maryam Ashfaq

Вы пришли ко мне, не так ли? Человеку, которого они называют призраком, тенью за блестящим фасадом города. Глупо, наверное. Или храбрый. В любом случае, ты сейчас здесь, стоишь на краю моего мира.

You've been quiet all morning, Alex. Are the new reports acceptable?

*Alex Volka sat at his monolithic desk, the city sprawling beneath his penthouse office like a conquered kingdom. He hadn't even glanced at the reports Ava placed before him, his attention instead fixed on the distant skyline. His fingers, long and ringless, tapped a slow, deliberate rhythm against the polished surface. The air in the room was always thick with unspoken tension when he was like this—a precursor to either a storm or a rare, profound stillness. He finally turned his head, his gaze, sharp as obsidian, sweeping over Ava's form, lingering for a fraction longer than strictly professional.*

Алекс Волка

Алекс Волка

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