated succession. Cassie smiled sheepishly when Sonya touched her shoulder, squeezing tight.

“That definitely seems like an advice-giving gesture,” Greer whispered.

Yelena’s eyes slowly traveled from Cassie’s animated talking to the group silently staring at her. Her brows raised in question. “What?” she called.

“Nothing!” the group said in unison, relaxing further into the couch’s cushions to seem normal.

“We’re hungry!” Kate added, hoping to hide that they had been gossiping about them.

Smirking, Yelena gestured to the dining table. “Then we better get started.”

Kate and Yelena placed themselves at either end of the table. Peter, Riri, and Franny sat to Kate’s left, while Cassie, Sonya, and Greer sat at the table’s right. The food was quickly placed at its designated spots, and last but certainly not least, Yelena came into the room carrying a massive golden turkey nestled amongst large green leaves on a silver platter. There were many breathy exclamations as the blonde placed the bird beside her.

“Everything looks so good!” Franny said, her eyes as wide as her dinner plate.

“Seriously,” Peter agreed. “You guys didn’t have to go all out for us.”

Kate smiled and stood from her chair, raising her glass. “Whenever my mom and I celebrated Thanksgiving together, she’d give a little toast before we dug into the food.” Kate inhaled deeply. “So, that’s what I’ll do, too.” The archer instantly locked eyes with her mate, taking in Yelena’s slightly upturned lips and how her finger traced the handle of the carving knife, itching to cut into the bird. Kate noticed how the blonde’s hair had grown longer, almost reaching her lower back, and her bangs had morphed into a nice face frame. “Firstly,” Kate cleared her throat. “To Yelena, who has always cared for me, protected me, loved me, and cooked all this food for us.”

The table cheered and clapped.

Sonya grinned cheekily, slapping her friend lightly on the arm.

Yelena waved away everyone’s cheering. “It was nothing,” she said in a heavily accented voice.

“Well,” continued Kate. “This won’t be your last holiday cooking endeavor, and I’m so glad you get to have this again and that it’s real. I want you to be a major part of all our celebrations, big or small. I will always make sure I can give that to you.”

Yelena blinked rapidly, chuckling wetly at Greer and Franny’s wolf whistles. “Thank you, Kate,” she said sincerely, gracing her Omega with those soft eyes only reserved for her.

Kate smiled before addressing the others at the table. “As for the rest of you freeloaders,” she joked. “Your friendship means so much to me. I can’t begin to describe how much I appreciate your support. I don’t know where I would be without you guys. Even the fact that you’re here with me on this holiday instead of with your families…I am so thankful.” She sat down to many screams of “We love you too!”

“Are your families not upset you’re spending the holiday without them?” Sonya asked curiously, watching Yelena plop a large chunk of turkey breast onto her plate.

“Well, my mom has been seeing a new guy for a while, and she’s meeting his family for Thanksgiving,” supplied Riri, spooning mashed potatoes onto her dish.

“Is he nice?” Peter asked, his cheeks bunching with brussel sprouts.

Riri noded. “Yeah, she just wants to ensure the rest of his family aren’t insane before introducing me to them.”

“My dad has Hope and Hank to keep him company,” said Cassie, plopping a heap of cranberry sauce onto her slice of turkey. “Plus, he keeps saying more opportunities will present themselves to me the more I get out there, and after last year’s quantum fiasco, he’s gotten a lot more lenient about me doing stuff on my own.”

Greer focused on spooning her mashed potatoes into a makeshift volcano, drowning it in gravy. “My family decided to go to Aruba for the holiday. Who wants to spend Thanksgiving in the heat? The vibes would definitely be off.”

“My family celebrates on Friday.” Franny separated the stuffing from the cranberry sauce. “Something about it’s easier to get everyone together on a Friday,” she rolled her eyes. “So, I’m technically not missing anything.”

Idle chatter filled the dining room for a few more moments, but eventually, the flavor of the food won out, and the group delved into silence. The only sounds were several mouths munching, cutlery clinking against porcelain, and faint hums of delight as the food was consumed.

Of course, Kate had six plates piled high with food, and she left not a single crumb of evidence that it had ever existed. However, the archer was slightly surprised to see that Peter, who had consumed five full dishes, was challenging her title of Top Eater. The web-slinger pushed his clean plate away and leaned back in his chair, eyes closed and smiling happily. Kate noticed her friend had filled out his sweater, and the gauntness of his cheeks was far less pronounced than it was a few months ago.

Hopefully, the internship at Bishop Securities will finally allow him to grocery shop regularly, she thought.

“I hope you were not expecting leftovers,” Sonya commented. Impressed, she stared at the bird's thoroughly picked carcass.

“I was not,” said Yelena, beginning to collect everyone’s dishes. “But the remains will make a delicious turkey soup.”

“Soup,” Kate hummed contently, warmth and contentment filling her with profound sleepiness.

She felt her mate lean over her to collect her plate. “My, my,” Yelena teased. “This may be the first time Kate forgoes dessert.”

The archer immediately opened an eye, glaring at her Alpha for daring to take away the pumpkin pie. “There’s always room for dessert.”

Yelena smiled, kissing her forehead.

Soon, the rest of the meal was cleaned away, and the dirty dishes were loaded into the dishwasher. They were replaced with smaller dessert plates, each holding a large slice of pumpkin pie.

“Oh, my favorite!” exclaimed Peter, waking up from his impromptu nap.

Kate snatched a slice for herself, giddily spreading the whipped cream over her pie, but frowned as a faint lemony scent wafted up her nostrils. She immediately locked onto Peter, noticing her friend’s damp hairline, but otherwise, he seemed perfectly fine. The archer licked her lips, slowly lifting the morsel to her mouth as she studied the rest of the group, but everyone was chatting and laughing. The only indication that something was slightly off was a slight tremble in Cassie’s hand as the young Alpha lifted her fork.

“Kate?” she focused on her mate’s voice. “I asked how the pie is since you did not get to taste test it this morning.”

“Oh,” she looked down at the already half-eaten slice. “It’s amazing!”

“I’ve never had pumpkin pie this good before,” Peter complimented, mindlessly unbolting the top part of his sweater. “Would it be okay if we turned the air conditioning on?”

Yelena paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. “It is on,” she said confused.

Kate stood hurriedly from her chair. She had an inkling of what was happening to her fellow Omega. “We can turn it up, though.” She was tall enough to angle the ceiling vent toward the web-slinger and lowered the AC by five degrees.

Green eyes flicked between her and Peter, trying to decipher the issue, but Yelena’s gaze kept landing on Kate with increasing concern.

“Dude,” Franny said, placing the back of her hand against his forehead. “You’re pretty warm. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Maybe Yelena gave him food poisoning,” Sonya joked, laughing as the blonde swatted at her.

Peter stood slowly from the table, and Kate saw his knees shaking. “I think I may have eaten everything too fast,” he panted. “Excuse me, may I use your bathroom?”

“Of course,” said Kate, hurrying to stand next to her friend. She watched as a fat drop of sweat rolled down his temple. "I’ll show you where it is.” She put a guiding arm around Peter’s waist and tried to rush him out of the room, but they only made it five steps before a harsh whimper escaped his lips, and Peter crashed to his knees.

Everyone jolted back from the table, standing in shock and horror as their friend began to convulse against the hardwood floor.

“Peter!” Kate called, her voice shaking in fear. She dropped to the floor next to him, fiercely cupping the back of his neck. “Peter, can you hear me? Yes or no.” Her voice came out more robust, and the adrenaline helped to clear her mind.

His chest rose and fell rapidly, a harsh wheeze ratting out of his mouth. “Yes,” he croaked, and his shaking diminished slightly.

Kate leaned over him, briefly removing her hand to blow cool air over the back of his neck. “Greer, come here,” she mumbled lowly, keeping her voice as soothing as possible.

The other Omega did as she was told, crouching next to the webslinger, ensuring her thighs remained in contact with any part of Peter’s body. Greer took over the duty of cupping her hand over the back of his neck. “Is he—?”

“Yes,” Kate interrupted quickly.

“So hot,” Peter rasped. He began squirming on the ground again, fighting with the wool, which was trapping heat against his body. “Hot!” he yelled and pulled his shirt over his head.

Kate removed Greer’s hand.”It’s okay, let him take it off.”

Peter flung the offending garment across the room and rolled onto his back. His skin was covered in a thick sheen of sweat, his shoulders, chest, and face were an angry red, and his pupils were far more dilated than Kate had ever seen; only thin slivers of brown remained of his iris.

The archer glanced at the rest of the group, still standing in shocked silence. She watched as Yelena's realization dawned, and she pulled Sonya back against the furthest wall. “Riri, Franny, go get some ice,” Kate barked, refocusing on the male Omega.

Franny and Riri dipped into the kitchen.

His hair was dark with sweat, and Peter kept looking past Kate. His eyes glazed over, uncomprehending the world around him. “Fire,” he heaved. "I’m on fire.” The smell of citrus grew stronger, tingling the tip of the archer’s taste buds.

“No, you’re not,” Kate murmured soothingly. She bent low, inspecting him. She knew it had been a year and a half since Peter last had a heat, which meant this cycle would be worse and could have significant consequences. The longer an Omega went without a heat, the more their endorphins backed up. While it was common knowledge that Omega’s go into heat as part of a biological urge to reproduce, it was also a healthy way to flush their systems of toxins, release pent-up emotions, and, most importantly, regulate their hormones. A year and a half of blocked endorphins could be catastrophic to an Omega’s body.

Peter flung himself to his side, gagging violently, curling into himself. “It hurts,” he whimpered. “It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.”

Kate placed two of her fingers against his sweaty pulse point, and her heart dropped into her stomach. “Where’s that ice?” she screamed frantically.

“What’s wrong?” Greer asked, placing her hand against his chest. “Oh my god.”

“What is it?” Yelena had one hand splayed against Sonya’s chest—keeping the dazed Alpha against the wall—and her other hand was wound tightly into the back of Cassie’s shirt, holding the worried Alpha out of the way.

Riri and Franny scrambled out of the kitchen, placing towels full of ice cubes onto Peter’s whithering form.

“His heart is beating too fast,” Kate answered distractedly, focusing on the task at hand. “We have to shock his system, or else he might pass out.” The archer took two of the ice packs and pushed them firmly against Peter’s face and neck.

The male Omega yelped, thrashing on the floor to escape the stimuli overload.

“Hold him down,” Kate demanded, teeth bared.

Greer, Franny, Kate, and Riri each grabbed an extremity and held Peter against the ground, placing the ice all over his body. But he continued to whine, tilting his head so far back that Kate was worried it would snap.

Panic squeezed Kate’s lungs as Peter arched his back, successfully freeing his arm from Franny’s grasp. Without thinking, she grabbed his chin and wrenched Peter’s head towards her so he could see her expression. Kate leaned over him, obstructing his vision as a potent mixture of fury and fear raced through her veins. “Stop struggling!” she yelled, practically crushing Peter’s jaw between her fingers.

He jerked harshly but listened, halting all movement. Peter lay prone on the floor, his breaths still rapidly coming out of him. Eventually, the ice did the trick, and while his heart rate was still elevated, Kate no longer feared it would beat out of his chest.

“Was’ happenin’?” he slurred, his features contorting in pain as another cramp flared through him.

Kate gently swiped a wet strand of hair from his face and kissed his nose. “You’re in heat.”

He blinked owlishly, slowly comprehending the words. “No,” he mumbled. C—can’t—haven’t—long time.” Peter’s eyes widened, and he jerked, flopping onto his stomach. A jumbled garble of words spilled from his mouth before he began to dry heave. He moaned obscenely, followed by a faint, “C—Ca—Cassie.”

The archer looked back to where Yelena had a hold of the younger Alpha, but the blonde released Cassie, giving her a little push forward. “Go to him, Cassandra.”

Cassie swallowed thickly, taking a trembling step closer.

Peter groaned, rubbing his forehead against the hardwood floor. Kate thought he was trying to string together enough words to form a sentence, but he was incomprehensible; the only name she could make out was the chant of “Cassie.”

“You’re going to have to help him through this, Cas,” Kate observed nonchalantly, rubbing Peter’s back to comfort him.

The brunette halted mid-step. “What?” she squeaked, her voice rising several octaves.

Kate looked at Cassie's panic-stricken face. “Look at him,” she pointed to Peter’s quaking body. “It’s been over a year for him. He needs someone to help him; he needs an Alpha.”

Cassie gaped soundlessly as a deep red bloomed over her cheeks. “O—ok—okay.”

“Good,” said Kate. “Take him up to one of the guest rooms.”

“Here?” Cassie asked incredulously, her head swiveling between all the people around her.

The archer frowned. “Yes, Cassie, here. Peter can’t walk the streets like this. Where else would he go?”

The brunette shook her head, unable to answer. “But I—but—but—I’ve never—but I—uh.”

“All right, so take him up.”

Cassie inhaled deeply, shut her eyes tight, perhaps steeling herself for the events ahead, and crouched next to Peter. The young Alpha snaked her arms behind his bent knees and under his shoulder, lifting him with a strength that surprised and impressed Kate. “Wh—where’s the guest room?”

“Top of the landing, second door on the right,” instructed the archer. As Cassie continued up the steps, she turned to look at the other individuals in the room. “Well,” she said, clapping her hands. “Crisis averted.”

Yelena eyed her skeptically before turning her attention to Greer. “Perhaps it would be best to take Sonya home,” she said.

“Yeah,” Greer agreed, threading her arm around the taller woman’s. “Peter probably doesn’t want the scent of too many different Alpha’s around while he’s in heat.”

Franny had already entered the room, holding their coats. “Thanks for the feast. I hope he’s okay.”

Sonya nodded shakily, her hands trembling slightly. “I hope so, too. I have never seen an Omega react like that, not in a long time anyway.”

Yelena grasped her friend’s arm in a comforting gesture. “We will make sure he is safe.”

Greer and Franny hugged everyone goodbye and escorted Sonya out the door, promising to check up on everyone in a few days. Then Riri, Kate, and Yelena remained in the foyer.

Kate rubbed her palms over her thighs, suddenly feeling very awkward. She was trying very hard to avoid any possible noise that could be heard from upstairs. She faced Riri sheepishly. “I guess it’s a moot point asking if you’d like to take the other guest room.”

The Beta laughed, shrugging on her jacket. “And be kept up all night by a headboard banging against the wall? No thanks.” She hugged Kate and shook Yelena’s hand. “I’ll head back to Peter’s apartment, explore the city, and make sure the place is presentable when he returns.”

“Thanks, Riri.”

“No problem. Let me know how it goes with the two lovebirds.” She left after Kate made her promise, and finally, it was just her and Yelena.

Kate sighed heavily. “Then there were two.”

Silence engulfed the penthouse, heightening the embarrassing discomfort settling heavily around them. As hard as Kate tried to fortify herself against any sounds, she couldn’t help but feel as if she had developed hypersensitive hearing. The archer heard the dull thunk as the air conditioning kicked on for its new cycle, the low drone of the dishwater, and even the slight creaks in the wall as the building settled. Although, she thankfully could not hear any unwanted noises from upstairs.

“I suppose we will be sleeping on the couch tonight,” Yelena said stiffly. The Alpha returned to the dining room, picking up everyone’s half-eaten dessert.

Kate followed dutifully, helping her mate put the dishes in the sink to soak. “Are you okay?” she asked, noticing the blonde’s shoulder scrunched uncomfortably. “I know housing Peter and Cassie while they—” she winced, “take care of things is really weird and not something we planned on.”

Yelena glanced at the ceiling. “It is strange and slightly unpleasant to think about,” the Alpha agreed. “I am worried that Cassandra will be unable to follow through and help Peter.”

“Why?” Kate paused in sudsing up the sponge.

“Remember when you went three months without a heat? Then when our cycles synched at the Barton’s?” Yelena dried a clean dish with a towel.

The archer’s smile curled, fondly recalling their impromptu adventure in the forest. “I remember.”

Yelena put the dish back in the cabinet. “Then, you remember how you asked me to continue even while we were knotted, disregarding possible injuries that could occur?”

“Um,” Kate sifted through her foggy memory. She had difficulty recalling details while she and Yelena were in the throes of passion. Her brain tended to turn off during the peak of her heat, but Kate knew what she had been feeling. Carnal desire flooded her system; a wonton need to be taken thoroughly until she couldn’t tell right from left or up from down. Her body craved nothing else but the harsh pummeling only her Alpha could provide, the sting of Yelena’s teeth as she broke the skin of her mating mark, the ach in her knees as the Russian kept her on all fours for hours. Kate knew the pained mindlessness would never ease until Yelena entirely and utterly consumed her.

“Come back to the present, Kate.”

The Omega blinked, licking her lips as Yelena looked at her, amused. “Sorry, yes, it was a wild couple of days.”

The blonde nodded. “Do you think Cassandra has the temperament for that?”

Kate rinsed the last dish, handing the dripping china to her mate. “Yes,” but she hesitated, finally realizing that the silence from upstairs was not necessarily good. “Cassie is an Alpha,” Kate reasoned. “An Alpha faced with an Omega in heat. Her body is going to react to that. The only reason why you didn’t react is because you’re mated to me.”

Yelena pursed her lips. “Maybe,” she sighed, closing the cabinet. “We’ll see what happens.”

The pair relaxed on the couch, mindlessly watching My Strange Addiction with the volume turned up to block any unwanted noise…just in case. Yelena had discovered that her favorite genre of television was reality. The mind-numbing, chaotic incredulity of some people’s lives made her feel much better about her past and that there were individuals in the world much weirder than herself. Half of the show's personality stars were vain, dumb, and probably fake, but the Alpha couldn’t help her soft spot for reality TV. They helped show her how people lived their lives, and when she first gained her freedom back from the Red Room, she was most curious about how to live life.

“How exactly can someone be intimate with a car?” grumbled Kate, her head resting on Yelena’s thigh. “Doesn’t that injure the Alpha? I mean, it’s metal!”

Chuckling, Yelena sifted her fingers through her mate’s dark locks, delicately tugging the tiny hairs at the base of Kate’s neck. “They find a way, I suppose.” She swiped her hair out of her eyes, frowning slightly as it fell back in place, slightly obstructing her view. Yelena had let her hair grow throughout the year, mostly keeping up with maintenance, trimming off dead ends, making sure it fell nicely, and contouring her figure. The Russian hardly remembered the last time she had a proper haircut. Dreykov hated seeing the females under his control with short hair. He demanded, regardless of designation, that their hair be grown out. One of the other widows made the fatal mistake of asking why. Dreykov grabbed their hair, yanking fiercely until their neck snapped, and they fell to the ground, dead.

