Elián signed it.
Not in front of Vivienne. Not with ceremony. Just alone, in his room, with the envelope beside him and the city humming outside his window.
His hand trembled slightly as the pen touched paper. Not from fear. From something quieter.
Hope.
Cassian didn't react when Elián handed it over.
He simply nodded, folded the document, and said, "We begin Monday."
Elián expected more. Applause. A toast. A smile.
But Cassian wasn't that kind of man.
Instead, he handed Elián a keycard.
"Your new workspace. Private. Secure. No one gets in without clearance."
Elián blinked. "Why?"
Cassian's gaze was steady. "Because you're not safe."
That night, Elián lay awake again.
Not because of Vivienne's pacing or the buzz of his phone.
But because of the silence.
Cassian's words echoed.
You're not safe.
He checked his messages. Hundreds. Most were harmless. Praise. Obsession. Fan edits.
But one stood out.
"I know what you really are. I've seen you. You can't hide."
No name. No number.
Just dread.
Elián didn't tell Vivienne.
She'd call it drama. Or opportunity.
He didn't tell Cassian either.
Not yet.
Instead, he stared at the message until the screen dimmed.
And somewhere, in the dark, someone else stared back.