Delilah's footsteps echoed through the silent corridors, each sharp click of her heels resonating ominously against polished marble. The shadows stretched before her, foreboding and deep, but she kept her breathing steady and measured. Fear had never served her well. Panic even less so.
Yet, beneath her practiced composure, her pulse quickened as she approached Rose's office door. She'd received his call urgently—the Black Tarantula was on the move again, tearing a bloody path through their operations. Rose had sounded rattled, a rarity that sent ice trickling through her veins.
She slowed slightly, adjusting her weapons holster beneath her jacket, fingers tightening around the reassuring grip of her firearm. Whatever chaos Tarantula had wrought this time, she'd handle it. She always did.
As she reached Rose's office door, she paused briefly, listening. Silence greeted her. Unusual silence, heavy and oppressive. Her instincts flared, a chill rising up her spine. She hesitated for the barest heartbeat, then pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The office was empty, bathed in a pale amber glow from the dim desk lamp. Papers lay scattered across the floor, the aftermath of a hurried escape or a struggle. Her eyes narrowed as her gaze settled on Rose's chair—vacant and slightly tilted.
Something moved in the darkness at the edge of her vision. She spun sharply, pistol drawn instantly. Her finger curled around the trigger, but she hesitated, eyes widening in shock.
He stood motionless, emerging from the shadows like a predator. Tall, muscular, and utterly calm, the Black Tarantula faced her, his expression unreadable behind the cold mask.
"Delilah," he spoke quietly, his voice resonating with power and absolute control. "You're precisely who I was hoping to see."
She kept her pistol aimed at his chest, her breathing tight and controlled. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears, but her voice remained cold, steady. "You've made a mistake coming here."
He took a deliberate step forward, utterly unafraid. "No mistake. I chose my target carefully."
She narrowed her eyes, quickly assessing his posture, his distance. Tarantula radiated quiet menace, entirely confident, almost bored by her threat.
Dangerous. Too dangerous. Her pulse quickened further. She'd fought powerful foes before, defeated warriors feared across continents. But she'd also seen Tarantula's work firsthand—his casual brutality, his superhuman strength.
"You should leave while you still can," she warned softly.
He merely tilted his head, seeming almost amused. "I think not. You're going to deliver a message to Rose for me."
Delilah tensed, bracing herself. "You can tell him yourself."
Tarantula lunged with terrifying speed, faster than she could react. Her shot rang out uselessly, the bullet embedding itself harmlessly in the far wall. His fingers closed around her wrist, wrenching the gun from her grasp and sending it clattering away.
Pain exploded up her arm, sharp and immediate, but she gritted her teeth, swinging her free fist toward his jaw. He caught it effortlessly, squeezing her hand brutally until bones ground painfully against each other.
"I admire your courage," he said calmly, almost conversationally. "But courage won't save you."
Delilah snarled, twisting her body desperately. "Let go!"
He moved with frightening precision, positioning her with ease as his grip shifted to her neck. Her eyes widened, terror flaring through her as she realized his intent.
"You'll remember this pain," he murmured softly, almost regretfully. "And Rose will understand my message."
She struggled helplessly as his fingers tightened mercilessly, the world beginning to blur at the edges. "Please—"
With one smooth, horrifying movement, he twisted sharply.
The world snapped into darkness.
Pain.
Blinding, scorching pain surged through her, ripping through nerves and muscles like fire. Her body spasmed violently, jerking back into agonizing consciousness. She gasped desperately, eyes flying open to see the cold metal mask staring impassively down at her.
She lay on the cold marble floor, limp and broken, helpless at his feet. Her vision swam, consciousness flickering dangerously.
The Black Tarantula leaned over her slowly, a faint glow emanating from his palm as he touched her throat, radiating an impossible warmth. Her body seized again, pain and relief entwining until the agony faded into something almost bearable.
Then slowly, miraculously, she drew a shuddering breath.
He had broken her neck. She had felt herself die, even if only for an instant.
But now she was breathing again—alive, terrified, and trembling beneath his calm gaze.
"What did you—" she whispered raggedly, voice hoarse and raw.
"A message," he replied simply. "For Rose."
She stared at him, shock numbing her fear. She tried to move her limbs, finding them responsive again, although weak and trembling.
"You're alive because I chose it," Tarantula said quietly. "I could have ended you permanently. Remember that. Rose must understand my mercy is limited."
Delilah swallowed painfully, pushing herself up onto her elbows. "You're insane…"
"Tell him," Tarantula continued, ignoring her words, "he has one last chance. This is his only warning. Cross me again, and there will be no revival. No forgiveness."
He straightened slowly, towering over her broken figure with quiet dignity. "Deliver this message exactly as I've given it. Next time, I won't stop at simply breaking your neck."
Without another word, he turned, melting silently back into the shadows. Delilah lay trembling, heart hammering painfully, each breath a shuddering effort.
She forced herself to sit up, still shaking uncontrollably. Her fingers touched her throat tentatively, expecting agony, but the pain had faded completely.
She was alive. Somehow, inexplicably, he had restored her life.
'Why? Why revive me at all?'
But the answer was clear—because a message delivered by a dead woman carried no weight. He had deliberately inflicted agony, death, and revival to underscore his power.
She clenched her fists, her body still aching, adrenaline still coursing sharply through her veins.
Rose needed to know. He had to understand the nightmare they faced.
Pushing herself carefully to her feet, Delilah steadied herself on the edge of Rose's desk, breath still ragged, head still spinning.
She had never felt this powerless before. Not against Rose, not against El Uno, not against any opponent she had ever faced. But now…
Now, she'd tasted real fear. True helplessness. And she never wanted to experience it again.
Her hands trembling, she reached for her phone, dialing Rose's secure line. His voice answered instantly, tense and fearful.
"Delilah? What happened? Are you all right?"
She drew a careful breath, forcing her voice steady. "Black Tarantula was here at the base."
A sharp intake of breath from Rose. "Are you hurt?"
She hesitated, swallowing past the lingering phantom of pain. "He broke my neck, Rose. Then…he brought me back."
Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. Finally, Rose spoke, voice hoarse with suppressed panic.
"He—revived you?"
"Yes," she said quietly, forcing herself calm. "He sent a message."
"What message?"
Delilah closed her eyes, remembering the cold, merciless voice clearly, each word burned into her memory forever. "He said this was your final warning. Your only chance. Cross him again and next time there won't be revival—just death."
Rose remained silent, the tension palpable even through the phone. "We need to meet immediately. Come now to the second base. That base is burned, so we'll clear it out tomorrow. We'll discuss this when you get here."
She didn't argue, didn't hesitate. "On my way."
Delilah hung up, slipping the phone back into her pocket, heart still thundering painfully in her chest. She stared at her trembling fingers, clenching them tightly to stop the shaking.
Rose feared Tarantula—but now, she feared him too.
Yet even amid her fear, her mind burned coldly. Rose was weakened, vulnerable, teetering on collapse. Tarantula had proven beyond any doubt he was superior. And then, of course, there was Luc Moreau, whose offer lingered tantalizingly close.
Delilah straightened her shoulders, eyes glittering dangerously.
Yes, she'd deliver Tarantula's message. But she'd deliver another message too—one solely for herself.
She would never be helpless again.