Kael's jaw clenched. His eyes squeezed shut for a fraction of a second.
He made a sound this time—barely.
A hiss through teeth.
Pain, real and immediate.
Astra's chest tightened.
This place didn't let the leash pull him cleanly.
So it was eating him from the inside instead.
Orin was already moving, leading them deeper into the conduit where the ceiling lowered and the air grew colder. Juno stayed close behind, eyes scanning shadows like she expected the stone itself to grow teeth.
Astra stayed half a step from Kael, watching his face.
He looked like a man holding a line in a storm—white-knuckled, silent, refusing to fall because falling would mean someone else got to decide what happened next.
Heat rose in Astra's chest again—hot, angry, intimate.
Not because she wanted a romantic moment.
Because she wanted to grab his face and force him to feel that he wasn't alone in this.
Kael's hand on her wrist tightened, then loosened as his fingers fought their own tremor.
"Astra," he said, voice hoarse. "Don't—"
"Don't what," she whispered, too close.
Kael's eyes flicked to her mouth.
For half a heartbeat, his restraint wavered—not into weakness, into want.
He swallowed it hard. "Don't use this to distract me."
Astra's mouth curved, sharp. "You're the one distracted."
Kael's jaw flexed. "Not like you think."
Astra leaned in half an inch more, breath warming his jaw. "Then tell me what you think."
Kael's throat worked.
His eyes darkened, furious—not at her, at the timing, at the leash, at Dorian's hands reaching through her throat into his spine.
"I think," he said low, "that if I touch you right now, the system will pull me harder."
Astra's pulse kicked.
He was right.
She could see it in the earlier warning.
And still—still she wanted the touch, the anchor, the warmth that made her body stop shaking and made the collar stop singing Dorian's name.
Astra swallowed.
Consent was choice.
So she chose something else.
She lifted her free hand slowly—visible, deliberate—and rested it on the back of Kael's hand at her wrist.
Not his throat.
Not her collar.
A small, human contact that didn't give the system a better grip.
Kael froze.
Astra's voice dropped into something almost tender, almost dangerous. "Then don't touch my throat," she murmured. "Touch me."
Kael's eyes snapped to hers.
Heat flared—raw, electric.
He didn't pull away.
He didn't lean in.
He held perfectly still, the way a man did when he wanted something and refused to steal it.
Astra squeezed his hand gently. "Is this okay."
Kael's throat worked.
Then he nodded once.
Astra felt it like a victory.
A small one.
But hers.
Orin's voice cut from ahead, impatient. "Less flirting. More breathing."
Juno muttered, "Says the man who doesn't have a leash in his spine."
Orin ignored her and pressed his palm to a patch of stone where old sigils had been carved then scarred out. The rock didn't glow. It simply… shifted, revealing a narrow crawlspace.
"Through," Orin said. "This pocket drops signal to dead air. If anything is still reaching him, it'll lose the line."
Kael's jaw clenched. "Do it."
They crawled.
Stone scraped cloth. Damp air pressed close. The space was tight enough that Astra's collar brushed rock, and she bit down panic.
The conduit didn't care.
It didn't soothe.
It simply erased.
Halfway through, Kael's breathing stuttered.
Astra heard the moment his body tried to obey a command that wasn't there anymore.
A jerk. A stiffening.
Then a sharp exhale like pain being swallowed.
Astra's interface flickered—barely visible now.
ANCHOR RECALL: SIGNAL LOSTGOVERNOR LOAD: DROPPINGWARNING: REBOUND PAIN
Rebound.
The cost always arrived.
Kael's breath went rough. His shoulders shook once.
Astra's hand tightened on his at her wrist. "Stay with me," she whispered, stealing his words back for him.
Kael didn't answer, but he kept moving.
They emerged into a small chamber where the air was colder and drier, the stone older. A single Underchain lamp burned weakly in a niche, as if even flame felt unwelcome here.
Kael leaned against the wall as soon as they were out, head dipped.
His face was pale.
His wrist crest was dim.
He was still standing, but just barely.
Astra's chest tightened.
Orin turned, scanning the chamber. "Signal's dead. Good."
Juno crouched by the tunnel mouth they'd come through, listening. "They won't follow cleanly."
Kael made a sound under his breath—half laugh, half curse. "No. They'll follow dirty."
Astra stepped closer to him, careful. She didn't touch his throat. She didn't touch her collar.
She lifted her hand and hovered near his jaw.
A question without words.
Kael's eyes flicked up, dark and exhausted. He gave a small nod.
Astra touched his jaw lightly—just skin, just warmth.
Kael's eyes closed for a fraction of a second, and Astra felt the tension in his body shudder.
Relief.
Pain.
Something else he refused to name.
Astra's voice was low. "Did it stop."
Kael swallowed. "For now."
Astra's throat tightened. "And the rebound."
Kael's jaw clenched. "I can take it."
Astra's mouth curved bitter. "You always say that."
Kael's eyes opened, hard. "Because it's true."
Astra's fingers slid from his jaw to his wrist—over the crest casing, careful not to press. "You're not a machine," she whispered.
Kael's voice went rough. "The Dominion disagrees."
Astra held his gaze.
Heat rose again—fierce, angry, intimate.
Not lust.
Not softness.
A promise that tasted like war.
"If the Dominion wants a machine," Astra murmured, "then I'll teach it what happens when machines get ideas."
Orin snorted. "And here I thought you were trying not to spike trace."
Astra didn't look away from Kael. "I'm trying not to die."
Juno stood, eyes sharp. "We need to move again. If Seraphine's mapping, she'll feel the dead conduit gap and mark it."
