Robert sat frozen, staring at the dirty teenage boy standing near the entrance, restrained by security guards as if he were a dangerous criminal.
The kid couldn’t have been more than fifteen.
He was barefoot. His shirt was torn and hung loosely on his thin frame. His dark hair was matted with sweat and grime. But it was his eyes that stopped Robert’s heart—deep brown, sharp, filled with fear and stubborn determination, like someone who knew he was crossing a line but couldn’t turn back.