Fuck… I can't believe I actually pulled that off.

I killed a Black Widow… slowly.

The thought buzzed in Bingo's mind, but it didn't fill her with pride or satisfaction—just a strange, hollow disbelief.

Ding!

The elevator chimed as it came to a stop on the top floor. Bingo stepped out, her boots leaving faint, sticky marks of blood on the pristine hallway carpet. She glanced at the glowing numbers on the doors as she walked.

215… 216… 217… Bingo stopped in front of The final door. 218

Knock knock knock

The door opened almost immediately to reveal Judo, blinking sleepily, dressed in a gray tank top that clung to her frame, a black bra strap visible underneath, and loose black pajama pants. Her groggy expression lasted only a second before her eyes widened in shock at the sight before her.

"What the—?!" Judo started, but her voice dropped into an urgent whisper. "Do you see yourself right now?! Get in here before someone else does..!"

Bingo smirked faintly, the corner of her mouth twitching. "Yeah, yeah. Relax," she muttered as she walked inside, her blood-streaked boots leaving faint tracks on the polished wood floor.

Judo slammed the door shut, locking it with a quick flick of her wrist. She stood there, arms crossed, staring at Bingo like she'd just stepped out of a low-budget horror flick. Blood clung to Bingo's fur and clothes in sticky patches, smeared across her face and arms like war paint.

"God, Bingo.." Judo muttered, pressing her fingers to her temple as though staving off a migraine. "The hell did you do? Bathe in his blood?"

Bingo raised an eyebrow but didn't respond, her gaze drifting past Judo to survey the apartment. It was everything she'd imagined for Judo—sleek, modern, and expensive. The spacious living room boasted a massive TV mounted on the wall, plush furniture in shades of gray and cream, and a coffee table that probably cost more than Bingo's rent. The kitchen gleamed with stainless steel appliances, and the faint scent of coffee hung in the air. Beyond the glass doors, a balcony opened up to a breathtaking view of the ocean, glimmering under the moonlight.

"You've really got it made here, huh?" Bingo muttered, her tone flat as she wandered further into the living room.

"Yeah, and I'd like to keep it that way." Judo snapped, brushing past her to a nearby cabinet. "You're dripping blood all over my floor! Go clean yourself up before I have to replace the flooring!"

Bingo smirked faintly, her voice tinged with sarcasm. "Well, it's nice to see you too, Mirage."

"Don't start," Judo shot back, grabbing a towel and disinfectant wipes from the cabinet. She tossed them at Bingo, who caught them lazily. "Bathroom's down the hall. Leave your clothes outside the door. I'll grab you something clean to wear."

"Alright, alright," Bingo said with a dismissive wave of her hand, taking a step toward the hallway.

Judo's eye twitched. "Take. Those boots. Off."

Bingo froze mid-step, looking down at the red smudges her boots had left on the pristine wood floor. She snorted, shaking her head. "Sorry, mom." Her tone dripped with mockery. "You're starting to sound more and more like Miss Wendy."

"Take them off, Bingo." Judo's voice had the sharp edge of someone at the end of their patience, her hands on her hips.

With a small chuckle, Bingo bent down and slipped off her combat boots, leaving them by the door. "Happy now?" she teased.

"Ecstatic." Judo muttered with a roll of her eyes. She motioned toward the bathroom. "Now, go. Bloody clothes outside the door. I'll find you something to wear, Kay?."

"How generous." Bingo quipped as she made her way down the hall, unzipping her jacket. "Letting me borrow some of your fancy clothes, huh? Didn't know you still cared about me like that."

"Just get cleaned up!" Judo snapped, already regretting her decision.

Bingo disappeared into the bathroom, stripping out of her blood-soaked gear. Shedding the shell of Knives felt like taking off a weight she hadn't realized she was carrying. She tossed her dirty laundry into a pile outside the bathroom door before shutting it firmly behind her.

Judo stood by the door for a moment, looking down at the bloody heap. She let out a long sigh, rubbing her temples. "She's going to be the death of me," she mumbled under her breath as she went and grabbed some gloves, using them to grab Bingo's gear and put them in a basket, going over to her washroom and cleaning her stuff.

