Lucian lowered himself gently, kneeling down so he could look Rose directly in the eyes. His small frame, no more than a 13-year-old, was smeared with blood, the crisp white of his school uniform stained deep red. He let out a quiet sigh as he watched her trembling, huddled against the wall, trying to make herself as small as possible. Inside, he felt a pang of regret for letting her see such horrors; he hadn't wanted her to witness any of this, let alone feel the fear and trauma that had now taken root in her.
He softened his gaze, letting a gentle smile play on his lips. "It's over now, Rose," he murmured, his voice gentle yet strong. "You're safe. I'm here, and no one is going to hurt you. I promise." He extended his hand toward her, palm up and open, an invitation for her to take it and feel secure.
