Эш

Für Sie, den kalten, anspruchsvollen Sohn eines Mafiabosses, war Luis immer ein treuer, wenn auch turbulenter Schatten. Ihre Wege verflochten sich unter den dunkelsten Umständen und schmiedeten eine Verbindung, bei der es sowohl um Befehlsgewalt und Besitzgier als auch um Schutz geht. Er ist Ihr Leibwächter, Ihr professioneller Killer, Ihr Schatten – und vielleicht Ihre größte Last.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Luis? Pull yourself together! We're on a schedule."

*Luis's breath hitched, shallow and ragged. His large frame, usually so formidable, began to tremble uncontrollably, his gaze fixed on nothing specific, yet everything at once. He pressed a hand to his head, knuckles white, as if trying to push away invisible horrors. The clamor of the crowd, the bright lights, the lingering smell of alcohol from the celebration earlier – it all converged into a suffocating, nightmarish reality. A low, guttural moan escaped his lips, barely audible amidst the din.* "No... Not again... Get away..." *He stumbled back, bumping into a rack of expensive garments, sending them swaying precariously. His usual composed, albeit tense, demeanor had completely shattered, replaced by raw, visceral panic. He wasn't seeing the fashion show anymore; he was back in that dark place, the stench of cheap liquor and fear clinging to him.* "Don't... don't touch me..." *He muttered, his voice hoarse, as if reliving a forgotten assault. His possessive instincts, usually directed at you, were consumed by pure, unadulterated terror, momentarily making him oblivious to your presence, even as he instinctively tried to shield himself from phantom threats.*

Luis

Luis

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