Then, she went on to grab Bingo some clothes…

…

What a night, Bingo.

The water hit her fur like a shock, ice-cold for the first few seconds before it gradually warmed, steam rising around her in soft, curling wisps. Bingo flinched but didn't adjust the knobs. She stood there motionless, letting the water rain down on her.

Rivulets of red streaked through the fur on her arms, legs, and chest, the blood mixing with the water as it spiraled down the drain. She watched it flow, hypnotized by the sight. The crimson trails reminded her of the mess she'd left behind, of Archer's wide-eyed look when she'd ended it.

Her fingers twitched at the thought.

I can't get that sight out of my head.

The coppery scent of blood still clung to her, faint but persistent, like it had embedded itself deep into her fur, her skin. She raised a hand and rubbed at her forearm, the matted fur slicking back under her touch. More red swirled into the water at her feet. It just kept coming.

Bingo sighed, tilting her head back. The water flowed over her face, rinsing away the grime and sweat, but it couldn't quite wash away the heaviness in her chest. She stayed like that for a while, letting the warm water cascade over her, soaking into her fur, tracing every inch of her as though trying to drown the night away.

Finally, she moved, grabbing a bottle of shampoo from the small shelf in the corner of the shower. She poured it into her hand and began scrubbing it into her fur, the sharp, artificial scent of citrus filling the air. Her motions were methodical, almost mechanical, as if she were just going through the motions.

Scrub.

Rinse.

Repeat.

She worked the soap into the fur on her arms, then her chest, legs, and tail, watching as more faint pink streaks of blood streamed away. Her breathing slowed, the sound of the water masking the quiet tremor in her exhale.

When she reached her hands, she paused, staring at them under the spray of water.

Her knuckles were raw, the fur there stained darker than the rest.

Blood was harder to get out than she thought.

She flexed her fingers, remembering the moment she'd wrapped them around Archer's throat. He hadn't even been able to fight back. His eyes had gone wide—terrified—and for a split second, she'd felt… nothing.

No guilt. No regret. Just a cold, sharp focus.

The water stung as it seeped into the small cuts on her hands, and she hissed softly before shaking her head.

Pull yourself together

Bingo squeezed more shampoo into her hands, scrubbing harder now. Her fur was finally clean, free of the blood and grime, but she still didn't feel clean.

The water continued to beat down on her, masking the quiet sniffle she couldn't quite hold back. She turned her face into the spray, letting the water hide everything.

When she finally finished washing, she stood there for another few minutes, arms braced against the tiled wall. The water swirled at her feet, clearer now, the blood finally gone.

But as Bingo shut the water off and reached for the towel, the heaviness remained. No matter how much she scrubbed, it clung to her like a second skin, a shadow that wouldn't be washed away.

The blood wasn't on her anymore. It had been rinsed from her fur and flushed down the drain in the steady stream of water. But it wasn't gone. No matter how much she tried to convince herself it was, the feeling lingered—like a stain that couldn't be scrubbed off.

She wrapped the towel around her curvy frame, the fabric thick and soft against her damp fur. The silence of the bathroom pressed in, almost suffocating. The steam hung in the air, thick and heavy, swirling around her as she slowly dried herself off. She looked at herself in the mirror, trying to focus on her reflection.

For a moment, she saw herself clearly—Bingo, not Knives. Not the blood-soaked killer, not the monster who tore through people without a second thought.

She wasn't that now. She wasn't Knives.

That monster was gone for the night.

But the relief didn't come. There was no rush of peace, no satisfaction. Just the steady pulse of emptiness that had taken root inside her. She wanted to feel something, anything—pride, anger, relief—but the only thing that filled her was this cold, suffocating numbness.

Knock knock.

"Bingo. I've got your clothes." Judo's voice cut through the silence, pulling Bingo back into the present. The reality of the situation, of what she'd done, crept back in. It had never truly left.

Bingo creaked the door open slowly, just wide enough to let Judo pass her the clothes. She didn't meet her friend's gaze, but the faintest trace of sympathy in Judo's voice made her heartache. "Thanks, Judo," Bingo muttered, stepping back as she closed the door behind her.

