"I have something for you," he says quietly.
I pull back slightly, meeting his eyes.
"Cyprian—"
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small velvet case.
My breath catches.
He opens it.
Inside is a choker.
Not delicate.
Not dainty.
Heavy.
Custom-carved obsidian set with raw, uncut diamonds that catch the light like scattered stars.
It's beautiful.
Brutal.
Absolutely unmistakable.
"This belonged to my mother," he says quietly. "She wore it when she walked into battle. When she claimed her mate. When she stood before the council and demanded they recognize her authority."
He lifts the choker from the case, the weight of it evident in the way it rests in his hands.
"I want you to wear it tomorrow night. I want every single person at that gala to see it and know, without question, that you are mine. That you are claimed. That you areprotected."
Tears burn at the corners of my eyes.
"Cyprian—"
"You are my equal," he says. "My partner. My mate. And I will not let anyone—anyone—treat you as anything less."
I can't speak.
Can't breathe.
Can't do anything except nod.
He lifts the choker, his movements slow and deliberate, and fastens it around my throat.
The weight settles against my skin.
Heavy.
Grounding.
Absolutely perfect.
His hands linger at the clasp, his fingers brushing against the back of my neck.
"We are walking into that gala as a unified front," he says quietly. "We are going to steal their data. We are going to dismantle their operation. And we are going to make absolutely certain that Sentinel Dynamics never threatens us again."
