I considered calling Eamon to report the message immediately. I could loop in Chief Kang and venue security, treating this as a clear escalation.
Instead, I stared at the photo and my hand on Rune's back. I saw the concerned, focused expression on my face.
You move fast.
Someone had been watching closely enough to see not only what I'd done, but how I'd done it. They'd clocked the four seconds I'd stayed connected when two would've been sufficient. They knew.
Whoever this was, they knew I'd already compromised my professional distance.
My phone lit up again with another message.
Unknown:Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. So is his. For now. Sleep well, Griffin.
They knew my name, and they knew I’d acted without waiting to be told.
I looked out at the city below. San Francisco, as night fell, with lights climbing the hills and the Bay Bridge spanning dark water in the distance.
Somewhere out there, someone was watching. Waiting. Testing to see if I'd see them coming.
My reflection stared back at me from the dark glass, tired and wary. I was already second-guessing every decision I'd made since arriving in the city.
Behind me, my phone lit up one more time. I didn't need to look to know what it would say, but I did anyway. It was a single word this time.
Unknown:Tonight.
Chapter two
Rune - San Francisco - May 4
Ipulled the hoodie over my head in the dressing room until my face disappeared into shadows.
Better.
My makeup was half-gone, with foundation breaking down around my temples and concealer creasing into lines I wasn’t supposed to have yet. Twenty-eight wasn’t old, but fatigue had settled in places sleep never quite reached.
I sat on the black leather couch and pressed my palms against my thighs. Felt muscle fatigue from holding positions too long and executing angles that looked effortless but required absolute control.
The door was closed. Fifteen minutes alone before the machinery started again. Fifteen minutes to stop being Rune and relax as Yoon-jae.
The difference between performing and existing was simple: performing required witnesses. Existing only required breath.
I existed for fourteen more minutes.
My phone sat on the table, face down. I knew what would be waiting: messages from the group chat, schedule updates, and a reminder about tomorrow’s 6:00 AM interview. Morning light made us look younger and more accessible. Accessibility was a byproduct we sold alongside the music.
I didn’t reach for the phone yet. Instead, I thought about Griffin redirecting me.
His hand on my spine had come from nowhere. Without warning, someone applied pressure with absolute certainty. Firm enough that my body responded before my mind processed what was happening.
My body had trusted him implicitly. That was the part I kept returning to. The immediate trust.
The industry handled me since I was seventeen. Choreographers positioned my arms. Stylists turned my face toward lights. Managers guided me through crowds. The touching was constant and completely impersonal.
This was different.
It saiddanger here, safety there, and then released me the moment I’d corrected course.
Griffin. Solid and watchful.
