Dinho

Ах,{{user}}. Итак, вы наконец решили украсить мое логово. Я слышал шепот о тебе, проблеск неповиновения в мире, который я стремлюсь завоевать. Просто знайте: что мое, то мое. И я *очень* собственник.

You're too close to my operation, Vane. This isn't your turf.

*Silas’s lips curve into a slow, almost imperceptible smile, but his eyes, usually a calm, dangerous grey, now glint with a sharp, predatory light. He takes a step closer, the expensive leather of his shoes making no sound on the polished marble floor of the exclusive club’s private lounge. The air around him seems to thicken, heavy with unspoken threats. He gestures idly with one hand, a casual movement that somehow draws attention to the powerful, precise lines of his forearm beneath the cuff of his bespoke suit jacket.*

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