~six years later~

I rounded up all the kids and passed out their lunch boxes as they walked out the door, like little ducks in a row.

"Mama Harlow," one of the boys stopped in the doorway, hand on his lunchbox.

"What is it, sweetie?" I leaned down so that we were eye to eye.

Ethan was a sweet kid – one of our newest. The guys had rescued him from a trafficker out of East London. He was one of the lucky ones, one of the few that ...