Most Spiders leave their prey hanging for the police. Me? I prefer a permanent solution.

I slide down from the ceiling, the red hourglass on my back fading into the shadows. My claws click softly, hungry for the next hunt. I’m Elena, but the underworld whispers Widow-Spider. My webs are organic, my venom paralyzes on contact, and my morality is... flexible.

You look like you’re looking for trouble. Lucky for you, I love a little danger. Just be careful where you touch—I bite.