"What?"
"I know it wasn't an easy call to make." My voice was quiet. Steady. "And it's not one I would have made. Not ever. My pride, my ethics—" I shook my head. "I would have let Elion burn before I compromised either of those things."
Regret twisted across his face.
"But it was the only thing that saved us." I held his gaze, let him see the vulnerability beneath the words. "Me. Elion. Jennifer. David. Kevin. All of it. Gone if you hadn't done what you did."
He didn't speak. Didn't move.
I stepped closer, reaching for his hand. His fingers trembled when they wrapped around mine. "So thank you. For making the call I couldn't. For carrying that weight so I don't have to. For protecting me, even when I didn't know I needed it."
A sound escaped him—half laugh, half sob. He pressed his forehead to our joined hands, shoulders shaking.
"I'm not saying it's okay," I continued, firmer now. "Or that I've forgiven you completely. But I understand why you did it. And I'm grateful—even if I'm still furious."
"I don't know what I did to deserve you," he managed, muffled against my knuckles.
"You didn't." A hint of my usual sharpness crept back. "I'm clearly a gift you haven't earned yet."
A broken laugh tore from his chest. He lifted his head, lashes wet.
"Clearly."
I let the moment settle, let the relief wash through him. Let him think the worst was over.
Then I tore my hand from his.
His expression flickered—confusion, then fear.
"But Damien." I dropped my tone. Hardened it. "I need you to hear me. Really hear me."
He straightened, the relief draining from his face as he registered the shift. "I'm listening."
"If you ever do something like this again—" I held his stare, unflinching. "If you ever make a decision about my company, my career, my life without telling me—even if you think you know better. If you ever hide something like this from me again—"
I paused. Let the silence stretch until it ached.
"We're done."
The words landed like a blade.
He went pale—the color draining from his face like I'd opened a vein.
"I mean it, Damien. Not a fight. Not a conversation. Not another chance to explain." I stepped closer, making sure he could see every ounce of certainty I carried. "I will walk out that door, and I will not come back. Ever."
His throat worked. Once. Twice.
"I understand," he said hoarsely.
"Do you?" I tilted my head, studying him. "Because last night you told me you'd make the same choice again. That you'd do it even knowing I might never forgive you." I sharpened my tone. "That's not understanding, Damien. That's arrogance dressed up as protection."
He flinched. Hard.
"Youwant to protect me? Fine. That's what I signed up for. That's what the collar means." I touched the chain at my throat, almost snapped—but instead kept. "But protection doesn't mean lies. It means telling me. Trusting me to handle the truth, even when it's ugly. Even when you think I'll make the wrong call."
His jaw tightened, but he didn't argue. Didn't defend himself. Just stood there and took it.
Like he said he would.
