Lucas knelt down, brushing snow off the girl’s forehead.
She stirred, blinking up at him.
And the moment she realized a stranger was beside her, she reached desperately for the dog.
“Please…” she whispered, voice hoarse.
“Please don’t take my dog. Rusty’s all I have.”
Lucas froze.
Those words — the fear in them — struck him deeper than any business failure, any loss, any cold winter night. He had heard similar fear before, from his daughter during a thunderstorm years ago, clinging to her stuffed rabbit.
He took a gentle breath.
“I’m not taking Rusty,” he said softly. “He’s coming with you.”
The dog lifted his head slightly, brown eyes tired but loyal. Lucas reached out slowly, allowing Rusty to sniff his gloved hand. The dog didn’t retreat — didn’t even flinch. He simply watched Lucas with quiet trust, as though sensing he meant no harm.
“What’s your name?” Lucas asked.
“Lila,” she whispered. “And this is Rusty.”
“Lila… why are you out here?”
