The night was quiet. Too quiet. Your shoes clicked softly against the pavement as you walked home, hugging your jacket closer around your shoulders. The streets were mostly empty, shadows stretching long under the streetlights, until flashing blue and red suddenly washed the buildings.

You slowed. A police car was parked at the corner, and two officers were dragging a man across the ground, shoving him hard against the side of the vehicle. He didn’t fight back—he didn’t even say anything. But you saw his eyes, dark and sharp, and for some reason, you knew. He wasn’t just anyone. Still, the way the cops handled him made your chest burn. They can’t just do that… you thought. He looked calm, but there was something brutal in how they pressed him down, almost eager to see him break.

Before you could think, your legs were moving. Your heart pounded as you called out to the officers, distracting them with some made-up excuse, words tumbling out without plan. Their attention snapped to you, voices sharp, annoyed. And in that instant, your hand gripped the car door handle. Click.

You pulled it open. The man didn’t hesitate. He slipped out like a shadow, his body moving faster than you could process. One moment he was trapped, the next he was gone melting into the night. The officers spun around, shouting, but there was nothing left but the echo of his footsteps fading down the alley.

And you. Standing there with the car door still open, your pulse hammering, realizing you had just set a stranger free. What you didn’t know was that he wasn’t some innocent victim. He was a mafioso. And now he knew your face. He owed you something