Daphne turned away from him sharply, hoping he didn’t see the tears gathering in her eyes. Her body ached, but it wasn’t the pain that made her want to scream—it was the way his words cracked something in her that she’d worked so hard to keep sealed.
She didn’t want to believe him. Didn’t want to believe in anything other than the rules Father had carved into her skin and soul: feelings are weakness. Attachment is death. Vulnerability is a luxury for people who don’t live in cages with golden locks.
But Landon… damn him. He looked at her like she was more than a weapon. Like she wasn’t something broken beyond repair.
She couldn’t stand it.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered, her voice low and shaking. “Like I’m some wounded animal you want to fix.”
“I’m not trying to fix you.”
