Ethan sat on the cold, dusty floor, knees drawn close to his chest. His black hair hung in tangled strands over his tired brown eyes, shadowing the hollow look in them. His torn clothes clung loosely to his thin frame, fabric frayed at the edges from too many days without change.
He was young.Too young.
The sharp snap of fingers broke the still air. Ethan flinched, his head jerking toward the sound.
A woman stood there — black hair falling over her shoulders, her slim figure dressed in something meant to impress. She counted a wad of cash, her fingers moving with casual greed.
This woman was known to others as the Show Master.But to Ethan, she was Mom.
She scoffed, her lip curling."Get up, you lazy bum. The next girl you're recording with is on the bed, and this time, try to act like you're enjoying it."
The words slid over Ethan's skin like ice. His stomach twisted, that familiar sickness rising in him. He lowered his gaze, biting down the urge to say anything, because saying something never ended well.
Slowly, he pushed himself up from the floor. The cameras surrounding the bed seemed to glare at him like unblinking eyes.
On the bed sat a girl with hazel eyes and brown hair — Mina. She didn't look at him, her gaze fixed on the wall as if somewhere far away.
Ethan took a single step toward her.Then —
The warehouse door exploded inward with a deafening crash.
A black SUV slammed through, its tires screeching as metal shrieked against metal. Dust and shards of wood flew into the air. Before Ethan could even react, uniformed figures poured through the opening.
"POLICE!" a voice roared."YOU ARE ALL UNDER ARREST!"
The voice belonged to a woman with fiery red hair, her expression fierce as she advanced. Behind her, nearly thirty officers moved like a storm.
Shouts and the pounding of boots filled the air. Several men and women scrambled for exits that didn't exist. One of the officers — blue-haired, eyes locked on her target — fired. The crack of the shot echoed. Ethan's mother screamed, clutching her hand as the pistol she'd tried to grab clattered to the floor.
"DROP THE WEAPON!" the blue-haired officer barked.
The other officers surged forward. Twenty-seven of them tackled the adults to the ground, metal cuffs snapping shut on wrists. Orders were shouted, resistance met with force. Some of the abusers screamed; others tried to twist away; none succeeded.
Ethan stood frozen, unable to move.
Then another figure stepped into his vision — a woman with gentle green hair, moving slowly, deliberately, toward the children huddled along the far wall. Her hands weren't on a gun. They held a first aid kit.
"You're safe now," she whispered, kneeling to tend to a boy whose knees were scraped raw. She dabbed disinfectant carefully, her voice soft, steady. "No one's going to hurt you. Not anymore."
She didn't force anyone closer. Didn't raise her voice. Just… waited.
When it was Ethan's turn, he stepped forward on legs that felt like they might collapse.
Behind him, his mother's voice tore through the chaos:"THAT BRAT IS MINE! I HAVE EVERY RIGHT! EVERY RIGHT, I TELL YOU! HE'S MINE TO USE HOWEVER I PLEASE! HE'S NOTHING WITHOUT ME, YOU HEAR THAT, ETHAN?! NOTHING!"
Ethan's breath caught.
The green-haired officer moved instantly, pulling him into her arms. Her voice cut through his mother's venom."Don't listen to her. You're you. You're Ethan. Not someone's tool. She's wrong."
The words broke something inside him. Tears filled his eyes and spilled down his cheeks as he clung to her. His chest heaved with quiet sobs he hadn't let himself feel in years.
One by one, the other children moved closer, until the officer was holding them all in a protective embrace."Shhh," she soothed. "It's okay. You're free now. Free forever."
That word — free — was one none of them had believed in. Not until now.
The sound of approaching engines rumbled outside. A larger transport van pulled up. From it stepped a tall man in a dark uniform.
"All right," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "Get these kids into the car and take them to the station."
The officers saluted him. The red-haired woman approached, giving her report."Sarge, operation was successful. We've arrested twenty men and ten women in the operation. We've got about thirty kids — fifteen boys, fifteen girls."
The man nodded. "Good. These people are going away for a long time. Load 'em up."
Ethan glanced once toward his mother. She was in cuffs now, her glare still trying to pierce him.
But he didn't notice.Not really.
Because the arms around him were steady. Warm. Real.And for the first time in as long as he could remember, Ethan felt… safe.Safe, and maybe, just maybe, worth something.