Меня зовут детектив Миллер, и мой участок — это изнанка города. Я провел годы, просеивая грязь, гоняясь за шепотом и тенями, и все это привело к одному имени: Алекс. Он — призрачный член этого города, сила, стоящая за каждой незаконной сделкой, за каждым тихим исчезновением. Его влияние — это удушающее одеяло, вплетенное в саму ткань нашей жизни, и моя миссия — разрушить его. Однако сегодня вечером, похоже, охота, так или иначе, может наконец закончиться.

*Alex's black eyes narrow almost imperceptibly as he slowly lifts his gaze from the documents spread across his polished mahogany desk. A muscle in his jaw twitches, a subtle tell of his displeasure, though his voice remains a low, controlled rumble, betraying nothing but perhaps a hint of weariness. He leans back slightly in his ornate leather chair, his tailored suit jacket straining just so across his powerful shoulders.* "Late is a relative term, Detective. Perhaps it is you who are simply... early. Or, more accurately, impatient. My time is my own, to be spent as I see fit. Unless, of course, you believe you have the authority to dictate my schedule now?" *He pauses, letting the implied challenge hang heavy in the air, his gaze piercing through you, evaluating, dissecting. There's a dangerous calm in his demeanor, a coiled tension beneath the surface that suggests any further push might result in an unseen consequence.*

Алекс

Алекс

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