Astra's stomach clenched at Bind.
Kael's arm stayed at her waist. He kept his body close enough to satisfy their posture definition—so penance didn't force weakness—without turning closeness into control.
Still, the collar pulsed now and then, annoyed by how much it wanted Kael's proximity.
Astra hated it so much it felt like nausea.
She leaned her mouth closer to Kael's jaw, low enough for only him.
"Consent," Astra whispered, "to me being angry at your name being my anchor."
Kael's breath hitched. "Yes."
Astra swallowed. "I don't want to need you for posture."
Kael's voice went raw. "I don't want you to need anyone."
Astra's mouth curved bitterly. "And yet."
Kael's hand tightened at her waist, grounding. "Ask me what you want."
Heat flared again, sharp.
Astra didn't let it soften her.
"I want you to keep asking," Astra whispered. "Every time."
Kael swallowed hard. "Always."
The word landed like a vow, and Astra's chest tightened in a way that wasn't penance or chain debt.
Ahead, Orin slowed and raised a fist.
"Stop," he whispered.
They froze.
The corridor opened into a larger junction chamber—four tunnels branching like veins, each marked with a different chain symbol. In the center, a low stone plinth sat like an altar. On it, a thin metal ring lay flat—plain, worn, too simple to be harmless.
Lyra's eyes glittered. "Oh."
Orin's face went grim. "That's a collector node."
Juno swallowed. "Collector."
Orin nodded. "Underchain debt doesn't stay abstract. Sometimes it asks you to pay where it can watch."
Astra's interface flickered immediately, offering an explanation that felt like a smile.
CHAIN DEBT COLLECTION: OPTIONAL (NOW)PAYMENT OPTIONS:— TITHE: INFORMATION— TITHE: TRACE— TITHE: PERMISSION (TEMP)WARNING: NONPAYMENT MAY TRIGGER LATER (UNCONTROLLED)
Astra's stomach turned.
Pay now, controlled. Or pay later, uncontrolled.
Lyra's smile sharpened. "Pick information."
Orin shot her a look. "You don't get to pick for her."
Lyra shrugged. "I can suggest."
Kael's voice went low. "Astra."
Astra stared at the ring on the plinth. It looked like a simple loop—like a collar without a throat. Like a promise without a voice.
She could feel the Underchain watching from the tunnels, silent and hungry.
Astra's trace buzzed hot. Penance weighed her chest. And now chain debt waited with three options, all of them knives.
Information meant giving something away.
Trace meant pain and exposure.
Permission meant handing the Underchain leverage.
Astra's jaw clenched.
She would not give permission.
Not again.
She looked at Orin. "Information."
Orin didn't look surprised. "What do you offer."
Astra's throat burned. She chose the smallest truth that would satisfy a criminal network without handing them a key to her future.
"A name," Astra said. "House Veyrn keyed a subchannel into the Guild's witness seal. It's been purged."
Orin's eyes narrowed. "That's valuable."
Lyra's smile widened. "Very."
Kael's arm tightened at Astra's waist, then loosened.
"Consent?" Kael asked, rough. "To you offering that."
Astra's pulse kicked at him still asking here, in a corridor built from contracts.
"Yes," Astra said.
Astra stepped to the plinth. The ring lay there, inert, waiting. She didn't touch it. She didn't trust objects that wanted contact.
She spoke instead.
"I tithe information," Astra said clearly, voice steady. "House Veyrn has a witness-seal backdoor. It has been cut."
The ring gave a soft click.
The plinth's stone lines glowed faintly, and Astra felt a subtle easing in her bones—as if the Underchain's hand on the back of her neck had lifted by a fraction.
Her interface updated.
TITHE ACCEPTED: INFORMATIONCHAIN DEBT REDUCED: -1DEBT TOTAL = 1
Orin exhaled. "Good."
Juno's shoulders eased, trembling. "So we're safe."
Lyra laughed softly. "No. We're current."
