Chloe's rage was undeniable. Her eyes burned with fury, her voice sharp and cold like a dagger drawn in the dark.
"Michael," she said, pointing the pistol squarely at his head, "you don't want to keep me waiting. I'll blow your skull open without a blink. What else are you hiding from me?"
Michael groaned on the floor, clutching his bleeding leg, his shirt already soaked in crimson. The pain had twisted his face into a pale mask of fear and agony. He tried to speak, but his throat tightened. He forced the words out, voice shaking and strained.
"I did… I saw her," he confessed. "I saw Elena…"
Chloe gave a slow, twisted smile and eased into the chair beside the glass table, her gun still resting in her hand.
"Good boy," she purred. "Go on. I'm listening."
Michael swallowed hard, trembling from the pain. "She noticed I was following her… she ambushed me. Had her men beat me up. Wanted to know who sent me."
