SPEAK "YES."
The prompt sat in Astra's vision like a calm executioner, waiting for her mouth to do what steel couldn't. The cold water at her throat bit into the witness seal, and pain lanced up her nerves in thin, bright wires. Her collar pulsed like it liked the pressure—liked the clean demand, the simple hierarchy.
Above, Lyra leaned on the hatch edge with that glittering smile that always looked like a knife pretending to be jewelry. Behind her, silhouettes of Hounds in Dominion grey-black shifted in clean rhythm.
In front of Astra, the lead Hound blocked the service throat with quiet precision. His crest glimmered at the throat, bright in the wedge of light. He didn't need to shout. He didn't need to hurry.
He only needed Astra to say one word.
Orin's face had gone grey. Juno stood frozen halfway in the narrow opening, disk raised but trembling. The air smelled of wet iron and old stone and the kind of authority that never apologized.
Kael stayed at Astra's side, close enough that his heat cut through the damp chill. His hand held her waist—firm, controlled, nowhere near her throat. He'd asked. She'd said yes. Now his grip was the only steady thing in a chamber full of traps.
His voice was rough at her ear. "Don't."
Astra swallowed blood and kept her eyes on the prompt.
NOTE: "YES" WILL CONFIRM HANDLER OVERSIGHT TRANSFER — TO CAPTAIN RUSK DAIN.
The words didn't even pretend to be kind.
Dorian's silk laugh curled along her nerves, warm and pleased. Say it, little anomaly. Give the kennel your leash. Then I'll take it from them.
Astra's stomach turned.
She held the witness seal deeper in the dark water, pain spiking again, because pain was still better than becoming clean.
Lyra looked down at Astra like she was watching a performance. "It's only one word," Lyra said softly, sweetly. "You're making it dramatic."
Kael's jaw clenched, lethal. "You brought them."
Lyra's eyes flicked to him—amused irritation, something sharper underneath. "I brought a witness. There's a difference."
"Say that again," Orin snarled. "Louder. Maybe the stone will be impressed."
The lead Hound stepped half a pace forward. "Enough," he said calmly. "Subject Astra Vey will comply."
His gaze pinned Astra's throat. Not her eyes. Her throat.
Astra felt the handler panel pulse like a hungry heart at the edge of her vision. It offered neat solutions. It always did.
HANDLER OVERRIDE: AVAILABLE
Astra refused to look at it.
She kept her eyes on Kael instead.
His were almost black in the dim, furious and present. He looked like a man being forced to watch his own body become a handle again. He wasn't begging. He wasn't pleading.
He was holding the line by sheer discipline.
And he was still asking her for consent even while command tried to take him.
That made something fierce and hot twist low in Astra's belly.
Not softness.
A vow.
Astra leaned close enough that her breath warmed the corner of his mouth and spoke in their private language.
"Black water," she whispered.
Kael answered instantly, rough and steady. "Black water."
Astra's throat tightened. "If I say it," she murmured, "it locks to him."
Kael's fingers tightened at her waist—grounding, not owning. "Then don't say it."
Astra almost laughed. Almost cried. "If I don't, they'll declare noncompliance and break us with force."
Kael's breath shuddered once. "Let them try."
Astra's gaze flicked up to the hatch.
Lyra watched her too closely—watching for the flinch, the panic, the surrender. Behind Lyra, a Hound shifted and the clean wedge of light widened like a blade turning in a wound.
Time was running out.
Astra's interface pulsed again, impatient.
SPEAK "YES."
Lyra's smile thinned. "Astra," she said, voice gentler than the knife behind it, "you don't have the luxury of pride."
Astra stared at her. "Is this your new sermon."
Lyra's eyes glittered. "It's your survival."
Orin hissed, "Stop talking like you're saving her!"
Lyra didn't look at Orin. She looked at Astra, and her smile slipped for half a heartbeat—fast enough that only Astra, trained by pain and threat, caught it.
Lyra's right hand rose to her throat and tapped the hollow beneath her jaw—once, then again.
A signal.
Not performance.
A code.
Astra's pulse kicked.
The last time Lyra had played with code, she'd drowned her own signal in black water and let her skin pay for it. She wasn't gentle when she chose risk. She was reckless in the way smart people could afford because they always had another layer.
Kael felt Astra's attention shift. "What did she do."
Astra didn't take her eyes off Lyra. "She signaled."
Kael's jaw tightened. "Astra—"
Lyra's gaze flicked to Kael's wrist—handler mark—then back to Astra. She tilted her head, smiling again, but her eyes were too sharp to be casual.
As if she was saying: You already wrote a clause. Trust the clause.
Astra's stomach turned with suspicion.
Trust was a luxury too.
But so was refusing a door when the walls were closing.
