Teach me to desire
“Perhaps this moment of crisis is exactly the right time.”
I stared at the box, confused. “Igor, what is this? I don’t need a gift. I need a contingency plan.”
He gave a slight, wry smile. “This is part of the contingency plan. It’s an anchor. A tether.”
He opened the box. Inside, resting on the velvet, was a necklace. It wasn't flashy. It was a fine, heavy platinum chain, and suspended from it was a small, perfectly smooth, cylindrical pendant. It was about an inch long, simple and discreet, crafted from dark, polished titanium—a material that absorbed light rather than reflecting it. It looked expensive, minimalist, and completely anonymous.
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