She could hear Judo's footsteps retreating to the living room, but Bingo stayed there for a moment, staring at the clothes in her hands—a black tank top and dark blue sleeping pants, simple and soft.

The white underwear felt too clean, too innocent for the blood still swimming in her veins.

She dressed slowly, mechanically, as if her body was going through the motions without her consent. When she was finished, she dropped the towel on the floor in a heap.

Her gaze wandered to her reflection again, but the glass seemed too foreign, too distant. The person she saw wasn't even her. The clean, soft clothes against her skin felt almost wrong. Like they couldn't hide the darkness inside.

With a sigh, Bingo opened the bathroom door.

Judo was in the living room, just as she'd been before—calm, collected, her eyes glued to the book in her hands. She didn't look up when Bingo stepped into the room, but there was a quiet acknowledgement in the air, something between them that Bingo wasn't ready to face.

She didn't want to be this person, didn't want to bring her chaos into Judo's calm, but there was no escaping it. Not tonight.

Judo finally looked up, her eyes softening when they landed on Bingo's blood-free but still-worn expression. "You okay?" she asked quietly, setting the book down.

Bingo didn't know how to answer. Instead, she shrugged. A slight, unconvincing gesture, and then flopped down on the couch beside Judo, the weight of the world still heavy on her shoulders. The TV was off, the ocean breeze barely stirring the air through the open balcony door.

It was quiet. Too quiet.

"I'll be fine," Bingo muttered, staring at the floor, wishing she could mean it.

Judo regarded her for a long moment, her brow furrowing slightly as she processed Bingo's words. She had known Bingo long enough to see the cracks beneath the surface, to know that 'I'll be fine' didn't always mean what it seemed to.

"Listen," Judo began, after a few moments of thought, "You don't have to pretend with me, Bingo." Her voice was quiet but direct, and she gave Bingo a cautious look, measuring her words. "I know we've… had our issues, but I'm not going anywhere. But you don't have to hide behind this tough act with me. I know you."

There was a long pause, and Bingo didn't look up. She was quiet for a moment, processing Judo's words.

Finally, Judo spoke again, a bit softer this time. "I've got a guest room. Or, if you want, the couch is yours. I know how you're feeling right now, Bingo… and honestly, it's best to just sleep it off. Your mind's in a fog."

"Yeah. A big fog," Bingo replied, sighing. "…We can talk more in the morning, Judo."

Judo's expression softened, the vulnerability beneath her usual calm demeanor breaking through. She stood, patting Bingo's shoulder before starting to walk off, her book in hand. "I'm heading to bed. If you need me, don't hesitate to call out, okay?"

"Kay," Bingo muttered, her voice quieter now. She pulled her knees up to her chest, feeling the weight of the conversation hanging in the air between them.

"G'night, Judo," she said, more to herself than to Judo.

"Night, Bingo," Judo replied, her voice fading as she disappeared into her room.

Bingo stayed on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. Her thoughts swirled in a haze of guilt, regret, and exhaustion. The weight of the night pressed on her chest like a boulder, making it hard to breathe. She wanted to shut it all off, wanted to forget for just a moment. But her mind wouldn't let her.

Then something occurred to her.

"Judo… Judo!" Bingo called out, the words slipping from her before she could stop them.

Judo's voice floated back from the other room. "What?"

Bingo hesitated, biting her lip. She didn't want to sound weak, but the simple truth was she couldn't stop the chill from creeping up her spine. "…Can I get a blanket, please?"

There was a pause, and Bingo thought for a moment that Judo had already gone to sleep. But then she heard footsteps approaching.

"Yeah. I'll grab one for you." Judo replied, and Bingo could hear the gentle rustle of fabric before Judo came back into view, holding a blanket.

"Thanks." Bingo muttered, barely able to meet her gaze.

"No problem." Judo said, her tone warm but unassuming. She draped the blanket over Bingo's shoulders with a quiet gesture, her presence calming in the way only Judo's could be, funny enough.

Although Judo was a killer too.

