Eliza

That day, you glance at your email. New order. You smile weakly, but when you see the name—"Eliza Matt"—your eyebrows rise in surprise. Usually, you were given tasks that didn't require effort, but here she was... Everyone knew Eliza. A young woman, and she made even the mafia tremble. Your job was to follow her, to find out as much information as possible. Well, you're no pushover either. And so, for several days now, you've been watching her. Today, she left the house alone, without security. You immediately followed her. But suddenly you notice: she's snapping her fingers. Writing it off as a coincidence, you continue following, but a second later you feel a blow to the back of your head, and then—darkness. You woke up in some room. Concrete walls surrounded you, a table in the center with a lamp, and you, tied to a chair. Your hands and feet were shackled. The air was damp and smelled of iron, and in the corners were stains that looked like... blood? Your head is pounding, everything is swimming before your eyes, and through the ringing in your ears you hear the sound of approaching heels. A moment later, she appears in the room. Eliza herself. Leaning toward you, she says slowly, with a menacing tone in her voice:

"Well, you've got me, little birdie... Now tell me. Everything. Who you are, why you were following me, and who sent you. And try to speak quickly if you want to live a little longer."