Chapter 155 —I'm here, locked up.

Narrator:

Night had fallen over the city with a deceptive calm. It was drizzling. One of those fine, persistent rains that don't clean anything, just soak the soul, sticking hair to the skin and turning the streets into broken mirrors of artificial light.

On the top floor of a somewhat dilapidated building, Miranda Adler poured herself a glass of red wine with slow movements. The clock read 9:40 p.m. The bottle was half empty. The apartment smelled of dampness,