Yelena shivered at the memory, holding the ends of her hair up to her face. Perhaps it was time for a change.

She felt Kate tap against her knee, a silent check-in. The Alpha smiled, softly rubbing her thumb behind her mate’s ear to let her know she was okay.

Several more episodes passed, and Yelena’s eyelids shut heavily. She could feel the tendrils of sleep begin to pull her into unconsciousness, her chin dipped down, and she had just barely succumbed to her slumber when a door upstairs burst open.

Kate jumped off the couch like a startled cat, eyes wide, turning to face the staircase.

Yelena leaped into action, diving for the gun she kept under the small table next to the couch, but stopped when she heard Cassie’s voice.

“Peter, no! Stop, come back!”

She looked up in time to see Peter, clad in only his briefs, rapidly crawling along the wall… like a spider.

“That’s one way to get downstairs,” Kate whistled, hurrying to meet her friend.

However, Peter passed Kate, maneuvering himself onto the ceiling and racing through the apartment.

“Oh, come on!” whined Kate, and she gave chase.

Yelena glared up the stairs to see Cassie peeking over the banister. Thankfully, the young Alpha was clad in boxers and a sports bra, flinching as she locked eyes with the Russian.

“Cassandra,” Yelena barked, crooking a finger. “Come here.” Anger flared within her as she watched the brunette approach her, slowly descending the stairs as if she were walking to her execution, her body contoured away from the other Alpha in the room. “Faster!”

Cassie trotted the remainder of the way, trembling as she stood before Yelena.

“What happened?” the blonde demanded, gesturing vaguely into the dining room as Peter swung through the archway, just out of Kate’s reach.

Covering herself by crossing her hands in front of her, Cassie looked away, breathing fast. A sharp mewl escaped her before she burst into tears. “I can’t!” she wailed. “Not like this! We haven’t ever talked about spending heats or ruts with each other; I can’t do that to him! I don’t even know what to do,” she blubbered on. “I’ve never been with an Omega; I’ve never been with anyone!”

Yelena held up her hands placatingly, studying Cassie’s wet cheeks and shining eyes. A lance of regret pierced her. Perhaps she had been too harsh. “Please, tell me what happened,” she asked soothingly.

“I was trying to make him comfortable,” she hiccuped. “I rested next to him on the bed, rubbed his mating mark, and covered him in my scent—all the things the books tell you to do—but he kept getting antsy. Nothing I did was enough,” a fresh batch of tears welled in her eyes. “Then he kept running around the room, jumping off the walls and ceiling until he came out here.”

Nodding, Yelena cupped Cassie’s cheeks, wiping away the spilled tears. “Listen, Cassie, usually all that would work, but Peter has not had a heat in nearly two years.” She felt the younger Alpha swallow harshly. “He either needs to be knotted or taken to the hospital.”

“Hospital?” Cassie whispered fretfully.

“Yes, he will be given several shots to lower his cortisol levels. He is trying to burn off the excess stress and energy. If he does not find relief soon, his increased stress can lead to problems,” she paused gravelly. “His heart could stop.”

Another sob wracked Cassie’s body.

Peter swung by the two Alpha’s; Yelena could feel the breeze against her skin but ignored him as Peter stuck to the ceiling, scampering away from Kate.

“Damnit, Peter! Get down!”

Cassie sniffled. “But I can’t take advantage of him like that, not when he’s not in his right mind. He doesn’t even like me like that! Besides, you and Kate probably discussed everything before either of your cycles.”

“No, we did not,” sighed Yelena, allowing the younger Alpha to curl into her. “I only knew Kate for four days before helping her with her heat.”

“You did?” Cassie asked, her tears staining Yelena’s shirt.

Yelena lightly pushed the brunette away so she could look Cassie in the eyes. “Yes, and Peter holds his emotions very close to his chest, but your name was the first one he said before he fell into heat, yes?”

“Y-yes.”

“Then you must make a decision,” Yelena reminded her seriously. “Can you help the boy you like? Or do we have to take him to the hospital?” She softened at the terror still etched on Cassie’s face. “Either option is okay.”

From behind her, Yelena heard Kate’s pattering feet against the hardwood and estimated she had chased Peter into the dining room. “Peter!” the archer shouted. “Do not swing from the chandelier. It won’t hold your—” There was a chorus of tinkling crystals, followed by a loud crack and a raucous crash as glass shattered against the floor, shards scattering across the room. “—weight,” Kate finished in devastation. A soft thud echoed the falling chandelier, which Yelena assumed was Peter falling to the ground.

Yelena inhaled deeply, held it for a few seconds to allow the shock to wear off, then exhaled. The Alpha did not turn around to inspect the damage but continued to stare at a gaping Cassie. “So, which option is it?”

The younger Alpha looked down at herself, fidgeting. “I know I’m not the biggest Alpha around. What if I can’t please him the way he wants?”

Yelena rubbed her forehead, tempering her discomfort. This was not a conversation she had planned to have today. “I highly doubt that matters.”

Cassie glanced at the blonde, then back down to her feet, almost like she couldn’t withstand the eye contact. “Kate always talks about how she’s built different and that you—”

“Don’t listen to Kate,” Yelena interrupted quickly, awkwardly patting Cassie’s shoulder. The Russian ignored the hotness under her collar. “At least not about that. It may be,” she paused, trying to find the right words, “perplexing if this is your first time, but your instincts will take over. You will be fine.”

Looking slightly reassured, Cassie perked up slightly. “Was Kate’s your first time too?”

Thankfully, Yelena was spared from having to answer by Peter crawling voluntarily toward them. The web-slinger straightened, showcasing the flush covering his entire body, and frowned at the wetness on Cassie’s face.

Peter approached her, nosing at the wet drops still clinging to her face. “Cassie sad,” he mumbled, pushing his torso against hers. “Make Cassie happy, want Cassie happy.” He placed a chaste kiss on her cheek.

“Great!” Kate walked toward the base of the stairs, arms crossed and a scowl on her face. “Go make each other happy upstairs in the guest room, where there are no valuable and breakable light fixtures.”

“Want Cassie,” Peter purred, nuzzling underneath the brunette’s chin.

Cassie wrapped her arms around him, tugging him closer.

“Cassandra, I think you are worrying for nothing,” Yelena said softly. “Peter obviously wants you to care for him.”

Kate huffed. “He said he feels safe around you if that helps.”

“Safe,” Peter agreed. He latched onto the brunette’s scent gland and gave a mighty suck.

Cassie nearly collapsed. Her eyes briefly rolled back into her head, and she swallowed the moan threatening to push past her lips. A new gleam replaced the fear in her eyes, and her face set with determination. She hefted the Omega into her arms, hurrying up the stairs. “Don’t worry, Peter, I’ll take care of you, I promise.” She kicked the door shut behind her.

A long, drawn-out growl vibrated through the apartment.

“Oh no.” Kate ran to the living room, frantically searching the couch for the remote. “We have to turn up the volume!”

The mates quickly realized that even with the sound at full blast, the television could not drown out all the noises emanating from upstairs.

“This must be what Clint felt like,” Kate complained, squashing her head between two pillows. “It’s horrible! I need to send him a fruit basket.”

_____________

Kate endured four days of mental anguish, physical, auditory torture, and also a twinge in her hip from sleeping on the couch in the living room. However, her problematic joints were nothing compared to the ach in Yelena’s back.

“I had just gotten my bed back, Kate Bishop,” the blonde groaned. “Now, I am back on the couch!”

“But at least this time, you have me with you!” Kate smiled sweetly.

That did not seem to brighten Yelena’s spirits.

Being stuck in her mother’s penthouse while her two friends got it on wasn’t all bad. It allowed Kate to do further research on Vanessa’s gallery and gave the archer ample time to learn some basic American Sign Language. She and Yelena were able to clean up the broken chandelier, and the dining room looked incredibly barren without it.

Yelena had contacted Matt and set up a meeting for the following afternoon. The same day, Maiana and Grant East Side Gallery held a showing, their most significant and most extravagant yet.

Currently, Kate sat on the couch, mindlessly signing the alphabet with one hand while her other rested on her thigh, fiddling with the four gemstones she had collected from Fisk’s inner circle. She wasn’t sure why, but keeping the ruby, emerald, garnet, and sapphire close to her always eased her worry; they were proof that she had overpowered their previous owners, and she could do so again.

The archer was startled as someone threw themselves on the cushion beside her. Kate looked up, shocked to see Peter lounging next to her, a dopey smile on his countenance. The web-slinger wore his undershirt, socks, and briefs. “So, you have emerged,” Kate smirked.

Peter shifted, showcasing his wild hair, splayed in several different directions. He kept his eyes closed, resting contently next to his friend. “I have,” he sighed dreamily.

Although the male Omega didn’t get to rest for long, Yelena appeared behind them, sloshing a mug filled to the brim with tea under Peter’s nose. “Drink this.”

He blinked slowly, recoiling slightly from the smell of the tea, but took it from the Russian. “What is it?”

“Heat contraceptive,” answered Kate, watching her mate visually inspect the rest of the apartment.

Peter drained his mug. “Oh yeah,” he coughed. “I can’t afford that right now. It might not even be possible.”

Kate looked at him questioningly.

“I was bit by a radioactive spider,” Peter explained. “My body has practically been irradiated, not exactly conducive for bearing children.”

“Where is Cassandra?” asked Yelena, her hands planted on her hips.

Peter glanced up the stairs, shifting slightly. “She’s sleeping.”

Yelena hummed but walked away, letting the younger Alpha rest.

“Did I really break your chandelier?” he asked, sheepishly looking over his shoulder.

Kate chuckled. “You kind of did, yeah. That’s okay, though. The fixture was probably weakened from when I did the same thing in 2014.”

Peter frowned. “2014?”

“The Sia era was a chaotic one.”

Laughing, Peter high-fived the archer, but his smile slowly melted from his lips. “I am sorry about breaking it. You can take some of my wages from Bishop Securities so I can help pay for the damage.”

Kate waved away his worry, biting her lip as her stomach jumbled into knots. “Don’t worry about it. Besides, I may not be a big part of the company for much longer, and it won’t hurt anybody if the future residents of this place don’t know there used to be a grand chandelier over the dining table.”

Peter gaped at the archer. “Woah, back up,” he held his hands out before him. “Are you going somewhere?”

The black garnet pulsed slightly in Kate’s palm. “Not exactly,” she whispered. Over the past four days, the Omega had also been thinking about her future and, most importantly, what she wanted for herself and Yelena. Without realizing it, Kate had fallen into her mother’s expectations: lead the company, eventually move into the Bishop penthouse, and be a driving force within the modern world. But out of all those projections and prospects, only one appealed to the archer. “A Bishop built this apartment building, and it’s been handed down through the generations. Who knows what kind of money was laundered into the property? It’s also no secret that I have been exceedingly absent from Bishop Securities. At first, I wanted to prove that I, my Alpha mother’s Omega daughter, could do anything she could do and do it better, but I don’t think I want that anymore.”

Nodding, Peter placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “That’s okay. Thanks for telling me; it’ll give me enough time to look for a new job.”

Kate shifted closer. “You’re not going to be fired. You don’t have to leave!”

Peter grinned, shaking his head. “If you’re leaving, I’m leaving.” He put his hand up, silencing her argument. “You gave me the internship when I was really struggling and also as a way to become friends with MJ again. I’ll always be grateful for that, but like you, I think it’s time I try and move on to better things.”

The archer pretended she couldn’t feel the stinging behind her eyes.

“Besides,” continued the web-slinger, "now that my resume is updated, I think I can land something other than pizza delivery.”

“Now, that is a bummer. How will I get free pizza?” Kate joked before sobering. “Does this complicate things between you and MJ?” she asked, gesturing upstairs. “Did Cassie at least rock your world?”

“My world was certainly rocked.” Peter winced in a way that gave Kate the impression he was slightly constipated. “I don’t think there is a thing between MJ and I; I don’t know if there ever will be. The last time we hung out, she mentioned this guy was into her at MIT, but she also called him a dunderhead. I don’t know if Cassie and I will be a thing either. She was incredibly kind and considerate. I’m glad she was the one to help me through my heat, but I think I’m still trying to be okay with my decisions,” he paused, “and my sacrifices. I’m still trying to figure out how to be me.”

Kate tightly held her friend’s hand, offering silent support.

“Hey,” Cassie breathed, voice raspy from the upstairs landing. “Does anyone have any water?” The brunette held the railing for dear life, her legs wobbling as the young Alpha tried to descend the stairs.

Yelena came out of the kitchen, holding a glass of water.

“Thanks,” Cassie gasped gratefully, gulping down the refreshing liquid. “I stripped the bed, but some of the sheets have ripped,” she told Yelena sheepishly.

Sighing deeply, Yelena steered Cassie into the kitchen; the two Alpha’s exited carrying plates piled high with food.

____________

Vanessa’s art gallery looked extravagant and expensive. The brick-front store was already crowded, and the interior lighting splashed through the window onto the concrete sidewalk, the patterns ebbing and flowing with the crowd. Mariana and Grant East Side Gallery was written above the glass windows in elegant cursive, red neon tubing illuminating the name as the sun dipped below the skyline.

Kate peered through her binoculars, taking a mental note of all shadowy corners, entrances, and exits. She could make out a few art pieces, but her target had not yet been spotted. “At least there isn’t a line out the door,” she mumbled, hunkering on the roof opposite Vanessa’s gallery. Tonight, she had forgone her archer suit and instead wore business attire, clad in plum-colored dress pants and a black blouse.

“I believe the entourage has arrived,” Yelena announced. The blonde leaned against a smokestack from the roof, garbed in a large, army-green pantsuit with white, pointed heels. The blazer was buttoned across her chest but noticeable enough to reveal Yelena’s skin around her clavicle. The Alpha had omitted an undershirt from tonight’s wardrobe.

The archer squinted at the two individuals scrambling up the fire escape. She almost didn’t recognize Matt without his signature red and yellow daredevil costume. Instead, he was dressed all in black, dark fabric wrapped around his head, obstructing his eyes.

“This is a look,” said Kate. “No horned cowel?”

Matt smiled tightly. “Not sure what kind of assistance you’ll need tonight. Daredevil can’t openly roam the streets without drawing attention.”

Kate’s eyes drifted to the woman standing beside her lawyer. Although shorter than Matt, she looked no less fierce, and Kate was instantly thrown into the memory of her and Clint fighting tracksuits in an abandoned warehouse. “Maya,” greeted Kate, signing the four letters of her name. “It’s good to see you again.”

Maya smirked. She looked good in her signature leather jacket and biker boots. She signed with her hands, but the movement was just a little too fast for Kate.

Yelena chuckled next to her, arms folded over her chest. “She says your movements are a little sloppy.”

Kate faced her mate. “You know sign language? Of course, you do.”

The Russian shrugged, uncrossing her arms to speak with Maya. “Only three types. ASL, BANZSL, and LSF.”

The archer pouted. “I only know what one of those means.” She studied Maya’s response, catching the signs for clothes, party, and stupid.”

Yelena snorted.

“So, we know tonight is a reconnaissance mission,” said Matt. “What’s the plan?”

Kate let her Alpha explain and studied the blonde’s gesturing hands, trying to learn while paying attention to the mission’s details.

“Kate and I will infiltrate the gallery, posing as business partners looking for artwork for our new office,” she explained, pulling out a stack of fake business cards from her pocket. “Kate will locate Vanessa and place a covert listening device on her person.”

Maya waved her hands in front of Yelena’s face, signing rapidly. The corner of her lips tugged down into a severe frown.

Yelena translated for the group.

“Matt has told me of your dealings with Fisk. He knows what you look like, and there is a good chance that his wife also knows what you look like. Fisk’s team will detect a listening device almost immediately. He has gotten very paranoid.”

Kate noticed a slight spasm over Maya’s face as she signed ‘his wife.’

“I agree with you,” Yelena nodded, and she pulled something from inside her jacket. It looked like two silvery-blue mesh nets, paper thin, that swayed in the winter breeze. “Vanessa will also recognize the two of you. That is why Kate and I will wear Widow Veils; they are photostatic and can transform our faces into entirely different people, but I only have two, so you and Matt will stay on the perimeter.”

Maya’s brows rose, impressed.

“You just had those lying around?” Kate asked incredulously, running her fingers over the material her mate had handed her. The veil felt almost like water running through her hand.

The blonde ignored her, shaking her pointer finger in the air. Visible from only an inch away was a small, clear silicon patch with subtle etchings in the material. “This was the latest in widow technology before the program was dissolved. It’s a wire, as thin as the first layer of the human epidermis and undetectable. Kate will place it on Vanessa. Matt, Maya, I will need the two of you close by but unseen.” Yelena handed them each a small earpiece. “The two of you can identify Fisk’s associates better than we can. Hopefully, we can do this without trouble, but your skill sets will help if there is.”

They both agreed, Matt, shoving the speaker into his ear.

Yelena sighed, absentmindedly patting the phone tucked into her breast pocket. “I will need to get a confirming facial recognition for the widow in order for Melina to send the counter agent.”

“Why?” Kate asked. “She can’t just send it when it’s done?”

“We have a system in place. The confirmation keeps the counteragent's production low, which makes it less likely to be stolen and fall into someone else’s hands.”

Matt cleared his throat. “Then let’s get this party started. The sooner we know Fisk’s schedule, the sooner we can take him down.”

Maya pounded a closed fist into her open palm.

Yelena helped Kate correctly slide the netting over the archer’s face, pushing and pulling until the veil sat correctly and conformed to her facial features. The Omega watched in fascination as her mate did the same to herself. Yelena’s full cheeks, small nose, and pouty lips all morphed before Kate’s eyes, mutating until an older woman stood before her with a thick brow, slightly crooked nose, and freckles. “Holy sh*t.”

“You are both old,” signed Maya, smirking at the pair.

Kate checked her phone’s camera, affronted. “I have wrinkles!” Her new face was rounder, her nose had a more bulbous tip, and her chin, eyes, and forehead were slightly lined with age. She looked like a woman who had decided to have a mid-life crisis and start a new business in her late sixties.

