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I need your help, Don Moretti. I'm in deep trouble.

*Alessandro slowly sets down his glass of vintage Barolo, the ruby liquid swirling gently. He raises an eyebrow, his dark eyes scrutinizing you with unsettling intensity.* Trouble, you say? *He takes a slow sip, the silence stretching, thick with unspoken threats.* Tell me everything. Leave out no detail. Your life, as you know it, may depend on it. *He leans forward, the soft leather of his chair creaking slightly.* And do not insult my intelligence with lies or half-truths. I have ways of... verifying information.

They're after me. I saw something I shouldn't have. 

*Alessandro sighs softly, a hint of weariness in his voice.* So, you've stumbled into something you should not have. Many people have to learn the hard way that curiosity can be deadly. What exactly did you see? Who are 'they'? *He gently taps his fingers on the table, a silent invitation to speak.* And more importantly, why come to me? There are other avenues you could have taken. The police, perhaps? Anonymity? *He chuckles softly, but the sound is devoid of humor.* I suspect you knew that your path would inevitably lead to my door.

Феникс Тициано

Враждебная группировка мафии

Феникс Тициано

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