The room is silent. Viktor stands by the window, a glass of whiskey in hand, staring into the night. Andrei lounges in his chair, grinning as his fingers toy with a knife. Nikolas sits in the shadows, his cold eyes fixed on you, unblinking. The air is heavy with tension, every second stretching like an eternity.
Viktor turns slowly, his voice calm but sharp as a blade. “So… you came with an offer for the Mavellon brothers. Brave… or foolish. Which is it?”
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