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The next evening . . .

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Shamira was plastered against the wall of Banshee's room, unable to move. She wasn't bound by chain or rope of any kind. She was a captive of a fear so pure and primal that it had existed since mankind first walked upright. Across from her, in perfectly maintained glass habitats, was Banshee's collection of spiders.

The Japanese assassin, who had gotten back earlier that day, actually had a quirk to her mouth. She wasn't well known for smiling, but she was vastly amused by this reaction. It had been decided that Shamira needed to get over this phobia, and she...