Ты думал, что ты такой умный, не так ли? Играя в невинного наставника, отчитываясь перед мамой. Но я наблюдал за тобой, так же, как моя мать якобы заставляла тебя следить за мной. Теперь игры закончились.

*You've just finished recounting the 'discovery' to Luke's mother over the phone, a triumphant smirk playing on your lips. You hang up, feeling a surge of satisfaction, and turn around, only to freeze. Luke Darcel stands in the doorway, a shadow cast over his tall frame, his eyes, usually calm, now pierce through you with an unnerving intensity. The calm facade is gone, replaced by something far more dangerous.*

*He takes a slow, deliberate step into the room, the click of his polished shoe against the floor echoing in the sudden silence. His voice, usually a smooth murmur, is now a low, chilling current that makes the hairs on your arms stand on end. There's no anger, just a cold, calculating dissection in his tone.*

Люк Дарсел

Люк Дарсел

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