Kael's throat worked. "They can feel me."
Orin hissed, "We go around."
Juno's disks clicked softly—ready to throw.
Lyra murmured, "Or we let them see the wrong thing."
Astra's eyes narrowed. "What."
Lyra's smile was sharp. "I can be your handler for a moment. Let them smell me instead."
Kael's gaze snapped to Lyra, lethal. "No."
Lyra lifted her hands. "Relax. I'm not touching his crest. I'm touching the story."
Astra's jealousy sparked again—hot and ugly—because Lyra said it like she owned the concept of temptation.
Astra stepped closer to Kael, shoulder brushing his chest—territorial without being childish.
Kael's breath hitched.
Lyra watched and smiled like she'd gotten what she wanted: a reaction.
Astra didn't let it become one. She made it strategy.
"You want to be useful," Astra whispered to Lyra. "Then do it. But you don't get to touch him. You touch me."
Lyra's eyes glittered. "Oh."
Astra's voice stayed cold. "Consent?"
Lyra's smile trembled, then steadied. "Yes."
Astra stepped close to Lyra—close enough to feel her breath, close enough for the air between them to become a private room made of danger.
Kael stiffened beside Astra, anger and jealousy flaring, but he stayed disciplined—he didn't grab, didn't yank, didn't claim. He just watched, eyes dark, like he might bite if Lyra crossed a line.
Astra lifted her hand and cupped Lyra's jaw—light, deliberate, permissioned contact. Not a kiss. A hold.
Lyra's breath caught.
Astra leaned in and murmured at Lyra's mouth, voice low and sharp.
"You're going to walk out there," Astra said, "and make them think the handler registry ping was you. Make them chase your shadow for thirty seconds."
Lyra's eyes glittered. "And my price."
Astra's fingers tightened slightly on her jaw. "After we're alive."
Lyra smiled, hungry. "Always after."
Astra didn't flinch. "Agree, or don't."
Lyra held Astra's gaze—predatory-soft, calculating.
Then she nodded once. "Fine."
Astra released her jaw.
Kael's voice cut low. "Astra."
Astra turned to him. His eyes were dark and furious and too human in a way that made her chest hurt.
"That wasn't for her," Astra murmured, stepping close enough that her breath warmed his jaw. "It was for us."
Kael's jaw flexed. "Then don't make it look like it's not."
Heat surged between them—sharp, intimate, high-stakes.
Astra didn't kiss him. She didn't touch his crest.
She asked instead—because she needed his consent as much as she needed his strength.
"May I use your voice," Astra whispered, "if the system tries to borrow you again."
Kael's throat worked. "Only if you ask."
Astra's mouth curved faintly. "I asked."
Kael's eyes held hers like a vow. "Yes."
Astra's pulse kicked.
Lyra slipped out through the gap, posture relaxed, hood down, throat bare—bait again, proud of it. She moved like she belonged to the surface world.
One of the Hounds' heads turned instantly.
The lead Hound paused, nostrils flaring, as if tasting a signal that didn't match his expectation.
Lyra smiled at them like she had every right.
And then she ran—not panicked, not desperate. Just enough to invite pursuit.
Two of the Hounds moved after her immediately, boots clean on stone.
The third—the lead—didn't follow right away. He stayed still, head tilted, listening to something beyond hearing.
Kael's body tensed.
"He's feeling the mismatch," Kael murmured.
Astra swallowed. "Move."
Orin gestured sharply and led them down a narrower corridor that dipped back into Underchain access—stone colder, signal dirtier. Juno dropped a disk behind them, hum sinking into the cracks like poison.
They ran.
Astra's lungs burned. Her throat seal vibrated under cloth, angry at being smothered. Her trace buzzed hot, threatening.
Kael stayed close, hand at her waist, bracing her without owning.
Astra clung to the feel of that—warmth, choice, presence—so she wouldn't fall.
Because falling meant the system's knives came out.
They hit a junction where a rusted ladder led down into a deeper service throat.
Orin whispered, "Down."
They descended fast. The air got colder. The stone got older.
At the bottom, the tunnel opened into a low conduit chamber with old crestwright piping—faintly engraved with Dominion sigil patterns. A place where old laws were literally built into the walls.
Orin grimaced. "This is the marked route I mentioned."
Astra's stomach tightened. "Guild-marked."
"Worse," Orin said. "Dominion-marked. Military."
Kael's eyes narrowed at the piping. "Hound conduits."
Astra's blood went cold.
Kael's crest variant would resonate here. Handler protocol would love this place.
And the system—always hungry—would call it "safe."
Astra's interface flickered:
ENVIRONMENT MATCH: MILITARY SIGNAL CHANNELNOTE: Handler/Hound link strength increased
Dorian's voice purred, delighted. "Now you're walking in my childhood, Kael."
Kael's jaw clenched. "Shut up."
Astra's throat burned. She could feel Kael's body tighten—not from fear, but from old conditioning waking up in his nerves.
She stepped closer, shoulder brushing his chest, grounding him the way he grounded her.
"Consent," Astra whispered. "I'm going to anchor you."
Kael's breath hitched. "Yes."
Astra placed her hand on his forearm—firm, deliberate, not his crest. Human contact, not system contact.
"Breathe," Astra murmured. "You're here. With me."
Kael's eyes darkened. "Say my name."
Astra's pulse kicked. "Kael."
The way his shoulders eased—just a fraction—made heat flare in Astra's belly like a dangerous reward.
Juno hissed softly. "Footsteps."
Orin's face tightened. "They found the ladder."
Kael's gaze snapped toward the tunnel behind. "One lead stayed."
Astra swallowed. "He's not chasing Lyra."
Kael's voice went flat. "He's chasing me."
Astra's interface flickered again, and a new prompt surfaced—clean, military, unmistakably Dominion:
IMPERIAL HOUNDS — DIRECT LINK REQUESTSENDER: CAPTAIN RUSK DAINNOTE: CUSTODIAN ACTIVE. REPORT STATUS.
Captain Rusk.
The kennel master.
The man who could turn Kael's crest into obedience with a single clean phrase.
Kael went very still.
Astra's throat burned.
Because the link request wasn't asking Astra.
It was asking Kael.
And Kael's crest—already lit with handler protocol—trembled like it recognized the chain of command.
Kael's jaw clenched, eyes burning into Astra's.
"What do I do," he asked, rough and honest.
Astra's stomach dropped.
This was the twist the system had been building toward: it didn't need Dorian to take the handler role if the Imperial Hounds could reclaim Kael through command law.
Astra swallowed hard and kept her voice steady, making every word a choice.
"Consent," Astra whispered, "to me standing beside you while you answer."
Kael's breath hitched. "Yes."
Astra leaned close, mouth near his ear, heat threaded into her voice like a weapon.
"Then you don't answer alone," Astra murmured. "And you don't answer as property."
Kael's eyes darkened. "Then what am I."
Astra's chest tightened. She wanted to say mine—wanted it hot and possessive and true.
She didn't.
She chose the word that kept them alive.
"My ally," Astra whispered.
Kael's throat worked. "Yes."
The footsteps grew louder—one set, controlled, heavy. The lead Hound. Closing.
Kael's interface flickered across Astra's vision for half a heartbeat—linked, visible through the handler bind.
A single new line ignited on his crest display, colder than any Guild prompt:
RECALL: ACCEPT OR BE CONTAINED.