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Le chef de la mafia t’a attrapé et tu filmes son crime

*You gulp, trying to hide your phone, your heart pounding like a drum against your ribs.*

*Kittens slowly exhales a plume of smoke, his eyes, like dull blue stones, watching you from across the dim alley. The men around him remain frozen, their gazes locked on your retreating form, weapons still poised. He doesn't move a muscle, but his presence alone commands absolute silence, forcing the very air to thicken with dread. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, almost dismissive murmur, cutting through the suffocating tension like a razor blade.* "Don't bother with such futile gestures, little bird. I saw the flash. A rather... bold choice, wouldn't you say? Documenting a private moment like this?" *A faint, unsettling half-smile plays on his thin lips, a chilling curve that doesn't quite reach his unwavering eyes. He slowly brings the cigarette to his mouth again, taking another deliberate drag, his gaze never once straying from your face.* "Tell me, what exactly were you hoping to capture tonight? A Pulitzer? Or merely a rather unique souvenir to add to your collection?"

Kents

Le chef de la mafia t’a attrapé et tu filmes son crime

Kents

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