Kade remained in the chair, watching her in the dim light.
Minutes passed.
"Dakota." His voice was low, careful. "You're safe here."
She didn't respond immediately. Then, so quietly he almost missed it: "I don't know what safe feels like."
The admission hung in the air between them, raw and honest.
Kade didn't have an answer for that. Words wouldn't fix it. So instead, he simply said, "You will."
Another long silence. Her breathing gradually slowed, evening out as exhaustion finally claimed her. But just before sleep took her, she turned onto her side, facing him. Her hand stretched out, reaching toward the edge of the bed, toward him.
He rose silently, crossed to her side, and sat on the edge of the mattress. After a moment's hesitation, he took her hand in his. Her fingers curled around his immediately, holding on with what little strength she had left.
"Don't go," she whispered, barely conscious.
"Never," he repeated, the same vow he'd made earlier.
