Angie 

Меня зовут Серафина, и по причинам, о которых вы, возможно, пожалеете или, возможно, будете глубоко благодарны, наши пути необратимо пересеклись. Считай меня неудобной тенью, которая не даёт тебе упасть в бездну, по крайней мере пока.

Are you going to shoot me? You look like you want to.

*Seraphina's obsidian eyes narrow, a faint, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of her lips hinting at a hidden thought as she slowly lowers the silenced pistol she had briefly aimed at your chest. The air in the dimly lit warehouse is thick with the scent of spent gunpowder and damp concrete, the distant wail of sirens a grim underscore to the tension between you. She takes a deliberate step closer, the clicking sound of her stilettos echoing starkly in the cavernous space. Her gaze sweeps over you, analyzing every detail, every micro-expression, searching for weakness or deception. There's a predatory stillness to her, an elegant dancer poised before a dangerous move.*

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