“They are smile lines, moya lyubov'.”

“Wrinkles!”

Together, the disguised versions of Kate and Yelena strolled down the sidewalk, passing unassuming couples and friends out for a night on the town.

“I’m a little nervous,” the archer admitted, looking through the gallery window. They were starting to serve champagne. “I never get nervous for missions.”

She felt Yelena take her hand. Even though her mate might look different, the fingers between hers felt the same: warm and reassuring. “Tonight is about observing and talking. That should not be too hard; you love to talk,” teased the Russian.

“Hey!”

Chuckling, Yelena bumped her shoulder into her mate’s. “Plus, you are good at it. Do you recall when you easily infiltrated Maya’s apartment complex?”

Kate found it very strange watching someone who looked like a stranger kiss her cheek.

“Remember,” the blonde said lowly, pulling away. “Your name is Betty, and mine is Cathy.”

Grimacing, Kate reached for the door. “Those names suck.”

“This is the real world, malen'kiy yastreb. It is not like your fantasy books where it is commonplace for everyone to be named after a zodiac sign.”

“Fair point, Cathy,” Kate grumbled as she walked through the door, but her nerves quickly held her tongue. She felt Yelena splay her hand across her lower back.

“Peruse the artwork,” her Alpha whispered. “Make them believe you are interested, that you belong in this space. I will be around looking for Yelizaveta. Do you remember what to do if you get in trouble?”

Kate mutely nodded and walked toward the first painting that caught her eye. She stood directly in front of it, ignoring the other faceless people milling around her, and stared at the red hawk perched atop a lone pine tree surrounded by a winter landscape. She felt her jumbled nerves ease the longer she looked at the pop of color. The tightness in her chest diminished, and slowly, her spine straightened. Kate Bishop fell away as Betty emerged…and she absolutely had to have this masterpiece.

She squinted at the price, but half a million dollars was nothing to Betty Besekie. Kate shuffled through the loitering crowd, eyes peeled for the establishment's owner. There had been a few surveillance photos of Fisk’s wife in the folder, and even though the camera had used a long-range lens, her figure was precise.

There! Half-encircled by a group holding champagne flutes was a petite woman, her brown hair falling just above her shoulders, clad in a sleek white dress that ended above her knees. Kate didn’t need to confirm the woman’s face; she could tell by the thin shoulders that this was Vanessa Mariana.

The archer hurried forward, bee-lining for the group. This would be it; she could kill two birds with one stone. Even though she couldn’t feel it, Kate knew the wire was posed on her index finger. If she touched Fisk’s wife, she could successfully transfer the small silicon device and tap into their conversations without anyone being the wiser. “Excuse me!” she pitched her voice at a higher register, relying heavily on a Queen’s accent. “I must know more about this painting!” Kate extended her hand; the tips of her fingers brushed Vanessa’s shoulder pads when her wrist was caught in a searing grip.

Kate swallowed the pained gasp that threatened to fly past her lips; she hurriedly clenched her hand into a fist—hiding the device—and faced her assailant. Her stomach dropped. For a moment, she thought Yelena had taken off the veil, but no. This woman was blonde, but her eyes were blue, and she was slightly taller than her mate. Yelena’s face was much rounder, and her chin did not end in as sharp a point as this woman’s. Although, based on the circlet encrusted with a large, purple stone sitting on a bed of blonde hair, Kate had a sneaking, horrifying suspicion of who this woman was.

“Have you not heard of personal boundaries?” the blonde asked, tightening her hold. A musty, damp smell wafted up Kate’s nose like she smelled vegetation that had been left too long in the dark and damp, but the rotting fragrance couldn’t hide the pungent musk. So, this woman was an Alpha. When she spoke, there was a slight New England accent—perhaps Massachusetts? However, Kate wasn't fooled after listening to Yelena switch through accents as quickly as changing the channel.

Vanessa pivoted at the commotion, alarmed to see her personal bodyguard about to snap an older woman’s wrist.

In her ear, Kate could hear Yelena cursing and the subtle drone of Matt pointing out the various hitmen parading as clients. “I apologize. I wanted to ask about that painting,” the archer tried to pull her wrist away, but the blonde was unrelenting.

“Elizabeth, please,” Vanessa tittered, finally intervening. “There is no need to harm…”

“Betty,” Kate grimaced, cradling her arm after it was released. Her nerves pulsated painfully. Vanessa put a hand in the middle of Kate’s back, guiding her away from the blonde and toward the painting in question, but Elizabeth constantly remained a few steps behind.

“I do apologize for my security,” said Vanessa. “My mate insists upon it.”

“I understand.” Kate breathed a little easier as the blood circulated back into her fingers. “Art enthusiasts are passionate, sometimes a little too passionate.”

Vanessa smiled at her as if they were sharing a secret. “Thank you for understanding. What can I help you with?”

Kate licked her lips, trying to fall into her Betty persona, but the icy eyes boring into the back of her head made it difficult. Where had the blonde come from? Kate hadn’t spotted her until it was too late, and her eyes were pale, almost vacant; they sent a chill through her. “The painting!” the Omega recovered loudly, framing her hands out and away from her face as if looking through a mini window. “It is stunning; I can tell from the brush strokes that this is a top-of-the-line piece. I must have it for my new office.”

“Oh?” Vanessa questioned. “New?”

“Besekie’s Boutique,” Kate announced proudly, handing out her business card. “Very high-end stuff, but it’s a new premise, and,” she leaned in to whisper. “Not to be mean, but the décor is a little lacking.” She spread her arms wide, circling to encompass the entire gallery. “I need something new, classy, something that personifies beauty. What better way to do that than with art? Like this, this will tell my customers that shopping at Besekie’s Boutique will make them fierce and unique; there’s no one out there as good as they are.”

Vanessa’s mouth had parted. “That is—well, very impressive. However, this painting starts at five hundred thousand.”

“Oh, good,” laughed Kate, noticing how Elizabeth frowned at the business card. “My budget for tonight is two million. That’s about three to four paintings.”

“Kate,” Yelena hissed in her ear. “I can’t get a proper view of Yelizaveta. These f*cking industrial lights keep adding a flare. I need to get closer.”

Betty clapped her hands in delight, pretending to be struck by a new idea. “Where is my partner?” Kate stood on the tips of her toes, searching for the other blonde in the room. “I must show her this marvelous masterpiece.”

Yelena prowled toward her mate, exuding power and confidence that did not befit Cathy. “Betty, dear, there you are,” she purred in a typical American accent. “I have been looking for you.” Her eyes flashed at Yelizaveta.

“Cathy, I have found us a painting.”

They took a moment to appreciate the portrait's minimalism. “It is wonderful,” Cathy finally agreed.

“Then it’s settled!” Kate told Vanessa. “We’ll take the painting. Oh, this is so exciting! This is our first piece of art for the office.”

Vanessa tilted her head serenely. “I hope it continues to bring you joy. At the end of the night, you can complete the paperwork with my assistant.”

Panic fizzled in Kate’s gut as the woman and her bodyguard began to turn away, a line of awaiting admires already swarming. “Wait!” Betty called. “Could we take a picture with the painting? To commemorate the occasion?”

Vanessa hesitated, rubbing her palms together. “I am happy to have helped you, but others are waiting.”

“It will only take a moment,” Yelena insisted sweetly, catching onto Kate’s idea and pulling out her phone. She positioned her mate next to Fisk’s wife, the painting visible beside them. “You must be her assistant,” she nodded innocently at Yelizaveta. “Why don’t you get into the picture as well?”

Instead of walking toward Kate and Vanessa, the blonde strode toward Yelena. “I have no business with the artwork. Why don’t I take the picture? That way, you can be in the photo?”

Kate had never seen her mate freeze. Yelena, the best child assassin who never floundered on a mission…ever, stood stock still, holding the camera uselessly in front of her. “She’s camera shy,” the archer butted in, tittering. “It’s a silly thing.”

Yelizaveta did not relent, and she held her hand for the phone. “This is a momentous day for you. I insist.”

Yelena blinked, recovering. “Yes, thank you,” she said, taking Yelizaveta’s place to the right of the painting.

Kate put her arm around Vanessa, smiling widely, and pressed her index finger against the skin of the brunette’s upper arm, right below the sleeve of her dress. The moment must have lasted two seconds, but it felt like an eternity as sweat began to gather under Kate’s collar. She thanked them again, discretely catching her mate's eye as Yelizaveta returned the phone. The archer’s mind scrambled. Her Alpha couldn’t just lift her phone and take a picture right in front of the widow’s face. Kate glanced at every nook and cranny of the gallery, implementing what Clint had taught her about angles and vectors to get a clear shot.

“Who should I make the check out to?” Yelena asked, keeping Vanessa from disappearing into the crowd for a few more seconds.

A reflection of light caught Kate’s eye, and her heart nearly lept into her throat. She fished the phone from Yelena’s pocket, angled herself a little away, threw up a peace sign, and held up the camera. Through the lens was an image of herself reflected in a mirror, and if Kate jutted out her hip, arched a shoulder, and twisted slightly to the left, she could see Yelena handing Vanessa the check, her bodyguard standing, unobstructed behind her.

She snapped the picture, withholding her shiver, when she realized ice-blue eyes were staring directly at her through the silver surface of the mirror.

“Thank you again,” Yelena simpered.

Vanessa stuck an orange circle on the wall next to the art, nodded goodbye, and strode back to the now large crowd all seeking her attention.

“We should leave,” Kate insisted. Yelizaveta had disappeared with Fisk’s wife, but the Omega could still feel her eyes pricking the back of her neck.

“If we leave now, it will be very suspicious,” Yelena whispered shrilly, but she took hold of her mate’s hand, meandering them closer to the exit.

Matt’s voice crackled in their ears. “Maya says Fisk’s hitmen are coming toward you. They're the ones in the black-and-white suits.”

Yelena steered them around groups admiring different pictures, always keeping several people between her and the suits not so casually tracking them. They quickly exited the gallery, power walking down the block. “Are they still following?” Yelena asked lowly, her Russian accent returning.

“Yes,” answered Matt. “They just exited.”

The Alpha wrapped her arm tightly around her mate’s waist, guiding her down a deserted side street. “Are you prepared to fight them?” Yelena asked.

Kate’s gut answer was always a yes, but she remembered that she had not brought any weapons. Still, she had her fists and quick reflexes. “Are you?” she asked instead of answering.

In response, Yelena lifted her blazar, showing the butt of a gun tucked into the waistband of her pants.

“Hey, you!” The men had made it around the corner. “Stop!”

Yelena put a hand on her weapon, but before she could aim and fire, a figure dropped from the building next to them, landing in a crouch.

Maya’s braided black hair bounced behind her as she raced toward the men, at least six of them. She launched herself at the first, gaining height and momentum by pushing herself off the wall, spinning into a kick that knocked him to the floor. The second suit aimed a punch at her face, but Maya caught his arm, twisting around to elbow his jaw, and hurled him toward the ground, stomping on his face for good measure. She dodged several punches and kicks, her body jerking as one landed on her side, but she trapped the hand against her ribs and rammed him into the building. He fell with a sickening crunch.

She spun, lifting her leg high into the air, and kicked one of them in the temple; the sound of a metal object hitting flesh echoed in Kate’s ears.

Maya succeeded on an uppercut and avoided slamming onto the ground by twirling herself mid-air, effectively evading their grasp. She finished them with a back handstand flip, her foot snapping their heads backward, and they crumpled to the ground.

Matt jumped down beside them, his arms hanging loosely by his side, seemingly unconcerned with their situation.

Kate’s head spun between Matt and Maya, like a spectator watching a tennis match. “Where were you?”

Matt shrugged, gracing her with his devilish smirk. “She had a bone to pick with them.”

“Is that what she said?”

“In fewer words or less.”

“You’re horrible.”

Maya gestured for them to follow her. They gingerly stepped over the broken bodies, hurrying, as casually as they could, through the streets of Manhattan.

Yelena studied the photo on her phone as they walked, quickly kissing the archer soundly on the lips. “Kate Bishop, you are brilliant. I will send this to Melina, and she can officially confirm.”

They stopped in a bodega, ordering sandwiches while Matt stood sentry by the window, listening for a pursuit.

“What is the plan now?” Maya signed, popping open a bag of chips.

A smile slowly spread over Yelena’s lips. She held the phone so they could see the audio spikes ramping up and down as someone spoke. “Now we wait and listen.”

____________

Melina confirmed the widow's identity in under twelve hours. Yelizaveta Zinaida Vilensky was indeed the last subjugated widow, and the scientist promised to send the counter agent via overnight express.

Kate stared at the small, unassuming package in disbelief. “She really sent it through the United States Postal Service? I was expecting an airdrop from a helicopter.”

“Kate Bishop, don’t be silly,” Yelena chuckled wryly. “That would gain far too much attention.”

“A glowing red substance in a package doesn’t? Don’t warehouses check the contents?”

Yelena raised a brow in amusem*nt, sliding a thin, lead container from the cardboard. “Not if their x-rays don’t pick up anything unusual.”

Kate scowled. “That’s not very spy-like.”

“That is the point.”

The rest of their time was spent lounging in the penthouse, listening to Vanessa’s daily life, waiting for any critical information they could use to get Yelizaveta alone. Vanessa’s routine soon became a constant background noise in the Bishop penthouse, like a constantly streaming radio show, filling the space with the droning of voices and shuffling movements.

Kate tried very hard not to fly off the handle and break any more of her mother’s valuables every time she heard Fisk’s guttural growl. Her hands shook as she pinned another facet of Vanessa and Fisk’s daily schedule onto a large corkboard. According to Yelena, Fisk was a man who had a complete focus on his goals; he strived for absolute control over every aspect of his life. The Russian found this evident in the classical music Kingpin would play every morning, but Kate was sick of listening to Bach every day. She couldn’t even stomach omelets anymore. Apparently, the repetitive cracking of eggs and the sizzling cookware indicated his morning meal. Kate decided to take Yelena’s word; she was the cook, after all.

The archer wanted to vomit whenever Vanessa helped her mate pick a suit for the day. Kate didn’t care what color would look best for beating someone’s skull until it concaved into their brain; she wanted to know how much force it would take to punch Wilson Fisk’s lights out.

It was unfortunate she never got that information. Instead, her heart pumped in aggravation as she listened to Vanessa’s heels clack around the hardwood floor of her gallery. There was another, barely indistinguishable set of second footsteps in the background, and Kate knew it was Yelizaveta, dutifully watching over her charge.

“I don’t know how you can sit here waiting for something to happen,” Kate complained, flopping onto the couch next to her Alpha. “How do you do it?”

Yelena continued to stare at her computer screen. “I am very patient.”

The Omega frowned at her mate, sitting up when she noticed the exhausted glaze over green eyes. “Hey,” she shook Yelena gently. “I know this case is bothering you.”

The blonde’s nostrils flared, but she leaned back into the cushions at Kate’s behest.

“You froze at the gallery,” the archer continued, keeping any accusation out of her voice. “I’ve never seen that happen to you.”

“It’s been a very long time since I saw her face to face,” Yelena began, placing the tips of her fingers against her lids as if trying to block the image. “When she grabbed you, I wanted to rip her throat out.” Her biceps flexed. “Then, when I got closer, there was a brief moment where I thought she recognized me.”

Kate rubbed her mate’s back, hoping to ease Yelena’s discomfort. “How? We were disguised.”

Yelena exhaled, caressing Kate’s wrist, tracing the subtle scar still visible on her skin—the same wrist Yelizaveta had grabbed. “A widow is never meant to be seen. We infiltrate, kill, steal, conquer, and die, all without being identified, but there was something in the way she said ‘you’ when we were about to take the photo. It felt like she was taunting me as if I had finally failed a mission; she had seen me, noticed me, and now there’s proof of that.”

“You mean the photo?” Kate questioned.

The blonde nodded.

“We can delete it.”

Yelena shook her head. “That is not the point. The point is that it should not have happened in the first place.”

Kate remained silent. She clasped her hand over Yelena’s, pressing several long kisses to her mate’s knuckles.

Clearing her throat, Yelena shook herself out of her stupor. “But you were amazing,” she breathed proudly. “Very clever thinking.”

“It was either that or nothing,” Kate shrugged. “I think she noticed. I could feel her eyes drilling holes into me. I’ve never seen someone look so blank. It felt like I was staring at a marionette; there was no light behind her eyes. At least with Fisk, you know there’s feeling inside him, usually rage, but her eyes…they were this strange white, crystal color. You couldn’t see her soul, almost like there was nothing there.” Her spine shuddered.

Yelena drew Kate into herself. “Did you feel anything?” she asked carefully. “I noticed her headpiece,” the blonde scoffed. “Typical.”

Kate shut her eyes, melting in her mate’s warm embrace, and thought back to the gallery, focusing on the memory and the purple amethyst resting on Yelizaveta’s head. There wasn’t much, no gut feeling, no insight; it was just a purple stone crafted into headwear, but somehow it felt wrong. The Omega growled in the back of her throat. “Maybe she chose it because of its past affiliation with royalty. She is called The Noble, after all.”

“Sounds like something she would do.”

“I don’t think it wants to be with her, though,” the archer whispered, focusing on the wrongness festering in her gut. “Amethysts combat addictiveness, overindulgence, and bad habits. It’s supposed to represent purification. Yelizaveta doesn’t seem like she wants that.”

Yelena hummed and kissed Kate’s temple. “Well, let’s hope she does when she’s free.”

A harsh, grating voice interrupted their quiet moment. Vanessa had evidently returned to her mate, and Fisk’s barking tone filled the penthouse.

“Vanessa,” Kingpin purred. “I am afraid I have some unfortunate news.”

Kate felt Yelena bristle next to her. Perhaps their appearance at the gallery had finally been outed.

“What is it, my love?” Vanessa’s accent contrasted pleasantly with Fisk’s faux aristocratic drawl, a strange inflection for a crime boss to adopt.

“I’m afraid your art exhibition will need to be put on hold for tonight. I am sending Elizabeth on an errand. Only for tonight, though, it should be completed quickly.”

The archer could practically hear Vanessa’s pout. “Wilson, I can continue without her for a night,” the talking paused. “If you insist on providing my protection, assign someone else to me for the evening.”

“No,” Fisk barked, then soothed his tone. “You will only have the best, Vanessa, and Elizabeth is the best.”

