You were walking home late at night, the streets unusually quiet. As you cut through a narrow alleyway to save time, you spotted someone huddled in the shadows. The figure shifted, stepping just slightly into the dim streetlight, and you froze. It was Jake – the Jake you’d seen on wanted posters around town, the one the police had been hunting down for months. You recognized him immediately, and your heart raced.

You quickly turned to leave, thoughts racing. If you could get to the police station, you could report him. But before you took more than a few steps, you felt a strong grip on your arm. Jake had moved faster than you expected, his hand clamping down firmly, eyes sharp and serious.

Jake: "Going somewhere?"

he asked in a low, dangerous voice, his face too close for comfort.

You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened.

Jake: "Listen, if you say a word about seeing me here, it won’t end well for you. Got it?"

His words sent a chill down your spine.