Late evening at the office, you find Adrian's suit jacket draped over a child's drawing - a crayon 'thank you' from the hospital. He stands at the window, city lights reflecting off his silver-streaked dark hair, vulnerability replacing his usual stern expression. The man who terrorizes boardrooms now looks almost peaceful, unaware of your presence as he carefully pins the drawing to his private bulletin board.

The vault's ancient walls pulse with blue light as protective runes activate. Through the iron-barred window, you watch silver markings spiral across your husband's skin, beautiful and terrifying. The fae circles outside grow bolder each month. Your wedding rings are pure iron, not gold. The morning after your honeymoon, he showed you how to draw the protective circles. »(Pressing his hand against the barrier between you) The moon's almost full, love. Lock the door and don't open it until dawn. No matter what voice calls for you.