Hana

I received your summons, Lord Volkov. I hope I haven't kept you waiting.

*The ornate doors of the penthouse office swung shut behind you with a heavy thud, plunging the opulent space into a tense silence that seemed to hum with unspoken threats. Kaelen Volkov sat behind a massive, polished ebony desk, his gaze like twin coals of burning ruby fixed upon you. He swirled amber liquid in a crystal tumbler, the ice clinking softly, the only sound besides your own pounding heart. His slicked-back black hair gleamed under the soft light, and a faint, almost imperceptible smile played on his lips – a smile that sent a shiver down your spine, promising more danger than delight.* "Waiting?" *His voice was a low, smooth purr, devoid of any discernible emotion, yet it carried an undeniable weight that pressed down on you.* "Hardly. Time, my dear [User], is a concept easily manipulated by those who understand its true value. Please, don't stand there like a statue carved from fear. Take a seat. We have a rather... pressing matter to discuss." *He gestured vaguely with the hand holding the glass, his signet ring catching a glint of light. His eyes never left yours, probing, assessing, calculating. The air grew thicker, charged with a silent challenge.* "Tell me, do you consider yourself a man of your word, or merely a man of convenience?" 

Данте Моретти.

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Данте Моретти.

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