The question did not belong to a child.
It belonged to someone who had been taught not to trust answers.
Lucia felt it settle into her bones, heavy and precise.
Which one.
Not what is your name.
Which one.
There were multiple.
Multiple identities. Multiple versions. Multiple lives imposed on a single existence.
Lucia forced herself to breathe.
Dominic stood slightly ahead of her, his weapon lowered but not fully holstered. His body remained between Lucia and the unknown, instinctively protective even now.
The child's gaze shifted from Dominic back to Lucia.
There was no fear in those eyes.
That, more than anything, made Lucia's chest tighten.
Children feared strangers.
Children feared the dark.
Children feared the unknown.
This child feared nothing.
That meant they had already learned that fear did not protect them.
Lucia took a slow step forward.
"I am not here to harm you," she said gently.
The child watched her, expression unchanged.