“At least tell me where she is going?” she sounded exasperated. “If it’s out of the country, I doubt my gallery will be interrupted for only one night.”

“Just a singular night,” Fisk promised throatily. “Sampson has threatened to encroach into my territory. Elizabeth will send him and his gang a message; she’ll make it so the Flatlands can’t recover without my help.”

Vanessa gave a pleased hum. “Making it your territory.”

“As well as it’s manufacturing factories,” he growled. “If I control the jobs, I control the people.”

Kate jumped off the couch, lunging for the map of New York City and all its burrows. “I know where she’s going!” The archer stuck a red thumb tack in the heart of Brooklyn. “Let Matt and Maya know they can meet us at the LaGrange Warehouse; they manufacture various tech devices.” She threw the counteragent at Yelena. “I think we got her.”

“Wait.” Yelena placed a steadying hand on her mate’s shoulder. “Leave Matt and Maya out of this one. I will go to her.”

The archer’s stomach dropped, eyes racing around her Alpha’s face, taking in Yelena’s scrunched forehead, her severe frown, and the pain behind her green eyes. “I can fight, Yel.”

“I know that, moya lyubov'.” She bit her lip, tilting her head to the floor, whispering. “This is something I need to do.”

Kate inhaled deeply, willing her aggravation to settle. She understood, to a degree, Yelena’s reasoning. Freeing the last widow herself was a strange self-punishment, the grueling fight, the paramount relief when the counteragent took effect; it was the final ritual her mate needed to move on. “All right,” the archer relented, “but I’m coming as backup. You aren’t doing this alone. Not anymore.”

Yelena smiled.

The temperature dropped as the sun fell below the horizon. Yellow lights filtered out apartment windows, taunting the passing pedestrians with their warmth and coziness. Kate ignored the temptation to stop by one of these places, eager to erase the chill settling into her bones. She flexed her fingers, increasing her blood flow; she needed to incorporate better gloves into her Hawkeye outfit: winter edition. A hat wouldn’t hurt either; her ears were starting to freeze.

Although she should be thankful for her racing heart, it kept the heat swirling within her, even as her stomach tightened. Her breath condensed in the frigid air around her, the wind whisking it away over the building she was perched on. Kate decided the best way she could offer support was from long range, and thankfully, the factory had a perfect vantage point on the building directly across from it. The archer could see into all the windows on every floor, and her zip-line arrow would give her access to the roof if she needed to swoop in and assist her mate. Her purple aviators were also a plus in helping her assess the situation; they could track heat signatures through the brick walls. So far, only eleven workers were inside, one of them being Yelizaveta’s prey, and thankfully, they were stationary, all sitting hunched, probably over desks.

The warehouse itself could have been a fortress, and Kate easily understood why Sampson—whoever that was—wanted it for his base of operations. The main entrance consisted of two thick metal doors that opened in the middle, and Kate knew three deadbolts locked them. A large perimeter wall encased the main building. If Kate didn’t know any better, she would have thought they were for guards to patrol; it would have fit right into one of her fantasy books, complete with corner torets and arches.

If Yelena could get the widow up here, there would be enough space for one of her arrows to do the proper job.

“Come on, Yelena,” Kate mumbled to herself, ignoring the drip running from her nose. “You got this.”

There was one thing every operative could rely on: minimum security associated with warehouse loading docks. Sad, really, Yelena thought to herself as she soundlessly slipped under the gap in the garage door. She paused, crouching behind a control panel, quickly taking in the layout before her.

The warehouse was filled with several conveyor belts, all halted after the day’s work. Whatever microchips and other electronic parts used to assemble various technologies had been cleared off and safely put away until the following morning. Chains hung from the ceiling, grimy from disuse. It seems they belonged to the original structure, and nobody had bothered to remove them. Various doors lined the sides of the room. Based on the blueprints she had studied earlier, Yelena knew which entrance led to the stairs further up the building.

Yelena pulled her night vision goggles over her face, scanning the dark layout. She fingered the vials tucked into the pouch by her waist. Melina had sent her three doses of the counteragent, which meant she had three attempts to subdue and spray Yelizaveta, finally setting her free and eradicating the pungent stain that was Dreykov and his Red Room.

Muffled laughter reached her ears, coming from a door to her right, slightly ajar. The Russian slinked along the walls, keeping her ears peeled for any noise out of the ordinary, knowing that somewhere, trained feet were making their way quietly toward their victim. All she had to do was intercept Yelizaveta before she found her target.

She stood silently, pressing her back against the wall next to the door, squeezing her hands into fists so the darts around her wrist activated, faintly pulsing a dim red. Yelena quickly counted the three knives tucked into her thigh sleeve, the familiar weight of her handgun resting against her other leg. The blonde resisted the urge to nestle the weapon against her palm; she wasn’t trying to kill anyone this time.

The voices on the other side of the wall grew quieter as if hunched together, discussing important information they wanted no one else to overhear.

Yelena pivoted, keeping her form’s shadow out of the slim light spilling from the crack in the door, and burst into the office, one of her knives held firmly in her hand. But the ring of gang members she expected to be loitering after hours was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a blonde woman dressed in a slimming black tactical suit sat, legs crossed, on a table, a long, manicured nail descending on the pause button of a tape recorder. The purple stone still proudly on her head was the only pop of color.

The voices instantly ceased.

“Yelena,” she grinned broadly, but her eyes did not crease in happiness. “It is wonderful to see you again.” Her nasally New England accent at the gallery was gone, replaced by thick consonants and hard vowels. Yelizaveta lifted the gun in her hand, pointed it at Yelena, and fired.

The gunshot rang throughout the room, mixing with the widow's harsh laugh.

Yelena reacted on instinct. Her brain shut off, her abdominals clenched, and she threw herself to the floor, glass from the door raining over her, but she ignored their stinging cuts as she rolled across the concrete, kicking a desk over for protection. “Nice to see you too, Yelizaveta. Kak ty uznal, chto ya budu zdes'?” She pulled the gun from its holster, cursing her lack of awareness. She should have known the voices were too repetitive, too monotonous to be a live conversation.

“Hah!” the widow snorted. “Did you think a widow’s veil would keep me from recognizing you, Malinovaya Vdova?”

Adrenaline shot through her at the nickname. “Do not call me that,” Yelena spat, shifting to her knees.

Yelizaveta’s boots clunked against the floor as she approached. “How could I forget? You prefer White Widow, don’t you? I hate to be the one to tell you, but no amount of white will ever be able to cover up the oceans of blood you’ve spilled.”

Anger flared within Yelena. She shoved her shoulder into the underside of the desk, scrapping it forward until the corner slammed against the widow's knees, knocking her off balance. She launched over the barrier, sending a widow bite at the blonde, but Yelizaveta easily dodged, windmilling her legs like a tornado, hopping into a squat.

“Sloppy,” the widow seethed.

Puckering her lips, Yelena pointed her gun at her forehead, but it was easily slapped away. They exchanged several jabs, the force of their fight propelling them through the office door and into the main warehouse.

She aimed a punch at Yelizaveta. The widow grabbed her wrist, twisting and evading, but Yelena whirled around, locking her elbow around her neck in a chokehold, flexing with all her strength. Her fingers scrambled to reach her waist, flicking the glass vial of the counter agent when her target thrashed in her arm, wrenching her extremity from around her neck.

The blonde turned, snarling, and snapped her head forward, the crown of her head bashing against the bridge of Yelena’s nose. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice that bumbling mate of yours? Thinking a photo in the mirror would go unnoticed, it’s laughable. Where did you find her? The same second-hand store where you got your suit?”

Her rage swelled within her like a rumbling volcano ready to blow. Yelizaveta grabbed her vest, flinging her to the ground. Her reflexes kept her from sprawling to the floor, cartwheeling out of reach. Yelena bared her teeth and shot out her arm, crushing the widow’s windpipe with her fingers. “Don’t you dare talk about her!” She grabbed the pauldron of her tactical suit, heaved the widow over her shoulder, and slammed her onto a conveyor belt. “So, you fed Fisk false information to lure me here? That is desperate even for you.”

She pulled the first red vial from her pocket, hovering the end over Yelizaveta’s face, but the widow was not as dazed as she appeared and kicked the vial away. Yelena winced as it shattered, useless against the ground.

“Not false,” she panted, wriggling out of Yelena’s grip, wrapping a muscled thigh around the back of her neck to help her swing off the conveyor. “I took care of Sampson hours ago, but knowing you’d follow made the task that much better. I could eliminate the woman who always thought she was better than me.”

“I was not the one who said I was better.” Yelena licked her lips, weighing her options. A continued fight on the main floor would be useless; they were an even match, and it was apparent Yelizaveta had been training since the Red Room’s downfall. The fight would only end with one of them dead unless she brought in another player. She looked into the widow’s hate-filled eyes. “But yes,” she growled. “Compared to me, you were always second best.” She took off sprinting, climbing the stairs three steps at a time, hurrying toward the roof.

The structure spiraled up in a circle, leaving a descending hole in the middle. The only support was a thin metal railing, but it helped Yelena outmaneuver her attacker. She dodged several throwing stars, jumping off the wall, leaping up and across a full flight of stairs. Yelena pushed off the railing, dangling to kick the gun out of Yelizaveta’s hands before she pulled herself up and raced out of sight. She kicked the access door open, easily catching the flash of purple on the building across them.

Yelena fished out another vial, flattening herself next to the roof entrance, and counted the widow’s thundering steps.

Twenty meters.

Twelve meters.

Eight meters.

Three meters.

Now.

She whirled around, cutting off her exit, and sprayed the counter agent in front of her.

This time, Yelena had hit her mark.

Yelizaveta stumbled back, coughing, waving the glimmering dust out of her face. “What the hell was that supposed to be? Some kind of poison?”

A cold dread trickled down her spine, filling her with horror. “You are not subjugated,” Yelena realized, voice raspy with disbelief. She could feel her mate's confusion in the back of her mind.

The widow pulled a baton from her back, its end curving into a scythe, the metal glinting off the moonlight. “They didn’t need to subjugate me,” she whispered. Her smile was wide and wrong as if it was too big for her face; it was a smile Yelena remembered appearing quite frequently in her nightmares. “Unlike you, they trusted me. Unlike you, I followed them willingly.”

“Why?” Yelena growled, taking her batons from their straps and connecting the two ends. She twirled her staff around herself. “They tortured us, killed us, they took us away from our lives!”

“They culled the weak to leave room for us to thrive,” Yelizaveta roared savagely, spittle flying from her mouth. She took a swipe with her weapon. “What life are you referring to exactly? Your happy little life with Natasha Romanoff was a lie! It was fake! Your life now is fake!” The blonde pointed her scythe at the mating mark on Yelena’s neck. “You took my life away from me. The Red Room was all I had. You think you have it so good: mated, working jobs you want to work, making your own choices for the first time in years, but it’ll all disappear eventually.”

The blonde jumped, swinging her weapon toward Yelena’s head, but she ducked out of the way, blocking another swing with her staff. She planted the end onto the floor, using it to help her somersault onto the raised edge of the roof.

Yelizaveta followed, brandishing the scythe, turning foot over foot, trying to decapitate her opponent.

“You can make a different life for yourself!” Yelena argued, revolving under the widow’s weapon, parrying the sharp end away from her.

“I already have,” she said menacingly, bringing her scythe down with all her strength.

Yelena buckled under the decisive strike, barely catching the hook with her staff. She slipped off the ledge toward the roof, landing in a one-handed stand and flipping herself onto her feet. The Alpha could feel Kate’s antsiness constrict her chest, but she bade her to wait. She could settle this on her own.

Yelizaveta backhanded her, landing a kick to her chest for good measure. “She’s going to leave you,” she taunted, bringing her baton down like a sword. “You think when she finds out about all you’ve done, she’ll stay? You think she wants a mate who’s a monster?”

Fear lanced the Russian’s heart and blinded her to the punch thrown directly in her face, knocking her to the ground, her staff rolling out of her hand.

“She’ll leave you,” the blonde repeated more calmly, raising her scythe above her head. “Then you’ll be ruined, just like me.” She brought her weapon down.

Yelena shifted to the side, evading the sharp edge of her weapon by a millimeter; the vibration of the hit tickled her back. She wrapped her arm around the base of Yelizaveta’s baton and kicked her pelvis with all her might, dropping her heel to kick the widow’s feet out from under her. Yelena arched back, delivering a final kick to her face, briefly watching the amethyst fly from its setting, tumbling somewhere far away across the roof. The Alpha rolled backward, caught her staff, and raced forward. “Kate already knows everything I’ve done,” she fumed. “She knows every detail!” Yelena jabbed, connecting the end of her baton with the hilt of Yelizaveta’s with a satisfying snap. She stared into the blonde’s wide eyes. “And she’s never leaving me, just as I will never leave her.” The Russian wrenched the scythe from her grip, flinging it off the roof, leaving the widow defenseless.

Yelizaveta glared at her, shoulder’s heaving. She walked toward Yelena, ignoring the staff held aloft between them. “What was the rest of your plan after you freed me?” she asked sarcastically.

“Rehabilitation,” Yelena answered thoughtfully. “Help you get the skills and means to start a new life, any life you wanted.”

A small flicker of hope ignited in the Russian’s chest. The widow tilted her head, considering. “Any life?” she asked in a small voice.

Lowering her baton, Yelena stepped closer, offering her hand. “Yes, you do not have to limit yourself to what anyone tells you. You do not need to work for Fisk or only take contract-killing jobs. There are other things that you are good at; you just need to find out what they are.” Her words echoed back to her, inciting flashes of her life before she met Kate, reminding her that even though she had switched governments, she had followed in the same footsteps as the lost widow who stood before her.

Yelizaveta bridged the gap between them, head hung in defeat. “I can have anything I want?” she questioned again. There was a desperate plea on her countenance; years of pain and suffering lined every pore. Her lids lowered tiredly, and she slumped forward.

“Anything,” the Alpha promised. They were close enough for Yelena to see the flecks of brown in her icy iris.

A shadow shifted across her face, and any inkling of defeat was erased from the widow. In a flash, Yelizaveta’s hands whipped out, unsheathing a knife from Yelena’s thigh. “Then I want you taken care of, for good,” and she plunged the knife into her.

Yelena’s only saving grace was the faint whizzing as an arrow shot through the air, slicing into Yelizaveta’s bicep. The widow grimaced, flinching, and the tip of the knife went into Yelena’s shoulder instead of her heart. Still, the Russian staggard back, a yelp escaping her, and crumpled to a heap as a heeled boot connected with her jaw.

Her head throbbed, growing fuzzy like a million tiny bees buzzing around her brain. Yelena heard the muffled shriek of her name and felt the pounding through the concrete as Yelizaveta took off into the night, cupping her bleeding arm. There was a dull thunk into the brick next to her, Kate’s zipline arrow, followed by a high-pitched whirring, her mate scaling across the two buildings.

“Yelena!”

Shaking hands rolled her onto her back; her night vision goggles were carefully extracted, the knife still protruded from her front, spurts of red liquid seeping around her. “It’s okay,” she tried weakly.

Cold fingers cupped her cheek, and some of Kate’s tears plopped onto her nose. “This is my fault; I should have been faster with my arrow; oh, Yelena, I’m so sorry; wh—what do I do?”

The blonde winced as her mate grabbed the handle. “Not your fault,” she grit out. “M’ fine.”

“You’ve been stabbed!” Kate screamed.

“I’ve had worse,” she moaned, prodding the injured area.

“Yelena, it-it’s deep. I can feel it,” the archer whispered, absentmindedly rubbing her own shoulder.

The Russian swallowed, trying to think of a solution through the throbbing fog in her mind. “I have to take it out,” she panted. “It’s going to hurt…both of us.”

Kate took a deep breath, then nodded. “I know.” She wrapped her fingers around the knife’s handle. “Just tell me when.”

She threw her head back as a sharp pain spread through her body. “We—we need something to put pressure on the wound. Then we can stitch it up at the penthouse.”

The Omega looked around, patting down her body. She slowly, uncertainly, started unzipping her shirt.

“No,” Yelena breathed, the vapor solidifying in the air. “The cold.”

Kate didn’t say anything. She continued to undress until she was left in her pants and sports bra, holding the shirt in her hands. “I’ll get it drycleaned.” Her muscles flexed as a breeze assaulted them, but the archer steadied her hands, once again holding the knife sticking out of her mate. “I’m going to pull it out,” she warned. “Then tie the shirt around the wound.”

She yanked with all her might, and the blade came free with a sickening squelch, blood spattering to the ground, gushing out of the wound. They both shouted in pain, but Kate quickly tied the arms of her shirt together, pulling the knot taught into a torquet.

“My arm might fall off if you make it any tighter,” Yelena grumbled.

“Don’t joke about that.”

The Alpha tilted her head, her eye-catching the stone that had clattered away during the fight. “Kate,” Yelena jerked her head in the amethyst’s direction.

The Omega hesitated to leave her mate’s side but quickly retrieved the precious stone and put it in her pocket. “Come on,” she heaved the Russian into a sitting position. “Let’s get you back home and sewed up.”

Yelena groaned, her Omega heaving her to her feet, and they limped down the steps. “I made too many mistakes tonight,” she admitted dolefully. “I let her get to me. I underestimated her.” She peered at Kate’s worried expression. “I should have listened to you about letting Matt and Maya help.”

“I get why you didn’t. This is personal for you.” Kate kissed her cheek, holding more of the blonde’s weight. “They don’t know her or her situation. They might have killed her.”

“She wasn’t even subjugated.” Shaking her head miserably, Yelena slipped down the final step. “Nothing I said mattered to her.”

They silently hobbled out of the building, waiting by the curb as Kate ordered an Uber. “At least there's some good news that came from this,” the archer eventually stated.

Yelena looked at her incredulously. “What about this could possibly be good? I failed.”

“But you haven’t,” Kate countered. “You thought Yelizaveta was the last widow that needed to be free, but if she had never been subjugated, you’ve completed your work. All widows have successfully been awakened from the Red Room’s control.”

The Russian did not expect the sheer force of emotion that sentence would elicit. She stood next to her mate, wrapped in Kate’s long arms, quietly letting the tears run down her cheeks. “They’re free.” Her stab wound didn’t feel so painful anymore.

“Yeah,” Kate agreed. “They’re free.”