Kael's voice was low. "Move."
They took the tunnel marked with a thin chain-thread symbol—THREAD, not BIND. Orin led, sure-footed. Juno stayed close. Lyra drifted like smoke, always half a step away from where she could be grabbed.
Kael stayed at Astra's waist, steady, asking when he could, holding when she said yes.
The corridor tightened again, then opened into a maintenance throat where distant city sounds leaked through—muffled lantern chatter, carriage wheels, rain.
Orin paused and listened.
"This exits under the spice market," Orin whispered. "We'll come up in the old drainage bays."
Astra's throat burned. Surface again. Eyes again.
She felt the collar pulse, restless.
She felt the Guardian link tug—Kael's proximity easing her posture weight.
She felt Lyra's presence like a knife she'd let too close.
"Lyra," Astra said without turning.
Lyra's footsteps stopped. "Yes."
Astra's voice stayed flat. "You still owe me an explanation."
Lyra's laugh was soft. "For saving your life."
"For taking my permissions," Astra corrected.
Lyra's eyes glittered in the dark. "I used the only lever that would move you fast enough."
Kael's voice cut in, low and dangerous. "And now you're closer to her systems than I am."
Lyra smiled at him. "Jealous."
Kael's jaw clenched. "Protective."
Lyra's smile sharpened. "Same thing with better manners."
Heat flared low in Astra's belly—ugly jealousy, sharp temptation, power-play tension snapping between three bodies in a tunnel that smelled like damp stone.
Astra hated how alive it made her feel.
She used it to take control.
"Lyra," Astra said, "the delegation clause is recorded. You don't move anything without my 'yes.'"
Lyra's smile didn't falter. "I heard it click."
Astra's eyes narrowed. "Good."
Kael's hand tightened at Astra's waist, grounding.
"Consent?" he asked, rough.
Astra didn't look at him, but her voice softened a fraction—just enough to be intimate, not weak.
"Yes."
Kael's breath shuddered, and for a heartbeat the tunnel felt too small for what they weren't doing.
Orin cleared his throat sharply. "Less romance. More leaving."
Astra's mouth curved faintly. "Yes, Orin."
They moved.
Up a short ladder, through a rusted hatch, into a drainage bay under the spice market. The air above was warmer, thick with cinnamon and wet cloth. Distant voices. Footsteps. Commerce pretending the world wasn't a net.
Orin held the hatch half-open and listened.
"No Hounds in immediate range," Orin whispered. "But House men might be sniffing."
Astra's interface flickered—Underchain layer still active, Chainlink mark ticking down somewhere unseen.
And then, like a whisper from stone, another Underchain prompt slid across her vision—quiet, too casual to be harmless.
UNDERCHAIN OFFER: MASK (TEMP)EFFECT: HIDE SUBJECT FROM HOUSE SCENT (LOCAL)COST: CHAIN DEBT +1NOTE: REQUIRES "YES."
Astra's stomach turned.
A mask.
Hiding from House scent sounded like salvation.
It also sounded like the Underchain wrapping its hand around her throat in a nicer way.
Kael noticed the change in Astra's face immediately.
"What," he murmured.
Astra swallowed. "Underchain is offering a Mask. Hide me from House scent. Costs debt. Requires yes."
Lyra's eyes glittered. "Take it."
Orin shook his head. "Mask is never free. It sticks."
Juno whispered, "If House can smell her…"
Kael's grip at Astra's waist tightened, then loosened.
He looked at Astra's throat wrap like he wanted to rip the whole system off her with his bare hands.
"Astra," Kael rasped, "tell me what you want."
Heat flared, sharp and furious.
Astra met his eyes in the dim under-market light.
"I want to choose my own cage," Astra said quietly.
Kael's jaw clenched. "No cages."
Astra's mouth curved bitterly. "Then we die."
Kael swallowed hard.
