The Man Who Wasn’t Human

Chapter 1

The Man Who Wasn’t Human

“He ripped him apart like an animal!”

My voice shook as it echoed through the courtroom, but I didn’t care. Let them hear it. Let them all hear the truth.

I gripped the wooden railing in front of me, my nails digging into the polished surface. My chest heaved with every breath, my heart hammering against my ribs. Dozens of eyes were on me, watching, waiting. Some were filled with pity. Others with doubt.

But I knew what I saw.

“My dad…” My throat tightened, but I forced the words out. “He didn’t just die. He suffered.”

The memories crashed over me, raw and unrelenting.

The sound of flesh tearing.

The way his body convulsed.

His screams turning into weak, gurgling gasps before fading into silence.

I squeezed my eyes shut, shoving the images away. Focus, Serena.

I turned my head slowly, my stomach twisting. The man who had done it sat just a few feet away.

Calm. At ease.

Like this was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

I forced myself to meet his gaze.

He was too perfect. Broad shoulders, dark hair that fell into place without effort, sharp cheekbones that made him look almost elegant. The kind of face people trusted.

But his eyes…

His eyes were wrong.

Even under the bright courtroom lights, they looked unnatural. Too light. Too cold. They held no guilt, no remorse.

And worst of all—he was amused.

A smirk played on his lips as he watched me. Like I was nothing but entertainment.

A fresh wave of anger burned through me.

“I might be fifteen,” I said, my voice steadier this time, “but I know what I saw.”

The room was silent for a moment. Then someone chuckled near the back.

Heat crawled up my neck.

“They think I’m lying,” I muttered under my breath. Then, louder, “I know what I saw.”

I pointed at him. “One second, he was across from my dad. The next, he was there. Too fast. Too smooth. No human moves like that.”

The defense lawyer sighed dramatically, adjusting his tie. “Your Honor, she’s a child. It’s not unusual for a teenager to exaggerate after witnessing something traumatic.”

My hands clenched into fists. “I am not making this up!” My voice cracked with frustration. “His eyes glowed! His nails, they turned into claws! He wasn’t human!”

A few murmurs spread through the room. Someone whispered something about horror movies.

No one believed me.

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat nearly choking me. My hands trembled, but I stood my ground.

The judge sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She glanced at the papers in front of her, then back at him.

And that’s when I knew.

I knew exactly what she was about to say.

“Given the lack of evidence and the witness’s age, the court finds the defendant,” she hesitated, just for a second, “not guilty.”

Not guilty.

The words barely settled before I heard it, the slow scrape of a chair against the floor.

My entire body tensed.

He was moving. Toward me.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as his shadow loomed over me.

I forced myself to stay still. To not flinch.

He was taller than I thought. His presence swallowed the space between us, his movements slow and measured. Like everything he did was planned long before he did it.

A predator in the skin of a man.

He leaned in, his breath ghosting over my cheek.

“Run, little girl,” he murmured. His voice was quiet. Too quiet. A warning. A promise. “Stay hidden. Because I’m coming for you soon.”

I choked on a breath.

He smiled. Not kind. Not gentle. Just cruel.

Then he turned and walked away, as if none of this mattered. As if I didn’t matter.

I stood there, frozen. My fingers dug into the railing, my legs refusing to move.

Then I ran.

I didn’t remember leaving the courtroom. I didn’t remember bursting through the heavy doors or stumbling into the street.

But when I finally stopped, I was home.

My lungs burned. My hands shook so badly I could barely grab the closet handle.

I ripped the door open, shoving things aside until I found it.

A visa.

My dad had given it to me last week. Pressed it into my palm with urgency.

“Serena, if anything ever happens, if I start acting strange… run.”

I didn’t listen.

I should have.

I grabbed the visa and bolted out the door. No bags. No clothes. Just the desperate, choking panic that told me I had to leave.

I ran down the street and flagged the first taxi I saw. “The airport,” I gasped. “Fast.”

The driver gave me a strange look but nodded, speeding off.

I barely breathed. My hands still trembled. My mind raced, trying to make sense of everything.

Then I looked into the side mirror, and froze.

A sleek black car followed behind us, keeping a careful distance.

My stomach lurched. My fingers curled into the seat.

I leaned forward, heart pounding, and peered through the window.

I felt sick.

He was in the car, watching me, his lips curved into a smirk.

I turned to the driver, my throat tight. “Go faster.”

The car sped up,So did his.

By the time we reached the airport, my legs barely held me up as I stumbled out. My fingers fumbled with my boarding pass. I rushed through security, moving as fast as my body would allow.

I just needed to get on that plane.

The waiting area felt suffocating. I clenched my ticket so hard my knuckles turned white.

Then, finally, they called my number. I stepped forward, my chest loosening and then, I saw him.

Standing near the terminal.

Watching me.

I froze. His eyes locked onto mine.

He didn’t move. Didn’t chase me.

He just smiled.

Then, with terrifying ease, he lifted a hand and made a “see you later” gesture.

A chill spread through my entire body.