The lead Hound moved, steady and calm, blocking the service throat fully now. "Speak," he said.
His hand lifted slightly—as if he was ready to grab Astra's throat wrap, rip the seal free from the water, make it clean again.
External contact.
Threat exception.
The system would love it.
Kael's body shifted between them—shoulder and chest, a wall without hands. "Touch her," Kael said low, "and I'll put you on stone."
The Hound's mouth twitched. "You won't. You're on recall."
Kael's jaw clenched. "Watch me choose."
Astra felt the heat of that word—choose—hit her like a spark.
She needed to decide.
Now.
Astra lifted the witness seal out of the water just enough to speak without choking on her own pain. The metal edge was slick, dark, and cold against her skin. Her throat burned. Her trace buzzed high and ugly.
Kael's hand stayed at her waist, firm.
He didn't pull.
He didn't push.
He held.
Consent made into muscle.
Astra leaned toward Kael one more time, private, fierce.
"Consent," Astra whispered, "if I say it, you stay with me and you don't let them use you."
Kael's eyes burned. "Always."
Astra's mouth went dry. "Say it clean."
Kael's voice came rough, chosen, human. "Yes. I consent."
The words struck Astra harder than the threat prompt.
Because he made it a choice.
Because he made it his.
Lyra exhaled softly at the hatch like she'd been holding her breath too. "Good," she murmured, almost to herself.
Orin's face tightened. "Astra—"
Juno's disk hummed louder, desperate. "Please—"
Astra lifted her chin toward the prompt.
And spoke.
"Yes."
The chamber held still.
The prompt flashed, hungry and neat.
CONFIRMATION RECEIVED.HANDLER OVERSIGHT TRANSFER: INITIATING — CAPTAIN RUSK DAIN.WITNESS: LYRA SABLE (REGISTERED) — VERIFIED.
Kael went rigid.
Orin swore.
Juno inhaled sharply like she'd been punched.
Dorian's silk laughter bloomed in Astra's nerves, delighted. There it is.
For half a heartbeat, Astra felt the sick weight of it—like she'd placed her own neck under a clean blade.
Then the system… hesitated.
Not visibly at first.
Just a faint stutter in the way the text held its shape.
Lyra's eyes sharpened.
Astra's interface flickered again, and a new line slid underneath the confirmation—small, easy to miss, absolutely wrong:
TRANSFER ROUTE: ESCROW (WITNESS-HOLD) — PENDING DELIVERY
Astra's blood went cold.
Escrow.
Witness-hold.
Not direct command.
Not Rusk's clean hand on the leash.
Lyra's throat tap again flashed in Astra's memory—twice, quick, deliberate.
Kael saw Astra's face change and demanded, "What."
Astra didn't look away from the interface. "It rerouted."
Kael's jaw clenched. "To where."
Astra's throat burned. "To an escrow. A witness-hold."
Orin's eyes widened. "That's Underchain."
Juno blinked. "That's—illegal?"
Lyra smiled down at them, and this time it wasn't jewelry. It was teeth.
"Not illegal," Lyra said softly. "Just inconvenient."
The lead Hound's calm cracked—just a thin line. His gaze snapped up to Lyra. "What did you do."
Lyra's smile didn't fade. "Witnessed."
The Hound's voice went colder. "You're not authorized to escrow military oversight."
Lyra shrugged, elegant even on the hatch edge. "Then arrest me for paperwork."
Kael's eyes went lethal. "Lyra."
Lyra finally looked at him directly. Her gaze flicked to the handler mark on his wrist—then up to his throat crest—then back to his eyes.
And something in her expression softened for half a second.
"I didn't betray you," Lyra said quietly. "I just refused to let the wrong men hold the leash."
Astra's stomach twisted. "So you did this to block Rusk."
Lyra's smile sharpened again. "And to buy you three breaths."
Orin snapped, "Then stop talking and give us a door!"
Lyra didn't move.
Because she couldn't.
Not with Hounds behind her.
Not with clean light flooding the hatch.
She stayed perched like bait that had chosen its hook.
The lead Hound stepped forward, hand rising—toward the service throat, toward Astra, toward Kael—his posture changing from calm containment to immediate action.
"Contain them," he ordered.
His eyes flicked to Kael. "Hound, stop."
Kael's body twitched at the word stop—recall pressure tugging—then held because Kael's jaw clenched and his eyes stayed on Astra, anchoring in her rather than the command.
Astra felt the handler panel pulse again.
Now, with the transfer "escrowed," her authority didn't vanish—but it changed.
The interface flashed, cold and sharp:
HANDLER OVERSIGHT: HELD IN ESCROW (WITNESS)TEMP CONTROL: LIMITED — SUBJECT ASTRA VEYNOTE: DELIVERY PENDING (3:00)