They sent Seraphine back into Rook dressed like a sin the city would understand.
Arden watched her from a dark room eight tiers up, collar humming, hands flat on the console to keep from putting them through the glass.
The observation suite was small and expensive: Veil-wall at the front, cold metal everywhere else, faint citrus disinfectant to imply cleanliness it didn't have. Silex stood behind him with arms folded, a static shadow. Kai hunched at the adjacent station, jacks sunk in, lenses flickering. Lyra perched on the edge of a table, bare feet swinging, eyes unfocused in that way that meant she was seeing more than anyone else. Darius, too big for the space, stood by the door, sentinel.
On the main display: Rook District at night, from the vantage of Seraphine's lapel cam and whatever ugly little gods Kai had perched on nearby gutters.
Rain turned the alleys into oil-slick mirrors. Neon rooks marked corners in poison blue. The House of Recall was taped and dark now—a fresh wound—but the cult hadn't bled out. It had just moved sideways.
"Club's called Saintglass," Kai said. "Used to be a logistics shrine. Now it's a halo bar for people with better shoes. Same cult backbone, different skin."
The feed zoomed as Seraphine approached.
No mask, no armor now. Just a liquid black dress that looked spray-painted on, slit high enough to flash the edge of her thigh holster, a scrap of jacket that did nothing to hide the collar at her throat—tonight adorned with a chain fine as spider silk. Lips wine-dark. Eyes outlined in stolen sleep.
She moved like a slow question, smoke unbothered by the wind. The city made space for her; predators nodded as she passed.
Arden's jaw worked.
"You volunteered her," he said.
Silex didn't pretend not to understand.
"She's Velvet Division," Silex said. "She was infiltrating men like this when you were still tagging turbines. We're letting her be what she is."
"She's my operative," Arden said. "She's Ø7. She's also wearing five kilos of bait."
Silex's gaze slid to him. "Then handle her."
Arden almost snapped. The collar warmed, reading ahead.
Lyra's voice cut in, quiet. "He means watch, not leash. Yet."
On-screen, Saintglass unfurled.
The building was a converted freight chapel like the House of Recall, but where Recall had felt desperate, Saintglass was curated. Its doors were beaten silver. Holographic saints made of static invited patrons in: halos glitching, hands offering interface jacks instead of blessings.
"Audio," Arden said.
The room filled with bass and murmur as Seraphine stepped inside.
Saintglass was crowded. Bodies under low violet light. Halos glittered everywhere—sleek versions, designer rigs. People drank and jacked in, laughing with mouths and crying with eyes that saw other lives.
Arden caught flashes through Seraphine's cam: a man shaking as he watched a car crash from the driver's seat; a woman moaning quietly to a looped wedding night; a trio of kids sharing a serial killer's last meal.
"Fuck," Arden muttered.
"Smoke and mirrors," Lyra whispered. "They sell reflections until nobody remembers which face was theirs."
Silex: "Eyes on mission."
Kai flicked icons. "Target's in the VIP well. Goes by Glass Broker. Moves high-tier halo stock: corporate archives, judiciary vault dumps, rare deaths."
"And our Pastor Rook's pipeline?" Arden asked.
"Half of it," Kai said. "Other half comes straight from people we're supposed to trust."
"That's why we're here," Silex said. "I want a line from Halo Market to our own leaks. They won't show me. They might show her."
On-screen, Seraphine slid through the crowd.
She'd shifted her posture completely: shoulders loose, hips lazy, head tilted with practiced boredom. People looked and kept looking. Some recognized the collar and liked it more.
"Audio sending," she said, voice low, in their ears. "How's the picture?"
"Pretty," Kai said.
Arden forced his tone flat. "Clean. You've got three cams on the balcony and one in the rig wall. Don't break them."
"Tell the creeps to buy me a drink first," she said.
"Stay on script, Vega," Silex put in.
"Relax," she murmured. "I know this liturgy."
She reached the inner bar.
A woman waited there in white, stainless amidst the vice. Tailored suit, silver hair, halo resting idle around her neck like a promise. No visible collar.
"Broker," Kai confirmed. "Name on registry says Alesis Korr. Flagged in two Helios contracts, three Judiciary procurement logs. She's the hinge."
Seraphine leaned on the bar, close enough the camera caught the line of the Broker's mouth.
"Nice place," Seraphine said. "You steal it yourself, or was it a grab-bag?"
The Broker studied her openly.
"You're wearing a chain," she said. "And not hiding it. Unusual choice."
Seraphine rolled the fine leash chain between her fingers.
"Some people like to see what owns them," she said. "Makes them feel honest."
A small smile from the Broker. "You came recommended."
"Helios sends their love," Seraphine said. "They were very upset about the little church in the mud. Suggested I talk to whoever was smart enough to move the inventory before you kicked in the doors."
Arden's jaw tightened.
"We did not confirm that line," Silex said quietly.
