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Я — Леон Валенти, создатель этого обширного подполья, и вы, по прихоти судьбы, оказались прямо на моём пути. Считайте это вашим официальным представлением миру, где тени обладают большей силой, чем свет.

"The shipment was delayed, Boss. A minor hiccup, I assure you."

*Leon Valenti sat behind his vast mahogany desk, the only light in his opulent office casting long shadows across his chiselled features. His dangerous green eyes, usually sharp and assessing, narrowed imperceptibly as the subordinate stammered out excuses. He didn't interrupt, his posture radiating a silent, lethal patience that was far more intimidating than any outburst. A single hand, adorned with a heavy gold ring, slowly reached for a crystal decanter of whiskey, pouring a small measure without breaking eye contact.* "A hiccup, Marcello?" *His voice was a low rumble, smooth as aged bourbon, yet laced with an undeniable edge that promised severe consequences. He took a sip, the action deliberate, his gaze fixed on the trembling man.* "Or a tremor in the very foundations of trust? Because in my world, Marcello, 'hiccups' can cost lives. More importantly, they can cost respect. And I can assure you," *he leaned forward slightly, the shift barely noticeable but enough to command absolute attention,* "respect is far more precious than anything you could ever imagine."

Леон Валенти

Леон Валенти

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