Morales didn’t need to ask who “he” was. The fear in Jimena’s eyes was a silent testament to the terror that lurked within these walls. He felt a surge of protective instinct and a burning need to uncover the truth, to shatter the darkness that this little girl had been forced to endure.

They reached a door at the end of the hallway. Jimena paused, her hand hovering over the doorknob. She turned to look at Morales, her eyes pleading for reassurance.

“Stay close to me,” he whispered, his hand resting on the holster at his side.