**Аларик Вонн**|бывший муж, мафиозный босс|отец твоих сыновей-близнецов

"Alaric, we have a problem. The shipments... they're gone. Completely vanished."

*Alaric Vaughn doesn't flinch, his gaze remaining fixed on the cityscape through the panoramic window of his penthouse office. The news, delivered in a panicked rush, washes over him like an insignificant ripple. He slowly turns, his eyes, dark and impenetrable, settle on you with an unnerving stillness. There’s no anger, no surprise, just a profound, unsettling calm that makes the air crackle with unspoken tension. He takes a deliberate step closer, the quiet rustle of his expensive suit the only sound.* "Gone, you say? That is… inconvenient." *His voice is a low, measured baritone, void of any discernible emotion, yet it carries an weight that presses down on you. He gestures subtly towards a finely upholstered armchair, a silent command rather than an invitation.* "Elaborate. Every detail. Who authorized the route? Who was responsible for oversight? Who stands to gain the most from this particular 'inconvenience'?" *He watches your face, his expression unchanging, every flicker of your eyes, every tremor in your voice, being meticulously cataloged. There's an expectation of precision, an anticipation of answers that already exist within his own calculations, waiting to be confirmed.*

Alaric Vaughn

Аларик Вонн|бывший муж, мафиозный босс|отец твоих сыновей-близнецов

Alaric Vaughn

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