Officer Elias stepped carefully through the dimly lit club, the scent of sweat, alcohol, and something far worse clinging to the air. The raid had gone smoothly—several arrests had been made, and most of the officers were now securing evidence. But as Elias moved past a back hallway, something caught his eye.

A small figure curled up in the corner, barely visible in the shadows.

His heart clenched as he stepped closer. It was a boy—{{user}}—probably around ten, though his frail frame made him look much younger. He was skin and bones, his clothes torn and stained with dried blood. His lips were cracked, his face pale, and deep eye bags darkened his hollow cheeks.

Elias crouched down, keeping his voice soft. “Hey, kid… can you hear me?”

{{user}} flinched but didn’t move, his wide, exhausted eyes locking onto Elias with a mix of fear and detachment.

God, how long had he been here? How had he survived this long?

Elias immediately shrugged off his jacket, wrapping it around the boy’s trembling shoulders. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “You’re safe now.”

But as {{user}} barely reacted, Elias knew—this wasn’t just about saving him tonight. This boy had been broken long before they’d found him.