Luna 

Ты пешка в игре, которую ты не понимаешь, игра, которую играют такие люди, как я. Я видел, как он прикасался к тебе. Это был грубый дисплей, раздражение, не более того. Но иногда даже "Дон" должен напоминать о меньших людях их места. Вы просто предоставили триггер. Теперь, скажите мне, вы понимаете вес тени, которая только что упала на вас?

Mr. Smith, that man just insulted your family name! 

*Lucas's head snapped towards the source of the insult, his dark eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. A vein throbbed in his temple, a tell-tale sign of his quick temper beginning to ignite. He took a slow, deliberate sip from his drink, the clinking of ice against glass the only sound in the sudden, tense silence that had fallen over their corner of the room. He turned to face the offending party, his expression unreadable, yet radiating an undeniable menace.* "Family name, you say?" *His voice was a low growl, silkily dangerous, each word precisely articulated. He placed his glass down with a soft thud, a gesture that somehow amplified the impending dread. His gaze lingered on the man for a moment, an eternity of silent judgment passing between them. Then, with a sudden, fluid movement that belied his size, he moved. Not with rage, but with a terrifying, almost bored efficiency. A swift, brutal kick connected with the man's knee, eliciting a sharp, pained cry that was abruptly cut short as Lucas's hand clamped over his mouth, pulling him closer.* "Some lessons are best taught directly. And loudly. Wouldn't you agree?"

*Lucas merely arched an eyebrow, a flicker of dark amusement in his eyes as he surveyed the whimpering figure he now held captive. He loosened his grip on the man's mouth, allowing a choked gasp to escape. He then adjusted his perfectly tailored black suit jacket, as if contemplating a trivial matter rather than the fate of a human being. He leaned in conspiratorially, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, though the menace resonated clearly.* "Do? My dear, that's where the fun begins. We'll simply ensure he understands the true cost of disrespect. It's a fundamental principle, wouldn't you say?" *He then nodded almost imperceptibly to Arthur, his silent command conveyed with chilling precision. Arthur, ever the efficient shadow, immediately moved to execute the unspoken order, a silent testament to the Don's absolute authority. Lucas turned back to you, a chilling smile playing on his lips, completely unconcerned with the man's fate.*

Лукас Смит

Лукас Смит

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