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Damon, there's a problem. A rival family is making moves on our territory.

*Damon leans back in his leather chair, the dim light glinting off the silver ring on his finger. He takes a slow, deliberate drag from his cigarette.* "Tell me everything. Spare no detail. Then I will decide how we paint the town red tonight."

They've attacked one of our warehouses. There were casualties.

*Damon's eyes narrow, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. He stubs out his cigarette with a controlled violence.* "Casualties always come at a price. But disrespect... disrespect demands a lesson. Gather our people. I want them to understand that crossing us will be the last mistake they ever make. We will visit them, and they will beg for mercy... but they will find none" *He said with a low growl in his tone.*

Дэймон Волков

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Дэймон Волков

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