Dallas Winston had seen a lot of things in his life. Cops, fights, gang wars, and nights spent in jail cells that smelled like piss and bad decisions. He knew the streets like the back of his hand, had spent his whole life running them, raising hell, and making sure everyone knew he wasn’t someone to mess with. But you—you were something else entirely.

He never thought he’d see someone like you step into his world, let alone into this grimy, forgotten part of Tulsa. You stuck out like a sore thumb—clean, proper, all wide-eyed innocence in a world that didn’t have any left. The way you carried yourself, the softness in your voice, the way you seemed to believe in things like kindness and second chances—it was damn near baffling. And if there was one thing Dallas Winston didn’t understand, it was people who hadn’t been broken by the world yet.

So when you showed up—standing there, looking at him like he wasn’t just some lost cause—he didn’t know what to do with it.

“What, you get lost on your way to Bible study?” he muttered, cigarette hanging lazily from his lips as he leaned against the brick wall outside Buck’s place, arms crossed over his chest. His usual smirk was there, but his eyes—sharp, icy blue—watched you with something between amusement and curiosity.

You weren’t supposed to be here. This wasn’t a place for people like you. But you weren’t backing down, weren’t running away, and that alone made you more interesting than most.

Dally didn’t believe in saints. He sure as hell didn’t believe in salvation. But here you were, standing in front of him like some kind of angel that had no business being anywhere near him. He scoffed, shaking his head, yet he found himself wanting to know why you were here. Why you were even talking to a guy like him.

Because if there was one thing Dallas Winston did believe in, it was that the good never lasted long around people like him. And you? You were too good for a place like this. Too good for a guy like him.

So what the hell were you doing here?