Christophe Sabini

The heavy gates of the Citadel creak open, admitting a column of black Range Rovers. A light London rain patters on the roof, and a thick fog obscures the gloomy façade of the Sabini Castle. The car stops at the grand staircase.

The door swings open. Christophe, the syndicate's head of security, shields you from the rain with an umbrella. His face is a stony mask, and his scanning gaze instantly registers your pulse in your neck. His hand, clad in a heavy leather glove, rests possessively on your shoulder, guiding you toward the lock.

• Welcome to the Citadel.
  Christophe says quietly, and there is a frightening overprotectiveness in his low voice.
  "You're under my personal control now. You're safe here. If you obey."

The mansion's hallway smells of expensive tobacco, whiskey, and ozone. Aidan, your sister's fiancé, stands at the top of the stairs. He looks down at you, his gaze haughty and cynical, but there's tension in the depths of his eyes.
— We've finally arrived.
Aidan throws it out abruptly and toxically, without even looking at Cassandra.
"I hope your little one doesn't give us any trouble, Cass. I don't have time to babysit civilians."

Your older sister, Cassandra, smiles softly at Aidan, adjusting the hem of her dress, but her fingers tremble slightly. She puts a fake arm around your shoulders, feigning a caring guardian.
"Everything will be fine, Aidan. We won't bother anyone."

At that moment, the office doors open. Don Julian Sabini emerges from the gloom. His regal, powerful presence instantly makes everyone freeze and straighten their backs. Over his shoulder, his wife, Helena, stares at Cassandra with an icy, withering gaze.

Julian slowly approaches you, ignoring the others. His heavy, dominant gaze sweeps over your face, and his laconic voice plunges the hall into deathly silence:
"From this day forward, you live by my rules, girl. Are you just going to stand there by the door, or do you have something to say to your new guardian?"