Just over a week later, Calina's new found resolve to do 'whatever it took' was put to the test.  

She'd left the house early that morning for a run, after waking well before dawn. She'd tossed and turned for an hour trying to fall back to sleep before finally admitting defeat, so she'd gotten up, shoved on her workout gear and snuck out of the house.  Her time was better spent exercising and improving her stamina instead of chasing elusive sleep. She'd spent too many weeks cooped up inside and sedentary - either in Matt's apartment or in the Widows' base - and she needed to be in better shape for the battles to come.

She checked her watch as she slowed from a jog to a brisk walk on the long driveway leading to the house. She noted the time and frowned - she was minutes off her usual speed. She definitely needed to work on that.

She made her way around the side of the house to the back door. It led straight into the kitchen, where she hoped another early riser had already started brewing a pot of coffee. She was desperate for a caffeine hit before she grabbed a shower. There'd been too many sleepless nights over the past week and she was operating at a constant low level of exhaustion.

It was another thing she needed to work on. She just wasn't sure how she could banish her insomnia without Matt beside her. She hadn't had a decent night's sleep since the one they'd spent together at Christmas...

She approached the back door, and paused at the sound of raised voices within. It was still early - and most of the Widows had started to enjoy sleeping late in the mornings - but judging from the racket, every Widow in the house was wide awake, sitting around the table and arguing with each other.

Something had happened.

Calina quickly yanked open the door...and the room went quiet.

Weird.

"What's going on?" she asked slowly.

"You've infected them all with your romantic bullshit," Yelena replied from her perch on the countertop. "That's what's going on."

"What?"

"I found Volkov's money man," Anya said, seemingly changing the subject. She was sat at the table with the rest of the Widows, her laptop open in front of her.

That news was a more effective energy jolt than caffeine. Calina perked up and squeezed onto the bench beside Katya. "Who is it?"

"Salvatore Ranieri. The grandson of a wealthy Count based in Naples."

Calina frowned. "Why would a member of the Italian aristocracy be funding Volkvo's faction?"

Anya leaned back in her chair and began explaining. "The Ranieris used to be a big deal, but now they're a family in decline. Not in terms of wealth, but in terms of relevance - when Italy became a republic in 1946, the recognition of nobility ceased. Salvatore probably spent his whole life hearing stories from his Grandfather about all the influence and power their family used to wield, and now they have none. From what I've been able to gather, its left Salvatore deeply angry and disaffected."

"Basically, he's a narcissistic man-child with a massive chip on his shoulder," Katya summarised.

"Sounds like an easy mark for Volkov," Calina added.

"Exactly," Anya continued. "Being part of a secret organisation that seeks to manipulate world events from behind the scenes would definitely appeal to Ranieri. There's also the small matter of him being a misogynistic man-whore."

"Why does that matter?" Calina asked, not seeing the link.

"A misogynist, with a rumoured sadistic streak and a thirst for control and dominance would probably get off on the idea of 'owning' a group of mind-controlled women."

"Gross," Inessa said.

Calina agreed. But she also agreed with Anya's assessment. She wouldn't be surprised if Volkov had sweetened the deal with Ranieri with the promise of his very own Widow. A man who saw them as nothing but assets wouldn't think twice about trading them away as part of a business venture.

"So what's the plan?" she asked, looking around the table. Several of the women dropped their eyes and looked away.

Again...weird.

"He's too high profile to kidnap," Yelena said. "Definitely too high profile to kill. Misogynistic womanisers are apparently popular with the Italian tabloids - especially when they're handsome, rich, and party with movie stars. If something happened to him, the press would be all over it and the authorities would get involved. We need stealth for this one."

"What did you have in mind?"

"We need to get close to him - close enough to clone his laptop and phone, and plant a few trackers - but in a way that completely avoids suspicion."

It sounded a lot like the missions that Calina used to undertake for the Red Room. It was her speciality, in fact - getting close to a mark in order to steal their secrets, then leaving undetected. Which meant the strange tension in the room, and the lack of eye contact from her sisters, suddenly made a whole lot more sense. "You need me to do it," she guessed.

Yelena sighed, and nodded. "Ranieri's hosting a party at his family's villa next month. It's our best chance to get access to his private rooms. You're fluent in Italian, and dressed in one of the tacky Eurotrash outfits that he likes, you'll be guaranteed to catch his eye. You can do this in your sleep, Calina."

"But that was before she had Matt," Inessa said firmly. A few of the other Widows nodded in agreement.

Yelena rolled her eyes. "See?" she said to Calina. "Romantic bullshit."

"It's not bullshit!" Inessa objected. "You can't expect her to hookup with some random guy when she's in a relationship with someone else."

"No one's asking her to sleep with him! Just flirt. Maybe a kiss or two. Enough to entice him up to his room where she can sedate him and get to work."

Calina tuned out the argument as more of her sisters leapt to her defence. It was sweet of them to care, but this was her decision. And she agreed with Yelena. Not that romance was bullshit...but that there was no room for it here. The mission came first. Bringing down Volkov came first. She'd resolved to do whatever was necessary to gain her freedom and return to her life with Matt.

