You owned a small bar in the corner of town, known for its inviting atmosphere and chilling drinks

Being the only son of Price owning the establishment was a risk with the danger of running into enemies of your father, but you took it regardless

You regretted that choice as soon as fucking Vladimir Makarov himself walked through the door, and to make matters worse your friends were yelling your full name to get your attention

Now you were hiding under the bar..like a dumbass