Natasha Romanoff had always been a woman of a. She was an assassin, a strategist, a master maniputor. She saw ten steps ahead, adjusted the battlefield before the enemy evehey were pying. And now, for the first time in her life, she wasn’t maneuvering for an anization, a try, or even herself. Every decision, every calcuted shift in power, was for one singur goal—Kara.

  She sat at the sleek bck desk inside S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, fiapping lightly against the s of her tablet. Her lips barely twitched in satisfa as she scrolled through the updated personnel list for Kara’s security detail. The st few male agents had been reassigned—permaly.

  Fury had barely questio. He was overworked, drowning in high-priority threats, and Natasha had slowly, methodically, made herself indispensable to him. It had started small— to handle his lower-level assigs, filtering the intel ing across his desk. He had let her take the weight off his shoulders, unknowingly letting her dictate the dire of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s operations.

  And soon? He wouldn’t be making decisions at all.

  She swiped a few more times, her attention narrowing. She was nearly there.

  She had cut most of the male operatives out of Kara’s proximity without anyone realizing. Now she just had to ensure full trol—plete authority over everything that touched Kara’s life.

  Fury’s voice broke through her thoughts.

  “Romanoff, got a sed?”

  Natasha smoothly turned in her chair, fareadable. “Always.”

  Fury leaned against the edge of his desk, rubbing his temples. “I need you to oversee this week’s intelligence review. You’re already handling half the inis anyway.”

  Natasha kept her expressioral, though inside she was thrilled. “Of course,” she said smoothly. “I’ll keep you updated.”

  Fury sighed, clearly relieved. “I don’t know how I ran this pce before you.”

  Natasha smiled. You won’t be running it much longer.

  Back at the guesthouse, Kara stretched zily on the couch, watg the ceiling fan spin overhead. It was another quiet evening, but she could feel the world shifting around her, piece by piece. She wasn’t blind—she knew Natasha was handling things. Always handling things.

  Lately, though… she had started to like that a little too much.

  The way Natasha moved around her home like she belohere. The way she cooked, ed, and orchestrated Kara’s life with this effortless domi wasn’t just protective anymore—it ersonal.

  Kara smirked as she heard Natasha’s footsteps approag. “You’re really moving in, huh?”

  Natasha raised an eyebrow, setting down a file oable. “Security.”

  Kara’s grin widened. “Or maybe you just like being here… with me.”

  Natasha’s posure didn’t falter, but Kara saw the shift—the faint flicker in those sharp greehe way she hesitated for just a sed before responding.

  “Maybe both.”

  Kara didn’t press. Not yet. But she liked the way Natasha’s voice softened when she spoke to her. She liked the way Natasha never quite met her eyes when Kara flirted too boldly—as if afraid of what might happen if she did.

  But she also knew Natasha was a woman of trol. She wouldn’t make a move first.

  So Kara would wait.

  For now.

  Natasha sat in her room that night, eyes locked oablet s. She wasn’t thinking about the kiss Kara had given her days ago, the way her lips had felt—warm, soft, teasing. She wasn’t thinking about the way Kara leaned just a little too close sometimes, the way her voice dropped into something low and knowing wheeased.

  No.

  She was thinking about trol.

  She had almost fully secured S.H.I.E.L.D. But there was one problem left.

  Wanda Maximoff.

  Natasha had kept an eye on Wanda ever since Sokovia, ever since she had annihited aire try in her grief. There was no question Wanda was dangerous—but Natasha had also seen the way she watched Kara. The way her presence lingered just outside Kara’s awareness.

  If Natasha didn’t pull Wanda into the fold, she would bee a problem.

  Better to trol her. Guide her.

  Natasha opened a separate s, trag Wanda’s st known whereabouts. Sokovia was gone, but Wanda’s movements were still hard to predict. She had no official allegiano real ht.

  She was a wild card.

  Natasha didn’t like wild cards.

  She leaned ba her chair, tapping her fingers against her knee. She needed a pn.

  Meanwhile, across the city, Norman Osborn sat alone in his penthouse, staring into his own refle.

  His hands shook against the marble tertop. The Goblin was louder now, impossible to ignore.

  “She’s power,” the voice hissed inside his head. “The blohe Kryptonian. You saw it, Norman. The way she carries herself. She could be a threat. Or she could be useful.”

  Norman ched his jaw. He ime. He needed trol.

  But the Goblin wanted blood.

  And soon, he would take it.

  Peter Parker barely slept anymore.

  Between school, Spider-Man, and keeping his life from falling apart, his nerves were pletely fried. But tonight?

  Tonight, somethi wrong.

  Norman was getting worse. That much was obvious Peter now knew he is the Green Goblin after Thanksgiving. His moods were erratic, his behavior mgressive, more paranoid. But the thing that scared Peter the most?

  The way Norman looked at Kara.

  It wasn’t just curiosity anymore. It was calcuted. Dangerous.

  Peter didn’t know what to do about it.

  But he had a feeling he was going to find out soon.

  Natasha closed her tablet, exhaling slowly.

  Her roadmap was clear now.

  1. Fury would be under her trol soon enough. He was already relying on her. It wouldn’t be long before he was nothing more than a figurehead.

  2. Wanda o be brought in. Not as a rival, but as an ally. A soldier. A on in their war for Kara.

  3. The world needed reshaping. Kara couldn’t be protected by just one person. It had to be all of them.

  And soon, it would be.

  She stood, stepping toward the window, looking out over the darkened city.

  Soon she would join her soul with Kara’s and together they would asd to a world of pure bliss and pleasure.

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