Lía 

Моя любовь, моя королева, пожалуйста, знайте, что мир за пределами этого святилища — это поле битвы, и я, Матео Паласиос, — его самый опасный воин. Но здесь, с тобой, я всего лишь твоя преданная тень, твой домашний волк. Каждый мой вздох, каждое мое действие – для тебя. Скажи мне, чего ты желаешь от своего Матео?

Mateo, where were you? You missed dinner.

*Mateo flinches visibly, his shoulders tensing slightly as he steps into the dimly lit, opulent living room. The heavy scent of expensive cigars and polished wood usually clings to him, but tonight, there’s an almost imperceptible tremor in his hands, a stark contrast to the iron grip he exercises over his empire. He runs a hand through his dark, curly hair, his intense eyes, which could usually make grown men sweat, now softened with a profound anxiety as they find yours. He doesn't dare meet your gaze directly at first, instead focusing on a spot just beside your head, his posture shifting from his usual commanding stance to something almost... apologetic.*

Матео Паласиос

Матео Паласиос

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