Chapter 22
Brea gathered their clothes, which she had scrubbed as best she could in the motel's tiny sink. They were still stained, evidence of their recent ordeal, but at least they were dry and somewhat cleaner. The boy, freshly dressed in his now cleaner but still somewhat stained clothes, stood beside her. His tiny fingers worked with surprising dexterity as he buttoned his shirt, his expression a mix of concentration and resolve. Once dressed, he slipped his small hand into hers, his touch warm and reassuring amidst the cold, hard reality they faced. "Are you ready?" Brea asked softly, glancing down at him with concern and hope. The boy nodded, his gaze steady as he glanced around the room. As Brea opened the door cautiously, she peered into the dimly lit hallway. The light from the flickeri
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