And this was necessary.

Besides, in the grand scheme of things, it was a small sacrifice to make. It would be a relatively low-stakes mission. A simple honey trap, similar to dozens that she'd pulled off in the past.

"Maybe it'll be good for her," Yelena said, her arms crossed and an obstinate expression on her face. "She fell too hard and too fast for Murdock. A little distance would do her good."

"Love is not a potato, Yelena," Inessa objected.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Its a proverb. 'Love is not a potato, you can't just throw it out of the window'."

Yelena groaned. "Not you too! We get enough of those asinine sayings from Calina."

"I'll do it," Calina said, ignoring Yelena's jibe.

"What?" Inessa said.

"Are you sure?" Katya asked quietly.

"Yes," she answered. "This is our best - our only - lead at the moment, correct?" she asked the wider group.

"Yes," Anya and Yelena responded at the same time.

"Then let's see where it takes us."

———

One month later...

Matt jogged up the stairs of his apartment building, checking the readout on his watch as he did so.

3:22pm.

Plenty of time.

The meeting was in an hour and it wouldn't take long for Matt to grab the file from his apartment and make it back to the office. Karen had offered to get it, but it was Matt's fault for forgetting it in the first place, so he'd made the trip. His friends were bending over backwards to be nice to him these days, but he didn't want to take advantage of their sympathy. He just wanted to get on with his job. Do his part for the firm, and keep himself busy.

Keep himself distracted, as much as possible.

His life had pretty much returned to the way it was before Calina had entered it. He worked all hours of the day. He suited up and patrolled the city at night. He went for drinks with his friends - he'd even played fifth wheel during a double date with Karen, David, Foggy and Marci. He was living his life day-to-day, just trying to get by.

But all the while...he missed her.

Her absence was a constant. A low level discomfort, like an itch that couldn't be scratched. A forgotten word on the tip of the tongue. An ache in a phantom limb.

He tried to hide it from his friends. He tried to plaster over that feeling of loss with his diligence at work and his willingness to be sociable...but they saw through it, of course.

Hence, the sympathy and kindness.

"Guten tag, Matias."

Matt slowed his brisk walk through the foyer to return the old woman's greeting. "Afternoon, Mrs. Schneider."

She paused in the act of unlocking her front door and rattled off a series of words in German. Matt only caught one of them: 'Calina'.

He sighed and shrugged. "I don't know where she is. And I don't know when she'll be back," he responded, figuring one of those statements would answer her question.

And it was the truth. He didn't know where she was. Or what she was doing. How close she and her team were to gaining their freedom, or if she was safe...

He didn't know anything, because he hadn't heard from her in over a month.

39 days to be precise.

He was back to counting again.

New Years Eve had come and gone without her. As 2017 had ticked into 2018, a part of him had held out hope that she would appear. That he'd get another surprise visit, like the one at Christmas.

Valentine's Day was just around the corner, and that same hopeful part wondered if he would see her then.

As if they could punctuate this separation by marking the holidays.

It was a foolish thought, but it kept him going. The slim hope of seeing her - even if only for a night or just a few hours - helped him get through each passing day. And he knew that when February 14th came and went without her, he would pin his hopes on the next big occasion, whatever that was.

Probably St Patrick's Day. The most romantic day of the year. She was bound to show up for that.

Matt huffed out a laugh at the sarcastic thought, and Mrs Schneider gave him a questioning look. He shook his head. "Its nothing. Enjoy the rest of your day." He gave her a small wave goodbye, and made his way to the elevator bank.

Just as he reached his floor, his phone rang.

The phone rang. The burner that Calina had given him.

He almost dropped the device as he fumbled in his pockets for it. He carried it everywhere and always made sure it was fully charged, but it had remained silent and inert all this time.

He quickly flipped it open, his heart hammering in fear. "Calina? Are you okay?"

There was no answer.

He froze in the middle of the corridor, the handset pressed tight against his ear as he tried to pick up a sound from the other end.

But there was nothing. Not even the gentle rasp of her breathing. "Calina?" he called again. "Are you there? Talk to me, sweetheart. Are you in trouble? Do you need help?"

There was a faint click, as if she'd unmuted her speaker. Then she spoke, her voice small and hesitant. "N-No. I just...I just needed to hear your voice."

Matt exhaled, his breath shaking with relief that she was okay.

Well...at least not in immediate danger. She didn't seem okay. At all.

"What's wrong, Callie?" he asked softly. He hadn't heard her sound so despondent since the aftermath of the serum when she'd been a shell of her true self. And the fact that she was calling at all - when she'd been so adamant that their conversations could be monitored and tracked - scared him.

"Nothing. Nothing's wrong," she finally answered after another few moments of silence.

But he didn't believe her. Matt strained to hear what was going on in the background - to give him some clue as to where she was and what she was doing. He could detect her muffled steps as she paced barefoot on a carpet. There was the faint sound of traffic in the background, and a TV was on nearby - broadcasting a woman talking...in Italian?