"Consent," Astra said, voice steady, "to taking the Mask temporarily. Then we pay down the last debt and cut the link."
Orin's face tightened. "If we can."
Lyra's smile sharpened. "You can."
Kael's voice was rough. "If you do it, you say it like you mean it. Boundaries."
Astra nodded once.
She faced the prompt.
UNDERCHAIN OFFER: MASK (TEMP)REQUIRES "YES."
Astra's throat burned.
The word yes always came with teeth.
She spoke anyway—clear, explicit, refusing to let the system write meaning for her.
"Yes," Astra said. "To a temporary Mask. No ownership. No transfer. Consent withdrawable."
The air in the drainage bay shifted.
Not visibly. Just… wrong. Like a scent being folded and hidden inside cloth.
Astra's collar pulsed once, irritated at losing a clean identity signal.
Her interface updated.
MASK APPLIED (TEMP)EFFECT: HOUSE SCENT OBSCURED (LOCAL)CHAIN DEBT: +1DEBT TOTAL = 2
Astra's stomach dropped.
It added debt.
Of course it did.
Lyra's smile widened. "Now we move before they recalibrate."
Orin swore softly. "We're deeper in debt."
Juno swallowed. "But hidden."
Kael's arm tightened at Astra's waist.
"Consent?" he asked, rough.
Astra's pulse kicked, heat and anger tangled. "Yes."
They slipped out of the drainage bay into the underside of the spice market, moving through narrow service alleys that smelled of wet burlap and pepper. Orin led them toward an exit that would drop them back into Underchain routes if needed.
Astra's head still throbbed from Delay Loop punishment. Trace buzzed high. Penance pressed her chest. Chain debt sat in her bones like a quiet promise of collection.
Too many weights.
Too many hands.
Kael stayed close, steady, asking, holding, refusing to let his new authority become a weapon against her.
And that restraint—gods—made Astra want him in ways she couldn't afford.
She leaned slightly toward his ear as they walked.
"Consent," Astra whispered, voice low, "to me being reckless later. With you."
Kael's breath hitched. "Define reckless."
Astra's mouth curved, razor-thin. "A kiss. Not a vow."
Kael went very still, then his voice came out rough and honest.
"Yes," he whispered. "When we're not being hunted."
Astra's pulse kicked hard.
She didn't smile.
She saved it.
Ahead, Orin stopped abruptly and raised a fist.
"Problem," Orin whispered.
Astra peered past him.
At the end of the service alley, a line of clean-coated men stood under a lantern—House agents, faces neutral, eyes sharp. Not Hounds. Not Church.
House.
Their leader wore the same polished calm as the envoy—different man, same training. At his throat, the Veyrn sigil gleamed.
But Astra didn't feel the usual collar hunger toward House.
The Mask hid her scent.
For a heartbeat, House didn't recognize her.
Then the leader's eyes flicked to Kael.
To his wrist.
To the subtle way Kael's posture screamed military even when he tried to soften it.
And the man smiled slowly, as if he'd found the leash by looking at the handler instead of the collar.
"Guardian Raithe," the House agent called softly, polite as poison, "Marquis Veyrn requests your immediate audience."
Astra's blood went ice.
Kael's hand tightened at Astra's waist.
Astra felt the Guardian link tug—hot, insistent—like the system wanted Kael to respond.
Kael's jaw clenched, breath harsh.
"Astra," Kael rasped, "consent to running."
Astra swallowed hard.
"Yes," she said.
And as they turned to bolt, Astra's interface flickered with an Underchain warning that made her stomach drop into her boots:
MASK FAILURE RISK: COMMAND VOICE DETECTEDNOTE: PRIMARY HOLDER SIGNAL LEAKING THROUGH GUARDIAN LINK
Kael's crest flared bright.
And somewhere in the market above, a clean voice cut through the noise like a knife finding a seam—
"Kael Raithe," Captain Rusk Dain said, calm and certain, "return the subject to me."