_____________

As an Omega, instructing and disciplining her Alpha was slightly odd. Kate hardly let Yelena leave the couch, relying on their shared connection and close proximity to heal her mate’s injury. It took three days for the skin around Yelena’s stab wound to heal, but the blonde still could not rotate her shoulder without a severe, shooting pain radiating from her joint.

“Did you think I wouldn’t feel the agony you are in? Or did you think you could hide the wince on your face when you put on your shirt?” Kate asked, crossing her arms when Yelena tried to make them dinner.

“I am fine, moya lyubov', it is just sore.” She stood at the stove, rigid, her arm slightly shaking as she tried to flip a veggie patty.

Kate wrangled her Alpha out of the kitchen, ignoring her guilt at the frustrated pout tugging at the corner of full lips. She now understood how exasperating she had been during these past few months. All those times, Yelena had told her to stop doing something because it would aggravate her injury further, and all the times, she didn’t listen. Kate pulled her mate onto her lap, keeping her close, and thought back to the fight on the rooftop.

The archer couldn’t remember the last time she had been so scared. Yelizaveta gave just as good as she got; the two blondes were a storm of flying fists, their batons crashing together like lightning. She was itching to assist, fingers twitching, desperate to let an arrow fly, but the Russian’s firm ‘no’ resounded within her, halting her. Any relief Kate felt at Yelena getting the upper hand was squashed instantly. The metal blade flashed in the moonlight, descending like a rock hurtling through water. Kate couldn’t even shout; the air vanished from her lungs, and she fumbled with her arrow, haphazardly nocking it, letting it fly a split second too late. Cold dread cascaded over her when Yelizaveta plunged the knife into her mate's chest.

“I told you not to feel bad,” Yelena mumbled, prodding her nose against the collum of Kate’s throat.

“You telling me not to feel a certain way isn’t going to automatically stop it from happening,” but she shut her eyes, starting a low purr deep in her chest. She could tell the vibrations helping her Alpha relax further into her.

“Think about something else.”

Kate focused on the dark tactical suit and glowing green goggles in her memory. “A rooftop fight was kind of fitting.”

“How so?”

“That was the same outfit you wore when we first met, and you threw me off the roof,” she smirked into blonde hair.

Yelena slapped her chest lightly. “I was removing an obstacle!”

A knock on the living room balcony doors interrupted them. Kate’s head shot up to see two blurry figures standing outside the frosted glass. “Window is open!”

The brass knob turned, revealing Maya and Matt. They walked into the penthouse, scowling at the pair on the couch.

What happened to fighting Fisk together? Maya signed, brows scrunched in agitation. Her hands moved faster, using short, jerky motions.

Kate slid out from under her mate. Since Yelena had a limited range of motion in her left arm, Kate would have to do her best to communicate. Not Fisk. We went after widow. She repeated the whole sentence out loud for Matt to hear.

“Kate,” Matt huffed. “If she escaped as you said in your message, Fisk will know you’re after him. Any element of surprise is gone.” He had his helmet off, his eyes cast slightly downward.

“Not necessarily,” Yelena groaned, standing from the couch. “Yelizaveta won’t tell Fisk about what happened.”

Why not? Kate noticed Maya focusing intently on their mouths.

“Because she lost,” Yelena answered. “She won’t tell her boss if it means admitting that she performed inadequately. Yelizaveta will report her success with the gang member, but she won’t tell him about failing to kill me or Kate’s involvement.”

Maya rolled her eyes, flinging her braid behind her shoulder. You can’t know that for certain.

“I can. I know her; the way she thinks, she’d rather chop her own arm off.”

Kate relayed Yelena’s words as best she could, the muscles in her palm cramping slightly. Damn, she needed to practice more. “Our focus was on Fisk’s last inner circle member. We thought we could get her out of the way, but it’s not that simple. We can make a plan to tackle both of them in a few days after Yelena is fully healed.”

Maya stamped her foot. It has to be tonight!

“Tonight?” the archer blanched. “Why tonight?”

“Wilson Fisk begins his election campaign tonight,” said Matt. “It’s been all over the news. If he gains popularity, getting closer to him will be increasingly difficult; he’ll gain more allies and bodyguards, and if he eventually wins, he’ll be untouchable. Whatever we’re going to do must happen before tonight is over.”

Kate wilted, lightly touching Yelena’s arm. Her mate’s pain raced along her nerves; she was in no condition for a major fight.

Yelena glowered at her shoulder, grimacing as a torturous spasm contorted her muscles. “Where is the campaign being held?”

“The Plaza,” Matt answered.

Nodding, Yelena walked further into the apartment, reappearing with a bundle of bandages held in her right arm. “I have a plan,” she said.

“Baby,” Kate tried cautiously. “I don’t think it’s a good idea if you—”

“I know,” Yelena spat, softening quickly. “Sorry, I know. I’ll take the vantage point this time as backup, but I’m not letting you go without me.”

Kate shifted on her feet, glancing at her companions, but Matt and Maya stared blankly back. “Alright,” she agreed. “The Plaza Hotel will be a tricky spot. It’s directly across Central Park, which means cover and escape plans will be difficult.”

“Malen'kiy yastreb,” the Russian simpered, gesturing for the group to come closer. She showed them an aerial image of the hotel. “You are forgetting the attached building and highrises behind it.”

Matt grinned slowly as Yelena divulged her plan. “This could work.”

____________

The city of New York was once again in full festive swing. Now that Thanksgiving had passed, the streets and buildings were adorned with multi-colored sparkling lights. Giant wreaths lined each block, red ribbons hung from lamp posts, and the occasional enormous ornament plopped in the middle of the park. Somehow, this time of year always made the city look cleaner than it was. For the passing tourists and long-time residents, the extra lights in the city were a whimsical wonderland…but Kate found no joy in the fanciful eccentrics of the city, not when her intestines were tying themselves into knots, not when she was mere minutes away from facing her mother’s killer.

She and Yelena stood, huddled together, in the Plaza lobby. The space was decorated in golden hues, warm lights, cream-colored arches, crystal chandeliers, marbled floors, and rugs that probably cost more than Bishop Securities was worth. The Alpha had strategically blocked them from sight, using the hotel’s newest centerpiece to keep them out of sight from the crowd of lobbyists filtering into the banquet room. So far, their cover of three massive trees, frosted with pinpricks of white light, was doing a fantastic job hiding them.

“Is this how you always sneak into a party when you need to wear your widow suit?” Kate asked.

Yelena fused over the archer’s wardrobe, flipping up the collar of Kate’s black overcoat, covering any splash of purple.

“If I remember correctly, you did the same at your mother’s holiday gala,” the blonde quipped playfully, the lights from the trees sparkling in her hair.

“Which I know impressed you greatly.”

Chuckling, Yelena tugged the sleeves of Kate’s coat over the purple cuff that concealed her retractable blade and the watch she had received from Peter for her birthday; the spray button was primed and ready. “Your quiver and bow are on the roof of this building,” she reminded. “All you need to do is make it up there before Fisk does. Matt and Maya will take care of the rest.”

Kate discretely patted the Karambit knife tucked into her belt; her extendable sword and grapple baton hung from her side. The last time she physically fought Fisk, she had to blow up an entire toy store to subdue him. She was coming prepared. “Do you think the shoes will give me away?” She asked while tucking her purple aviators into her breast pocket.

They both looked down. The toes of Kate’s violet boots poked out from under her overcoat. They were finally getting some use after Clint gifted them to her.

Yelena considered thoughtfully. “No,” she decided, fixing her green jacket. The Russian’s left arm was in a sling, tucked against her body under the coat’s fabric. “There will be minimal room once you get on the roof. So, it’s best to catch him off guard and take him out as quickly as possible, but if you need to regroup or take a moment to recuperate, there are numerous air ducts and maintenance units you can use to recover.”

“I know,” Kate said gently. “You’ve told me that five times.”

She looked up, surprised. “Oh.”

The Omega cupped her mate’s cheeks, pressing a delicate kiss against her temple. “You’ll just be a rooftop away, right?” she swallowed thickly.

Yelena nodded, running her nose along Kate’s and kissing her cheek. “Everything is set up. Matt just needs to bring Vanessa to me.” She tucked a small tablet into the inside pocket of the archer’s coat. “Good luck, malen'kiy yastreb.”

“YA tebya lyublyu,” she whispered in rusty Russian.

Green eyes sparkled. “I love you too.”

Kate felt a tap on her shoulder and turned, greeting Maya with a wave. Her dark hair was elegantly parted into four braids, each strand entwining together, pleated down her back. Maya’s eyes were shadowed with dark makeup but highlighted in white pencil. Her lips were outlined with a deep purple, maybe plum, matching her turtleneck sweater paired with black dress pants.

Wow! Kate signed. You look nice!

Maya raised a brow in amusem*nt. You are surprised.

No!

Your jaw dropped, and your eyebrows rose. That indicates surprise. Maya’s smirk grew as Kate became increasingly flustered.

“Are you an expert in facial expressions?” she asked aloud, mixing up her gestures as her face flushed.

Yes.

“Your heart’s beating a mile a minute.” Matt sauntered toward them, smoothing the front of his suit jacket. “Most people would have passed out by now.”

“I’m nervous,” Kate huffed. “Has the device been put in place?”

Maya held up a small remote. I found the hotel’s circuit breaker. When I press this button, the panel will overheat, and the power will shut off.

“That will be our cue,” said Yelena, checking her watch. “The event is about to start.”

Kate looked at each of her fellow companions, a searing warmth of gratitude spread through her sternum. “Whatever happens, thank you for sticking with me. Let’s get this bastard.”

They all nodded gravelly. Yelena squeezed Kate’s hand once and disappeared behind a passing family.

“Let’s go see what Wilson Fisk has to say,” suggested Matt, leading Kate and Maya into the banquet hall.

They passed through polished doors into a vast room, far different from the holiday decorations adorning the rest of the hotel. Red, white, and blue were strung along the walls, and round tables with white cloth littered the floor, separating the trio from the small stage in the back of the room. On the stage was a podium and several chairs. A large banner hung from the ceiling; the words Fisk for Mayor were scrawled across the top, outlining the image of the Kingpin himself, smiling for the camera.

Kate lurched into Matt, several people jostling by as they rushed to find seating. “Excuse you,” she muttered.

Maya hit her on the arm, pointing to the stage. There he is.

It took a second to locate Fisk; even with his large size, Kate had been expecting one of his white suits, but dark navy slimmed his stature, complete with a black button-up underneath the jacket. In his hand, he held his symbol of power, his diamond-tipped cane, the gem twinkling under the stage lights. Standing slightly behind in silent support was Vanessa in a burgundy dress that outlined her curves, and at the base of the stage, dressed in all black, was Yelizaveta, her cold eyes scanning the crowd.

Fisk raised a meaty hand, calling for silence. “Thank you,” he said in his gravelly voice. “Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you all for being here today. It is with great enthusiasm and a deep sense of responsibility that I stand before you as a candidate for the mayor of our beloved city. This is not just an election; it is a pivotal moment for us to shape the future of our community, build on our strengths, and address our challenges with determination and innovation.”

He waited for the applause to subside.

“I grew up here, not in Manhattan, but with Hell’s Kitchen as my backyard, and out of all my worldly travels, nothing compares to New York. I love this city and its people; I am humbly one of you. I know your struggles, your frustrations, your desires. For years, I have been proud to call this city my home. I have seen its potential, its vibrant community, and the incredible talent and dedication of its people. But I have also seen the areas where we can and must improve. It is time for a new vision, a new energy, and a leadership that listens, engages, and acts decisively.”

The room grew thick with silence.

Fisk cleared his throat, piercing the crowd with his stare. “Tonight, I will discuss the typical nomination topics: the environment, education, and economic development, but first, I want to make you a promise.”

Kate held her breath. The back of her neck prickled; she thought she heard the wood creaking as Fisk hunched over the podium, setting the people of New York in his sights.

“My vision for our city is one where every resident feels safe, valued, and empowered. It is a vision where our children receive the best education, our local businesses thrive, and our environment is protected for future generations.” He licked his lips hungrily. “Yet, how can this vision be achieved when multiple individuals threaten the sanctity of our livelihood? How can we work tirelessly to enhance our public safety and fund our police force when there are amateur, meddling, wannabe heroes endangering our city?”

Several people stood from their chairs, clapping and shouting. Kate’s stomach tightened.

Fisk clicked a button on his remote, and a projection gargled to life, filling the banner behind him with several images. First, there were several smashed cars, broken down doors, and injured individuals lying in the streets.

“These vigilantes damage your property, uncaring if you get hurt in the process! Homes and businesses that you paid for with your own money!”

Kate flinched, deafened by the roaring cheers.

A new slide rotated into place—a red and Yellow horned suit.

“The devil of Hell’s Kitchen!”

Click, new slide—a masked figure in red and blue.

“Spider-Man!” Fisk gestured decadently to the screen, eyes bulging, sweat dripping down his temple, spit flying from his mouth as he savagely pointed to Kate’s friends.

Click. Bile raced up the archer’s esophagus. A—thankfully blurry—image of a figure with long, dark hair, clad in purple, holding a bow and arrow filled the screen.

“Hawkeye,” Wilson seethed. “They disrupt local law enforcement, making their jobs harder; they think they’re above the law, doing whatever it takes to meet their end goal. But who pays for all the damages? All these constant repairs come out of your tax dollars!”

The crowd rose as one, booing and throwing vile curses at the images still projected behind Fisk.

Kingpin took a deep breath, centering himself once more at the podium. “So,” he growled, settling the group with a harsh glare. “If I am elected as Mayor, my first order of business will be to make vigilantism illegal. Any idiot dressed in a costume running around like a lunatic at night, stopping”—he put air quotes over his words—"crime will be arrested.”

She heard Matt’s labored breathing through the cacophony of the crowd but quickly turned to Maya, hoping she could see her hands in the dark room. Do it now.

Maya blinked, fumbling for the remote in her pocket. She pulled it out, clicked it, and they only had to wait mere seconds before the room, and the entire hotel, plunged into darkness.

Kate clutched her companion’s arms, squeezing once for encouragement, and took off. She stumbled out of the banquet hall, knocking into scurrying lobbyists, away from the crowd's frightened and confused shrieks. The Omega couldn’t see a thing; her only guide through the pitch-black hotel was the varying clamor from the employees and other guests. The shining chandeliers were barely visible, reflecting the minimal light from the moon, and the trees no longer sparkled; the luxurious Plaza Hotel was now a monochromatic scene from nightmares as people bustled frantically in search of light and relief.

“Ow!” Kate’s knee banged into a loose luggage cart, flipping over suitcases and sprawling to the ground. She shook her leg, hobbling back to her feet in search of the stairs.

“Kate Bishop,” a deep voice said in her ear. “You brought your glasses for a reason.”

Smacking herself on the forehead, she fished her glasses out of her coat pocket and jammed the purple aviators on her face. Kate quickly filtered through the settings until her vision was accosted with ultraviolet light, and her world turned purple. She could now see the hallway before her, complete with the dead exit sign pointing to a door concealing the stairwell. Dodging the passing guests, Kate wrenched open the door and sprinted toward the roof.

Maneuvering through the dark had never been an issue for Matt, and a part of him found everyone’s elevated heart rates, panicked breathing, and even their whimpers of terror amusing. Although perhaps they weren’t afraid of the shadows, just what lurked within it. He side-stepped a couple helping each other off the floor, listening to the clack of their heeled shoes as they ran away.

His head snapped to the side, his fists tightening in anger when a familiar growling voice reached his ears.

“Elizabeth, take Vanessa and get her somewhere safe.”

“No,” a feminine-accented voice replied. “I’m staying with you. It’s just the power.”

Matt’s nostrils flared; he sifted through the myriad of perfumes and colognes, honing on the slight musty scent, like rotting vegetation.

Strolling across the floor, he pulled a wad of black fabric from his pants pocket, wrapping it over his eyes and around his head.

“Vanessa, go now!”

Fisk’s lumbering gate hurried across the stage, leaving the dull thunk of the widow’s boots and the tiny click of Vanessa’s heels.

The pungent muskiness of Alpha increased, but Matt could still smell the linen of the tablecloth to his right and the disinfectant spray used on the eight chairs surrounding it. He could also hear the slight rustle of fabric as the banner swayed gently over the stage. He removed his billy club tucked into the waist of his pants, snapping the two ends apart to swirl the weapon around him.

“I have a few notes on your mate’s speech,” Matt shouted, gaining the two women’s attention. “You’d think Fisk would have gotten my name correct, considering I beat him…twice.”

Vanessa’s heart skipped a beat. “You?” she asked, voice tight. “You said you would leave us alone!”

Matt shrugged, spinning the club in lazy circles. “And Fisk promised he’d stay in prison.”

The vibration of Yelizaveta’s muscles clenching was the only warning he got before the widow pounced on him. Daredevil jumped to the side, lassoing his weapon, and flung it at Vanessa, smirking when it wrapped around her legs and she clattered to the floor.

A grunt from behind.

He ducked under a fist, retaliating with an elbow to the head, but he met open air. His head jerked to the side, the skin of his cheek concaving as a hand made contact with his face. Daredevil reoriented himself, listening, the subtle squeak of a boot, and lashed out, his knuckles hitting the pointed jut of a chin. Matt followed up with a punch from the side but missed. He pivoted again, lunged forward, and pushed against Yelizaveta’s chest. She fell to the floor, fabric scrapping against the hardwood as she rolled onto her back, hopping onto her feet.

She was good, constantly meeting his blows halfway, blocking his kicks, reorienting his jabs, using the flow of his body against him.

The scrape of a chair leg against the floor, Matt flipped out of the way, hearing a slight whistle as it sailed through the air under him. He strained his ears at the slight whimper and constant grating as Vanessa tried to drag herself out of the room.

Finally, Matt got an opening, jackhammering his fist into Yelizaveta’s stomach, kicking her away so she starfished on the ground. Heaving for breath, he jumped onto the table, pulled his extra club from his waistband, and catapulted onto the brass chandelier above them. Daredevil flicked his weapon, satisfied with the metallic sinch of the hooked end, and swiped it across the cable, detaching the light fixture from the ceiling.

Together, he and the chandelier crashed to the floor. Matt rolled away, pain arcing across his back, but judging by the widow’s cut-off shout and lack of movement, he had hit his target. The protruding arms of the fixture had done their job, knocking Yelizaveta unconscious.

