Cassian didn't wait.
By morning, the studio was locked down.
Security doubled. Windows reinforced. Cameras installed — but only outside.
Inside, Elián's space remained untouched.
He noticed.
And he didn't know whether to be grateful or afraid.
Cassian met him at the door.
"You're not alone in this," he said.
Elián nodded, but didn't speak.
He didn't feel alone.
He felt watched.
They reviewed the latest footage.
Nothing unusual.
No intrusions. No shadows.
But Elián couldn't shake the feeling.
Like someone was just beyond the frame.
Waiting.
Cassian handed him a new phone.
Encrypted. Untraceable.
Elián stared at it.
"You think they're close?"
Cassian's voice was low. "I think they know you."
That night, Elián stayed late in the studio.
He filmed a scene — unscripted, raw.
He spoke to the camera like it was a person.
"I don't know who you are," he said. "But I know what you want."
"You want me to break."
He paused.
"I already did."
Cassian watched the footage from his office.
He didn't blink.
Didn't breathe.
When the scene ended, he whispered, "Don't let them see that."
Elián received another message.
"He's building you a cage. And you're decorating it."
This time, it came with a sound file.
A recording.
Of Elián's voice.
From the studio.
Unreleased. Unshared.
Private.
He confronted Cassian the next morning.
"How did they get it?"
Cassian's jaw clenched. "They didn't. Not from me."
Elián's voice cracked. "Then from where?"
Cassian didn't answer.
But Elián saw it in his eyes.
He didn't know.
And that terrified them both.