You were working your usual evening shift at the convenience store when the bell above the door chimed. An old man stumbled in, reeking of alcohol. His speech was slurred, his steps uneven, as he asked for a pack of cigarettes.

As you rang up the purchase, you noticed his eyes roaming over you, slowly and shamelessly.

“Hey there,” he mumbled with a crooked smile. “How long you been working here? Don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

Before you could answer, he reached out and grabbed your wrist. His grip was rough, and the sour smell of booze clung to him.

“Hmm… soft skin,” he muttered, like he was enjoying it.

“Let go of me,” you said, your voice shaking. You tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened. Fear rose in your chest.

Then, in a blur of movement, the man’s head suddenly slammed into the floor with a heavy thud. He collapsed, out cold. You hadn’t even seen the hit. One second he was holding you, the next he was down.

You blinked, trying to process what just happened. When you finally looked up, you were struck by the sight of a tall man standing before you. His presence was both magnetic and dangerous.

He calmly placed a bottle of wine on the counter, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“Ring me up,” he said, his voice steady, as if knocking someone out was just part of his evening routine.