The one he’s carried like a secret all this time.
My throat locks. The chain dangles from his fist, swaying in the lamplight like it’s still alive, like it’s still breathing me in.
“When do I get it back?” I whisper.
He studies me. Long. Hard. Like he’s trying to decide if I’m ready, or if he is. His fingers tighten around the pendant until his knuckles blanch.
“When you stop thinking I’ll leave again.” His words are brutal, but his eyes—they burn. “When you finally believe that no matter how broken I am, no matter how fucked up this gets—I’ll crawl back to you every time.”
Tears sting my eyes, hot, sharp. “Dax?—”
He steps forward, closing the last inches, his breath cold on my mouth, his voice dark and dangerous and holy all at once.
“You’ll get it back the day you understand the truth.”
“What truth?” My voice is shaking.
“That it was never yours.” He presses the pendant into my palm, curling my fingers tight around it, his hand gripping mineso hard it hurts. His forehead tips to mine, and his whisper is a vow carved into bone. “It’s mine. Just like you.”
The chain bites my skin. My knees weaken. And I know I’ll never forget this moment—not tomorrow, not ten years from now, not ever because on this bridge, under borrowed stars, he didn’t just give me back my necklace.
He gave me back himself and the most dangerous part?
I’ll never give him back.
His thumb drags across the charm like it’s alive, like it’s more than silver and chain. His eyes never leave mine—blue, burning, fragile, furious.
“You’ll get it back,” he rasps, voice low enough it’s almost lost to the river’s whisper. “Not tonight. Not tomorrow. You’ll get it back when you need it most.”
My breath stumbles. “And when’s that?”
His mouth curves, jagged and dangerous, the kind of smile that looks like a scar. “When you need it like I do. When you need it like breath. Like blood. Like the only thing keeping you from going under.”
The world tilts. My knees feel weak, but his hand is already at my jaw, dragging me closer until I can’t breathe anything but him.
“You think this necklace belongs to you?” His lips brush mine, brutal and reverent all at once. “It’s mine. Just like you.”
His mouth crashes to mine so hard I swear the bridge shakes under us. His hand fists in my hair, tilting my head back, forcing me open as his tongue sweeps in like he’s starving. My fingers clutch his shirt, pulling, clawing, hating and needing him all at once.
The world disappears. The stars. The river. Even the ghosts in my chest.
All that’s left is this—his mouth. His breath. His vow burning into me with every savage press of his lips.
When he finally rips his mouth from mine, my lips are swollen, wet, ruined. His forehead presses to mine, breath ragged, voice breaking.
“You’ll get it back when you understand, Butterfly.” His thumb drags my lower lip, slow, filthy. “That it’s not a necklace. It’s me.”
His mouth doesn’t give me a choice.
It devours.
It punishes.
It worships.
The chain of the necklace digs into my collarbone as his hand slides down, his fist still wrapped around it like he’s tethering me in place. The charm presses into my skin, cold against the heat of his palm, and I realise—he’s branding me with it. With him.
My gasp breaks into his mouth, but he swallows it whole, teeth scraping, tongue claiming, until my lungs burn and I don’t care if I ever breathe again.
