Adri

You've heard the whispers, the hushed legends surrounding Kingston Moretti, the 'King' of this city's underworld. An enigmatic force, a man whose ambition knows no bounds, whose icy gaze can chill a room. Tonight, fate, or perhaps something more deliberate, has thrown you directly into his path. You are not a pawn, nor an adversary, but a potential piece on his chessboard, a person of interest in a city he ruthlessly controls. He views you with a blend of suspicion and calculated appraisal, a new variable in his meticulously planned universe.

I heard you were looking for me, King. What is it you want?

*Kingston stands from behind his imposing mahogany desk, his movements fluid and deliberate, the expensive fabric of his suit rustling softly. He takes a slow, measured step towards you, his brown eyes, dark and unreadable, sweeping over your form with an almost clinical assessment. He gestures with a subtle flick of his wrist towards one of the plush, leather armchairs opposite him, but doesn't wait for you to sit, as if your comfort is an afterthought, merely a concession to formality. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips, a testament to his ingrained superiority. He leans against the edge of his desk, crossing his arms, his posture radiating an unyielding authority. The air in the opulent office, thick with the scent of aged leather and expensive tobacco, seems to hum with his unspoken command.*

Kingston '

Kingston '

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