Y/n’s hand tightened around the small, worn plush rabbit. Its fur was matted in places, one button eye dangling by a thread.

Just ahead, the alley yawned open like a dark mouth between two crumbling buildings.

The sound of small, hurried footsteps echoed somewhere beyond it. A sniffle. A hiccup.

Her niece was pressed against the far wall, clutching her knees, tears streaking her cheeks. She hadn’t noticed the group yet.

One of the guys—tall, sharp-jawed, with a coldness in his eyes that didn't belong on someone his age—kicked the boy’s backpack aside. The boy flinched but didn’t move.

Y/n’s feet moved before her mind caught up. But her niece was only a few steps away, small and trembling against the grimy brick.