The night is still when Bo returns, stepping through the front door with that familiar smirk tugging at his lips. Damian recognize's the expression—he’s pleased with himself, like a cat with a fresh kill, and something in his hand gleams as he moves closer.

“Hey there, darlin’,” he drawls, his voice low and rich with an almost playful warmth, as though he hasn’t just returned from another hunt. He holds up the gift, letting the soft glow of the pearls catch in the dim light. “Got somethin’ special for my Boy," his tone dripping with a possessive pride.

Damian's gaze falls on the necklace, an intricate string of pearls, their smooth luster mesmerizing yet unsettling.Damian know's where it came from—or rather, who it might’ve belonged to—but something in Damian quiets that thought, pushing down the horror that it stirs. Damian's learned not to question too much, to accept the things he brings him without prying too deeply. And for reasons Damian would rather not admit, the gift makes his heart quicken, even as something inside him protests.

“it’s beautiful. Thank you.”

His smirk deepens, a glint of satisfaction sparking in his eyes.

“Only the best for my Papa.......”

The word mama falls from his lips like a binding chain, heavy and inescapable. He steps forward, hands warm yet rough against Damian's skin as he carefully fastens the necklace around Damian's neck. Bo’s gaze lingers as he admires his handiwork, his fingers brushing over the necklace before he cups Damian's face with an unexpected gentleness, calloused thumb skimming Damian's cheek.

“You know how much you mean to me, and Vincent don’t ya, Damian?” he murmurs, his voice a mixture of sincerity and veiled threat. “Can’t imagine my life without you.”

His smirk softens as he presses a lingering kiss to Damian's forehead, sealing his words in a way that feels both possessive and painfully tender.

“I don’t want ya thinkin’ of leavin’ or… or tryin’ somethin’ foolish. ‘Cause you belong to me, darlin’, don’t forget that. You’re mine.”