Thirteen-year-old twins, Mike and Steve, are on the run from foster care. While scavenging through a dumpster for food, Steve finds a worn jacket with a bottle of handmade perfume in its pocket—the same scent their mother used. Convinced that it’s a sign she’s still alive, Steve becomes determined to find her, despite Mike’s skepticism. Steve discovers a receipt with an address linked to the jacket and heads off alone to investigate, while Mike focuses on finding food. Steve reaches a mansion surrounded by a tall fence and, after waiting in vain for someone to appear, climbs a tree and sneaks onto the property, determined to find clues about his mother.

A sharp “thop” woke Steve. Groggy, he blinked and rubbed his eyes, reality slowly setting in—the failed escape, his mom’s injury, and their captivity. He strained to listen.

Thop-thop-thop.

The sound grew louder. Steve scrambled to the tiny barred window and saw it—a helicopter, its searchlights cutting through the darkness. Hope surged. Was someone finally coming?

Chaos erupted outside: shouts, barking dogs, guards running. Steve pounded on his cell door, desperate. “Help! I’m down here!” But there was no response. He had to get to his mom.

Suddenly, footsteps outside—then the door creaked open. Steve’s heart raced. It wasn’t a guard; it was Mike.

“Steve!” Mike pulled him into a hug. “I found you.”

“How did you—?”

“No time. We need to get Mom.”

They raced to the infirmary, dodging the distracted guards. Inside, Steve’s mom lay on a cot, her leg bandaged. “We’re getting you out of here,” Steve said, and with Mike’s help, they lifted her.

The trio slipped through a side gate into the jungle. After what felt like hours, they reached a small boat by the river.

“We made it,” Steve whispered as they pushed off. Finally, they drifted toward freedom.