Groaning, Matt steadily rose to his feet, shuffling toward the erratic heartbeat and labored breathing. “Come on, Mrs. Fisk.” He stooped over Vanessa, wrapping his arm around her neck, synching his bicep to limit her airflow. “We’re going to take a little nap.”

She struggled against him, thrashing her shoulders, kicking her tied legs, anything to escape Daredevil's grasp, but Matt flexed, and Vanessa fell limp in his arms.

Heaving Fisk’s mate over his shoulder, Matt rushed out of the room, hidden in plain sight, ignored by the chaos erupting in the hotel lobby by angry guests demanding the power be restored in their rooms and attendees of the campaign walking around, discombobulated. He followed the distinct scent of alcohol, rounding several corners, stopping where the smell grew strongest, behind an access door that led to a server hallway between the hotel and the building next door.

Matt knocked thrice.

“Took you long enough,” Yelena grumbled, opening the door for them to sneak through.

“Sending a chandelier crashing to the floor is not as easy as it looks,” he jested.

“What is with New Yorker’s breaking light fixtures?” She intoned. “The elevator is around the corner; we can take it to the twenty-second floor, then take the stairs for the roof access door.”

Matt readjusted the lump over his shoulder. “Do you have rope?”

“Yes, why?”

“We’ll need to tie her up.”

Dull thuds pounded against her skull, beating in time with the footfalls of the guests racing out of the room. Maya concentrated on the quivering and quaking of the ground, identifying the familiar, heavy gait as Fisk walked over the stage, down the steps, and toward the hall’s side door.

She followed, glancing at the people moving past her, their mouths open—probably in a scream—their eyes wide, eyeballs whizzing around, trying to see in the darkness. Terror paled their skin, sweat beading their brow, and to think they seemed so happy five minutes ago. It was difficult to make out the entirety of Fisk’s speech; whenever he got angry, Wilson tended to chew his words, making it difficult for Maya to decipher what he was saying without an interpreter, but based on Kate and Matt’s shocked and angered expressions, she got the jist of it.

Maya exited the room, looking back and forth, but she was not immune to the dim lightning. She closed her eyes, searching for the tremor in the earth she always associated with the Kingpin of New York. It was there, faint, and quickly moving down the hallway leading to the back exit. She ran after him, pushing through throngs of loitering people without looking back. She squashed a bubble of amusem*nt; only a few months ago, she had been hunted out of the city and chased to Oklahoma, but now, she was the one doing the hunting.

He was a shadow in the darkness, but his outline cleared the closer she got. Maya frowned, adrenaline rushing through her as he reached for the door handle. Skidding to a halt, she pounded her fist against the wall, denting the plaster.

The noise had done the trick. Fisk checked over his shoulder, stopping, rigid as he gazed upon his old protegee. He blinked twice, swallowing his shock, and slowly faced her. “Maya?” he mouthed.

Her appearance had startled him; she could tell by the quiver of his jowls, his fingers tightening against his cane and the slight tilt of his head. Maya nodded, approaching the man she had called uncle as if she were walking toward a rabid animal. She wanted to be mad, wanted to feel the hot fury driving her power, but, not for the first time, the image of a terrified Fisk, crying in his room, desperate for all of it to end, flashed in her mind. No matter how much she wanted to, Maya could never be mad at that little boy. Instead, pity filled her, as well as disappointment that the man who helped raise her wouldn’t let go.

Fisk stood straighter, tugging his blazer tighter around his body. “If you’re here to try and rejoin, I’m afraid my offer has passed. It wasn’t smart for you to show up tonight; you should have taken my offer to come home when I asked.”

Maya set her jaw. Her remorse washed away like water down a drain. I will never join you.

His brows scrunched. “Then why are you here?”

To help. They were closer now, practically an arm’s length away.

Fisk’s chest expanded. “I don’t need your help!”

She looked up at him, letting a smirk stretch her lips. Not you. She ended her last hand gesture and shot her arm forward, pressing her fingers against his temple.

White, glowing light surrounded them. Bringing color back to the bronze wall sconces and gold wallpaper, it faded almost instantaneously, shrinking into Fisk’s head.

He staggered back, vigorously smacking his forehead as if the light were a bug he could swipe from his skin. “Wh-what did you do?” he screamed.

The walls around them fizzled, morphing from elegant leafy designs to dirty, cracked plaster. The rug vanished, replaced with a worn carpet, and sunlight filtered into the room from a window that didn’t really exist. Fisk tripped over his feet, looking in horror at a severe crack in the wall. “No,” he lamented. He faced Maya, his eyes white with furry. “Take me back!”

“Wilson!” a reedy voice yelled.

Fisk flinched away, cowering against the wall.

“Stop being useless like your mother, and get over here!” A short, stout man sauntered toward them. He was balding, the hair on the sides of his head cropped with a close shave. His stripped button was tucked into his khaki pants, secured by a black leather belt. “Are you listening? Jesus, you can’t even do one thing right. You know what? I blame your mother for giving me a sorry excuse for a son.”

“L—leave her alone,” Fisk growled lowly, saliva gathering at the corners of his mouth.

Bill pointed a shaking finger at his son. “Don’t make me ask again, Wilson. Get over here and tell me what you did with my posters. Did you put them up, huh? Next to your sh*tty picture? Fisk for Mayor, eh? What the hell do you think you're doing?” He pulled a hammer from behind his back. “If nobody voted for me, what makes you think anybody in this god-forsaken city will vote for a fat sack of sh*t like you?”

Fisk roared, his large hands outstretched, ready to choke his father, but Bill retaliated with a precise swing from his hammer. He shouted in pain, clutching his fingers to his chest.

“Don’t make me do this.” Bill licked his lips, raising his weapon in the air.

Baring his teeth, Fisk locked hateful eyes on Maya and took off down the perpendicular hallway, running away from his father, who gave chase.

Oxygen stuttered back into her lungs, her vision swam, and she leaned against the hallway, catching her breath. She had never been on the receiving end of Fisk’s spiteful stares, never experienced the force of all his anger directed solely at her. Maya pressed her palm against her chest, inhaling deeply. He was gone, for now, the memory—echo—she conjured of Fisk’s father would steer him toward the roof, where another surprise would be waiting.

Maya swallowed thickly, walking to the access door Yelena had shown her on the hotel’s blueprints, and hurried to meet them.

“Why did I run up eighteen flights of steps?” Kate heaved, staggering over the threshold onto the roof. Thankfully, the cold wind pelted her face, erasing the exhaustion from her climb. The four American flags standing century at the four corners of the hotel rippled in the wind, and the turquoise detailing on the roof was visible in the moonlight, but they must not have gotten the power back on. The Plaza stood silent, like a dark, unseen corner of the city.

Kate hopped over an air duct, shedding her coat in favor of the magnetic back plate her mate had made for her long ago. She attached her quiver, slotting the slim tablet into it for easy access. She scoured the building next to her, head tilted back to see the edge of the high-rise. The archer’s stomach settled at the faint green glow from Yelena’s night vision goggles, and she could make out the tip of her Alpha’s rifle aimed at her…..which, oddly, was a comforting feeling.

Bouncing on the balls of her feet, Kate primed her boots and leaped onto an air conditioning unit, then springing on top of the concrete wall jutting from the center of the roof. She scrambled up, positioning herself over the access door, and aimed an explosive-tipped arrow; it had done the job last time. Now, all she had to do was wait and hope Maya’s portion of the plan went smoothly.

Five minutes passed, then ten minutes. The breeze chilled her fingers and prickled her ears, but Kate refused to move. She heard him before she saw him; pounding steps and labored breathing warned her of his imminent arrival.

Fisk spilled onto the roof below Kate, his form gasping, sputtering, and coughing. Sweat poured over his shiny head, and he rested his weight on his knees.

“Hey!” she shouted, pulling her string taught, the knuckle of her thumb pressed against the corner of her lip.

Kingpin twirled around, gaping at her. He pointed a shaking finger. “I should have known!” he panted. “No matter what I do, you keep coming back like a co*ckroach!”

“Thank you,” Kate taunted, her arm muscles straining. “I hear co*ckroaches can survive anything.”

“Except the heel of my boot,” he spat savagely. He zeroed in on the arrow pointing at him and began to laugh. “What are you going to do with that?”

The archer let it fly. The composite plastic hit Fisk’s chest and exploded apart, detonating on impact. A spark, blinding light, and orange flames lit up the night sky, sending Fisk flying backward and colliding into a covered industrial fan.

He roared, somehow still clasping his cane, and stumbled to his feet, tearing the singed blazer from his arms. Fisk pointed the diamond at Kate, prowling toward her.

“What?” she whispered, mouth parted in astonishment, but she should have known better; even a bullet couldn’t take down a Kingpin. It was a fight she wanted, so it was a fight she was going to get. The archer bounded off the roof, landing in a roll, and reached for her cable arrow. Kate fired before he could get too close; the clamp caught Fisk in the shoulder, but using his free hand, he unwound the cable, pulling the line tight, sending Kate flying toward him. She couldn’t halt her perpetual motion, her entire body leaving the ground, hurtling toward her adversary. Kate put her hands out in front of her, trying to block the strike she knew was coming, but the diamond smacked into her temple, and she careened away, hitting the ground hard.

“Kate?” Yelena yelled frantically through their comms channel.

“Everything’s fine,” she whimpered shrilly, but she didn’t have a moment to breathe.

Fisk yanked on the cable still in his hand, still attached to her bow, and flung the Omega across the roof. Kate tumbled through the air, skidding along the concrete until an air duct stopped her. Her side stung, pain radiating down her nerves; she looked up, dazed, as he lumbered over her, smirking.

A shot rang out, the blast echoing between the buildings, and Fisk lurched to the side as a bullet ripped through his arm, blood darkening his shirt.

“How did you miss?” Kate shouted, crawling under the duct to escape Fisk’s furious screams.

Yelena grunted in her ear. “There is a bit of a situation up here.”

Kate could hear the thunk of fists hitting flesh and muffled yells. She tried peering at the taller building next to them, but her vantage point provided no insight into what was happening on the roof next door. “Damn it.” The archer forced herself to her feet, her body screaming at her to lay down and rest, but she slung herself over the duct, catching Fisk as he made for the door. “Where you going, big guy?”

He turned back, annoyed.

Wincing, Kate spun her bow, the arms elongating into a staff, and she kicked off from the ground, jumping five feet into the air. She brought her weapon down hard onto the top of Fisk’s head, but he easily grabbed it, shaking her around like a rag doll and tossing her away.

“You’re just a child,” Fisk hollored. “You’re beaten, stay down!” He turned his back to her, striding for the stairs.

Kate had never been good at following instructions. She pushed herself from the floor, spinning her staff back into a bow, and nocked an arrow. She aimed at the access door, releasing the tension in her string, and shot her electro arrow, the tip splattering open, blocking the only roof exit with blurred arcs of electricity. “Now you got nowhere to go but through me,” the Omega seethed.

“You know what your problem is?” he growled, fingers curling into fists. “You can never mind your own damn business.” Fisk lunged at her.

Yelena instructed Matt to secure their captive while she set up the video camera, angling the lens so she and the post Vanessa was tied against were in frame. Next, she positioned the stand for her long-range rifle, pointing it at the center of the Plaza’s rooftop. “Make sure the knot is tight. We don’t want our leverage escaping.”

“She won’t be going anywhere.” Matt crouched next to her. “I know Kate’s smart, strong, but she’s about to go against Kingpin. He’s unbeatable, physically. Fisk only stands down when he wants to.”

“I know,” she worried her lip. “And Kate knows that, but she has to do this. After all the pain he’s caused her, Kate must confront him. You have gone against him, Maya has gone against him, it’s Kate’s turn. We are only here to provide backup.”

Matt leaned closer, tilting his ear toward Yelena’s chest. “What if she can’t?”

“That is why I am here,” Yelena rechecked her scope. “Fisk will be dealt with one way or the other.”

The access door opened gently. Maya greeted them with a wave, pointing to the hotel across from them. He is on his way.

Yelena leaned back, signing as best she could with one hand. It worked?

Maya’s hand trembled as she ran it through her hair; her flushed skin had taken on an ashen hue, but she shook out her hands and replied: Yes, I didn’t know if it would. Her brow furrowed, the vein in her neck ticked. He is a horrible man, but that was cruel of me.

It’s in the past now, Yelena signed, eye plastered to her scope. Fisk had made it to the roof. It felt like a million ants were crawling through her stomach. The small detonation was not enough to bring the Kingpin down for the count, and she smarted through every glancing pain felt through her and Kate’s connection.

Matt sucked his teeth. “She’s lucky her ribs aren’t brok—” he whirled around. “Get down!”

Yelena threw herself to the floor, hearing the whizzing of a starred shuriken barely missing her head. She shifted to her back, windmilling to her feet to see a bruised and battered Yelizaveta sprinting across the roof. “Don’t let her get to Vanessa!” the blonde instructed, aiming her pistol at the other widow.

Maya pulled a gun from her waistband, following Matt as the pair raced after her, blocking her access to Fisk’s mate.

The Alpha felt like her head was on a swivel; check on Kate, make sure Vanessa remained subdued, check on Kate; Matt got punched in the face, check on her mate—her insides froze.

Kate lay on her back, scrabbling away from the hulking figure towering over her, his cane ready to strike.

Yelena lined up her shot, finger hovering over the trigger, but fell to the side as another body rammed into her. She heard the boom of the bullet leaving its chamber; she could tell Fisk was hit, but not as directly as she wished.

“How did you miss?” Kate screamed incredulously through the comm.

The Russian rolled onto her back, her shoulder throbbing, wiggling away from the boot attempting to stomp her face. “There is a bit of a situation up here.”

Matt dived at the widow, knocking her away from Yelena.

“Elizabeth!”

Great, Yelena thought irritably. She’s awake.

Vanessa strained against her bonds, attempting to shimmy underneath the thick coils binding her to the post of a satellite antenna. “Elizabeth, help me! Get me out of here!”

Yelizaveta kicked Maya in the jaw, flipped over her, and made her way toward their captive.

Kate somersaulted under Fisk’s outstretched arms. Kneeling on the ground, she attached her bow to her back plate, unhooking the hilt of her sword from her belt. “Let’s see how well you can dance.” The archer jammed her thumb on the small button, the extendable blade shooting from the hilt. She swung her sword, keeping Fisk away from her, but for a larger man, he was quite agile. Kate arced her blade toward his head, intent on slicing his throat, but Fisk leaned away.

He retaliated with his cane, brandishing the diamond tip, swinging it like a pendulum at the Omega’s knees.

Her biceps cramped as she blocked each hit, absorbing the powerful impact of Fisk’s blows. Swirling around him, Kate aimed a slice at his back; but Fisk was fast, pivoting, slapping her blade away with the butt of his cane.

“I’m sick and tired of your insolence, Hawkeye. Do you know what I’m going to do to you?” Fisk slammed his weapon downward, missing her shoulder by inches. “I’m going to kill you. On this rooftop, I’ll hang you by the flag pole for everyone to see, just like I did to your mother.”

Kate saw red. Rage burned the fatigue from her muscles, and she sprinted forward, releasing a loud wail filled with hatred. She rolled under another swipe from his cane, launched herself six feet in the air, arcing toward Fisk, and sunk the tip of her blade in the middle of his chest. But she jerked to a stop, her sword halting, refusing to slice deeper into Fisk’s thick tissue and sinew. “Oh, come on!” she shrieked.

Fisk backhanded her, and she crumpled to the floor. He looked at her, then at the sword sticking out of him, unimpressed. “I assume you did not learn your lesson from last time.”

Groaning, the archer glared at her weapon, heaving herself off the floor, breathing heavily. I just need more force, she thought, frantically looking for any leverage she could use, an idea sparking in her brain as her gaze fell on the flag pole. She ran toward him, using her boots to bound over him, smirking when he tilted his head back to follow her movement. Kate tapped her watch, spraying the sticky goop into Fisk’s eyes, and landed behind him, immediately heading to the edge of the building.

He sputtered and cursed, but Kate didn’t pay any mind to his yells. She grabbed her grapple baton and aimed for the top of the flagpole. The rope uncoiled rapidly, attaching to the metal bulb as the archer flung herself from the roof. Her stomach swooped on the brief free fall, the wind drying the sweat on her forehead, then the cable extended, holding her weight. Kate glided through the air, arcing around the building, gaining height. The coil wrapped around the pole as she swung in a circle, increasing her momentum and bringing her closer to Fisk. Finally, she let go, hurtling toward her target like a torpedo racing through the water. She flipped at the last minute, her feet slamming into Fisk’s chest, and he pitched backward.

The vibration from the impact rattled Kate’s teeth, but she didn’t care, not when the man she hated most in this world collapsed, sprawled against the floor, tangling with the cable previously unwound from her arrow.

The Omega’s elation was short-lived.

Fisk sat up unsteadily, like an inflatable holiday decoration aerating for the first time, and pulled her sword from his chest, throwing it away.

Kate squeezed her eyes shut as her weapon clattered against the concrete, ignoring the sudden strain behind her optic nerve. Cracking her neck, she detached her bow from her back, aiming directly at Fisk’s head.

It was three against one, and Yelena couldn’t help but be impressed as Yelizaveta held her own. Two individuals, experts in street fighting and herself, trained in multiple martial arts, yet the Widow hardly broke a sweat. Blood dripped steadily from a cut on her forehead, and a dark bruise smudged her cheek, but Yelizaveta hardly seemed winded.

She blocked every one of Matt’s punches, avoided Maya’s kicks; both of their weapons were easily discarded with a painful twist of their wrists.

Yelena abandoned her post with her rifle, constantly checking on her mate and using her ability to see from each other’s eyes to ensure Kate still had the upper hand. She held her baton in her good hand, knocking away throwing stars, perched as a last defense to stop Yelizaveta from freeing Vanessa.

Maya made a grab for her fallen pistol, but a kick to the stomach stopped her; the blonde rotated into a roundhouse kick, sending Maya staggering away.

Matt succeeded in a hit with his club, but Yelizaveta’s reflexes were quick; she spun, clutching his weapon in her hand, and elbowed him in the nose.

The widow had a quick opening, chucking another knife in Yelena’s direction, scowling when it was easily blocked.

Recovering from their hits, Matt and Maya simultaneously lunged at the widow.

