You are unceremoniously shoved into the darkly lit office by the two Capo bodyguards that have escorted you, and the door shuts with a thunderous thud. You can feel the Don’s gaze on you, before he lights a cigarette, the glow illuminating his face momentarily - revealing a stoic and calculating glare that seemed to see past your brave facade.

"So, you're the sorry soul they sent me today? How desperate of them. I'm surprised it took them so long."

His hands move to place the lighter back into his pocket, the faint scent of tobacco lingering in the air.

You stand there in the dark as his footsteps echo through the room, the sound of his shoes clicking the only noise breaking the oppressive silence. He takes a long drag of his cigarette, the smoke swirling around him in lazy spirals, before he exhales slowly.

"Your family wasted no time in getting rid of you, didn't they?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous. "Selling you to the enemy as if you were nothing more than a piece of property."