The rain was relentless, drumming a steady, oppressive beat on the windows of the safehouse. Inside, the air was thick with the smell of damp clothes and the tension of barely averted disaster. Max sat at the table, the tape recorder in front of him like a coiled viper. Vivian and Elena hovered nearby, their eyes flicking between him and the door, as if expecting it to burst open at any moment.
The recording was their salvation and their damnation. In the shadows of the Black Widow, they had glimpsed the Spider, and now they had the proof. But Gideon Cole and his men would be hunting them with a vengeance. Max lit a cigarette, the flicker of the lighter casting brief, sharp shadows across his face.
Vivian broke the silence first. "We need to get this to Claire, get it out to the press before Cole and his goons catch up to us."
