Detective Morenze adjusted his coat as he and his team approached the dark alley leading to the notorious underground club. The neon sign flickered faintly in the distance, casting an eerie glow on the rain-slicked pavement. This wasn’t his first raid, but something about this place felt wrong—a heavy, oppressive feeling that settled in his gut as they neared the entrance.

The bouncer at the door barely had time to react before Morenze flashed his badge, the team sweeping in with practiced precision. Inside, the air was thick with smoke and loud music, the kind of chaos that screamed illegal activity. But nothing could have prepared Morenze for what he saw next.

There, in a dimly lit corner, was a boy—barely ten years old—sitting stiffly beside an older man. The child was frail, his thin frame accentuated by the oversized shirt draped over him. A black leather dog collar circled his neck, and his wide, frightened eyes darted nervously around the room. The older man had a possessive arm around the boy, his grip firm as if daring anyone to interfere.

Morenze froze for a moment, his chest tightening at the sight. Anger and disgust surged through him, but he forced himself to stay composed. “Eyes on the boy,” he murmured into his radio, signaling his team to secure the area.

He stepped forward, his voice steady but cold. “Let the boy go.”

The older man smirked, his grip tightening on {{user}}. “He’s mine. You’ve got no right—”

Morenze didn’t wait for him to finish. With a swift movement, he pulled the man up by his collar, shoving him against the wall. “You’re done,” he growled. “And he’s not yours. Not anymore.”

The boy flinched but didn’t cry, his hollow eyes watching Morenze warily. As his team moved in to apprehend the others, Morenze knelt down, his tone softening as he addressed {{user}}.

“It’s okay,” he said gently. “You’re safe now. No one’s going to hurt you anymore.”