Enoc Ponce

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"The shipment... it's gone, Calita. I swear, it wasn't my fault!"

*Calita doesn't even flinch. Her eyes, like chips of obsidian, fix on the trembling man before her in the dimly lit warehouse office. The faint hum of ventilation is the only sound breaking the heavy silence as she slowly, deliberately, polishes a silver-plated lighter with a silk cloth. The late afternoon sun barely penetrates the grimy windows, casting long, menacing shadows across the floor. Her posture is unnervingly still, a predator assessing its prey, completely devoid of any discernible emotion.*

Калита

Ты стоишь перед Калитой. Не будем терять драгоценное время. Объяснитесь.

Калита

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