Then a series of brisk knocks rang out in the silence between them. Calina gasped softly. "I have to go-"

"No, wait! Calina-"

"I love you," she whispered quickly. Then hung up.

Matt quickly called her back the call went straight to voicemail. He flipped the phone closed with a curse and clenched the device with his hand, his grip so tight that the plastic casing started to creak.

He exhaled, and forced himself to relax - he couldn't risk damaging his one connection to her.

He slowly and deliberately stowed the phone back in his pocket and took a few more deep breaths to try to calm his racing heart.

But it didn't work.

The simmering frustration of the past few weeks boiled over. The agony of knowing Calina was out there somewhere hurting but that he couldn't help her - and he didn't even know what was wrong - suddenly spiked. He let out a primal yell and punched the solid wood of his door.

He punched until he felt the skin split over his knuckles. Until the jolt of the impacts ricocheted through his bones.

Until his cries turned hoarse, and he collapsed to his knees in the empty hallway.

———

Calina quickly snapped the phone closed and stashed it in her luggage. "Yes?" she called out to the person on the other side of the door.

It was Katya. "You almost ready?"

Calina glanced in the mirror. Her tears had bled mascara down her cheeks and her nervous lip-biting had worn away the siren-red lipstick.

She sighed. "I need another twenty minutes," she replied.

"Got it. I'll let the others know."

Calina grabbed a wipe from her kit and scrubbed her face clean, then started re-applying her makeup.

She needed to look flawless.

Tonight was the culmination of weeks of hard work researching Salvatore Ranieri and honing the perfect cover to lure him into a trap.

She'd quickly determined that she needed to invent a persona that would tempt the playboy enough for a night, but not entice him so much that he'd go looking for her afterwards. And given that Salvatore was notoriously xenophobic - and looked down on anyone who was not Italian - she'd decided to create someone who was able to speak his language, but not be from Italy. Someone attractive and fun, with a common language, but a background that wouldn't appeal to him long term.

So she'd created Eliise Kask, a nouveau-rich 'It girl' from Croatia - a country that boasted a minority Italian-speaking population.

During the weeks of preparation, she'd thought about everything. Every possible conversation starter. Every dress choice. The colour of her hair and the exact level of gaudiness of her jewellery. How to get him up to his room, and how to administer the drug that would knock him out.

But she'd never thought about how this moment would feel. She'd never thought about how it would affect her to be back in this situation, using her looks and body to trick a man - just like she'd been forced to do for years under the Red Room's control.

Even though this time it was her choice, and it was for a good cause, and Ranieri was by all accounts a horrible human being...the justifications didn't seem to help.

She felt sick to her stomach.

She hated the idea that she was doing this again. That she was right back in this position, after months of supposed freedom. That she was back pretending and manipulating, when all she wanted to do was be herself.

And be with Matt.

It had all hit her at once - the unfairness of the situation; the anger at having to do this mission; the self-loathing it was causing and the overwhelming homesickness for New York and the life she'd tried to build there. It had led her to break down in tears.

And in that moment of weakness, she'd called Matt.

She'd needed to hear his voice. She'd needed a tangible reminder of why she was putting herself through this. She'd needed his strength to help shore up her own.

But it had backfired.

Because now - on top of everything else she was feeling - she had the added guilt of betraying the man she loved.

She'd managed to avoid that aspect of the mission over the past month. She'd convinced herself that what she would have to do as Eliise Kask would have no bearing on her relationship with Matt. Because it would be Eliise getting close to Ranieri - not Calina.

But that reasoning wasn't working for her anymore.

Right now, in this hotel room, in the centre of Naples, an hour away from entering Salvatore's party, the guilt and shame was suddenly overwhelming.

She was dressed for another man, about to go flirt with another man, and possibly kiss another man...and she was so scared that Matt would hate her for it.

Because she hated herself.

She dropped her lipstick, put her hands on the countertop and leaned forward to stare at her reflection in the mirror. She let all the contempt and disgust show in her eyes. She let herself feel every drop of it. She let it course through her veins like acid, until she felt nauseous with it.

Then she buried it.

She forced it down deep, swallowing it with the bile burning the back of her throat...and smiled.

It was a wide, vacuous smile. It was Eliise Kask's smile.

Because that's who she needed to be tonight.

Calina didn't matter. Calina's thoughts and feelings didn't matter. This mission was more important. They needed to get to Ranieri, because he would lead them to Volkov. And getting Volkov was the number one priority.

It took precedence over everything else.

Even her relationship with Matt.

That thought felt disloyal, but it was true. Because there could never be a relationship as long as Volkov was still out there.

So she needed to suck it up, and get this done.

Whatever it took.

Katya called through the door again. "You good to go, Calina?"

Calina blotted her lipstick, the siren-red back in place. "Yes," she replied, no hesitation this time.

She slipped into her heels, picked up her clutch with the tranquillising drug safely inside, and fluffed up her hair. Then she opened the door and greeted her friend. "Let's get this bastard."