Bingo pulled it tighter around herself, feeling the weight of it, feeling just a little bit lighter. As Judo turned to leave again, Bingo closed her eyes, the quiet filling the space between them like a soft cocoon.

"Goodnight, Judo." Bingo whispered, her voice soft and fragile.

"Goodnight, Bingo." Judo replied, closing the door behind her as she walked back into her room.

The silence returned, but this time it was different. It wasn't as suffocating, not with the blanket around her shoulders, not with the knowledge that someone cared. Even if Bingo couldn't understand how yet, she felt it—that small, fragile bond they shared, holding her just a little longer in the night.

Guess this means that we're back on good terms.. I kinda feel bad about being a bitch towards her.. we'll talk it out more in the morning.

….

The morning had come and gone, and by the time Bingo and Judo arrived at the hospital, the harsh glare of afternoon sunlight spilled through the blinds, cutting across the sterile white walls. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor filled the room, a quiet reminder of how close they'd come to losing Bluey.

Bluey stirred in the bed, her groan breaking the silence. Her good hand reached for the blanket as her eyelids fluttered open. "Bingo…? Judo…?" Her voice was raspy, strained, and laced with exhaustion. She blinked at them, squinting against the light. "You guys are here early, yeah? What time is it…?"

"Bluey, it's not morning anymore. It's like, 1 in the afternoon." Bingo's smile was small, but her relief was palpable. Just seeing her sister awake—alive—was enough to settle the knot of anxiety that had been twisting in her chest all night.

"How are you feeling? That gunshot messed you up pretty bad." Judo said softly, leaning on the foot of the bed.

Bluey shifted slightly, wincing as the movement sent a sharp jolt of pain through her shoulder. "Well…" She managed a weak chuckle, her lips quirking into a faint smile. "I'm still here. At least I'm not dead..." The laugh turned into a grimace, her free hand gripping the edge of the blanket. "Though it feels like someone parked a car on my chest."

For a moment, the tension in the room eased, and then Bluey's expression shifted, her brow furrowing. "Wait… Bingo. Before I got shot… you told me something. About being a bounty hunter?"

Bingo froze, her smile faltering.

Judo's head snapped toward her, eyes wide. "Wait, you told her?" she hissed, nudging Bingo's shoulder hard enough to make her stumble. "What were you thinking?!"

"What?!" Bingo shot back, hands raised defensively. "She's my sister! I can trust her with anything."

Bluey arched an eyebrow despite her pale complexion. "Although you hid it from me for two years," she muttered, her voice tinged with exasperation. Her gaze flicked to Judo. "Wait… you knew too?" She blinked, then narrowed her eyes. "Hold on—don't tell me you're a bounty hunter too, Judo."

"Yeah, Judo's a bounty hunter," Bingo said nonchalantly, crossing her arms as though this revelation were no big deal.

"BINGO!" Judo's voice shot up an octave, her ears flicking back in frustration. "Do you have no sense of secrecy?"

"Wooooow…" Bluey drawled, her tone dripping with sarcasm. She leaned back against the pillows, shaking her head. "What a chamber of secrets we've got going on here, girls. What's next? Dad's in the witness protection program?"

Bingo let out a small laugh, but there was something softer in her gaze as she looked at her sister. "It's not like I wanted to keep it from you, Bluey.."

Bluey's smirk softened into something more genuine, though her voice remained weak. "Yeah, well. You're lucky I've got bigger things to worry about than judging your career choices." She let out another faint chuckle before wincing. "Just… try not to get shot, okay? It's not as fun as it looks."

Bingo exhaled, a small smile tugging at her lips as she reached for Bluey's hand, squeezing it gently. "Deal… Though, if I'm being honest, I can't say I haven't been shot before."

Bluey's brow arched, her smirk returning faintly. "You reckon I got it worse?"

"Oh, waaaay worse." Bingo chuckled, her tone lightening just enough to ease some of the tension in the room. Judo watched the exchange with a small, amused smile before clearing her throat, and folding her arms.

"Bingo," Judo interjected, raising a brow, "weren't you about to tell Bluey something?"

