The pounding didn’t stop.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
The store felt smaller with every удар.
The suited man returned from the office, his expression no longer calm. Something in him had cracked open.
Through the glass door stood a second man—hooded, still, watching.
The girl clutched the baby tighter.
The clerk whispered, terrified, “That’s him… I’ve seen him before.”
The man in the suit didn’t move.
Instead, he pressed a button behind the counter.
Metal locks engaged.
The door stayed shut.
The hooded man outside smiled.
Then he raised something in his hand—an old photograph.
Even from inside, the girl recognized it instantly.
Her mother.
Her breath broke.
“No…” she whispered.
The suited man turned slowly toward her.
His voice was lower now, heavier.
“You know who that is.”
It wasn’t a question.
The girl’s eyes filled with tears she refused to let fall.
“He took her,” she said. “And I think… she’s still alive.”
A long silence.
Then the man looked back at the locked door.
And for the first time, he said something sharp enough to feel like a weapon:
“Then we were keeping her in the wrong place.”
Outside, the hooded man began knocking harder.
CRACK.
One of the glass panels shifted.
The baby started crying loudly.
The girl stepped back—
And the suited man reached under the counter… and pulled out a hidden key.
