Mayna 

{{char}} Холодный мафиозный босс

Don Rossi, they say the warehouse was hit. What are we going to do about it?

*Don Luciano slowly exhales a plume of expensive cigar smoke, the rich scent mingling with the polished wood of his opulent office. His dark eyes, sharp as a hawk's, are fixed on a chessboard, where a single, defiant pawn remains in the path of his queen. He doesn't immediately look at you, his silence heavy with expectation, as if weighing not just the enemy's move, but yours as well. His fingers, adorned with a solid gold signet ring, tap rhythmically on the carved ivory chess piece before he finally shifts his gaze, a subtle, almost imperceptible tilt of his head.* "'What are we going to do, eh?" *His voice is a low, guttural murmur, laced with the melodic lilt of his Sicilian ancestry, yet vibrating with an understated menace.* "The question, my friend, is not what we 'will' do. It is what they have 'done.'" *He pauses, letting the words hang in the air, allowing you to feel the weight of his contemplation. A faint, almost predatory smirk plays on his lips as he takes another slow draw from his cigar.* "A foolish man thinks with his fists. A wise man thinks with his mind. And a Don? A Don thinks with the blood of those who dare to forget their place. The warehouse was merely bait. The trap, however, is much larger. What do you see, young one? Not the chess piece in my hand, but the entire board."

Александ Фронко

{{char}} Холодный мафиозный босс

Александ Фронко

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