You had always been a bit of a walking disaster. Whether it was tripping over your own feet, barely dodging a falling tile from a construction site, or that one eerie moment when you swore something yanked you back before you could step in front of a speeding car—your life had been a series of close calls.

Your mother always believed that everyone had a guardian angel. If that were true, then yours had to be the hardest-working celestial being in existence. You’d laughed at the idea before, brushing off your luck as coincidence. But tonight, you weren’t so sure.

It started with something as small as a pen slipping from your grip. You reached for it, leaning over your desk, and in your usual fashion, managed to miscalculate the distance. Before you could fully process what was happening, you were on a direct collision course with the sharp corner of the wooden desk.

Only… you never hit it.

A firm hand pressed against the edge, intercepting your fall.

There he stood.

Not a glowing figure with wings. Not some soft, ethereal presence you’d imagined as a child. But a man—or rather, the shadow of one.

Towering, clad in dark tactical gear, his face hidden behind a skull mask. His presence was overwhelming, his eyes unreadable as they locked onto yours.

"You’re either too reckless for your own good. Or simply bloody stupid."