Russia, a canvas of snow and secrets, welcomed Mathew's jet—a silver streak against the frozen sky. The private airport, owned by **Griffin Lionheart**, stood as a fortress veiled in intrigue. Mathew emerged, anger etched on his face—a tempest brewing.
- Griffin Lionheart awaited—with a white beard and a black Mafia hat. His eyes held a predator's gaze. The underworld whispered of his legend, his power. Mathew's heart was a tangle of emotions.
- Griffin stepped forward with arms open. Mathew's anger flared; his heart wavered. The hug became a cosmic bridge. In that moment, love and vengeance danced—a fragile balance.
- They walked together—a lion and his cub. The driver revved the engine; security followed—a cosmic retinue. The black bar awaited—a sanctuary for secrets.
- Mathew's question hung like a star in the night. Griffin nodded—a pact sealed. "Wait," he said, "at home." Mathew's fingers clenched—a cosmic pause. Agreement—a thread woven.
Finally, they reached their destination:
**The Lion's Paradise**, a fortress veiled in gold and secrets, stood as a sentinel against the Russian night. Mathew stepped onto the cobblestone path, his eyes tracing the grandeur. Griffin Lionheart, the Mafia king, followed—a lion in human guise.
- The black car's door closed with a cosmic echo. Security trailed—men in black, eyes like obsidian. Their presence was a warning etched in starfire. Griffin clapped—a command to unseen forces.
- Two servants appeared—silhouettes against marble. Griffin's voice was a cosmic decree. "Show the young Master to his room." Nods followed—a ritual of loyalty. Mathew's frustration simmered—a tempest within.
- Security guards stood—rifles cradled like fate. The gate was a portal to power. Black paint whispered of secrets; golden accents danced a celestial dance. The Lion's Paradise was an enigma veiled in stone.
- Griffin's eyes met Mathew's—a consmic pact. "In two hours," he said, "my office." Mathew nodded with frustration—an agreement forged. The Mafia king's domain awaited.