Maya skidded low, going for her ankles, and Matt lept into the air, raining punches onto her head.

Yelizaveta evaded Matt, retaliating with a headbutt to the bridge of his nose, but fell hard as Maya’s side swipe caught her legs. “Enough!” she screeched. The widow pulled a small disk from her pocket, flipped onto her feet, and threw the small puck onto Matt’s chest where it attached to his shirt.

“Cover your ears!” Yelena warned, dropping her baton to cup the ear closest to the fight.

The device detonated.

A bright flash of light preceded a shrill, high-pitched crack, like a bullwhip, followed by a deafening sonic boom.

Yelena gritted her teeth against the noise. The ear that wasn’t covered by her hand rang loudly, clogging her left ear canal.

Maya looked around, confused, but Matt clamped his hands over his head, screaming.

The noise must have sounded like a hundred revving jet engines blasting directly in his ear. He stumbled, trying to escape the source of the noise, but the puck omitted the sound again, and Matt dropped to his knees.

Yelizaveta kicked him in the chest, shattering the device. She lifted his dazed body off the ground and flung him over the roof.

“Matt!” Yelena shrieked. She detached the grapple cable from her waist, suctioning the end to the floor, flinging the hook toward the falling Daredevil. The end hooked over his ankle, catching him before he could plummet to his death.

Maya’s features tightened. She tackled the widow, rolling them away from the edge, but Yelizaveta was stronger. She kicked out, pushed her feet against Maya’s chest, and wrapped her thighs around her neck, rotating until Maya lay underneath her.

The widow punched her in the mouth, kicked her hip, and repeatedly stomped on Maya’s leg, breaking the seal between the prosthetic and the Alpha’s extremity. Winded, Yelizaveta picked up the metal foot and bashed Maya in the head.

“Hey!” Yelena snarled. Her blood pumped quicker; her vision swam as anger overtook her. She grabbed a knife from her thigh sheath and lobbed it straight into the widow’s torse, a centimeter shy of piercing her heart.

Yelizaveta staggered away, staring at the embedded knife in shock. She gaped at Yelena, her former classmate, and fell to her knees.

Yelena approached her, cupping her jaw to keep their eyes locked. Her vexation simmered low in her veins, cooling at the twinge of regret coursing through her. “Never give your opponent an opening,” she reminded quietly. “You could have been so much more than this.”

The widow scowled. When she spoke, her voice was thick, wet with the fluids filling her throat. “Don’t act so high and mighty,” she spat blood from her mouth. “You could have easily been just like me.” Her eyes rolled in the back of her head, and she keeled over, slumping next to Maya, who lethargically flipped her off.

“Is she dead?” Matt huffed, climbing over the edge of the roof. “I can’t hear much.”

Yelena stared. “No, not yet.” Yelizaveta looked softer in sleep, peaceful even. “She’ll need medical attention soon.”

Matt offered a thumbs up, resting stomach first on the ground. He used his pinky to try and open his ear, shaking his head back and forth.

“Yelena,” came Kate’s calm voice. “It’s time.”

The Russian jolted. She peered through the scope of her weapon to see her mate aiming an arrow at a dazed Fisk. Exhilarated pleasure ran through her, and she set the camera to record.

The flags whipped in the icy wind. Kate kept her gaze trained on Fisk struggling to get off the floor, but she could see tiny, white specks fluttering from the sky in her peripherals, the snowfall washing away the sins of the city. “You’re going to listen to me, Fisk, for the sake of your mate.”

Kingpin’s stunned expression cleared. Every muscle in his body tensed; his teeth squeaked audibly as he clenched his jaw. “What are you talking about?”

Frowning, Kate eased the arrow from her bow, fastening both to her back plate and revealed the small tablet. She powered it to life, showing him the live footage of Vanessa restrained on the next building over. Yelena crouched into frame, leveling her gun to show a red dot steadily sitting on Vanessa’s forehead, right between her eyes.

“You wouldn’t!”

Elation flooded her. She could practically smell his fear. The taste of his souring pheromones made her wrinkle her nose, but she pushed the screen in front of his bulging eyes, tsking as he tried to stand. “One move and she dies.”

Fisk scrambled to his knees, his shoulders heaving, his breath condensing like clouds in the frigid air. “You don’t have what it takes!”

Kate pursed her lips. “Maybe not, but my mate does, especially if it means protecting me. So, unless you want to see Vanessa’s spattered brains as part of her art collection. You’re going to listen to me.”

His jaw quivered, but Fisk sat back on his haunches, nodding.

“You failed, Fisk,” she prowled back and forth. “You tried to drive me out of my home, tried to take my mate away from me, my mother’s company, you tried to use me, kill me, but it all failed. Wanna know why?” Kate unzipped the pouch around her waist, shoving the five gemstones in her hands in front of his face. “Because I have what you will never have. Your precious inner circle weren’t your family; they were leeches! They used you as a host for their own gain.” She bent over Fisk, standing her ground when he got in her face. “My family and my friends love me; they protected me. We foiled your every plan, and I bet that drove you crazy!”

Fisk's head tilted dangerously; she could feel his hot breath puff against her face. “I still haven’t heard what you want.”

She bared her teeth. “I want you to leave this city, leave the state, the f*cking country. I want you out of my life forever.”

He glanced at the adjacent skyscraper.

“You can take your mate with you, but know your one comfort in this world was allowed to you because of my kindness.”

The corners of his lips tugged downward, and he struck like a coiled snake. Fisk wrapped the cable around Kate’s wrist, coiling the line around his own, connecting them, and wrenched her in front of him, using her body as a shield. “Widow!” he screamed, his voice echoing into the night. “If you kill my wife, I’ll throw Kate and myself off the hotel!” He limped to the edge, dragging a squirming Kate with him.

The archer couldn’t feel her own panic, drowned by Yelena’s dread; she could almost hear the alarm bells ringing in her mate's head. Kate clenched her eyes shut, focusing on the subtle pull behind her belly button, like an invisible hook tugging on her navel. She was no longer secured in Kingpin's grip; instead, she watched herself through Yelena’s scope, the sight scurrying rapidly over Fisk, trying to find an opening that wouldn’t also harm her.

Kate rushed back into her head, suddenly weightless. She blinked at the rushing traffic far below her, dangling in the air, saved only by Fisk’s grip on her shirt and the cable holding them together.

“I’ll do it!”

Pushing away her hysteria, Kate swung her legs forward, the heel of her boots bouncing off the concrete lip, their powerful kick launching her over Fisk’s head.

His body contorted with her, forced by their bound hands to follow her movement. His free hand shot out, synching around her neck, twirling her back into his front, a human shield once again.

Kate ignored her body’s instinct to struggle, swallowed the urge to thrash and claw at the meaty hand blocking her windpipe, and silenced her brain of its desperate plea for oxygen. The archer extended her free hand and flexed her wrist, plunging the hidden blade into Fisk’s crotch.

He yowled, releasing his grip, and Kate kicked away, holding their bound hands in the air.

The crack of a gunshot perforated the air, splitting the cable binding Kate to Fisk.

Still, even with blood darkening his pant leg, Fisk would not go down. He lashed out, that stupid cane still in his hand, and clocked Kate’s nose.

Her face was in agony; she could taste copper on her tongue and smell the iron filling her nostrils, but Kate ran at him with blurred vision. She hopped behind his back, lifting a leg high in the air, over his shoulder. The Omega grabbed his arm for support, hugging his arm like a koala, and wrenched the cane from his fingers. She allowed him to fling her off, tumbling to the ground, but her prize was in her possession.

“This is for having me kidnapped!” she screamed, whacking Fisk across the face as hard as she could.

Blood spurted from his mouth.

Kate spun, bringing the diamond tip down on Fisk’s temple. “For endangering my company!”

A gash opened on his skin.

“This is for torturing my mate!” There was an uncomfortable churning in her stomach; her legs shook with the sheer force of her ire, and she let her anger travel to her arms, raining blows onto Fisk’s thick skull.

Again, Kingpin fell to his knees, breathing heavily, swaying as he tried to keep himself upright. His navy suit looked more burgundy than blue as blood poured from every orifice.

“And this,” Kate snarled savagely. “Is for killing my mother.” She wound up her arm, striking Fisk under his chin. His head snapped back, and the diamond popped from the cane, rotating end-over-end in the air, landing directly in the palm of Kate’s hand.

Fisk hewed to the side, laying supine on the ground.

Breathless, Kate showed him the tablet, the screen trembling in her grasp. “Leave! Don’t ever return! If you or your wife set foot on American soil or think you can wreak havoc in any other country, I will know, and I will have her killed. Do you understand?”

Slowly, he nodded, a blood bubble popping at the corner of his lips.

She stumbled away, dizzy with relief. “I want you gone by morning,” Kate said. She released the electorarrow blockade—she could hear her mate cutting Vanessa’s rope over her comms—and left the Kingpin of New York bleeding on the ground.

Kate exited the hotel, the patrons none the wiser about the events that took place on top of the building. The power had finally returned, and the guests were mumbling in confused whispers about how the banquet hall had been destroyed. She didn’t enlighten them, opting to let the rumors spread; Kate was sure she’d read about some outlandish explanation in the following morning’s paper.

The street in front of the Plaza was blocked off, crowded with fire trucks flashing red and white and an ambulance loading a blonde woman into the rear.

She hurried down the street, her trepidation easing as she spotted her mate standing off to the side, staring forlornly at the ambulance. Matt stood behind her, supporting Maya as she struggled to reattach her prosthetics.

Yelena beamed the moment she spotted her, opening her right arm for a hug. “Sokolinyy glaz,” she bemoaned at Kate’s tight embrace. “You did it. I am so proud of you.”

Kate let the stinging wetness finally fall from her eyes, burying her face into her Alpha’s neck, letting the aroma of fresh linens overwhelm her. “Is it over?” she whimpered.

“I believe so.” Yelena cupped the back of her neck. “He knows if anyone tries something against you, I will kill his mate. She is the only thing he has; he will not risk it.”

The archer pulled away, wiping at her eyes. “Thank you, guys; I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

Matt, his face free of any dark fabric, smiled at her, his eyes directed to Kate’s left. “Always happy to help kick Fisk’s ass. You did great tonight. Not many people can say they defeated him.”

Maya’s leg clicked back into place, but she limped, testing the weight. Speak for yourself, she signed, brows knitted together. This was brand new!

“I can pay for a new one,” Kate offered, signing weakly, exhaustion quickly overtaking her.

Maya arched a brow. My family made it.

Then I’ll pay your family.

The ambulance doors slammed loudly, grabbing their attention.

“Is that Yelizaveta?” Kate asked.

Yelena nodded. “Melina is on her way; she should arrive tomorrow afternoon. She said she will take Yelizaveta to the safe house in Canada. A few other former widows have started a rehabilitation group, and they have an opening.”

“Well,” clapped Matt. “Whose hungry?”

“Starving,” Kate moaned, leaning into her Alpha. “I could kill an entire pizza right now.”

The mates led the way to the Omega’s favorite hole in the wall. Kate was thankful Matt and Maya remained a few paces away, giving them some semblance of privacy. She kissed Yelena’s cheek. “Thank you for having my back tonight.”

The Russian bumped her good shoulder into Kate’s. “I will always have your back, moya lyubov', never doubt that.”

“I won’t,” she promised.

Yelena entwined their hands, rubbing the smear of red off Kate’s fingers. “Are you okay? Confronting the man who had your mother killed isn’t easy.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. A part of her ached for her sire. Kate supposed she would always yearn for a freshly baked pastry on Sundays, and a pang of sadness would always hit her when she remembered her mother’s smile, but now she was at peace. Her mother’s memory could rest easy. “But it’s better now.” Kate pecked Yelena on the lips. “Plus, I have you.”

The Alpha hummed, her gaze remaining on Kate’s mouth after she pulled away. “Yes, yes, you do.”

____________

Large, fat, fluffy white flakes danced serenely through the snow-laden branches. The trees, burdened with the weight, formed a protective canopy over the tombstones, shielding them from the somber sky. Their brown, branchy arms arched low over the cemetery, creating a tranquil scene. All was hushed. The small creek, now a frozen ribbon, and the wooden planks of the bridge above, slick with patches of ice, were muffled by the fresh blanket of snow, erasing any trace of visitors or animal tracks. The occasional rustle in the canopy as a bird took flight or a squirrel scurried for food was the only disruption. For the first time, Yelena felt a profound sense of calm and peace as she visited her sister’s grave.

“Natasha,” she greeted with a mixture of fondness and sorrow, a bittersweet ache solidifying in her sternum. She knelt before the marker, gently brushing off the snow to reveal the name the weather had hidden. “Merry Christmas, even though the Americans celebrate it early.” With a delicate touch, she placed a miniature wreath at the base.

Yelena shivered as a gentle breeze touched the back of her exposed neck.

Dressed in olive green corduroys—a gift from Kate as they apparently matched her eyes—she stood before her sister's shrine. Her yellow, checkered coat, buttoned over a brown waffle beater, and the most significant change to her aesthetic…her blonde hair, cut short, the ends hanging just above her shoulder. She tucked a small strand behind her ear, not entirely used to the constant fixing and rearranging.

“I know it has been another six months since I visited, but a lot has changed.” Yelena stood in the cold, recounting the events that had shaped her life in the past half-year. She told Natasha about her mission to steal Adamantium for the American government, a task that had tested her skills and her loyalty. She mentioned how she and Kate’s cycles had finally synced on the Barton farm, a sign of their growing bond. And although she left out some of the more explicit details, she knew if Natasha could hear her, the redhead would find the situation amusing at her old friend's expense. Yelena spoke of the mysterious connection she shared with her mate, a connection she was still trying to understand, as well as the complexities of life.

“Kate is very eager to unlock any potential she may have with gems, rocks, and minerals; she told me our future house needed an extra room to finally empty the storage unit she has filled with them.” Yelena twisted a ring on her finger. “I do not want to know more about my supposed connection with the stars. They are very far away, after all, and I would rather spend my time looking at what’s around me in the present than waste my time looking up; think of all the things I’d miss.”

Her story continued with the blonde being forced to relive her worst memories and how Kate had seen them, too. “She stayed with me, wanted me, even after she knew what I had done.” Yelena hung her head, regaling the empty cemetery about her and Kate’s fight, the therapy, finally splitting from Valentina, and the sheer joy coursing through her when Kate kissed her again after they made up.

She took a deep breath. “Then Fisk became an issue. He sent his inner circle after Kate, but moy malen'kiy yastreb is very brave and strong; she defeated them one by one.” The tale of their rooftop battle and how they kicked the Kingpin out of New York came next.

“We have measures in place to ensure he stays away.”

The Italian city of Florence was surprisingly busy in mid-December. Tourists crowded the streets, rushing to their wine tastings, cameras held in front of their faces, snapping pictures of the architecture. The Duomo could not be ignored; even Yelena took a few moments out of her day to stare in awe at the architectural wonder. The russet shingles of the domed cathedral contrasting with the blue-green of the region's mountainous backdrop was indeed a sight to behold. Still, the Russian was not here to admire the achievements of the Di Medici.

Yelena lay on her stomach, settled comfortably on a mattress she had hauled up the Meuso stairs. She peered through the scope of her sniper rifle, the sun beating on her back. Unfortunately, the roof was not within the cathedral's shadow, but at least she’d get a nice tan on her arms. Several pop-up gift shops lined the edges of the piazza, creating buffers between the other building Yelena was using as cover and the restaurant outdoor seating she had trained in her sights. It was a prime spot, right next to the famous church; it was a no-brainer for someone like Fisk to choose this area to have lunch.

She spotted him quickly: a large man wearing a crisp white suit might as well be the star attraction at the L’Opera Caffe. Seated across from him was his mate, Vanessa, a large straw hat tilted on her head, shielding her eyes from the sun. They sipped their coffees, Fisk chuckling at something Vanessa said.

The Alpha narrowed her eyes. They seemed to be enjoying themselves a little too much. She increased the pressure on the trigger until a red dot hovered over Vanessa’s chest, the laser sparkling in the sun. It took a moment for Fisk to register what he was seeing, but recognition soon flashed in his eyes, his skin drained of its color, and he whipped his head around, trying to find the source. Yelena kept the dot on his mate a few moments longer, satisfaction warming her belly as she watched Fisk break his fork in anger.

She released the trigger, the dot disappearing, and packed up her equipment. Her job had been completed; it was time to go home.

“Kate was jealous she did not get to accompany me to Italy,” said Yelena. “I told her she could join me next time, and we could make a vacation out of it. I will visit Wilson every few months, usually when we know he’ll start to let his guard down and silently threaten him to stay away. It keeps him in check.”

A pile of snow fell from a tree, plopping to the ground.

“I think it bothers Kate that Wilson Fisk gets to run free around Europe with no consequences, but at least there is an ocean separating him from New York, and he’s leaving us alone,” Yelena smirked slightly. “He also does not have a home to come back to. Kate used Bishop Securities to buy out Fisk Tower. The company is in talks with the city to demolish it and turn it into a shelter and soup kitchen. It was her last act as CEO before she stepped down.”

Matt straightened his tie, carefully seating himself in the chair next to Kate and Yelena. Acting as Kate’s lawyer, he had scheduled a meeting between the CEO and the board of Bishop Securities to arrange a harmonious transition of power. The Beta skimmed the pads of his fingers over the braille copies of the paperwork, ensuring everything was in order.

They were in the company’s largest conference room with floor-to-ceiling windows that provided natural light. The highly polished wooden table reflected the surrounding skyscrapers in the city, almost like a mural of New York painted within its long, oval surface. Eleanor had long opted for comfortable office chairs with high leather backs, armrests, and adjustable height.

“The board has unanimously signed and agreed to Kate Bishop stepping down from her role as CEO,” Matt stated, his red glasses flashing in everyone’s direction.

They acquiesced.

The lawyer flipped to a new page. “The board also voted, uniformly, to disband the CEO position and allot the duties, responsibilities, and pronouncements equally to its board members and the company's singular majority shareholder, Katherine Elizabeth Bishop, with the understanding that any major decision involving the wealth, reputation, and betterment of the company will have to go through Kate Bishop.”

Again, the members agreed.

“Kate Bishop’s final decree as CEO was the establishment of the Romanov Belova Foundation, which funds the construction of Hell’s Kitchen’s new shelter, soup kitchen, and rehabilitation center. This can never be touched, altered, or disbanded from the company’s structure,” Matt finished seriously. “If in agreement, please sign on the dotted line.”

