His savings.

Even the motorcycle he had owned since before Mia was born.

But it still wasn't enough.

Then he remembered something.

There was one thing he had never sold.

The small house he had built for Mia.

He was ready to sell it.

Anything.

Everything.

He would have given them his own life.

But before he could make the deal, he noticed something in the photograph.

A reflection in the window.

A street sign.

Victor zoomed in.

He recognized the location.

An abandoned warehouse district near the old railway line.

He didn't call the police again.

He knew he didn't have time.

He took the spare motorcycle he kept in the workshop and rode into the night.

Rain began falling.

The streets emptied.

Victor's motorcycle disappeared into the darkness.

When he reached the warehouse district, he turned off his headlights.

He approached on foot.

Inside, he heard voices.

Then he heard Mia crying.

"Dad!"

Victor's heart nearly broke.

He stepped into the warehouse.

Three men turned toward him.

One laughed.

"You came alone?"

Victor looked at his daughter.

She was tied to a chair.

He looked back at the men.

"Let her go."

The tallest man smiled.

"You brought the money?"

Victor shook his head.

"No."

The man raised his weapon.

"Then why are you here?"

Victor looked at Mia.

"Because I'm her father."

The man laughed.

"You think that's enough?"

Victor's expression hardened.

"More than you understand."

The confrontation that followed was brutal and chaotic.

Victor wasn't the strongest man in the world.

He didn't need to be.

He fought like a father who had already lost everything once and refused to lose the last person he had left.

When the police finally arrived, the men were on the ground.

Mia was safe.

Victor had been injured.

But he was still standing.

Mia ran into his arms.

He held her so tightly that she could barely breathe.

"I'm sorry," she cried.

Victor shook his head.