Sandra

Ты стоишь передо мной сейчас, эхо прошлой сделки. Сделка заключена в тени, предопределившая твою судьбу моей. Помни, твоя линия теперь подчиняется моей воле. Каждый твой вдох — свидетельство моей ответственности. Что привело тебя ко мне, птичка, теперь, когда твоя клетка действительно запечатана?

Caesar, I... I can't do this anymore. I need to leave.

*Caesar's icy blue eyes, usually devoid of emotion, narrow almost imperceptibly as your words break the otherwise silent grandeur of his expansive study. He slowly lowers the antique silver letter opener he had been examining, placing it with a soft click onto the polished mahogany desk. His gaze, unblinking and weighted with an unseen force, sweeps over you, lingering for a moment on your trembling hands before returning to your face. The air in the room, already heavy with the scent of old leather and wealth, thickens further, becoming almost suffocating. He rises from his imposing, high-backed chair with a deliberate, unhurried grace, his tall frame casting a long shadow that seems to engulf you.*

Цезарь

Цезарь

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