Containment.
Astra's stomach sank.
Kael's hand fell away from her throat. His fingers curled into a fist, as if he wanted to crush something and couldn't decide what.
He looked at Lyra. "How do we cut recall?"
Lyra's smile didn't show this time. "You don't. Not completely. You dampen it. You confuse it. You give it something else to chew."
Kael's jaw tightened. "Meaning."
Lyra's eyes slid to Astra. "Meaning you stop being the only authority in her world."
Astra's breath caught.
Kael went still. "No."
Lyra's brows rose. "No? Hound, you like being her anchor. I can tell. But if Dorian's recall keeps pulling, she'll tear herself apart."
Astra's collar burned at the Marquis's name, as if pleased by the reminder.
Kael stared at Astra's throat again. "What did the interface show you after you released."
Astra blinked through the ache. "Trace jumped. Audit flagged broadcast signature. Ghost slot emptied."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Anything else."
Astra hesitated. "There was… a route."
Kael's gaze sharpened. "Say it."
Astra forced the words out. "House Veyrn query. Trace route established."
Lyra exhaled slowly. "So he's got a thread on you."
Kael's face went cold. Not fear—decision.
He stepped closer to Astra, close enough that she could feel the heat of him without touch. His voice dropped, intimate and lethal.
"From now on," he said, "you don't release anything unless I tell you."
Astra smiled, despite pain. "Sounds like possession."
Kael's eyes flashed. "Sounds like survival."
Astra leaned in half an inch, testing the boundary like she always did when she was cornered.
"If you want my obedience," she whispered, "make it worth it."
Lyra made a low sound of approval. "There she is."
Kael's breath slowed. His gaze dropped to Astra's mouth again, stayed there for a fraction too long.
Astra felt the moment sharpen—danger and desire aligning.
She could push.
She could bargain with a kiss.
She could make him forget the corridor full of Hounds for one reckless breath.
Instead, she kept it strategic.
She lifted her hands slowly, palms up, and placed them just against his chest—no pressure, no grabbing, only contact. Consent offered and taken in the same fragile gesture.
"I will obey you," she said softly. "On one condition."
Kael didn't move away. "Name it."
Astra's fingers curled slightly in his coat. "You teach me which words matter. Which orders are safe. Which ones can't be traced."
Kael's jaw flexed. "You think there are safe orders."
Astra smiled. "I think there are safer ones. And I think you already know them."
Lyra watched them like a cat watching two knives kiss.
Kael's eyes held Astra's, fierce and conflicted. "And what do I get."
Astra's pulse kicked.
The honest answer: you get to feel like you're not alone.
But Astra didn't give honesty for free.
She leaned closer until her breath warmed his throat.
"You get my silence," she murmured. "About your mercy. About what you did. About what you might become."
Kael's expression tightened, as if she'd touched the bruise under his discipline.
Astra pressed the advantage, voice low and wicked. "And you get to choose when you touch me."
Lyra's eyebrows lifted. "Oh."
Kael's eyes darkened. The air between them turned dense, almost electric. His restraint trembled—tiny, dangerous.
Astra held his gaze, daring him to deny that he wanted it.
Kael's hand rose—slow—and stopped just under Astra's jaw, thumb hovering near the pulse in her throat.
He didn't touch.
He waited.
Astra's breath shook.
Then Kael spoke, voice rough. "Don't offer what you don't want."
Astra's smile turned razor-thin. "I want power. Touch is power."
Kael's thumb finally grazed her skin, feather-light, just enough to send a shiver down her spine.
Astra closed her eyes for half a heartbeat—only half—and when she opened them, she was still smiling.
Kael withdrew his hand like it hurt.
Lyra clapped softly, once. "Romantic," she said dryly. "Now can we not die?"
A distant echo answered—a boot striking stone, closer now. The pursuit had found the drop shaft.
Kael's head snapped toward the tunnel mouth. He stepped away from Astra, turning into a weapon again.
"Where's your next exit," he demanded.
