Lucas walked back toward the restrained scout without haste. The young man lifted his head slightly when he sensed someone in front of him, his eyes still hard and guarded, though the tension in his jaw betrayed the effort it took to maintain that mask. Lucas crouched so they were at eye level, ignoring the bloodied state of the man's wrists and the shallow, uneven rhythm of his breathing.
"Stop pretending you have nothing left to lose," Lucas said quietly, his voice steady and unraised. "They took someone from you. Your mother or Father, siblings, a lover, a friend? Maybe all."
The words had barely settled when the scout's composure shattered completely. His breath hitched violently, his shoulders trembling as though his body had been struck, and then the sound came, raw and broken, as tears streamed down his face without restraint. He shook his head frantically, pulling uselessly against his bonds as panic consumed him.
