The girl pulled an unknown man from a burning car and took him to her home: the next day, a black van stopped in front of her house 
That day, Natalie was driving home after her shift. Her coworker had fallen ill, so she had been forced to stay at the hospital for two days in a row.
Snow was falling like a thick white wall when Natalie, barely able to keep her eyes open, saw fire and smoke ahead of her. At first, she thought she was hallucinating from exhaustion. But as she drove closer, she realized — a car was on fire, and burning intensely.
She jumped out. Inside, surrounded by smoke and flames, sat an unconscious man. Not a soul around. The door wouldn’t open, so Natalie slammed her elbow into the window with all her strength.
The glass shattered, and she climbed inside, burning her hands as she did. The seatbelt seemed jammed on purpose. She pulled, yanked, and tore at it until she finally freed the man. The moment she dragged him several meters away, the gas tank exploded, tearing the night apart with a fireball.
She was about to call an ambulance, but the man opened his eyes and rasped:
— P-please… I can’t go to a hospital.
His injuries were severe, his burns dangerous — but in his voice there was a desperate, almost deadly “I can’t.” Natalie decided not to risk it. She loaded him into her car and took him home, to her small wooden house on the outskirts.
The night was long. She cleaned his wounds, bandaged them, listened to his heavy breathing. The stranger was strong, muscular — but exhausted. He didn’t say who he was; he only asked for water and slipped back into sleep.
At dawn, Natalie walked to the window — and froze.
A black van with tinted windows had stopped in front of her house. Slowly, silently. Natalie gripped the windowsill, her heart dropping.
“I shouldn’t have brought him home,” she thought, and then… 
Continued in the first comment 
— They’re… here for us, — she heard behind her.
The man was standing, leaning against the wall. He looked pale, but his eyes were clear, focused — the eyes of someone used to danger.
— Who are you? — Natalie whispered.
He exhaled a heavy breath.
— Police. Yesterday I was on an undercover operation. The criminals found me out… planted explosives. I didn’t want to drag you into this. I’m sorry.
— Why didn’t you say so immediately?!
— Because… if they’d detected a 911 call, the ones rushing here wouldn’t have been my team — it would’ve been them. Last night, I contacted the department through a secure channel. I sent the address. They promised to be here by sunrise. If that’s them — we’re safe.
But Natalie looked out the window again — and her blood ran cold. No one got out of the van. The windows — fully tinted. The doors — closed. The vehicle was far too still, far too quiet.
— Are you… sure it’s your people? — she mouthed.
The officer turned even paler.
— I don’t know.
And as if hearing his words, the van trembled slightly. The driver’s side window slid down — just a few centimeters.
Inside sat special forces officers.
— Yes, we’re saved! — the policeman said with relief.
