A Man's Perspective Novels & Stories

I put that understanding away and focused on the three figures at the edge of the outer approach because understanding what a thing was designed for did not change what I was designed for, which was this, which was standing between Lena and whatever was coming and making myself larger than the problem. Two of them I had not seen before. The third I recognized from the photographs Julian had pulled, a man in his sixties with the specific stillness of someone who had spent decades making decisions about other people's lives from a safe distance and had never once been the person standing in the open. He was standing in the open now. He looked at me and then passed me at the inner compound and

His eyes are amazing, dark brown ringed with copper and gold, and they crinkle at the corners, like he’s spent a lot of time in the glaring sun. He’s as ripped as Killian Kelly and his lieutenants, but maybe because he’s from that hardened generation—or because he lives alone in the woods—he doesn’t have that cocky swagger. He exudes pure grown man confidence as he hangs out on the crone’s front porch looking hungover, uptight as hell, and inexplicably frozen with fascination by the view to the west. I follow his gaze just to make sure I’m not missing anything, like maybe a flying saucer, but there’s nothing but scenic wilderness. Is he ignoring me on purpose?

“It's fixed at that.” “You might want to think twice about that, I'm not like the other men you must have encountered.” “Nothing about you is different, Mr. Smith. You are just another normal man.” “That's okay, can I ask your permission for something?” He was surprised, but nodded in agreement. “Sure thing.” I added one more contact to the video chat, and watched the way the man's eyes went wild with fear. “Do you like what you see?” I asked him with a smirk on my face.

I gestured toward the chained slaves outside the room, "-are lucky? You don't care about any of them, do you?" The man merely leaned back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. "It's just business, sweetheart. You think I enjoy this? It's the way the world works. Some people have power, and some don't. I'm just making sure I end up on the right side of that equation." I couldn't believe the absolute audacity this man had. "Believe me when I say, you're going to regret every single decision you've made." He barked out another laugh, though there was a tremor of fear in his voice now. "What are you gonna do? Kill me? You're no better than me if you do."

His movements were precise, brutal, and efficient, a deadly dance honed by years of training and instinct. But as we fought, a flicker of movement on the ridge above caught my attention. Pausing for a moment, I turned my sharp gaze upward and saw a man standing far off, watching the chaos unfold. The man’s smirk was infuriating, a look of satisfaction as though he was orchestrating the entire scene.

Trying not to make noise and failing in tiny, frightened bursts. A man stands nine feet away, watching the dead. Not frozen. Assessing. Mid-thirties, broad without looking like he purchased the shoulders as part of an identity package. Weatherproof jacket. Backpack fitted properly, no dangling straps. He carries a short-handled axe low at his side. Not raised, not brandished, not auditioning for anything. He looks like someone who has been wet, cold, hungry, and responsible for other people's lives often enough that none of those things surprise him anymore.

Chapter 11 The man with the curly hair stood just by the balcony watching the beautiful city . He had built his home this way so that he could view the city and know what was happening . He had on just a black joggers and a tank top with a glass of wine on his left hand . His eyes seem really disturbed and sad and from the look of things he seems to be going through a lot of a or lot was going through him . One step at a time , he watched his friend approach him .

Aiden's POV The door swung open again, and the man who entered sent a chill down my spine. His unsteady gait was the first thing that caught my attention—he wasn’t walking like someone in control. He swayed from side to side, his eyes wide and unfocused, a strange, eerie grin plastered across his face. He wasn’t just disturbed; he was high on something, no doubt about it. My pulse quickened as he locked eyes with me. I could see it—the madness, the unstable nature of the man who stood before us. He seemed unpredictable, barely in control of his own movements. But even in this deranged state, there was something terrifying about him. Something dangerous.

Not that I need his permission, I just respect what he says. I take my stance and step but two steps back, for, at the present moment, Sloane is looking at my back. The man has no calm in shooting a man in the back, for where I want to watch you in the eyes before I drop your body. But as I make that single step, I see the fear creep into seven men that still have their barrels firmly pointed at me.

“I was pretty sure you weren't going to go for it. Plus, I had been enjoying the view too much to be a superhero.” It took me a second to understand what this strange man meant —and he wasn't talking about the skyline view. This man meant he had been checking out my ass.