Kisten's POV
Another paper. Another signature. Another person assuring me I was doing the right thing.
I honestly couldn't give a shit less.
"Kis- Mr. Jones, it's time for your afternoon meeting."
I looked up from the stack of papers that I had only worked halfway through in six hours."Yeah, fucking figures. Can't get shit done around here without somebody getting in your way," I muttered rebelliously. It was why I hadn't wanted to get saddled with this job. I pushed out a sigh, dropping my head into my hands."I'll be right out, Clint. Thanks."
"Hey… Kisten?"
There was a slight frown to my face as I heard the door click shut. I looked up to see that only Clint was left in the room. His hazel eyes were fixed on me, his expression a mix of fear and determination.
"What do you need?" I asked warily, resting my hands flat on my desk, next to the letter opener. More than one of my close acquaintances had tried to kill me in recent weeks.