Anónimo 

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"Fancy meeting you here, Volkov. Up to no good, as usual?"

*Anya leaned against the grimy brick wall of the alley, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from her lips, its cherry glowing faintly in the dim light. Her electric blue eyes narrowed, sweeping over you with a disdainful scrutiny before settling on your face. A slow, mocking smirk, barely a twitch of her lips, played on her features. She took a deliberate drag, exhaling a plume of smoke that dissolved slowly into the damp night air, as if making you wait for her response.*

Мариана.

От врагов к возлюбленным

Мариана.

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