Lyra lifted the lantern and walked to the far wall. There, a seam ran through the stone—too straight to be natural. She traced a sigil with her finger.
The stone clicked.
A narrow door opened into deeper dark.
"Underchain," Lyra said. "Real tunnels. No Dominion maps."
Kael grabbed Astra's wrist. "Move."
Astra stepped, and the collar yanked hard in the opposite direction.
RETURN.
It wasn't subtle anymore. It was a hook in her sternum.
Astra stumbled.
Kael caught her, pulling her close, steadying her with his body. Astra's cheek brushed his chest through layers of leather and cloth. His heartbeat was calm—trained calm. But she felt the tension in his muscles like a held breath.
"Astra," he said low. "Don't fight it."
"I'm not," she whispered, teeth clenched. "It's fighting me."
Lyra peered into the Underchain door. "This will dampen it. Maybe."
"Maybe," Astra repeated, and hated that her life now lived in that word.
They slipped through the narrow opening, one by one. The stone door shut behind them with a soft, final click.
The air changed instantly.
Colder. Drier.
The walls here were carved with sigils that looked like scars—old, purposeful, ugly in a way that felt honest. Astra's interface flickered, then dimmed as if the underchain glyphs were muffling the signal.
Her throat still burned, but the pull eased by a fraction.
Relief made her dizzy.
They moved down the Underchain tunnel, lanternlight barely touching the ceiling. The corridor twisted, dipped, rose again. At one point, they had to squeeze through a narrow choke where stone pressed close enough to taste. Kael went behind Astra, one hand on her hip to guide her through.
He hesitated.
His touch lingered a heartbeat too long.
Astra's body reacted—heat blooming low, sharp, inconvenient.
Kael's breath caught.
He leaned closer, lips near her ear, voice like a confession he hated making.
"Focus," he murmured.
Astra smiled in the dark. "I am."
Lyra's voice floated from ahead. "If you two start kissing, I'm leaving you for the Hounds."
Kael said nothing. But his hand left Astra's hip and returned to her wrist—safer, colder contact.
Astra hated that she missed the warmth.
They emerged into a wider chamber with a low ceiling and a shallow canal running through the center. Rusted chains hung from hooks along the walls—old restraints, old routes, old crimes.
Lyra lifted the lantern higher. "We're close."
"Close to what," Astra asked, voice tight.
Lyra's smile flashed. "To someone who can help. Or someone who can sell you."
Astra's laugh was thin. "Comforting."
Kael's jaw flexed. "Lyra."
Lyra lifted a hand. "Relax, Hound. I haven't decided which one yet."
Astra's interface flickered faintly again, as if offended by the underchain dampening.
TRACE: 8.7%AUDIT: SEARCHING…SIGNAL: INTERMITTENT
Astra swallowed. Still climbing. Slower, but climbing.
Kael noticed her expression. "What."
Astra hesitated. "Trace is still going up."
Lyra's smile faded. "Because recall is still pulling. Even muffled, it's chewing you."
Astra's throat tightened. "Then we need to cut it."
Lyra tilted her head. "Or reroute it."
Kael's voice went flat. "How."
Lyra's gaze slid to Kael's wrist crest. "You're a Hound. You know what a leash looks like."
Silence.
Astra's eyes went to Kael's wrist.
She'd seen the crest glow. Seen it command others. Seen it claim authority.
She hadn't seen it punish him.
Not yet.
Kael's face went hard. "Don't."
Lyra's voice softened just a fraction—dangerous softness. "She needs to know what you are risking."
Astra's breath stalled. "Kael."
He didn't look at her.
Astra stepped closer, slow and deliberate, until she stood within his space again. "Are you collared too."
Kael's jaw clenched so hard Astra thought his teeth might crack.
He didn't answer.
Lyra sighed, impatient. "Of course he is. You think the Dominion lets its weapons walk unchained? His crest is command—yes. But it's also a governor. A leash with better tailoring."
Astra's chest tightened. She looked up at Kael's face, trying to read the truth through his discipline.