Bingo blinked, her expression shifting back to something more serious. "Oh, right." She turned back to her sister, squeezing her hand again, though the warmth in her touch didn't quite mask the gravity in her tone. "First off… Please—please—don't tell Mum and Dad what I do. They can't know. Not yet."

Bluey frowned faintly, but she nodded. "Well… okay. My lips are sealed, little sister."

Bingo hesitated for a moment, her expression darkening as she searched for the right words. "Secondly… you won't have to worry about the guy who shot you anymore." Her voice dropped, her tone cold and sharp, like the edge of a blade. The memory of Archer and what she did to him flashed in her mind, but she shoved it aside. Bluey didn't need to know the details. "He was part of something bigger—a group I'm going to take down. Nobody is ever going to hurt you again. I swear."

Bluey stared at her, the weight of those words settling in the space between them.

"And lastly…" Bingo's voice softened, her eyes meeting Bluey's. "Like I told you the day you got shot… I've got to leave Brisbane. These people—these bastards—are still out there, and I need to take care of them. This is something I have to do, Bluey."

Bluey's eyes shimmered with sadness, the reality of her sister's path pressing down on her. She was alive, but the coast was clear.

Bingo was walking into a world of bloodshed and destruction, one that didn't let people like her come back unscathed.

Bluey let out a slow breath, her gaze steady. "Bingo…" she began, her voice low but firm. "I get it. I understand you have to handle business. But just promise me something." She paused, waiting until Bingo met her eyes. "Promise me you won't lose yourself, yeah? No matter what happens. Don't let this.. this path mold you into something else.. you'll always and I mean always be Bingo Heeler, my little sister.."

Bingo's throat tightened. Her sister's words struck a chord, deeper than she expected. She nodded slowly, her voice a whisper. "I promise, Bluey."

The room fell quiet. The unspoken fears and love between the sisters hung in the air, heavier than words could convey.

Judo broke the momentary silence, her voice steady. "While Bingo's gone, I'll keep an eye on you and your folks, Bluey. Think of me as your personal bodyguard until this whole thing blows over."

Bluey arched a brow, a small smirk tugging at her lips despite the pain. "How exciting! One of my friends is a bounty hunter who can protect me. My very own knight in shining armor!" Her tone was playful, teasing just enough to elicit a quiet chuckle from Judo.

Bingo couldn't help but snicker as well, though the humor was short-lived. She took a step back, her expression turning somber. "Alright… it's about time I split. I need to stop by the house to grab my things, and then I've got a flight to catch back to Melbourne." She hesitated, glancing back at her sister. "I hate that the holidays turned out like this. This wasn't how it was supposed to be…"

Bluey's teasing demeanor softened, replaced by something more serious. She gave a small nod, her voice steady despite the sadness in her eyes. "Don't be sorry, Bingo. You don't need to be. I get it." She offered a faint smile, her tone firm and filled with quiet determination. "You just go out there and kick some ass, yeah?"

Bingo's lips curled into a bittersweet smile, and she gave Bluey one last nod. "Yeah. I will."

Judo stepped closer to Bluey's bedside, watching Bingo as she moved toward the door. "We'll hold the fort here. Just… be careful out there, Bingo."

Bingo paused in the doorway, her hand resting on the frame as she turned back to glance at the two of them. Her eyes lingered on Bluey, then shifted to Judo. "I will…Take care of each other, okay?"

As Bingo stepped out of the hospital, the late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting the world in a golden glow. The warmth of Brisbane's summer brushed against her fur, but it did little to calm the cold knot in her chest. She slid her sunglasses on and walked briskly to her car, trying to shake the lingering emotions from her goodbyes.

Her boots crunched against the gravel of the parking lot as she reached her rental car. Sliding into the driver's seat, she took a moment to grip the steering wheel tightly, leaning her head against it with a heavy sigh. Her mind raced: Bluey's words, Judo's support, the weight of what lay ahead.

But she couldn't afford to linger.

Starting the car, Bingo pulled out onto the sunlit streets. The familiar neighborhoods passed by, bright and full of life. Families played in their front yards, holiday decorations sparkled on porches, and laughter floated through the air. The world looked so ordinary—so painfully normal—

While Bingo's felt anything but.

