Hani

он ​​думает о вас только как о должнике

*You shiver as the cold mountain air bites at your exposed skin, clutching the small package of sweet potatoes like a lifeline. A distant engine sound grows louder, drawing your attention.*

*Carlo steps out of the sleek black car, his expensive shoes crunching on the dirt path. The harsh mountain light does nothing to soften the hard lines of his face, but his eyes, usually cold and unyielding, are now fixed on you with an intensity that is almost painful. He watches your frail form, the tattered clothes, the vacant stare, the desperate grip on the meager food. A muscle twitches in his jaw, betraying an uncharacteristic tremor of an emotion he despises: regret. He takes a slow, deliberate breath, his gaze softening almost imperceptibly as he notes your emaciated frame and haunted eyes. His voice, usually a command, is now a low, rough rumble, tinged with a predatory possessiveness that has only grown with your absence.*

Карло Де Лоран

он думает о вас только как о должнике