"Hey—are you hurt?" the guy asked, voice low but urgent, reaching out like he might steady him.
Riven instinctively stepped back.
The stranger's hand froze midair. His eyes flickered—surprise, then disappointment, sharp enough to sting. Shoulders sagged, lips tightened, as if Riven had just rejected something fragile.
Guilt pricked. "I—I'm fine," Riven said quickly. "Sorry. Reflex. Didn't mean to pull away."
The guy nodded, but his expression lingered, unsettled.
"Yo, Eli!"
The shout cracked through the moment like a whip. A taller man strode up, confident and casual, looping an arm around the one called Eli. At once, Eli shrank—head bowed, posture folding in on itself.
Riven flinched, instincts tensing.
"Already chatting up strangers?" the newcomer teased. His grin was all teeth, his presence electric, commanding. Alpha—no doubt.
"You are?" he asked, gaze raking over Riven. Not curious—assessing. Calculating. Like he was testing for cracks.
"New," Riven managed.
"Cool. Let's move, Eli." The Alpha didn't wait for answers, dragging Eli with him as if gravity bent to his will.
Riven exhaled, pulse unsteady. "First day. Don't lose it." He squared his shoulders and pushed into Nexus Tower—
—and froze.
The lobby wasn't bustling. It was staged. Employees stood in two perfect lines, heads bowed in eerie unison. A red carpet stretched across the gleaming floor, ending at his feet.
His stomach dropped.
Then, as one, voices rose—loud, rehearsed, ritualistic:
"Welcome to Nexus, Mr. Virellian!"
The sound rattled his bones. Even Eli and the Alpha ahead of him halted, staring.
Riven's skin crawled. This wasn't onboarding. This was exposure. A spotlight he hadn't asked for.
And through the silence that followed, a figure emerged from the far end of the lobby. Calm. Precise. Eyes like a blade honed on stone.
Thayer Quinn.
Sharp suit. Controlled stride. Eyes like he'd already played this scene a hundred times.
Thayer Quinn. Beta Chief Secretary. Right hand to the Nexus Emperor.
Emperor. That's what they called the unseen Chairman. Some whispered S-Class Alpha, a predator beyond measure. Others said he was a fragile Omega, hidden behind layers of myth and firewalls. Whatever the truth, his reach was absolute—an invisible sovereign who ruled through silence.
Thayer stopped in front of Riven and extended his hand.
"Mr. Virellian. Welcome to Nexus."
Riven stared at it, pulse ticking faster. The gesture felt too polished, too choreographed. Like it was a test. Slowly, he took it.
"Mr. Quinn," he said, the words neutral but his eyes still searching, scanning for tells.
Thayer's smile didn't falter. "This way. You'll want to see your office before the directors." He turned with crisp precision, already certain Riven would follow.
But Riven lingered.
The employees were still bowed. Perfectly still. Not shifting, not breathing loud enough to hear. A hundred bodies bent in unison, waiting for a command.
His stomach twisted. This wasn't welcome. This was ritual.
Thayer glanced back, noting the hesitation. "Something wrong?" His voice carried no real curiosity—just the expectation of compliance.
Riven's gaze flicked to the frozen rows. "They're… still bowing."
"Ah." Thayer faced the staff. A subtle tilt of his head. "You may rise."
The movement was uncanny—every spine straightened in the same second, every step away measured to silence. No one looked at him. Not one dared.
Riven's skin prickled. Like the building itself had decided he was important, and they were all just acting out the Emperor's script.
Thayer smoothed his cuffs. "The Emperor gave very precise instructions. Perfection was… non-negotiable." His eyes met Riven's. Calm. Flat. Impossible to read.
Emperor, Riven echoed in his head. Not Chairman. Not CEO. Emperor. Who the hell ran a company like this?
"Protocol," Thayer added, as if that explained everything.
Riven forced a nod and stepped into the private elevator. The doors slid shut with a hiss, sealing him inside.
From across the lobby, Eli and the taller Alpha watched.
The Alpha's jaw tightened. "That elevator—only the Chairman uses it."
Eli's grip tightened on his backpack strap. He didn't answer. Just kept watching the mirrored doors until they swallowed Riven whole.
"Who the hell is that guy?" the Alpha muttered, still staring.
Eli finally exhaled, eyes flicking back to his own reflection. He didn't know. But whatever it was—whoever it was—it had just shifted the gravity inside Nexus.
Riven stepped into his new office—and froze.
It wasn't just sleek. It wasn't just high-end. It was personal. The lighting hit his preferred warmth. The layout mirrored the kind of order he'd always kept in his old workspace. Even the air carried a trace of violet, subtle but unmistakable.
His scent.
"You like it?" Thayer asked, his gaze steady, watching Riven's every flicker of expression.
Riven swallowed. "It's… more than I expected." His voice came out clipped. Not awe. Not gratitude. Caution.
Thayer's expression curved faintly, practiced. "The Emperor was clear. Your comfort is non-negotiable. As the new CEO, you're to have everything you need. No compromises."
The word slammed into him. CEO.
He hadn't signed a contract. He hadn't accepted anything beyond a conversation. And yet—here it was. Decided. Locked in.
"You just arrived, correct?" Thayer continued smoothly, already moving toward the desk. "Have you secured a residence?"
Riven shook his head slightly, still reeling. His son was in a hotel room across the city. He'd planned to start searching tonight.
Thayer picked up a folder and placed it in Riven's hands. "Here."
Riven stared at the cover, unwilling to open it. "What is this?"
"Your housing. Fully prepared. Fully covered. The Emperor wanted everything ready before you arrived."
Riven's grip tightened. "That feels… excessive."
"Not excessive." Thayer's voice softened, but the firmness beneath it didn't bend. "Obligatory. The Emperor hired you himself. Your well-being is his responsibility. He insists."
The words were too careful, too absolute. Obligation. Responsibility. Insistence. Chains in velvet wrapping.
Generosity this precise wasn't kindness. It was ownership.
Riven forced a smile he didn't feel. "Generous of him."
Thayer only inclined his head, as if they'd agreed on something. "I'll prepare the boardroom. You have fifteen minutes before meeting the directors."
And then he was gone, leaving silence heavy enough to press against Riven's chest.
Riven's gaze drifted back to the desk. A picture frame sat at its center.
Inside— A violet.
His favorite flower. And his Pheromone scent Signature.
His pulse spiked. This wasn't a coincidence. Coincidences didn't smell like his skin. Didn't reach into memories he never shared. Didn't know him this intimately.
No. This wasn't welcome. This was surveillance. This was dissection dressed as hospitality.
The office wasn't his. It was a cage, tailored so well it tricked the eye into mistaking it for comfort.
And the worst part? The door had already shut behind him.