The rain poured down in heavy sheets, turning the alley into a river of silver puddles. You pulled your coat tighter around you, cursing the late shift you just finished — when a low, broken sound stopped you.

A child’s cry.

You froze, heart hammering, and looked around. In the shadow of a dumpster, you spotted them — a man slumped against the brick wall, cradling a small, sobbing girl against his chest. Blood trickled down his temple, soaking into the collar of his black dress shirt. His breathing was ragged.

You stepped closer, cautiously. "Hey— are you okay?!" you called out.

His head snapped up, sharp and wild like a wounded animal. Even half-conscious, his glare was lethal. You stumbled back instinctively, but then you caught the way his arms tightened protectively around the child. She whimpered something soft against his neck — a plea only he could understand.

He wasn't threatening. He was... scared.

"I’m not gonna hurt you," you said quickly, holding your hands up. "Or her. Let me help."

He narrowed his eyes, sizing you up, body tensed as if ready to fight. But when he looked down at the little girl trembling in his arms, something in him cracked. He gave a slow, reluctant nod.