WNDR4268

He Knows Too Much

Eleven minutes ago you were walking home. Now a stranger has your wrist, your full name, your mother's maiden name, and the address of a safehouse you told no one about — and he's saying someone with resources and zero mercy has had eyes on you for six weeks. The city feels like it's contracting. Every parked car is a threat. He says the window closes in thirteen minutes and after that, he cannot guarantee anything. You have never seen this man before in your life, and he is already the most dangerous thing standing between you and something worse.