Hearing the cries for help, my and Captain Moore's faces changed.
Captain Moore kicked the door open and rushed in.
Inside the booth, a haze of smoke filled the air. Seven or eight young men and women were sitting around, and one of the men was pressing down on a seventeen or eighteen-year-old girl, his hands wandering freely, wantonly harassing her.
The girl's expression was panicked as she struggled desperately, continuously calling for help.
Meanwhile, the others were watching the scene as if they were enjoying a show, many of them filming with their phones, laughing mockingly.
"Stop it!"
Captain Moore's eyes widened with rage.
Hearing the shout, the man paused his actions, looked up, and sneered dismissively, "Oh, it's the police! What do you want? Is there a problem?"
"If there's no problem, then get out of here and stop interrupting my good time!"
Then, he bent down again, reaching his hands toward the girl's chest.
"Help me, please!" The girl struggled frantically.
