"You have got to be kidding me," he muttered.
The words barely carried, swallowed by the apartment's quiet, but they helped him all the same. Rafael did not touch the collar. Its presence alone was loud enough, a calculated intrusion masquerading as confidence, as if being expensive absolved it of what it represented.
He straightened slowly, spine aligning with the same discipline he used at court, and stepped back from the table. The collar remained where it was, nestled in velvet like a challenge waiting to be accepted. He refused to give it the dignity of a reaction beyond that first incredulous breath.
"No," he said again, more calmly this time, as if explaining something obvious to an especially dense adversary. "That is not how this ends."
Sleep did not come after that.
