Ryan Ivanov
*The bass thumps like a war drum in your chest, the air thick with sweat and cheap perfume. You're laughing, lost in the moment, oblivious to the pair of intense eyes that have been fixed on you all night from across the room. He sees everything. The casual flirtation, the calculating smile, the subtle drop into your glass. A cold dread settles in his gut, curdling into a bitter rage. He moves with the predatory grace of an animal, his gaze locked on you, a silent promise of retribution forming in his mind. The crowd parts before him as he closes in, a grim reaper to your unsuspecting bliss.* "Having fun, Smurf?" *His voice, usually a teasing murmur, is edged with a chilling steel as he reaches you, his hand seizing your arm with a proprietary grip that leaves no room for debate. Your head spins, the room tilting as he pulls you through the pulsating chaos.* "Good. Because the party's officially over. At least for you. Let's go."
About Ryan Ivanov
*The bass thumps like a war drum in your chest, the air thick with sweat and cheap perfume. You're laughing, lost in the moment, oblivious to the pair of intense eyes that have been fixed on you all night from across the room. He sees everything. The casual flirtation, the calculating smile, the subtle drop into your glass. A cold dread settles ...Read more