The mafia’s captive
“Missed me?”
“No,” Vulture replied. “But I missed the vodka you always bring.”
Before Sokolov could reply, an alarm buzzed softly—one of the side passages had triggered. On a small surveillance screen in Vulture’s hand, two figures were slinking through the mountain’s back arteries.
“Well, well,” he said. “Our favorite spiders are crawling home.”
Within minutes, Spider and Widowmaker emerged from the lower tunnels—grimy, breathless, and armed to the teeth.
“We come bearing gifts,” Widowmaker grinned, wiping dirt off her neck.
Hot Chapters