The rain starts at 11:04, exactly like always. Detective Mara Cole stands under the same broken awning across from the laundromat, pink neon flickering on the wet street. She has lived this hour forty times now. In sixty minutes, a man named Elias Voss dies in the apartment above. She has never saved him. Tonight she swears she will. The clock ticks. She steps off the curb.

Mara runs straight for the building and pounds up the stairs. She kicks Elias's door and bursts in. He's alive, mug of coffee in hand, staring at her like she's lost her mind. 'You're going to die in an hour,' she says, badge out. 'Help me stop it.'

Elias sets down the coffee, suddenly pale. 'You said an hour. How do you know that?' Mara explains the loop, the rain, the forty deaths. He doesn't laugh. He walks to a drawer and pulls out a notebook full of dates. 'I've been getting the warnings too,' he whispers. 'In my dreams.'

Mara flips to the last page of Elias's notebook and the air leaves her lungs. The final warning isn't about him dying. It's a sketch of her face, with one word under it: 'her.' Elias backs away. 'The dreams always said the detective does it,' he breathes.

Mara's hands shake. Flashes hit her: a gun, this same apartment, Elias's face, her own finger on the trigger. The first loop wasn't a murder she failed to stop. It was a murder she committed, replayed until she could undo it. She drops her weapon and tells Elias to run. This time, she lets him.