"No," she agrees, looking up at him with somber eyes. He understands. Or, if he doesn't, he isn't asking--and since she's not sure she's ready to admit to him what she did in Grady, that's good enough. Maybe he's guessed; he saw her stab Dawn, after all. Or maybe he'd say this even if she'd never killed a person in her life, though she'd never have demanded that promise of the countess if she hadn't. Killing people, real people, changes you. "I'm not."

When he lets go of her shoulder, she stands, dusting her pants off. Maybe they can talk about it someday. Some other time, when he doesn't look at her and see the dead girl she once nearly made him forget. Until then, she raises her brows his way and tries to keep her voice light. "Done lecturing me, Mister Dixon?"