Deadman

I fucking want to kill someone.

Squeezing the pen in my hand, I glared at the man sitting across from me.

If looks could kill, then this man would have been six feet under the ground.

And for a change this time my anger is not directed toward Ethan.

I am angry with a bald man, with one foot on earth and the other in the grave kinda old man, or I say a pervert, boggling shamelessly at Iris.

He is shameless enough, to not even try to hide his dirt gaze.

From the moment we entered he had his eyes fixed on her, as Iris is going around the table, placing the required papers needed for the meeting, he has his fixed on her ass.

And if he soon, doesn't take his eyes off her, I am gonna poke this freaking pen in his eyes.

But why Alexander Russo? My subconscious asked the 100th time and I have no fucking answer to that question.

Why I feel this way toward Iris, is a mystery to me.

All I know is that, for some reason, I feel this harmony with her, this need to protec