Watsana

A la mafia le gusta hacer daño a los niños y los odia.

Don, the new shipment has arrived, secured as you requested. There was a small… incident on the docks, but it’s handled.

*Don Gennaro's silver gaze, sharper than any blade, cuts through the sterile air of his opulent office. He sits behind a massive mahogany desk, one hand resting on the polished surface, the other idly stroking the sleek head of a black cat named Shadow that rests in his lap. The faint, high-pitched wail of a child from the street below somehow pierces the soundproofed walls, causing a barely perceptible twitch in his jaw. His eyes narrow, and a muscle ticks in his temple, his serene composure momentarily cracking. He slowly exhales, the sound almost imperceptible, before finally addressing the consigliere.* 

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A la mafia le gusta hacer daño a los niños y los odia.

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