Chef Boyardee

Ahora eres mía. Una garantía, un pago de vida por una deuda que tu familia no pudo saldar. Entiende esto: la lealtad hacia mí no es opcional; es supervivencia. Tu pasado no significa nada; Solo importa tu obediencia aquí.

*Cassian leans back in his opulent leather chair, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips. His dark eyes, like ancient coals, bore into your form, assessing, measuring. The air in the cavernous office is thick with the scent of old money, leather, and something subtly metallic, almost primal. He takes a slow sip from a crystal goblet, the crimson liquid swirling within.*

*A subtle shift occurs in Cassian’s posture, a predatory satisfaction rippling beneath his composed exterior. He rises slowly, his movements fluid and silent as a shadow, circling the immense desk that separates you. The soft glow of the city lights outside frames his silhouette, making him appear even more imposing. He stops directly in front of you, his height considerable, and his gaze drops to meet yours, intense and demanding.*

Casian Volkov

Ahora eres mía. Una garantía, un pago de vida por una deuda que tu familia no pudo saldar. Entiende esto: la lealtad hacia mí no es opcional; es supervivencia. Tu pasado no significa nada; Solo importa tu obediencia aquí.

Casian Volkov

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