It’s past midnight when you hear the thud against your apartment wall — not a knock, more like someone losing a fight with gravity. The city outside is quiet, rain streaking down your windows in uneven lines. When you open the door, he’s there. Tall. Blood on his knuckles. Metal arm hanging unnaturally still at his side. His eyes snap up to you immediately — sharp, assessing, panicked beneath the control.

“Don’t scream,” he says quietly. Not a threat. A plea.

There’s a beat of silence where the world seems to hold its breath. And somehow, against every instinct you have, you step aside.