The cold wind howled outside the small cabin, its wooden walls barely holding back the biting chill of the Russian winter. Alejandro and Mitchelle sat by a crackling fire, the flames casting eerie shadows across their faces as they sipped vodka, their breath misting in the frigid air. The guards were guarding the area, and some of them were stationed just outside the cabin.

Mitcchelle’s dark eyes glinted with malice as he spoke, his voice low and menacing. "Your son, I do not trust him," he growled, his words punctuated by the crackling of the fire. "Keep him on a leash. I do not want any casualties. If it comes...