You're going to need a lot more than a broom to stop me.
Elena turned around to see a man staring at her.
He was tall and lean. Grey hairs could be seen on his head. With wrinkles on his head but still he was a handsome older man.
Elena gripped the broom tighter and swung it at him, but he disappeared and reappeared at the other side of the room
You know you're house isn't that big for you to be taking swings at me.
Why don't you stay still and then we'll know if it's big enough .. Elena said before taking another swing
I would love to stay and chat but I'm here on business..the stranger said appearing at her side and grabbing the broom from her... And you need to stop with the broom.
Elena staggered back as the broom was yanked clean from her hands. The stranger held it effortlessly, as though it weighed nothing, twirling it once between his fingers before planting it upright like a staff.
"Much better," he said. "Now we can talk like adults—and not like… whatever you were doing with that thing."
Elena's heartbeat hammered in her ears, but she refused to let him see her fear. "Breaking and entering is a bold business strategy," she snapped, inching sideways toward the kitchen drawer where she kept a few… less broom-like options.
The stranger tsked softly. "Please don't reach for the knife. It won't do anything but make your evening worse."
She froze. He hadn't even looked at her, yet somehow he knew exactly where she was going and exactly what she was thinking. His eyes drifted across her apartment, taking in the mismatched furniture, the half-open window, the books still scattered on the couch.
"You've kept the place almost exactly the same," he murmured.
Her stomach dropped. "Kept it? What do you mean kept it the same? Have you been here before?"
He finally turned fully to her, and the air felt suddenly heavier. "I tried not to come back. But circumstances… let's say they've forced my hand." His gaze softened, but only for a breath. "You're in danger, Elena."
"That's original," she scoffed, masking her nerves. "Mysterious guy teleports into my living room to tell me I'm in danger. Should I swoon now or later?"
He leaned in slightly. "You can joke all you want. But you've been marked."
Elena's mouth ran dry. "By who?"
"Not who," he corrected. "What."
The lights flickered, just once, but long enough for Elena to flinch.
"Of course," she muttered. "Because tonight wasn't weird enough."
He dropped the broom onto the floor, its clatter echoing far too loudly.
"I need you to trust me," he said, voice lower now, calmer but somehow urgent. "And I hate saying this because it sounds dramatic but if you don't come with me right now, you won't survive the next hour."
Elena blinked. Then narrowed her eyes.
"And why," she said slowly, "should I follow the creepy teleporting man who just broke into my house?"
He smiled sadly, as though her question hurt more than the broom she swung at him.
"Because I'm the only reason you've survived this long."
Elena's pulse stuttered.
"What does that mean?" she demanded.
He extended his hand not aggressively, not even confidently. Almost… apologetically.
"It means," he said softly, "I've been protecting you your entire life. And tonight, the thing hunting you finally found your door."
Elena stared at him, her breath shaky.
The door behind them creaked.
Not open.
Not closed.
Just… moving.
On its own.