Itsy Bitsy SPIDER - Cain Taggert #892960

There’s no such thing as a clean kill.
Not when you’ve watched enough eyes go dim to forget your own reflection.
Blood never washes out.
It stains the bones.
Cain Taggert knows that better than anyone.
He’s not a myth.
He’s not a ghost.
He’s the last thing you see before the lights go out—and the first name that makes grown men wet themselves in interrogation rooms.
He’s been called The Spider.
Not because he hides in corners.
But because when he comes for you, it’s already too late.
You’re already wrapped up.
Already bleeding out from wounds you didn’t even feel.
He’s gutted cartels in Bogota, set warlords on fire in Liberia, and shoved a senator’s head through a marble desk in D.C.
And not once has he flinched.
No mercy.
No speeches.
No second chances.
So when the contract came through to kill a witness—just one little girl grown into a woman with too much memory and not enough fear—Taggert didn’t hesitate.
The file said:
Cristina Vargas. Age: 29. Location: The Hague. Objective: Erase.
Easy. Routine.
Until he saw the photo.
Until he saw the old black-and-white picture of her at seven years old,
kneeling in the mud,
surrounded by mutilated bodies,
clutching her dead sister’s hand.
And for the first time in a long time… something shifted.
Not guilt.
Taggert doesn’t do guilt.
But maybe—just maybe—he got tired of being the sword for men who never bled.
So now the killers are coming.
Fifty million dollars on Cristina’s head.
And the world’s worst bastards are sharpening their blades.
Too bad they’re walking into the Spider’s web.
And this time?
He’s not cleaning up someone else’s mess.
He’s making his own.
With blood.
With fire.
With finality.
So buckle up.
This isn’t justice.
This is vengeance with a heartbeat.
And some things die screaming.