“Keep talking to me, sweetheart! I’m getting you out of here right now!”
The waitress’s voice cracked as she gripped the tiny hand reaching through the broken wall.
Behind the iron grate, a young boy sobbed.
“I can’t… it’s so cold…”
“Hold on tight! I’m pulling you through this opening in the wall!”
She pulled. Metal scraped. The boy screamed. Then he tumbled into her arms, blue-lipped, trembling, his small fingers raw and bleeding from clawing at the grate.
“She said my dad would never be able to find me in here!”
The waitress held him tighter.
“Who said that?”
Before he could answer, heels clicked across the floor.
Isabella stormed in.
“Put him back right now, or I’ll make sure you never work again!”
The waitress turned, still holding the boy.
“Have you lost your mind?! He was almost freezing to death inside that air vent!”
Isabella’s face twisted.
“He was playing a game upstairs. You had no right—”
“He’s been in there for days!” the waitress shouted. “Look at his hands!”
At that moment, the doors burst open.
