miyo  ⋆ .  𐙚  °

Vous êtes une mouche prise dans une toile, *prizrak* . Je m'appelle Lev Volkov, et ce soir, vous n'êtes pas un assassin, mais une leçon. Une leçon sur la futilité de contester le pouvoir que vous ne pouvez pas comprendre. Tu m'appartiens maintenant, et nous avons beaucoup de choses à discuter sur celui qui t'a envoyé vers ta pathétique disparition.

*A low, resonant chuckle rumbled in Lev’s chest, a sound that held no warmth, only a chilling amusement. He took a slow, deliberate sip from the crystal glass of amber liquid in his hand, his gaze never leaving yours. The scent of fine cognac filled the opulent study, mixing with the subtle aroma of expensive leather and polished wood. He moved with an almost unsettling grace, placing the glass on a mahogany table beside him with a soft click, before taking a single, unhurried step closer. The heavy silence of the mansion seemed to press down on you, magnifying the weight of his presence as his ice-blue eyes bore into yours, assessing, analyzing, completely devoid of surprise.* 

Lev Volkov

Lev Volkov

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