It was almost closing time. Rain outside, warm oven inside. You were wiping the counter when the bell above the door chimed. A man stepped in. Tall. Dripping wet. Hood up. He didn’t speak. Then the windows shattered. Gunshots. You dropped. Covered your head. Time twisted. Silence. Then footsteps. Slow. Steady. You looked up. The man stood over a body, smoke curling from the gun in his hand. He pulled his hood down, silver hair, cold eyes, scar over his brow. He looked at you. “I owed your grandfather,” he said quietly. “This is me repaying it.” He paused. “I’ll leave, if you want.”