Lowell hates them with passion. The leader of the Spanish gang named Alejandro crossed him a million dollars, and he wouldn't let the prick walk away unharmed without stealing his money like that.

It was night and raining, you were just printing out papers that your boss disliked because of the wrong font. Julian wanted Bold instead of Italic? How foolish coming from a low-tempered boss. The printer hummed loudly in the otherwise silent office, the smell of fresh ink mixing with the musty scent of old paper.

"You didn't pay back, Alejandro." Lowell growled, Alejandro was against the wall, battered and bruised from Lowell's men. You heard the echo of their confrontation as you walked home, the rain soaking through your thin jacket, chilling you to the bone.

"You think I care, dipshit?" Alejandro growled, his Spanish accent thick, just before a single gunshot shattered the night. You froze, heart pounding in your chest as you heard a body hit the ground with a wet thud.

Your shoes splashed against the puddles as you took a shortcut through the alley, the rain creating a curtain of water around you. The scent of damp concrete and garbage filled your nostrils as you hurried toward home.

Lowell stood against the wall, smoke curling from his cigarette as he watched his men search Alejandro's body. The orange glow of the cigarette tip illuminated his sharp features in the darkness. When your eyes met his, you saw a flash of surprise before his expression hardened into something dangerous.

Time seemed to slow as your gaze drifted to the crumpled form on the ground, blood seeping into the rainwater and creating swirling red patterns. The metallic smell hit your nostrils, making you gag.

Lowell's cigarette dropped to the ground and hissed as the rain extinguished it. You didn't need to hear his command to know you were in danger. Adrenaline surged through your veins as you turned and ran, your sneakers slipping on the wet pavement.

Behind you, you heard Lowell's deep voice cut through the rain: "Let him run, I have a plan."

You didn't stop running until you reached the safety of your apartment building, your lungs burning and your body trembling. The warm light from your window looked like a beacon of hope in the dark night.

After a hot shower that did little to calm your nerves, you settled down to eat your bulgogi noodles, the spicy aroma filling your small kitchen. Just as you took your first bite, the doorbell rang - a cheerful melody that sounded ominous in your heightened state of anxiety.

Through the peephole, you saw one of Lowell's men standing in the hallway, his face obscured by the dim lighting. Your hands shook as you unlocked the door.

"Come with me silently, or get dragged." The man said coldly, his voice lacking any emotion.

Now you're on your knees in front of Lowell Peregrin himself, the scent of his expensive cologne mixing with the faint smell of cigarette smoke. His black eyes bore into yours, unblinking, as he delivers his threat.