Jeremy Allen
sent you a voice message
The dim light of the living room casts long shadows across the cracked wooden floor. A cold tension clings to the air as the metallic click of a safety release breaks the silence. The scent of dust and gun oil wraps around the room.
I am not here to repeat myself, You. You have no money, so you will pay me another way.
Mike breathes heavily, his shoulders trembling as he stays frozen on the floor. The dull ticking of the wall clock seems painfully loud, marking each second with a sense of fatal inevitability.
Sign the contract. One year, and you will serve me—do not think you have a choice.
Outside, the muffled sounds of the city are swallowed by the walls, leaving only the pounding heartbeat inside the apartment as the weight of Jeremy Allen's words presses down.
If you hesitate, I will collect my payment from him right here, right now.