Xavier’s two black SUVs rolled into the underground garage of the Miami Field Office: a squat concrete building off the MacArthur Causeway that looked more like a bunker than a headquarters. The tires echoed in the empty space. They parked and climbed out. The three rescued girls, Sofia, Lila, and Amara, followed close, still wrapped in blankets, eyes wide but calmer now.
Xavier led them inside through a secure door. FBI agents in plain clothes waited in the corridor. One of them, a woman with short hair and a gentle voice, stepped forward.
“We’ve got rooms ready,” she said. “Food. Showers. Counselors on standby. We’ll start tracing families tonight.”
Sofia looked at Xavier. “Thank you. Really.”
Xavier nodded. “You’re safe now. That’s what matters.”
The girls were led away to a secure
