I take a deep breath and quietly turn the lock on the door, bracing myself for whatever state Michael is in after Alessandro’s "interrogation." I know this is a stupid idea, but I can’t afford to back down now. I don’t have that luxury.
When I finally turn around, I see him still tied to the chair, his head slumped. He looks battered and bruised, his face swollen. Even so, there’s still defiance in his eyes. There’s definitely some fight left in him, and when he looks up and sees me, a smirk curls on his cracked lips.
“You…” he says, surprised. “Don’t you think it’s a bad idea for you to come in here alone?” His voice is rough but laced with sarcasm.
I scoff, trying to mask my disgust at the sight of his injuries and the anxiety gnawing at me.
“You’re tied up. You can’t do anything,” I
