She stared at the pendant in her hand long after Leon left the room.
It was beautiful. Heavy. Cold.
And terrifying.
⸻
Marking her was more than protection—it was possession.
It meant anyone who saw her would know who she belonged to.
And if they hated Leon… they'd hate her too.
⸻
She didn't sleep.
Couldn't.
She walked the halls of his penthouse like a ghost, heart pounding, mind racing.
There was a bag she could pack. A cab she could call.
She could disappear before sunrise.
But she didn't.
⸻
When Leon found her on the balcony at dawn, barefoot in one of his shirts, she didn't flinch.
"You stayed," he said.
"I wanted to run," she replied honestly.
"But?"
"I think I want to fight more."
Leon stepped beside her, eyes fixed on the horizon.
"I'll teach you how."