And the platinum band on her ankle.
She never took it off.
I offered to remove it. The day we brought Elena home from the hospital, I told her I would cut it. I told her she didn't need to be tracked anymore. I told her I trusted her.
She refused.
It reminds me,she had said.It reminds me that I am tethered. I like the weight.
Now, it is just a part of her. A symbol of our pact. The world sees jewelry. We see the chain.
"The gala starts in an hour," Ivy says, reaching out to take Elena’s hand. "We need to get the paint off the heiress."
"I don't want to wash it!" Elena protests.
"You want to look like a queen, don't you?" Ivy asks. "Queens are clean until they need to get dirty."
Elena considers this logic, then nods. "Okay."
Ivy takes her from my arms. "Go get changed, Silas. You look like a brooding gargoyle standing out here."
"I am a brooding gargoyle," I correct her. "I’m guarding the castle."
"The castle is secure," she assures me. She leans in, balancing our daughter on her hip, and kisses me.
It is a slow, deep kiss. It tastes of wine and paint and five years of shared nights. It tastes of a darkness that we have learned to navigate together.
"Go," she whispers against my lips.
I watch them walk back inside. My wife and my daughter. The two beating hearts that I hold inside my hands.
I look back at the city one last time.
The world is still dangerous. There are still enemies waiting in the shadows, new rivals who think they can take what is mine. But they are fools.
They don't know that I have already fought the hardest war. I fought my own nature, and I won.
I didn't break her. I didn't crush her.
I built a glass house around her, and she filled it with light.
I turn and walk inside, locking the terrace doors behind me. The lock clicks with a heavy, final sound.
The cage is closed.
And we are exactly where we want to be.
POV: IVY
The gallery is full.
It is the five-year anniversary ofThe Vane Gallery, and the crowd is larger than ever. Critics, collectors, politicians—they all clamor for a piece of the "Vane Mystique."
I stand in front of my latest collection. It is titledMetamorphosis.
The paintings are different now. They are no longer just red and black. There are golds, silvers, deep blues. They are violent, yes, but there is a structure to the chaos.
"It’s a masterpiece," a critic from theTimessays, staring at the main canvas.
