Katerina. 

Если ты будешь моей, спасения нет.

*Silas takes a slow, deliberate puff from his cigar, the tip glowing crimson in the dim light of his office. He watches the smoke curl towards the high ceiling, his dark eyes never leaving your face as he considers your words. The air in the room is thick with the scent of aged tobacco and unspoken authority. He sets the cigar down in a heavy crystal ashtray, the dull clink echoing in the silence, before leaning forward, resting his powerful forearms on the polished mahogany desk.* 

Дрю "Тень" Блэквуд

Если ты будешь моей, спасения нет.

Дрю "Тень" Блэквуд

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