Yelena’s throat synched tightly. She blinked the tears out of her eyes, leaning close to her mate. “You named it?”

Kate nodded, scribbling her own signature onto the paper. It looked to be another unanimous decision. “Is the name okay?” she asked lowly. “I wasn’t sure what else to call it, and the rehabilitation center can be for your widows, too. The center will have various therapists and psychologists; I’m even planning on a psychiatric division.”

The Russian tempered her urge to smash her mouth against her Omega’s. That could wait until they got home, and she could release the balloon of happiness inflating within her heart. “More than okay, yes.”

Matt collected the various documents and placed them in his folder. “I believe that settles everything, then.” He unfolded his cane, standing from his seat.

The board members also rose, shaking Kate’s hand and wishing her the best before exiting the conference room.

“Well,” Matt chuckled after the door closed on them. “Now that you don’t have the weight of an entire company on your shoulders, I may not be much of a lawyer to you anymore. The sale of the penthouse went off without a hitch, and like every Bishop heir before you, you now own the building. Enjoy collecting everyone’s rent.” He smirked crookedly.

Kate shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll find some way to get into serious legal trouble.”

“Not if I can help it,” Yelena scoffed.

The archer hugged Matt tightly. “Seriously, thank you for your help, not just as my lawyer, but for everything.”

The devil of Hell’s Kitchen pulled away, tucking the folder into his satchel. “You know where to find me,” he tipped his head toward Yelena. “At least she does. My partner won’t forget getting pinned to a wall by a tiny, angry Russian any time soon.”

“There was a lot at stake!”

He shook the Alpha’s hand. “It worked out. Besides, you must see what your continuous business has done to the place. We have a new sign.”

Yelena settled into Kate’s side, wrapping her arm around her waist. “Is Nelson and Murdoch in large gold letters?”

Matt shook his head. “Nelson, Murdoch, and Page encased in bronze, actually.”

Her optic nerve pinched tightly.

Yelena lifted her head, searching the tree line for her mate. “Kate?” she called.

The strain behind her eyeball lessened. “Sorry,” the archer’s voice was muffled by the denseness of the winter landscape. “I got lost! I was trying to see where you were.” Kate peeked her head over a bush, her dark hair like inky strands staining the pure snow. “This place looks completely different in the winter.”

Yelena hummed thoughtfully. She held her hand out for Kate to come closer, taking in her purple beany and rosy cheeks. “Hello, krasivyy; I was telling Natasha about our life in New York. How was the call with your friends?”

“Did I interrupt?”

“No, moya lyubov', I believe we are up to date.”

She wrapped her hands around the edges of her purple scarf and shoved them into her pockets, causing a muffled clink. “Melina has an update on Yelizaveta. She’s healing well. They’re planning on transporting her to Toronto in a few days. Also, everyone back home is doing well. Peter says hello. Cassie is dragging him to San Fransisco for the holiday.”

Yelena arched a brow.

“As friends,” Kate clarified, but she couldn’t hold back her smile. “Riri is back in Chicago with her mom; tomorrow, she’s going to be introduced to that guy her mom has been seeing. Sonya is with Greer and her family, Franny is with her respective family, and we’re here in Ohio,” she finished. “Oh, and Kamala is in Jersey City, using the three-week break from school to edit her Carol Danvers fanfiction compendium.”

Yelena nearly choked on her spit. “Her what?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Being surprised and overtaken by a sixteen-year-old was not something Yelena thought would ever happen to her. Her years of training and observation skills meant she could anticipate anyone’s action, intercepting the threat before it was a problem. However, she was loathed to admit that Kamala Khan had succeeded where most else failed.

Night had fallen over the city, the dark buildings standing like monoliths against the navy sky, white and yellow twinkling lights illuminating the skyline; moments like this reminded Yelena why New York City was characterized as one of the most beautiful in the world.

“I can’t wait to jump back into our bed,” Kate groaned. “I’ve really missed this apartment.”

Yelena couldn’t help but agree; her back practically screamed for the memory foam mattress. They had sold Eleanor’s penthouse, and after Matt had ensured Kate’s apartment was no longer on any hit list, it was finally safe for them to return and, hopefully, for their lives to return to normal.

“Can we order pizza?” the archer asked, unlocking the door.

“Kate Bishop, we had pizza two nights ago—” her eyes quickly roved over the apartment, her muscles tightening as adrenaline rushed through her when she spotted a small figure sitting hunched in their kitchen chair, one leg crossed over the other.

The figure, wearing a baseball cap, looked up. “Kate Bishop,” she drawled, rising from her seat, a glowing screen held in her hand. “Did you think you were the only kid superhero in the world?”

Yelena placed herself in front of her mate, ripping her gun from the waistband of her jeans, aiming it at the short…girl? “Who are you? What do you want?”

The figure jerked back, emitting a high-pitched shriek. “Oh my god, oh my god!” A dazzling kaleidoscope of light shot from her outstretched hand, encasing the Russian’s weapon—and arm—the light’s heaviness, causing her to drop to the floor with a loud boom.

“Okay, okay!” Kate held her hands up placatingly, kneeling next to her Alpha. “Could we maybe not hurt my mate?”

“What the hell is on my arm?” the blonde tried wrenching free, but her extremity wouldn’t budge.

“Also, I’m twenty-three, thank you,” Kate huffed, miffed. She tried to find the seam between the colorful fractals and the floor but quickly realized it was a moot point.

“Mated?” The figure stepped into the light of the window…she looked high school age. “I’ve been reading about you,” she waved the screen distractedly in the air, flashing a profile picture of Kate and various lines of bio information. “It never said you were mated.”

“You’ve been what?” Yelena snarled, still trying to escape. “Where did you get that?”

“I found it on my couch.” Her brown eyes trailed slowly between the two mates. “Will she hurt me if I release her?”

Kate placed a placating hand on her Alpha’s collarbone. “Not if you tell us who you are.”

The younger girl pouted, her cap drooping lower over her forehead. “Fine,” she snapped her fingers, and the light cage fractured apart. “The air of mystery is gone, I guess. I’m Kamala Khan.”

“Who?” panted Yelena, getting off the floor with her mate’s help. She tucked her gun back into her waistband.

Kamala’s jaw dropped in offense. “Captain Marvel’s protege, best friend of Nick Fury. Protector of Jersey City.”

“Ah!” Yelena threw her hands in the air. “Another protégé, I need a drink,” she stormed to the fridge.

Kate perked at the name. “Did you say Nick Fury?”

Kamala hopped closer. “I know, right? Totally crazy! See, there was this whole thing in space; everyone kept switching places—”

“Wait, wait,” Kate interrupted, looking around her apartment. “Is Maria Hill here? Did she give you that tablet?”

Yelena walked back to her mate, holding a handle of vodka. She felt her Omega’s excitement trickle away at Kamala’s strikingly somber expression.

“You haven’t heard?” she asked quietly.

Kate shook her head.

She took the baseball cap off her head. “Maria’s gone. She was shot a few months ago in Russia.” She quickly glanced away from Yelena.

“Oh,” the archer sat heavily in her chair, resting her head in her hands.

“Kamala, why are you here?” Yelena asked, rubbing her Omega’s shoulder.

She cleared her throat, holding the data pad again, jumping effortlessly back into her savvy and mysterious persona. “Kate has just become part of a much larger universe,” Kamala continued proudly. “Which, at the moment, is just me, mostly.” She shifted her weight. “But Ant-Man has a daughter.”

“So, what do you want with me?” Kate asked, lifting her head to stare inquisitively.

“I’m putting together a team,” Kamala’s self-satisfied smile grew wider. “And I want you on it.”

Kate stared, brows raised, sharing a glance with Yelena.

Kamala fidgeted in the silence. “Please?” she asked sweetly.

The archer tilted her head toward her mate, a smile stretching her lips.

Yelena rubbed a hand over her face. “If you want to be on a team with a twelve-year-old, be my guest.” She kissed her Omega soundly on the lips. “Make sure you do your research this time, hmm?”

“I’m sixteen!”

Kate leaned closer to the headstone. “Don’t worry, Nat,” she spoke to the grave. “Yelena has a job of her own lined up. The CIA gave her a call a few days ago. The New York branch is scheduled to finish construction in the new year, and they’re hiring special agents.”

“Yes, yes,” the blonde grumbled. “I can only imagine her smug smirk if she knew I was working for the U.S. government, following in her footsteps, disgusting.”

Cackling, the archer leaned closer, kneeling in the snow. “I brought her something. I felt bad; last time, I came empty-handed.”

Yelena also kneeled, uncaring if her pants' knees got soaked; she barely felt the frigid shock as the cold touched her. “You didn’t have to bring anything.”

“I know,” Kate pulled her hands from her pockets, showing her Alpha the six precious stones she had taken from Fisk and his inner circle. “I wanted to give her something personal.”

She watched her mate pull a trowel from her back pocket, unable to form any words. Kate silently wiped the snow away, revealing the dark dirt underneath, and dug a shallow hole. “Are you sure?” Yelena finally asked. “You went through so much to get those.”

Kate nuzzled her cheek, pecking her jawline. “We both did.” She placed the ruby in first. “Protection.” The blue sapphire followed. “Knowledge.” She hesitated in putting the black garnet into the hole, her blue eyes darting away from the stone.

Yelena clasped her hand with her mates, the garnet trapped between their palms. Together, they buried the stone, planting the emerald, amethyst, and diamond under the earth.

“Love, class, and eternity,” finished Kate, piling the dirt over her gift. “Given to people who didn’t deserve them, but they can rest undisturbed here.”

They rose from the ground, Yelena slapping dirt off her clothes. “You boosted her ego. I can almost feel it.”

Kate bounced on the balls of her feet. She kept steepling her hands together, glancing around them, and cracking her knuckles nervously.

“Malen'kiy yastreb,” Yelena soothed, tilting her mate's chin downward to look at her. “What is it?”

“You know, it’s been a year since we met.”

“Yes, we celebrated our anniversary yesterday.” She pitched her voice lower, enjoying the slight flush creeping up Kate’s cheeks at the sound.

“I wanted to give you your present,” Kate said sheepishly, stuffing her hand back into her pocket.

Yelena touched the shell of her ear, skimming her new earrings. A large arrow spearing the top of her ear down to the lobe. “You already gave me my present.”

“This is a different type of present.” She revealed another stone hidden in her coat. It was dark and smooth with a glassy texture. Even Yelena, who was no expert in geology, knew what it was. “This is obsidian,” Kate explained. “I had thought, during my mother’s funeral, I could use it to talk with her one last time.”

“It can do that?” Yelena balked. “It can call a person back?”

Kate tilted her head from side to side. “Not exactly. It conjures their soul for a very short period, like a reflection of them, and it’s not permanent.”

“I see,” she said slowly. “You talked to your mother?”

“No,” the Omega answered meekly. “I tried at the funeral, but it didn’t work. Afterward, everything kept happening so fast. The issue with Yelizaveta, then Kingpin, I never had time to do it a second time.”

Yelena wasn’t quite sure how this related to their first anniversary. “Do you want to contact her again?”

Kate shook her head, studying the tombstone. “I may not be over my mom’s death yet, but I think beating the sh*t out of Kingpin helped, and demolishing everything he owned. My sire and I had a rocky relationship; she killed my father, but I’m choosing to remember the happy times we had. I’ll remember her as the woman who loved to bake with me every Sunday and gave her life to buy me a little extra time.” She inhaled deeply, rubbing her eyes. “The request is for you. I know losing Natasha hurt you. I know it still hurts you. So, if you want, I can try to recall her, only for a moment, and you can say what you want.”

She gaped at her mate, dumbfounded.

“It might not work,” Kate hurried, her face creasing in apprehension.

Yelena stared at her sister’s resting site, her empty grave, the simple inscription that embodied her so well. Daughter—Sister—Avenger. Her big sister, her protector, the woman she never had enough time with. All her future plans were gone at the snap of a finger, and she was left behind again, even as the world flourished back to life around her. “Yes,” she croaked. “Please, try.”

Kate nodded, planting her feet firmly on the ground, turning the stone over in her hands. “Think about her,” she instructed. “Think about what she looked like, how she made you feel, anything.”

The Alpha closed her eyes. Loving Natasha was easy at first. Yelena loved her more than anything in the world; she cherished every second they got together. As a six-year-old, Yelena felt like a planet revolving around the sun that was Natasha; she was the light of her life, her protector, her confidant, her everything. Even when they separated, she loved Natasha. Even when Natasha escaped, she loved her enough to hope that her sister would come back for her, and they could go back to Ohio, back to the lightning bugs and mac and cheese dinners. But Natasha didn’t come for a long time, and loving Natasha grew hard. The Black Widow and her Avenger friends were notorious in the Red Room; everyone knew about her, and a part of Yelena hated Natasha: the hero; but the kindling flame of love still burned for Natasha: her sister. She dealt with Natasha’s rebuffs after being freed, pretending the “it wasn’t real” didn’t feel like a thousand knives stabbing her heart. Every single cell in her body wanted to combust. She wanted to scream, cry, throttle her sister, shout until her face was blue that she loved her. Then, loving Natasha became easy again, and she had a sister again. But, of course, her avenger family got in the way, and Natasha was on the run. So, Yelena loved her from afar and loved her even when her sister told her to stay away; things were getting dangerous. She loved her until she couldn’t love her anymore: until she was gone.

A hand cupped her cheek, and she jolted away, her eyes snapping open.

The translucent image of a woman with fiery red hair—tips still dyed a pale blonde—rose before her. She grinned at the mates, the constant, teasing smirk she used every time she greeted her sister. Natasha crossed her arms over her chest, hip jutting out to the side as she studied them…a poser even past the end. Pride shone in her eyes and a peace rarely befitting a widow.

The silence stretched between them until… “Hey, Yelena.”

“Nat,” the blonde exhaled. She would have crashed to her knees if Kate hadn’t wrapped her arms around her. Every gaping hole inside her suddenly shrunk. Her head spun, her vision blurred, and her heart beat wildly against her rib cage. “Are you really her?”

Natasha co*cked her head to the side. “Who else would I be, little one?”

Yelena regained her footing, stumbling toward the ghost of her sister. “I—Nat—I—Nat.”

“Easy,” cooed the redhead. She glanced behind her. “So, my little sister is mated? What happened to wanting a dog?”

She quickly scrubbed the wetness of her cheeks, beckoning her Omega forward. “Uh, Nat, this is Kate.”

“Oh, I know,” she sassed. “We’ve met.”

“We have?” Kate asked, startled.

Natasha turned back to Yelena, poking her in the forehead. “When you had to awaken this one. We had a nice picnic, don’t you remember?”

Yelena caught her sister’s hand; for a moment, she thought she felt the pressure, but Natasha's translucent form easily slipped through her fingers. The question Yelena had kept buried deep inside all these years swam to the surface. “Why did you leave me? Why did you jump off that cliff?”

Her smile dimmed slightly, and her eyes, gray in death, looked sadly at her sister. “Because everything I loved was gone. You were dusted, Clint’s family, Melina, and Alexi. It just wasn’t fair to you.”

She hung her head, fresh tears spilling over her lids as she felt Natasha lean her forehead against hers. “What wasn’t fair?”

“I think Kate said it perfectly the last time she was here. I had lived my life—two lives technically, and yours had barely begun, which was my fault.”

Yelena hurriedly shook her head.

“I left you there, in that hell house; twenty years of your life was wasted because of me. If I could get you back, I would take it.”

The blonde’s lip trembled, her heart simultaneously meaning and cracking in two. “I miss you.”

Natasha’s eyes shone a glassy silver. “I missed you every day after that plane ride. I missed you even as we landed in Cuba because I knew I would never see you again.”

“But I found you,” she chuckled wetly. “I did it, Nat. I finally get to live my life the proper way. The life you sacrificed so I could have.”

Natasha’s form grew paler, and the snow became more visible through her flickering image. “I love you, Yelena. Go live your life,” her voice faded until it was a whisper on the wind. “Name one of your children after me; Barton snuffed his chance when he had another boy.”

Then she was gone, whisked away in a flurry of snow.

Yelena collapsed before the grave, sobs wracking her body. She felt Kate crouch next to her, engulfing her, loving her. She clung to her mate’s puffy jacket, pressing her nose into the mating mark on her neck. “Thank you,” Yelena cried. “I n—needed to know, for sure.”

“I get it,” Kate said quietly, rocking them. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

They sat in the snow until the sun began to peek through the clouds, shining its rays onto the headstone.

“We should go back,” Yelena sniffed. “Melina will be furious if the dinner gets cold.”

They trudged through the snow back toward Yelena’s pickup truck. “Just to let you know, Alexi challenged me to a ham-eating contest. Then Melina said I could take C. Francis Bacon for a walk. I can’t believe he got so big! I might have to start calling him the Baconator.”

Yelena laughed brokenly, the tightness in her chest easing as she hugged Kate closer. “I guess it was a good idea for Melina to buy two hams.”

The archer leaned against the vehicle, pulling her Alpha into her, and kissed her soundly on the lips. “Happy anniversary, Yelena Belova. I hope you don’t tire easily because you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life.”

She curled a raven strand of hair around her finger, tugging her mate until she could seal her lips against her, nibbling Kate’s delectable bottom lip. “I look forward to being kept on my toes, Kate Bishop, and you should know that I don’t tire easily.” She winked, her eyes still red, and opened the door for her Omega.

Kate hopped in. “Have I ever told you that your new haircut does things to me?”

“You might have mentioned it.” Yelena rubbed her hair between her fingers.

“You know, we haven’t had sex in the snow yet!” she waggled her eyebrows eagerly.

“Kate!”

“I’m just saying!”

The mates drove away, back to the farm, back to their life. The pair of footprints and tire treads in the snow were the only indications that anyone had disturbed the resting place of the late and great Natasha Romanoff. The cemetery fell once more into quiet and solitude. The small, frozen creek, patches of ice, and the occasional rustle in the trees once more provided their standard ambiance. But, impossibly, unfeasibly, a lone lightning bug crawled from the back of Natasha’s headstone. It flashed twice, its bioluminescence reflecting off the snow covering the concrete, spread its wings, and flew off. The bug ascended higher and higher, past the tops of the trees, disappearing into the low-hanging clouds.