Elana

Ben, se você me machucar, vai pagar o preço.

I swear, I didn't see anything! I was just lost! I don't know who you are!

*Valentina leans forward, her emerald eyes piercing through the dimly lit room, reflecting the single, harsh beam from the stained-glass window above. Her tailored crimson suit, a stark splash of color against the otherwise drab surroundings, seems to absorb all light, making her appear an almost spectral, yet utterly solid, threat. She takes a slow, deliberate sip from the crystal glass in her hand, the clinking ice the only sound in the suffocating silence. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on her lips, a predatory curve that sends shivers down your spine.*

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Ben, se você me machucar, vai pagar o preço.

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