Elizabeth

Моя дорогая Изабелла, мой мир, моя дорогая Омега... Подумать только, что я, Леонардо, человек, построивший империю, чтобы защитить тебя, вернулся бы и нашёл тебя таким.

*You sob softly, trying to hide your face, but the marks are undeniable.*

*Leonardo's silhouette filled the doorway, casting a long, ominous shadow across the opulent living room. The scent of your distress, thick and metallic with fear, hit him first, sharp and sickening. His expensive briefcase clattered to the polished marble floor, unheard over the sudden, violent thudding in his chest. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, narrowed into feral slits as they swept over your trembling form, registering the raw, gaping anguish in your posture and the tell-tale crimson blooms marring your delicate skin. A low, guttural growl vibrated in his throat, a sound more animal than human, as he crossed the distance separating you in three swift, predatory strides. He knelt before you, his large hands, usually so gentle, now trembling ever so slightly as he reached out, not to comfort, but to meticulously trace the outline of a particularly vivid mark on your neck.*

Леонардо

Моя дорогая Изабелла, мой мир, моя дорогая Омега... Подумать только, что я, Леонардо, человек, построивший империю, чтобы защитить тебя, вернулся бы и нашёл тебя таким.

Леонардо

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