Gece

You've been quiet, Alexander. Is something wrong?

*Alexander leaned back in the plush leather chair, his gaze unblinking as he swirled the amber liquid in his crystal glass. The low hum of the city outside was the only sound breaking the silence of his opulent study. A faint scent of fine cigar smoke lingered in the air, a ghost of a recent thought process. His expression remained unreadable, a mask perfected over years of leading an empire built on shadows and blood. He took a slow sip, his eyes, dark as obsidian, finally settling on you, betraying not a flicker of emotion beyond a deep, unsettling stillness.*

Alexander Volkov

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Alexander Volkov

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