Kael finally met her eyes.
There it was.
Guilt.
Fear.
And a fierce, stubborn refusal to let her pity him.
"Yes," he said, voice low. "I'm leashed."
Astra swallowed. The revelation hit harder than she expected. It didn't make him safer.
It made him more dangerous—because now she knew what it cost him to stand beside her.
Kael's gaze sharpened, as if he could see the thought in her face. "Don't," he said again. "Don't make this about saving me."
Astra's lips parted. "I wasn't—"
"You were," Kael cut in, quiet and rough. "I can tell."
Astra's throat burned. The collar pulsed, as if laughing at the intimacy of confession.
Lyra turned away, giving them a fraction of privacy like a courtesy she would deny later.
Kael leaned closer, voice dropping to Astra alone. "If you want to survive," he murmured, "you stop thinking in romance."
Astra smiled faintly. "I don't do romance."
Kael's eyes flicked to her mouth. "You do something."
Astra's pulse kicked. Heat climbed her spine, braided with fear and strategy until she couldn't separate them.
She leaned in—just enough that Kael felt it, not enough to cross the line into stupidity.
"Then teach me," she whispered. "Leashes. Commands. How to make the collar lie."
Kael's expression tightened. He wanted to refuse.
Astra saw it.
So she offered him the thing he pretended not to need.
Choice.
She lifted her hand, slow, and brushed her knuckles against his wrist crest—barely touching, barely there.
"May I," she murmured.
Kael went still.
His eyes searched her face, measuring intention.
Then he nodded once.
Astra's fingers rested against the crest.
It was warm. Alive. And under that warmth, she felt a subtle tremor—like something inside it was always braced for punishment.
Kael's breath shuddered, quiet.
"Feels like pain," Astra whispered.
Kael's jaw flexed. "It is."
Lyra spoke without turning back. "You want to dampen recall? You need counter-authority. Not Dominion-authority. Something the system doesn't recognize cleanly."
Astra's brow furrowed. "Underchain."
Lyra smiled. "Now you're learning."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Underchain doesn't hand out mercy."
Lyra's smile turned predatory. "Neither does the Dominion. Pick your poison."
A distant sound echoed through the tunnel behind them.
Metal on stone.
Slow.
Measured.
Not the frantic rush of pursuers.
The deliberate approach of someone who knew exactly where they were going.
Kael's body tensed instantly. He pulled Astra behind him with one motion, placing himself between her and the sound.
Lyra lifted the lantern higher. "That's not my contact," she muttered.
Astra's collar flared.
RETURN.
The pull sharpened again, as if the approaching presence strengthened the Marquis's claim.
Astra bit down a gasp.
Kael whispered, "Stay behind me."
Astra's mouth curved, despite everything. "That's an order?"
Kael didn't look back. "Yes."
Astra obeyed.
The shadow at the end of the tunnel grew.
A man stepped into lanternlight.
He was broad-shouldered, older than Kael, with a face carved by discipline and choices that had never once favored kindness. His uniform was Dominion black, but the cut was different—higher rank, cleaner lines. His wrist crest glowed with restrained authority.
Captain Rusk Dain.
His eyes swept the chamber, taking in Lyra's lantern, the Underchain sigils, Astra's pale face, Kael's protective stance.
Then his gaze landed on Kael.
It didn't soften.
It sharpened.
"Hound Raithe," Rusk said, voice like a locked gate. "You're far from your assigned route."
Kael's posture didn't change. "Captain."
Rusk's eyes flicked to Astra's throat. "That's the subject."
Astra felt the collar respond to the Captain's recognition—a brief, eager pulse, like it enjoyed being identified.
Rusk stepped closer, boots splashing once in the canal.
"I have orders," he said, calm as paperwork. "From Marquis Dorian Veyrn."
Kael's jaw tightened.
Rusk held out his hand, palm up, not for Kael—but for Astra. A gesture of ownership disguised as procedure.
"Bring her," Rusk said. "Now."