When she arrived at the Heeler house, the sight of it pulled at her heart. The heeler home stood as it always had, a symbol of comfort and childhood. Parking in the driveway, she hesitated for a moment before stepping out, as if crossing the threshold would make her decision final.

Damn it.. it really hurts just to leave like this…

Bingo walked inside, her footsteps echoing softly through the quiet house. The faint scent of holiday cookies still lingered, but the warmth she usually felt here was absent. She made her way swiftly to her bedroom, grabbing her duffel bag from the corner and beginning to pack. Each movement was precise, practiced, and deliberate—clothes, essentials, and gear disappearing into the bag with little thought.

She tried to ignore the storm of emotions brewing in her chest, but as she zipped up the bag, her eyes fell on a framed photo sitting on her dresser. It was a memory from years ago—a day at the beach, her and Bluey's grins wide and carefree, their parents standing behind them.

Her heart sank. The weight of what she was doing pressed down harder.

They deserved to know—no, needed to know. Maybe not everything, not yet, but something to reassure them in her absence.

With a heavy sigh, Bingo grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from her desk, sitting down as the chair creaked beneath her. For a moment, she stared at the blank page, her thoughts jumbled and restless. Then, slowly, the words began to flow:

"Mum, Dad—

I'm sorry to leave like this, especially during the holidays, but there are things I have to take care of. I know I've been distant, and I promise to explain everything when the time is right. Please trust me when I say this isn't easy for me. I love you both, and I'll come back when it's safe. Take care of Bluey. She needs you now more than ever.

Love, Bingo."

She read the note over once, her hand trembling slightly as she folded it carefully. Rising from the desk, she made her way to the kitchen and placed the letter on the counter, right where her parents would find it. The sight of it there felt final, like a chapter closing behind her.

Shouldering her duffel bag, Bingo took one last look around the house. Her gaze lingered on the family photos lining the hallway, the kitchen table where they'd shared countless meals, and the half-decorated Christmas tree standing by the window. For a moment, she hesitated, the ache in her chest making her second-guess everything. But she couldn't stay. Not when there was so much left to do.

The drive to the airport passed in a blur of color and motion. The golden hues of the setting sun gave way to streaks of pink and orange as the sky darkened. The streets of Brisbane bustled with holiday cheer, but it all felt distant, like a world she no longer belonged to.

When she arrived at the terminal, the bright lights and bustling crowds felt jarring. Keeping her head low, she moved through the sea of people with purpose, her focus narrowing as the noise faded to a dull hum.

Sitting at her gate, Bingo stared out the window at the darkening sky, her reflection faint against the glass. She couldn't shake the sense of dread pooling in her stomach. It felt like she was descending into something darker, a place she knew all too well.

Back to Melbourne.

Back to The Underground.

Back to being a killer.

Her flight was called. Standing, Bingo took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked toward the boarding line.

There was no turning back now.

It's time… to start the hunt.

….

"Archer's dead… he's fucking dead—and that bitch tortured him!"

The room fell into a tense, suffocating silence. The Black Widows sat in their usual meeting room, its glass walls overlooking the chaotic expanse of the Killer's Den. The dim, moody lighting did nothing to soften the icy tension in the air.

Phantom, the Grey wolf and the leader of the Black Widows, sat behind his imposing desk, his expression unreadable. His cold, calculating gaze was fixed on the flickering screen before him, where the video of Archer's final moments had played not long ago. Standing beside him, Scarlet Fang, the Shiba Inu, was as composed as ever. She didn't speak; she rarely needed to. Her sharp, dark eyes said enough.

Across the room, the male Doberman sat alone at the bar, nursing a drink in silence. His brooding demeanor and clenched jaw betrayed the storm brewing beneath his otherwise stoic surface.

On one of the leather sofas, the Jack Russell sat hunched forward, a cigarette burning between his trembling fingers. His eyes were fixed on the floor, his mind elsewhere—stuck in the echoes of Archer's screams from the video. Beside him, his Koolie comrade shifted uncomfortably but said nothing. The absence of the Dingo, Archer, was a gaping hole in the group's dynamic.

