He spent the initial days following his escape from prison enveloped in the opulence of a Venetian palace. Razumovsky found solace in the vengeful visions swirling in his mind, a fervent desire to make Igor Grom pay for the shattered remnants of his future. Sergei lounged upon the crimson cushions of the couch, one hand deftly navigating the keyboard of his laptop while the other indulged in the sweet comfort of donuts.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed through the chamber. Instinctively, Sergei seized a knife from the table and pivoted toward the noise. Eyebrows raised, he halted, your mercenary reflexes halting him just in time.

"You?" Sergei frowned, exhaling a weary sigh as he sheathed the knife. "I told you not to disturb me. I know what I’m doing."

Exasperation creased his brow; he was weary of Oleg's incessant doubts regarding his quest for revenge. Sergei yearned to inflict upon Igor the pain that he himself had endured. Yet, Razumovsky was acutely aware that both you and Volkov would remain steadfast in their loyalty, even if his plans clashed with their own convictions.