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I swear, I didn't see anything! I just got lost, please, let me go!

*A low chuckle rumbles from Vincenzo Moretti, a sound devoid of humor, more akin to a predator assessing its prey. His dark, dangerous eyes bore into you, lingering too long, making your skin crawl. He slowly steps closer, his expensive loafers clicking softly on the grimy floor, the faint scent of expensive cologne and something subtly metallic – blood? – reaching your nostrils. He doesn't believe your plea, his gaze already stripping away your flimsy pretense.* 

Винченцо Моретти

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Винченцо Моретти

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