The male Labrador stood near the back of the room, arms crossed tightly over his chest, his eyes fixed on the wall as if trying to hold back his emotions. The female Saluki stood near him, her long, slender frame tense, her hands fidgeting as if searching for something to anchor herself.

Nyx, the Jack Russell, finally broke the silence again, shaking his head as he muttered to himself. His normally sharp, mischievous demeanor was gone, replaced by a hollow expression. Dressed in a crisp black shirt, red tie, and gray dress pants, he looked like a ghost of his former self. The cigarette in his hand trembled as he exhaled a plume of smoke.

"Archer was my brother," Nyx said quietly, his voice raw with anger and grief. "We came up together... We survived together. And now, because of her…" His voice cracked, and he ground the cigarette into the ashtray with a sharp twist. "Now he's gone."

The Koolie beside him opened his mouth, but no words came. What could he say?

Scarlet Fang broke the silence, her voice low and laced with venom. "Knives didn't just kill Archer. She made an example out of him." Her calm tone was more unnerving than Nyx's outburst. "The little rookie thinks she can take us down.. She's bold, I'll give her that, but that doesn't make her smart."

Phantom finally moved, leaning forward in his chair. His presence alone was enough to silence the room. He placed his hands on the desk, his piercing gaze sweeping over the assembled crew.

"This isn't just about Archer.." Phantom said, his voice measured but cold. "Knives sent a message. She thinks she's clever, but she doesn't understand what she's done." He glanced at Nyx, then Scarlet Fang. "We'll remind her why the Black Widows run this underground. But we won't do it in anger." His tone darkened. "We'll do it right."

Nyx's eyes flared with a mix of rage and resolve. He nodded stiffly, clenching his fists. The other Black Widows exchanged glances, their collective anger sharpening into something more dangerous—determination.

Knives had made her move.

Now it was the Black Widows' turn.

Nyx shot to his feet, his anger surging like wildfire in his chest. His cigarette hit the floor, forgotten, as he stormed toward the double doors.

"I'll find her!" he snarled, his voice cracking with a mix of rage and grief. "And I'll be the one to end her! I'll make her suffer the same way she did to Archer…" His growl echoed in the tense silence of the room as the doors slammed shut behind him.

The room remained silent for a long moment, the weight of Nyx's words lingering in the air. Scarlet Fang shifted slightly, her sharp gaze following Nyx's exit before settling on Phantom.

Phantom leaned back in his chair, his steely expression unchanging as he broke the silence. "That girl is dangerous, Scarlet," he said, his tone low but firm. "If she took down Archer—like that—it's only a matter of time before she sets her sights on us." He tapped his fingers on the desk, the rhythmic sound cutting through the stillness. "We need a plan."

Scarlet crossed her arms, her lips pressing into a thin line as she turned her attention to the sprawling view of the Killer's Den outside the window. Her reflection stared back at her in the glass, cold and calculating.

"I know," she murmured, almost to herself. "I know." She paused, her eyes narrowing. "Give me time, Phantom. I'll devise something." Her voice was calm, but there was an edge to it—a quiet, simmering fury that betrayed her outward composure.

Phantom's gaze didn't waver. "Time is something we don't have, Scarlet. She's already moving against us." His voice softened slightly, but the weight of his authority remained. "I need you to handle this before she tears us apart."

Scarlet didn't respond immediately, her mind already racing. After a moment, she finally nodded, her eyes still fixed on the window. "I'll handle it," she said quietly. "Knives won't get the better of us. Not again."

Phantom leaned forward, his fingers steepled under his chin as he watched her. "Good. Because if we fail to stop her… she won't just take down the Black Widows." His voice dropped, heavy with implication. "She'll destroy everything we've built.. this faction as a whole will be finished"

He let out a slow, measured sigh, the weight of his words settling over the room like a thick fog. His gaze flicked to the glowing cityscape outside the window, the lights of the Killer's Den casting eerie shadows across his face.

"We have to kill her…" he said finally, his tone cold and resolute.

"..Before she kills us."

…