Cal set the box down carefully. Moved into my space. Wrapped his arms around me and just held on.
“Help me put it on,” he said finally. Voice rough.
I took the necklace from the box. Fastened it around his throat. The mask settled at the hollow of his collarbone. Perfect. Like it belonged there.
Cal touched it. Felt the weight. The symbolism. “It's not too much? Wearing this everyday?”
“Only if it feels too much to you. This is a gift. Not a demand. You wear it when you want to. Take it off when you don't. No rules except the ones we make together.”
“I want to wear it.” Cal met my eyes. “Want people to see it and wonder. Want to touch it and remember who I belong to. Want—” He stopped. Swallowed. “Want to feel owned in the best way. The way that's safe.”
I pulled him close. Kissed the top of his head. “You are safe. With me. Always.”
“I know.” His hands fisted in my shirt. “And Dom?”
“Yes?”
“I love you, too.”
This time I kissed him harder than ever.
Noah droveus to the prison in comfortable silence. He'd learned when to talk and when to just let us exist in our own thoughts.
Cal sat in the passenger seat, fingers occasionally touching the necklace at his throat. Testing the weight. The reality. I watched from the back seat, cataloguing every small gesture that told me he was processing. Adjusting. Accepting.
The two weeks since the verdict had been strange. Liminal. We'd been waiting for Ethan's release while also trying to figure out what life looked like when we weren't actively hunting corruption.
Turned out we still butted heads constantly. Cal questioned everything I said. I pushed back on his self-destructive work habits. We argued about breakfast choices and training schedules and whether Adrian's latest security protocol was necessary or paranoid.
But the arguments felt different now. Less like combat and more like... communication. Neither of us knew how to be soft. But we were learning how to be honest. How to fight without destroying. How to push back without pushing away.
“How long?” Cal asked, checking his watch.
“Twenty minutes,” Noah said. “Release processing takes time. But they confirmed this morning he'd be ready by noon.”
“And after?” Cal glanced back at me. “What happens after we bring him to Ravenswood?”
“We give him space. Let him adjust. Let him figure out what he wants.” I kept my voice calm. “And we don't treat him like a project or a problem to solve. He's survived three years of hell. He doesn't need us managing his recovery.”
“I wasn't going to manage anything.”
I smiled to soften the words. “He'll ask for what he needs. Until then, we just make sure he knows he's safe.”
Cal was quiet. “I keep thinking about what Harrow said. About choosing his daughter. About the calculations we all make.”
“Don't.” My voice came out sharper than intended. “Don't compare yourself to him. You're nothing like him.”
“Aren't I? I've made calculations too. Decided whose safety mattered more. Prioritised cases over people. Let relationships burn because the work was more important.”
“That's not the same thing. You never killed anyone. Never corrupted the system. Never made someone else pay for your choices.”
“No. But I've hurt people. James died because I missed something. Because I was so focused on the bigger picture I didn't see the threat right in front of us.” His hand touched the necklace again. “What if I do that to you? What if I get so caught up in the next case that I miss the danger? That I lose you because I was looking the wrong direction?”
“Then we adapt. Adjust. Learn from it.” I leaned forward, hand on his shoulder. “You're not responsible for James's death. The people who killed him are. You're not responsible for Lily's death. Harrow and Pemberton are. You can't control everything. Can't predict every threat. All you can do is try. And trust that the people around you will watch your back when you're looking elsewhere.”
“I'm not good at trust.”
“You're getting better. You trusted me enough to stay. To say yes to permanent. That's progress.” I squeezed his shoulder. “And I'll keep earning it. Keep proving that I'm not going anywhere. That you're safe with me even when you can't see all the angles.”
