Inside the room, Rose and Lucian clung to each other, both trembling in the quiet desperation that only those who have stared down a nightmare understand. Lucian, though younger, held onto her with surprising strength, his small arms wrapped tightly around her waist, his face buried against her. She felt his heartbeat hammering wildly, mirroring her own fear. They were just kids a boy of 13 and a girl of 15 thrown into a world where adults with cold hearts and colder guns decided their fates.
Rose tried to muster every ounce of bravery she could, whispering to Lucian, "It's going to be okay, Lucy. They probably just want money from Mother. We'll be out of here soon." Her voice wavered, and despite her efforts to sound confident, her own fear laced every word. She tried to act as the older sibling, the one in control, the one who could make things better, but the terror was relentless.
