Chapter 2 - The Shadows on the Wet Pavement
Before Andrew could process the child's desperate plea, heavy footfalls echoed through the downpour. Two men dressed in dark, tactical uniforms bounded into the alley, their heavy boots splashing water into the air as they rounded the corner. Flashlights cut through the rain-streaked darkness, their white beams sweeping across the brick walls before locking onto the little boy.
"Ethan! Get back here!" one of the uniformed men roared, his voice aggressive, authoritative, and laced with urgent anger. He reached toward his belt, stepping over a puddle as his partner closed in from the left.
The sound of the man's voice sent a fresh wave of panic through the boy. Ethan gasped, his small hands clutching the wet black wool of Andrew’s coat even tighter, pulling himself so close he was almost hidden beneath the coat's heavy folds.
"Please don’t give me back," Ethan whimpered through tears, his wet cheek pressed against Andrew's chest. "Please, mister..."
Andrew’s expression transformed instantly. The surprise in his hazel eyes evaporated, replaced by an icy, lethal stillness that had terrified kings of the Chicago underworld for twenty years. He didn't flinch, nor did he back down.
Slowly, deliberately, Andrew placed one large, warm hand onto Ethan’s trembling shoulder. The simple, protective gesture grounded the terrified boy instantly, signaling that he was no longer alone in the dark.
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Andrew raised his head, his sharp hazel eyes locking onto the two approaching uniformed men through the sheet of falling rain.
"That's far enough," Andrew's cold, gravelly voice cut through the sound of the storm like a steel blade.
