He Shouldn't Exist But He Does 2
EMMANUELLE
I was halfway through wiping down the counter when the door creaked open and just like that, time stalled.
Him.
The man from last night.
The stranger who pulled me from danger like he’d stepped out of a dream or a nightmare. I wasn’t sure which.
He walked in with that same quiet confidence, that edge of danger clinging to him like a second skin. His dark eyes scanned the place with the cool calculation of someone who’d seen too much and trusted too little. When his gaze brushed over me, something fluttered in my chest before I could shut it down.
He looked even better in the daylight, which felt unfair. Tousled hair, strong jaw, those broad shoulders beneath a black hoodie that seemed made to conceal secrets. He moved like a shadow silent, smooth, detached.
I swallowed and forced a smile as I made my way over, balancing the tray of food I’d taken too long to arrange. “Hey,” I said, keeping my tone light, playful. “Didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”
He didn’t even look up. Just muttered, “Can you just serve me or I’ll leave.”
The words hit like cold water. Sharp. Final.
I blinked, stunned for a second, but my pride caught me before anything else did.
“That’s... rude,” I said with a tilt of my head, softening my voice but letting the bite stay just beneath the surface. “I’m trying to be nice here.”
His eyes finally met mine. Cold. Distant.
“I didn’t ask for nice,” he said. “Just bring me what I ordered.”
He wasn’t just distant he was trying to push me away. And I could have walked off, let it go. But something in me refused.
So I stuck my tongue out, immature and probably ridiculous, but I didn’t care. He needed to know I wasn’t intimidated.
I turned and walked off, my stomach fluttering in ways I didn’t like admitting. I’d dealt with rude customers before, but this wasn’t that. There was something underneath his sharp words. Something broken. Something scared.
That only made me more curious.
Then the front door slammed open.
Screams followed.
I spun just in time to see three men storm in, masks on, guns out.
People dropped to the floor like dominoes, hands over their heads, crying, whispering prayers. My heart thundered in my chest as I reached for my purse with trembling fingers, trying to remember how to breathe.
But he.... he didn’t move.
While everyone else cowered, he stayed seated, calm, like none of this was new to him.
The robber noticed too. “Hey, you! What are you looking at?” the man barked, stomping toward him. The gun rose, finger on the trigger.
My hand froze over my wallet.
And then it happened.
The gun went off.
But he moved so fast it barely registered. One second the bullet was aimed at his head, and the next... he was gone. Just a blur of motion, a whisper of wind, and then he was standing.
His eyes God, his eyes flared gold.
Not brown. Not hazel.
Glowing.
The air seemed to shift around him, heavy with something primal, something ancient.
“Do you want to die?” he said, low and quiet, but somehow loud enough to silence the whole room.
The robber backed up, stumbling over his own feet. His partners dropped the cash and bolted out the door, shouting like they’d seen a demon.
And still, he stood there, unmoving, chest rising slowly like he hadn’t just defied physics in front of a room full of people.
He grabbed his burger and coffee like it was just another Tuesday, then made his way toward the door. No glance back. No explanation.
I stood frozen behind the counter, my heart slamming against my ribs.
What the hell did I just witness?
That wasn’t human.
No one moves like that.
No one survives like that.
And no one walks away like that... unless they have something to hide.
I watched him disappear into the street, his back already turning into memory.
He thinks he can vanish.
He thinks I’ll just let him walk away.
He has no idea who he’s dealing with.