Cassian's Office – Morning
The legal advisor wore matte glasses and a neutral tie. Clean, composed, like he'd never once made a mistake on paper.
Cassian sat across from him, sleeves rolled up, fingers steepled under his chin.
"I'm not asking for a mate bond. This isn't personal law," Cassian said.
"It's protection. Practical."
"Understood," the advisor replied.
"But any clause involving executive discretion and Omega support will draw eyes. Especially if her name's on it."
Cassian didn't blink.
"Write it anyway."
"And if she declines?"
"Then she's still protected."
The lawyer hesitated.
"The board will assume it's an informal claim."
"They already do."
He signed the request for contract drafting. The pen clicked loud in the quiet.
---
Lyra's Apartment – Late Afternoon
Her phone chimed while she was folding laundry. One of the few motions that still slowed her thoughts. Talia was off shift, and the apartment was unusually still. For once, her body didn't ache.
> From: C. Dorne
There's a draft coming your way. No pressure. No rush.
But it's yours if you want it.
The document arrived seconds later. Titled cleanly:
Omega Wellness Protections: Extended Clause, Executive Consent Required
It wasn't romantic. It wasn't casual.
It was legal.
It spelled out her rights: to medical privacy, to HR discretion, to time off if her condition shifted. It limited surveillance. It formalized Cassian's authority to intercept any board escalation. All wrapped under an "emergency wellness intervention.
It was protective.
And it was public.
She sat for a long time, scrolling.
At the bottom was a blank signature field. Her name already typed beside it.
Lyra Elmont.
---
Cassian's Apartment – Night
She came in without knocking. He'd left the door unlocked after she texted.
He was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled back, chopping something fragrant. Thai basil and garlic hit the air.
"You got it?" he asked.
Lyra nodded. Held up her phone like it was a question mark.
"I read every line."
"And?"
"I don't know."
Cassian put the knife down. Wiped his hands. Turned to her, slower than usual.
"I wrote it because I needed to make something official that doesn't touch your freedom."
Her throat tightened.
"I want you safe," he continued. "But I won't cage you to do it."
Silence stretched between them. It didn't crack.
Lyra set her phone on the counter, screen still glowing.
"I'll hold onto it," she said. "But I'm not signing. Not yet."
Cassian nodded. No hurt in his face. Just patience.
"Good," he said. "Then it's still yours."
—
They ate on the small terrace, plastic containers on laps, steam curling into the night air.
Below, the city blinked like a nervous system too tired to sleep.
"You ever think about disappearing?" she asked suddenly.
"Sometimes," he said. "But I never picture being alone when I do."
She looked at him.
He wasn't smiling. But something had eased in his features. A quiet beneath the practiced stillness.
Like he was picturing it right now. Staying with her.
Not running. Just finally... stopping.
And she saw it, all of it, right there in his face:
That he'd meant it.
That he wouldn't ask her to run.
That if she did, he'd follow