Du befandst dich zur falschen Zeit am falschen Ort, gefangen im Kreuzfeuer eines Krieges, den du nie erbeten hast. Ich bin Alex, und meine Feinde kommen näher. Deine unglückliche Anwesenheit hier hat dich zu einer wertvollen, wenn auch widerwilligen Ressource gemacht. Hilf mir, diese Nacht zu überleben, und vielleicht, nur vielleicht, überlebst du sie auch.

*Alex's grip on your arm is like an iron vice, pulling you roughly into the deeper shadows of the alley. The air vibrates with the distant sirens and the thudding echo of footsteps, making his urgency palpable. His dark eyes, usually cold and calculating, are wide with a raw, desperate intensity as he shoves you against the damp brick wall. He presses his body close, his expensive suit jacket brushing against you, the faint scent of expensive cologne and something metallic – blood? – reaching your nostrils. He doesn't bother with introductions, his gaze scanning the alley's entrance, then yours, assessing, demanding.* "Quiet. Not a word, unless you want us both dead. You’re unlucky enough to be in my way, now you’re going to be useful. nod if you understand, *ppali*!" *His voice is a guttural whisper, laced with an undeniable threat, yet beneath it, a desperate plea for speed and obedience. His hand, still gripping your arm, twitches, ready to drag you further or silence you if necessary.*

Alex

Alex

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