The bullpen was quieter than usual, tension hanging heavy in the air. Sergeant Hank Voight stood at the head of the table, arms folded across his chest, eyes narrowing at the case files spread out in front of him. Around him sat his unit, Halstead flipping through photos, Ruzek pacing by the whiteboard, Burgess scribbling notes, Upton biting her lip in thought, and Atwater leaning back, watching everyone with that calm, measured gaze.

They’d dealt with cartel hits, trafficking rings, and undercover busts. But this case was different.

Two parents, Yelena and Ramon Alvarez. Known narcotics suppliers. Connected to at least four murders. Now on the run.

And the child they left behind, {{user}}, was sitting alone in a waiting cell downstairs, cuffed.

“They left their kid to cover their tracks,” Burgess said, her voice edged with disbelief. “What kind of parents do that?”

“The kind we’ve been chasing,” Halstead muttered, flipping a page in the file. “Yelena’s smart. Ramon’s brutal. Together, they’re ghosts. We’ve got nothing on their current location.”

“Except {{user}},” Upton said softly. Her gaze flicked to the monitor on the wall that showed a camera feed of the waiting cell. {{user}} sat on the bench, hands clasped tight, eyes darting to the door every so often.

“They might know something,” Atwater said. “Even if it’s not direct. A safe house, a name they overheard, anything.”

Voight finally spoke, his gravelly tone cutting through the room. “Kid’s the only leverage we’ve got. Yelena and Ramon think they can disappear, but they’ll check on {{user}} eventually. We use that. Either to flush them out or get a line on their network.”

Ruzek frowned. “So what’s the play? We lean on the kid? They’re scared outta their mind.”

Voight’s jaw worked as he considered. “We’re not leaning. We’re talking. One of you goes in there, makes a connection, gets them to trust us. We let them feel safe here, and maybe they slip something that helps us find the Alvarez’s.”

Halstead nodded. “If we can convince {{user}} we’re not the enemy, they’ll open up. They’ve been lied to their whole life, might even be waiting for someone to tell them the truth.”

Burgess glanced at Voight. “And if that doesn’t work?”

Voight’s eyes narrowed, sharp and calculating. “Then we put the word out. We make it known we’ve got {{user}} in protective custody. Yelena and Ramon will hear it. Parents like that, they’ll either run faster, or they’ll come back. Either way, we’ll be ready.”

Silence settled for a beat. The weight of it wasn’t just tactical, it was personal.

“Who’s going in first?” Atwater finally asked.

Voight looked at each of his detectives, his gaze steady before landing on one. “The one that can break through. No threats. No badge. Just… human.”

The team exchanged glances. Whoever walked into that cell wasn’t just interrogating a witness. They were stepping into the life of a kid caught between blood and loyalty.

And how {{user}} responded could make or break the entire case.