Kade watched her for several seconds, his gaze molten dark and unwavering. City light painted faint silver across the sharp line of his jaw.
"I don't say things I don't mean."
His voice was calm, simple, and very certain that he meant it. The words settled into her as stones dropped into still water, sending ripples she couldn't quite contain. She could feel his genuine emotions oozing through the blood oath.
Dakota's chest tightened, heavy and raw, and the oath answered with a pulse that felt almost like a promise.
She lifted her eyes to his. Kade held her gaze. "You say things," he said at last, voice low, "like you expect people not to keep you."
Her breath hitched again, sharper this time.
"It just that no one showed or taught you differently."
The statement wasn't cruel. It was simply accurate, and somehow that made it land harder. It was purely the truth.
Dakota looked away first. "I'm not trying to sound pathetic."
"You don't."
