The door creaked open.
Elián froze.
The panic button was in his hand — but he didn't press it.
Not yet.
A shadow moved across the threshold.
Then a voice.
Soft. Familiar.
"Elián?"
Cassian.
Elián exhaled — sharp, broken.
"You scared me," he said.
Cassian stepped inside, eyes scanning the room.
"I got the alert. The power flickered. I came to check."
Elián nodded, but didn't speak.
He didn't trust his voice.
Cassian sat across from him, not too close.
"You should go home," he said.
Elián shook his head. "I don't want to be alone."
Cassian hesitated. "Then stay here. I'll stay too."
They didn't speak for a long time.
Elián lay on the couch. Cassian sat nearby, reading.
The silence wasn't tense.
It was fragile.
Like glass between them.
Around 3 a.m., Elián whispered, "Do you think they'll stop?"
Cassian looked up. "No."
Elián turned toward him. "Then what do we do?"
Cassian's voice was steady. "We make them afraid."
The next morning, Cassian launched a full investigation.
Private security. Digital forensics. Background checks on everyone in Elián's orbit.
Vivienne was furious.
"You're making him paranoid," she snapped.
Cassian didn't flinch. "He's already paranoid. I'm making him prepared."
Elián watched them argue from the hallway.
Two forces pulling at him.
Vivienne: polish, control, performance.
Cassian: silence, truth, danger.
He didn't know which one would break him first.
That night, Elián filmed again.
This time, he spoke directly to the camera.
"I'm not afraid of being watched anymore," he said. "I'm afraid of disappearing."
He paused.
"So if you're watching — good."
"Watch me survive."