Orin nodded. "We go to the node."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Dorian's node."
Orin smiled thinly. "Your Marquis wants a stage. Let him have one."
Astra's collar pulsed faintly at the word Marquis—like a dog hearing its master's name through thick walls.
Astra swallowed.
Her interface, dim but present, flickered one line.
OWNER ORDER: PRESENT AT NODE — ACTIVECHURCH PRESENCE: CONFIRMED
So Dorian had set a meeting where Seraphine would be close enough to smell blood.
A public clash dressed as necessity.
Astra's mind raced.
The anchor recall had been a test.
And she had answered it by hiding in dead air—proving she could disrupt his reach.
Dorian would respond.
Dorian always responded.
Orin led them out through another seam in stone that opened into a different tunnel—less dead, more Underchain. Signal returned in small, ugly trickles. The collar's pull came back faintly, but the Null Anchor mask dampened it into something manageable.
Astra kept close to Kael, not touching his throat, keeping contact minimal but real—hand on his sleeve, fingers brushing his wrist when he swayed.
Consent-as-foreplay in the ugliest form: you can fall into me if you choose.
Kael didn't fall.
But he let her stay near.
They moved through a series of tight turns and cloth-hung corridors until the air began to change—less smoke, more cold night seeping down. The tunnel sloped upward. Lanternlight appeared in thin cracks.
A node near surface.
A stage.
Orin slowed at a seam. "This is it."
Juno set two disks on either side of the seam and nodded. "If anything tries to mark you, it'll stutter."
Kael's hand tightened on Astra's wrist. "We don't go out blind."
Astra swallowed. "We're already blind. The system is the one watching."
Kael's gaze flicked to her eyes. "And you."
Astra's throat tightened.
He was right.
Dorian was reading her watermark. Seraphine was probing her mask.
And now House Veyrn had proven it could pull Kael through her collar.
The stage wasn't for Astra.
It was for the link between them.
Astra inhaled slowly.
Then she stepped closer to Kael, voice low enough that Orin and Juno would only catch fragments.
"Kael," she murmured, "if this goes wrong—"
Kael's jaw clenched. "Don't."
Astra's mouth curved, sharp with stubbornness. "I'm not asking permission to be afraid. I'm asking permission to be honest."
Kael stared at her.
Then, slowly, he nodded once.
Astra swallowed. "I might have to use Write(Self) again."
Kael's eyes darkened. "Trace."
Astra nodded. "Yes."
Kael's voice went low, fierce. "Then you do it with me anchored—"
Astra shook her head once, fast. "No. You said touch-based anchoring increases pull."
Kael's jaw flexed.
Astra's eyes held his. "So you anchor me another way."
Kael went still. "There isn't another way."
Astra's mouth curved. "There is."
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Say it."
Astra leaned in, breath warming his jaw again. "Command me," she whispered. "Not with your hand. With your voice. Conditional. Protocol-shaped. The system likes you when you speak like law."
Kael's throat worked.
He hated the idea. She could feel it—his refusal to become a handler.
But this wasn't ownership.
This was survival engineering.
Kael's voice came out low. "Astra."
Her name was a hook and an anchor all at once.
Kael continued, deliberate. "If you feel the collar pull—breathe and keep your feet under you until it passes."
Astra's breath hitched.
Not because it was sexy.
Because it was care.
Because he gave her a rule that belonged to them, not the Dominion.
Astra nodded once. "Yes."
Orin rolled his eyes. "Are we done with the vows now?"
Juno smirked. "Let them. It's the only romance they're allowed."
Kael's gaze snapped to Orin, cold. "Open it."
Orin pressed his palm to the seam.
Stone shifted.
Night air spilled in.
They stepped out into a narrow surface alley lit by a single lantern. The city above felt too bright, too open, too loud. Astra's collar pulsed with sudden recognition of surface signal strength.
Her interface sharpened instantly.
SIGNAL: HIGHRECALL PATH: STRONG (MASKED)TRACE: 49.3%WARNING: WATERMARK TRACKING ACTIVE
Too high.
Too visible.
Orin's voice was low. "Keep moving. Don't stand like a target."
Astra moved.
They followed the alley to a wider street where a small plaza opened—empty except for a carriage parked under a lantern. Black lacquer. Silver crest.
House Veyrn.
Astra's throat went ice.
Beside the carriage stood a figure in pale cloth—hood down, face visible.
Seraphine Lume.
She smiled softly as if Astra had arrived for confession.
On the other side, half in shadow, stood Captain Rusk Dain with two Imperial Hounds. His crest glowed controlled and cold.
A triangle again.
Only this time, the stage was quieter.
Cleaner.
Planned.
Astra's collar pulsed RETURN—not loud, but insistent.
The Null Anchor dampened it, but the pressure remained.
Kael's hand tightened on Astra's wrist.
His body tensed, not from fear—anticipation of an incoming leash strike.
Seraphine's voice carried, calm and terrible. "Astra Vey. Step forward. Alone."
Rusk's voice followed, clipped. "Hound Raithe. Stand down and approach."
Astra's stomach dropped.
They weren't just calling her.
They were calling him.
And then the carriage door opened without a hand touching it.
A wave of silk-scented authority rolled out, warm and invasive.
Dorian wasn't visible—yet his presence filled the space like perfume in a closed room.
Astra's interface flashed a final line, calm as ink and cruel as fate:
OWNER OVERRIDE: DIRECT CHANNEL OPEN — SPEAK.
A voice—Dorian's—slid into Astra's nerves like a private whisper at her throat.
"Good girl," he murmured, and the collar tightened in pleasure, "now bring me my Hound."