Orin saw Astra's face and swore. "Don't."
Lyra smiled. "Do."
Juno whispered, "Please—"
Kael's hand tightened at Astra's waist. "Astra. Tell me what you want."
Astra's throat burned.
She wanted to stop paying.
She wanted to stop bleeding.
She wanted one clean second where no one reached for her throat.
She didn't get wants like that.
She got choices shaped like knives.
Astra looked up at Kael, close enough to see rainwater still caught in his lashes from the surface.
"Consent," Astra whispered, "to spending one more debt to misdirect them—so we can get out without another fight."
Kael's jaw clenched. "It brands you deeper."
Astra's mouth curved. "I'm already inside it."
Kael stared at her—raw, furious, present.
"Yes," he rasped. "I consent."
Astra accepted.
The Underchain hummed.
ROUTE SPOOF: ACTIVE (LOCAL)COST: CHAIN DEBT +1DEBT TOTAL: 4
The air shifted faintly—as if sound and scent took a wrong turn in the dark.
Orin exhaled. "Fine. Then we move now."
They took a narrow tunnel that sloped up, then out into a maintenance throat under a row of closed shops. The smell changed: wet wood, old soap, human waste hidden behind brick.
A hatch ahead rattled in the wind.
Orin pressed an ear to it. "Street. Quiet."
Juno's breath shook. "Finally."
Lyra's eyes glittered. "Not finally. Never finally."
Kael's arm remained at Astra's waist. She could feel how his body kept correcting itself—tighten, loosen, ask, hold—like he was building new reflexes over old ones.
Astra hated that she noticed every shift.
She hated that she liked it.
The hatch lifted.
Cold night air slid in like a blade. Distant lanterns. Rain thinning into mist. The city breathing like nothing had happened.
They climbed out into a narrow back street behind shuttered shops. Orin went first, then Juno, then Astra with Kael right behind, hand steady at her waist so she didn't slip on wet brick.
"Consent," Kael murmured as he guided her down. "To holding."
"Yes," Astra said.
Once on the street, the Underchain Mask still hid her House "scent," but the Guardian link made Kael a beacon. She could feel eyes turning their way even when no one looked directly.
Lyra adjusted her hood, blending into shadow like she'd been born there. "We should split."
Orin shook his head. "No."
Lyra shrugged. "Then die together. Romantic."
Astra ignored her and scanned the street.
The route spoof should be pulling pursuit away. For now.
But Admin flags got noticed.
Sooner or later, the city would want to know who had dared to mute command voice.
Astra's interface flickered with a subtle, ugly truth:
ADMIN (LOCAL) TRACE: RECORDEDNOTE: INQUIRY LIKELY — SOURCE HUNT
Kael saw Astra's face tighten. "They'll come."
Astra nodded once. "Yes."
Kael's voice dropped low. "Then we move toward somewhere that hates questions."
Orin barked a humorless laugh. "There's no such place."
Astra's mind snapped to the one faction that traded in permissions like weapons and didn't respect clean law: The Underchain.
But the Underchain now owned a piece of her, and it would collect.
Lyra slid closer, voice low and silky. "You've got Admin now," she murmured. "Local. Limited. But real."
Astra's stomach turned. "Don't sound pleased."
Lyra smiled. "I'm always pleased when someone bleeds into power."
Kael's jaw clenched. "Back off."
Lyra's gaze flicked to Kael, amused. "Jealous."
"Protective," Kael corrected, rough.
Lyra's smile sharpened. "Same shape."
Heat flared low in Astra's belly—ugly jealousy, sharp temptation, power-play tension snapping between them in the wet street.
Astra used it to take control.
"Lyra," Astra said coldly, "your delegation is still constrained. You do nothing without my 'yes.'"
Lyra's eyes glittered. "I know. I felt it click."
Astra didn't relax. "Good."
Juno whispered, "Someone's coming."
Footsteps. Quick. Too purposeful.
Orin grabbed Juno's arm and pulled her into the deeper shadow under an awning. Astra followed, Kael still close, hand at her waist.
A man rounded the corner—
Not a Hound.
Not House.
Guild.
A Crestwright runner in a rain cloak, face pale, eyes wide. His throat bore the Guild stamp, and he carried a slim tube of sealed paper like it was a blade.
