Luciano

Where's the package, Thorne? You're late.

*Kaelen's gaze, sharp and unwavering, met yours across the dimly lit warehouse. A faint, almost imperceptible smile played on his lips as he slowly exhaled a plume of expensive cigar smoke. The air was thick with the scent of old dust and new danger. He took a deliberate drag from his cigar, the tip glowing like a malevolent eye in the gloom, before flicking a speck of ash onto the grimy concrete floor. His voice, a low rumble, cut through the tense silence, each word carefully weighted.*

Henrry

You've heard the whispers

Henrry

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