"She's leveraging it," Lyra said. "Let her."
The Broker considered Seraphine over a glass of something colorless.
"And who are you to bring Helios' gossip into my house?" she asked.
"Call me Seraphine," she said. "Or don't. Names slide. I'm here to buy."
The Broker's gaze dropped briefly to the collar at her throat.
"You already paid," she said. "Dogs don't have wallets."
Seraphine smiled slow.
"CAD owes me," she said. "For staying alive. For keeping a few optics clean. They pay in access. And I like souvenirs."
Arden heard what she wasn't saying: I am useful enough they let me off the leash occasionally. Let the Broker think greed, not control.
Kai fed text over the main display.
FEED: SERAPHINE AUTH PROFILE — REDACTED. KNOWN FOR VELVET JOBS. USE THAT.
Seraphine tapped the halo resting on the bar between them.
"I want specialty stock," she said. "High-burn, one-use, no backup. Executed elites. Chain Dogs. Priests. The good shit. Heard you trade in those."
The Broker's smile faded half a centimeter.
"Who exactly sent you?" she said.
Seraphine leaned in.
"You learn in my old line of work," she said, voice dropping, "there's three ways to find out if a supplier's worth it. You test their product, their discretion, and their spine. You want to pass today?"
"How poetic," the Broker murmured.
Silex's tone in Arden's ear: "This is the line. If she overplays—"
"I pull her," Arden said. "If I see it."
The collar twitched, reminding him that if he pulled wrong, the others burned.
On-screen, the Broker gestured with her glass.
"Back room," she said. "If you're lying, you won't leave."
"I paid that cover charge before," Seraphine said. "Lead on."
They moved.
Arden's shoulders stayed square though he was sitting. Rook's neon leaked through the camera, making everything candy-bright and rotten.
Darius grunted from the doorway. "She's fine," he said. "This is home turf for her."
"It's rot," Arden said.
"Rot she knows how to eat," Darius said.
Back room: smaller, colder.
Racks of halos again, but these weren't crude. Polished. Branded. Each in its own slot with a neat printed tag.
Kai zoomed.
Text scrolled across Arden's screen, each line a sickness.
HLX-EXEC-023984: CFO HELIOS NORTH — TERMINAL ARREST 19:07.
JUD-PRIS-Δ7-1182: SERIAL OFFENDER, MULTI-HOMICIDE, FINAL 30 MIN.
CAD-DOG-Ø3-β-09: CHAIN DOG FINAL RUN FEED.
Seraphine made a show of reading.
"Busy priesthood," she said. "Plenty of martyrs."
"They begged to matter," the Broker said. "We oblige."
Kai's voice, taut: "They've got internal file tags intact. That means someone with Judiciary clearance is selling copies before archiving."
"Of course they are," Arden said. "Can we shut them here, or are we still pretending to shop?"
"We shut them when I have the route," Silex said. "Not before."
Seraphine picked up a halo delicately, like expensive lingerie.
The tag read: CAD-DOG-Ø7-∆-AR: MERCY GLITCH. UNRELEASED.
Arden's stomach iced.
"That's not live," he said.
Kai zoomed. "Holy shit."
Lyra's hands pressed hard into the table edge. "They have you," she said.
On-screen, Seraphine twirled the halo by its cable.
"This one's mislabeled," she said lightly. "I'd know if that leak was out."
"Consider it a teaser," the Broker said. "Exclusive. Footage like that? A Chain Dog choking on disobedience? People pay to wear that moment."
Arden's collar lit—fury mistaken for pre-crime.
Tier One heat stroked his spine. He rode it, breathing slow.
"Seraphine, get the feed source," Silex said. "Now."
She tilted her head, letting the halo rest against her throat, a ghost of him circling her neck.
"I want provenance," she said. "I don't buy fakes."
The Broker watched her. Decision flickered.
"Judiciary Vault echoes," she said. "Some of us still have friends in white. Trickle comes down, I bottle it. You walk out of here with that, I know you've got backing. Otherwise security paints the floor with you."
"There it is," Kai whispered. "Direct. She just bragged a leak from inside the machine."
"Recorded," Lyra said.
Arden's hands curled fists.
"Seraphine," he said on-link. "Smile, pay, walk. We have what we need."
"You jealous?" she murmured.
"Of course," he said. "But I'm also not interested in watching the leash cook us because you lingered."
Ninety percent of his words were practical. The extra came out angled.
The Broker stepped in, close, testing.
"Remove your collar," she said to Seraphine. "If you're here without permission, it kills you. If you're here with permission, it won't. That's how I sleep at night."
Seraphine laughed softly.
"You think I haven't worn worse," she said.
Arden went cold.
Silex: "She takes it off, they kill her. She refuses, they know she's on a leash. Either way, exposure."
"Stop her," Arden snapped.
"If you overrule in her ear and they see it, it's also exposure," Kai said.