He stopped short when he saw Kael.
His gaze flicked to Astra's throat wrap.
Then he bowed quickly, too quickly, like the bow itself was a signal.
"Subject Astra Vey," he said breathlessly. "By order of the Crestwright Guild—urgent notice."
Orin swore under his breath. "Of course."
Kael's arm tightened slightly—protective—then loosened as he caught himself.
"Consent?" Kael asked, rough. "To me stepping between."
Astra's pulse kicked. "Yes."
Kael moved half a step, shielding without blocking Astra's view, keeping his hands away from her throat.
The runner swallowed and held out the tube with both hands.
"It's… it's a certification audit," he said. "Triggered by unauthorized administrative activity within an Underchain jurisdiction."
Astra's blood went cold.
Admin trace.
Already.
The runner's voice shook. "They want you to present. Immediately. In person. For verification."
Lyra laughed softly. "Oh, that's fast."
Orin's face went hard. "It's a trap."
Kael's jaw clenched. "Who's backing the audit."
The runner swallowed. "The Guild says it's internal."
Astra almost laughed.
Internal meant bought.
Bought meant House.
Or command.
Or both.
Astra's interface flickered, and another line appeared beneath the runner's words—quiet, lethal:
GUILD AUDIT NOTICE: COMPLIANCE REQUIREDFAILURE: PERMISSIONS LOCKDOWN (SUBJECT)NOTE: PRIMARY HOLDER ACCOUNTABLE
Astra's stomach dropped.
If she refused, the Guild could freeze her permissions—close the doors she'd fought open. It could also punish Kael for being primary holder.
Kael felt it. His breathing tightened. "They're targeting me through you."
Astra's throat burned. "Yes."
Juno whispered, terrified, "What do we do."
Orin muttered, "We run."
Lyra's smile sharpened. "Or we bargain."
Kael turned slightly toward Astra, close enough that his breath warmed her cheek. His voice dropped into that rough intimacy that always made Astra's nerves spark.
"Astra," he said, "tell me what you want."
Astra stared at the runner's shaking hands, at the Guild stamp, at the rain-slick street that suddenly felt like a corridor again—another place built to funnel her toward someone else's desk.
Then she looked at Kael—at the man labeled Guardian, primary holder, accountable—still asking like her voice mattered.
Heat flared low in her belly, fierce and furious.
She chose.
"Give me the tube," Astra said.
Kael's hand tightened at her waist. "Consent to me staying close."
"Yes," Astra said. "Stay."
Astra stepped forward and took the sealed tube—careful not to break the wax yet. The runner's eyes flicked to her throat wrap like he expected it to shine.
Astra held his gaze.
"If I open this," Astra said calmly, "and it's a trap, you're the bait."
The runner swallowed. "I'm just— I'm just delivering."
Astra nodded once. "Then deliver this message back."
She leaned closer, voice low, dangerous.
"Tell the Guild," Astra murmured, "that if they lock me down, the Underchain will know exactly which office requested it."
The runner's eyes widened. He looked like he wanted to run.
Astra straightened.
"And tell them," Astra added, "that I'm coming. But I choose the room."
The runner blinked. "That's not—"
Astra's mouth curved razor-thin. "It is now."
Kael exhaled sharply, like he felt the chessboard shift.
Orin muttered, impressed despite himself, "Bold."
Lyra's smile widened. "Very."
Astra turned to Kael, close enough to make the rain between them feel hot.
"Consent," Astra whispered, "to walking into a Guild audit together—on our terms."
Kael's jaw clenched. "It's a cage."
Astra's throat burned. "Then we go in holding the key."
Kael's eyes burned into hers.
"Yes," he rasped. "I consent."
Astra nodded once and cracked the wax seal.
The paper inside didn't read like an invitation.
It read like a verdict.
And at the bottom, under the Crestwright stamp, was a second seal pressed in crimson wax—too elegant to be Guild.
House Veyrn.
Astra's blood went ice.
Kael's breath caught.
Orin swore.
Lyra laughed softly, delighted.
Astra lifted her chin in the rain-dark street, paper trembling slightly in her hand, and understood exactly what the Marquis had done—
he'd turned her Admin trace into a summons with his signature on it.