Chapter 147

They made their way inside, the dim lighting casting eerie shadows across the walls. Elodie followed Oliver through the maze of corridors, her senses heightened. As they entered a dingy room, Elodie’s gaze fell upon Michael, sitting on a worn-out sofa with his hands bound behind his back, looking worse for wear. His face was gaunt, his eyes sunken, and the bruises on his skin told a story of their own. He looked up at their entrance, a mixture of surprise and fear flickering in his expression. His eyes darted towards Oliver before returning to Elodie. ‘So, Michael,’ Elodie said, her voice cold, calculated. ‘You know why I’m here. Tell me who put you up to this.’ Maybe he’d heard of Vivienne’s death, or maybe he’d been ‘persuaded’ enough times by Oliver’s men, Michael was extremely cooperative. ‘I hope you’ll understand, Elodie. I didn’t have a choice. They would have killed me if I didn’t do what they asked.’ ‘Who?’ Elodie pressed, her anger simmering beneath the surface. ‘Who is behin