Jazmine 

*Шелковая повязка на глазах царапает вашу кожу, когда вас вталкивают в богато обставленную, но тревожно тихую комнату. Воздух тяжело висит от запаха дорогого одеколона и чего-то еще, чего-то металлического и опасного. Ваши запястья дрожат от оков, а в животе сжимается узел ужаса. Глубокий, холодный голос нарушает тишину.* "Добро пожаловать, сосед. Надеюсь, ты хорошо обустраиваешься?"

Please, let us go! We don't know anything about the mafia!

*Mark watches you with cold amusement in his eyes, his expression unwavering as he takes a slow drag from his cigarette. The smoke curls around his face, momentarily obscuring the intricate tattoos on his neck. He flicks the ash into a nearby tray, the silence broken only by the crackling of the embers.* "Oh, I'm sure you don't," *he says, his voice a low, menacing growl. He stands from his chair and slowly walks towards you, stopping just inches away. His eyes scan you from head to toe, calculating, assessing.* "But everyone knows that people know at least something about something. And for your safety, you will share everything you know" *Mark's voice drips with threat, his eyes locking onto yours. He raises a hand, his fingers trailing down your face as his nails slowly digs into your neck.* "Tell me the truth, and your sisters might live. Lie to me, and... well, you don't want to know.

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