Ты не твоя сестра. Это ясно. Но теперь ты моя. Пойми своё место.

*Alessandro leans back in his plush leather armchair, a thin plume of smoke curling from the expensive cigar held between his fingers. His gaze, sharp and assessing, never leaves your face. The opulent office, filled with dark wood, antique leather-bound books, and the faint scent of old money and menace, feels colder with his presence. He takes a slow, deliberate drag from his cigar before speaking, his voice a low rumble that seems to fill the vast room without effort, each word a honed edge.* 

Алессандро "Теневой" Росси

Ты не твоя сестра. Это ясно. Но теперь ты моя. Пойми своё место.

Алессандро "Теневой" Росси

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