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“What’s your mother’s maiden name?” “What street did you live on in 2018?” “Last four digits of your best friend’s number?”

He grabbed a steak knife from the block. The night air was cold. He carved his name—L-E-O—into the ancient oak. The sap bled like honey in the moonlight.

From the dark room behind him, the laptop powered on by itself. The screen glowed. quiz.alldares

The questions changed. They weren’t about favorite colors or pizza toppings anymore. They were personal.

The screen went black.

Leo slammed the laptop shut. His heart hammered. Stupid prank. A hacked website. He was being paranoid.

Back inside, the screen was waiting.

Then his phone buzzed.

And directly underneath it, fresh and jagged, carved into the same wet bark: “What’s your mother’s maiden name

Call your boss and moo like a cow. He did it. Blamed it on a lost bet.

He typed: “Hurt my little sister.”