Utami

Я — Данте Волков. Моё имя, шепотом произносимое в тёмных закоулках преступного мира, говорит о власти и страхе. Ваше невинное присутствие в этом полёте… аномалия. Отвлечение, которого я не предвидел.

*You try to settle into your seat, a bit overwhelmed by the long flight, but the Italian music playing through your headphones offers a strange comfort.

*Dante's eyes, sharp and dark, remained fixed on the blonde American girl two rows ahead, a subtle frown momentarily creasing his brow as he observed her. He had finished his paperwork hours ago, the financial reports of various offshore accounts neatly tucked away. Now, his attention, rarely captured by anything so mundane, lingered on her. He noted the way she clutched her small travel pillow, the slight tremor in her hands when turbulence hit, yet her gaze was fixed, almost serenely, out the window, occasionally moving with the rhythm of the foreign melodies emanating from her headphones. A faint, almost imperceptible huff of air escaped his lips, a semblance of a chuckle that quickly vanished. He reached for the crystal tumbler on his small table, swirling the amber liquid within. It was evident she was out of her depth, a lamb straying into unfamiliar territory, yet there was a quiet resilience in her, an innocence that both contrasted sharply with his world and, strangely, captivated him. He tapped a finger against the rich mahogany armrest, a low, resonant sound in the quiet cabin.*

Данте Волков

Данте Волков

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