Lyra: "Smoke and mirrors. Let her lie with her skin."
On-screen, Seraphine reached up.
Slow.
Fingers sliding over the ring of metal at her throat.
"Collar's welded," she said. "Insurance clause. You can scan it. It pings green. I don't move without someone's leash these days, but I choose where I heel."
Broker's stare sharpened. She pulled a scanner from her pocket, swept it over Seraphine's neck.
LEDs flickered. Kai's fingers flew.
"Faking her signature," he muttered. "Show, don't tell. Come on, come on—"
Scanner chimed.
"Authorization: Handler Silex. Mission-Exempt Mobility: Granted," it read.
Silex raised a brow. "I did not—"
"I did," Kai said. "Forged you ten seconds ago. You're welcome."
The Broker's shoulders loosened half a degree.
"Well," she said. "If the Priest of Chains gives you a hall pass…"
She gestured to the Ø7 halo.
"Take it," she said. "On the house. Call it a sample. Next time, you bring Helios coin, I show you the deeper racks."
Behind Arden, Silex's jaw clenched at the title. Priest of Chains.
Seraphine curled the halo into her palm.
"I'll make sure it plays to the right crowd," she said.
Arden heard the double edge.
"Deal's done," Silex said in their ears. "Walk out. No heroics."
"Shame," Seraphine said. "I wore the good shoes."
The Broker watched her go, amused.
"Tell your masters," she called after, "if they want to keep secrets, stop killing pretty."
No one answered.
⸻
Outside Saintglass, the rain came harder, drumming on Seraphine's bare shoulders as she stepped into the alley. The lapel cam caught the gooseflesh on her arms; the halo in her hand looked obscene.
"Extraction," Arden said.
"On your left," Darius's voice rumbled as he emerged from shadow in plaincoat, big and casual as any hired bouncer. He fell into step beside her, one hand light at her spine.
"You good?" he asked.
"Define good," she said. "Nobody tried to finger the merch. That's a win."
Kai spoke into both their ears.
"I've tagged their uplink," he said. "They're pulling from a Judiciary side-channel called 'Echo Tithe.' That's where they got Arden's non-death. That's internal. That's big."
Lyra's tone: "And the way Alesis said 'friends in white'—this is not a lone leak. It's policy-grade rot."
Seraphine chuckled under her breath.
"Congratulations, boys and ghosts," she said. "We're famous in places that shouldn't have our names."
The shared link pulsed.
Arden felt all of them at once: Darius's steady mass, Seraphine's adrenaline-sparkle, Kai's crackling focus, Lyra's thin wire of dread.
And under it, humming, Silex.
"Back to tower," Silex said. "No detours. We do this next part where the mirrors are ours."
Arden didn't realize he'd been holding his breath until the feed cut to Saintglass's exterior cameras, showing Seraphine and Darius turning the corner toward their unseen transport.
He exhaled.
The collar cooled against his neck like a hand withdrawing.
Kai unplugged, flexing his fingers.
"We've got her voice on record confirming direct leaks from Judiciary channels," he said. "We've got visual of Arden's unreleased halo on their shelves. We've got route maps. That's the whole trick-box."
Lyra's gaze flicked to Arden.
"And you didn't jump," she said. "That matters."
He smirked, thin. "Proud of myself."
"You should be," she said. "They built this machine assuming you'd perform your pain on cue. You didn't."
Silex stepped to the console and rewound a fragment: Seraphine in the back room, halo dragging across her collar; the Broker calling him Priest of Chains.
"You see the shape?" Silex said.
"I see everyone's feeding on the same corpse," Arden said. "The Judiciary kills people, sells their deaths to Helios, Helios sells them to cult priests, priests sell them to assholes in Rook. Nice ecosystem."
Lyra: "And Ø7 sits at the intersection. Enforcement and advertisement."
Kai's laugh was humorless. "We're the hero pack on the poster and the snuff file in the basement."
Silex watched Arden.
"Does it make you want to be more obedient," he asked, "or less?"
Arden met his eyes.
"Yes," he said.
Silex almost smiled.
"Smoke and mirrors," Silex said. "They sell a false rebellion. We sell a false mercy. Between us, there's room for exactly one mistake before the whole crowd sees backstage."
Arden glanced at the blanked screen where Seraphine's face had been.
"And what are we doing?" he asked. "Fixing the smoke or polishing the mirrors?"
"For now?" Silex said. "We're counting who's holding them."
Darius's voice crackled over comms: "Package delivered. Heading home."
Seraphine: "Tell the martyr I brought him a present."
Lyra looked at Arden. "You know that halo's not just your problem," she said. "It's ours."
He nodded once.
"I know," he said.
The Obedience Machine purred around them: vents, lights, hidden drives, the sense that every choice had already been rendered to data.
For now, Ø7 had learned one more ugly truth: not only were their chains visible, they were for sale.