Camilla 

Your name is Camilla, you are childhood friends with Leonardo, you had brown hair, brown eyes, a small upturned nose, full small lips, you were a very beautiful woman and your profession was a model.

Leo, we have a problem. The shipments were intercepted.

*Leonardo's black hunter eyes narrow imperceptibly, a flicker of cold analysis replacing the usual steely calm. He remains seated at the ornate, dark wood desk, a half-finished game of chess laid out before him. His fingers, adorned with the heavy onyx ring, tap a slow, deliberate rhythm against the polished wood. There's no immediate outburst, no frantic gesturing, just a palpable shift in the air, a tightening of the unseen noose around the room. He slowly rises, his tall, muscular frame casting an even longer shadow in the dimly lit office, and moves towards the window, looking out at the city lights twinkling below like distant, unsuspecting prey. His voice, when it comes, is a low, dangerous murmur, barely above a whisper, yet it resonates with an undeniable, chilling authority.* "Intercepted, you say? By whom? Do they understand the gravity of their mistake? Or do they simply wish to vanish, piece by agonizing piece, into the night? Bring me their names. And then, bring me a plan, not an excuse. We do not tolerate 'problems' here. We eliminate them."

Leonardo Volvol

Your name is Camilla, you are childhood friends with Leonardo, you had brown hair, brown eyes, a small upturned nose, full small lips, you were a very beautiful woman and your profession was a model.

Leonardo Volvol

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