"Sign it, or I hand you back to the Council in five minutes. I’m not picky about which one happens first."
Cain didn't just hold the tablet; he held the air between them. He crowded Lyra against the damp concrete wall, his chest nearly brushing hers. The device glowed a sterile, pale blue, casting sharp shadows across his jaw.
The contract on the screen was short, brutal, and absolute.
Lyra glared at the digital ink. "Absolute command? You’re not looking for a partner. You’re looking for a pet."
"I'm looking for a way to keep a forbidden core from detonating in my sector," Cain replied. His voice was a low grate, barely a whisper. He stepped closer. He smelled like ozone and cold rain. "You’re a walking supernova, Lyra. You don't get to negotiate when you're the most wanted battery in the galaxy."
Lyra shoved him. It was like pushing against a mountain.
His hand shot out, gripping her wrist. Not enough to bruise, but enough to make her heart hammer. He twisted her arm, forcing her hand toward the screen.
"Let go," she hissed.
"Sign. It."
"What happens if I don't?"
Cain leaned in, lips inches from her ear. The heat radiating from him clashed with the freezing wind whipping through the alley. "The Council’s retrieval team is three blocks away. They don't use handcuffs, Lyra. They use neural scrubbers. They’ll peel your memories out like old wallpaper until there’s nothing left but a humming engine in your chest."
He paused, his voice dropping. "You won't even know your brother's name."
Lyra flinched. A precision strike. She looked at the tablet, then up at Cain’s eyes. They were hard. Calculating. Devoid of pity.
"I want a guarantee," she snapped, fighting a sob. "That you'll actually find him. Not just keep me alive."
Cain’s lips curled into a dangerous smile. "I don't do guarantees for free. But sign this, and I’ll give you a lead. Maybe even a name."
Lyra swallowed hard. The Star-Core in her chest pulsed—a rhythmic thrum reacting to him, or maybe just her own panic.
She pressed her thumb to the biometric pad.
*Ping.*
The blue light turned a violent, searing gold.
The world tilted. A shockwave of heat slammed into Lyra’s spine, throwing her head back against the wall. It wasn't pain—it was an invasion. A golden thread of energy erupted from the tablet, diving straight into her chest and stitching itself into the core.
Cain gasped. His grip on her wrist tightened. His pupils dilated until the irises vanished.
*Flash.*
For a split second, the barrier vanished. Cain didn't just see her; he felt her. He saw a blur of a burning city, the scream of a child, and hands pulling her into the dark. He felt the crushing weight of a secret that could level a star system.
He yanked his hand away as if burned, stumbling back. He breathed hard, his gaze scanning her face with a new, predatory intensity.
"What was that?" Lyra gasped, clutching her chest. Her skin was humming. "What did you do?"
"Soul-sync," Cain muttered, rubbing his temple. He looked shaken, though he masked it with a scowl. "The contract isn't just legal. It’s a biological tether. I can feel your core now. I can feel when you're lying."
"Get out of my head!"
Lyra lunged. She swung a fist, but Cain caught her mid-air. His arm locked around her waist, hoisting her off the ground and pinning her back against the wall.
This time, the proximity felt different. The tension wasn't just survival—it was a live wire sparking between them.
"Stop fighting," he commanded.
It wasn't just a word. It was a command written into her DNA. Lyra’s muscles locked. Her body refused to move.
"You... you can't..."
"I can," he whispered. His gaze dropped to her lips for a fraction of a second before snapping back to her eyes. "That’s the 'absolute command' part of the deal. You don't move unless I say so. You don't speak unless I allow it. You are mine now, Lyra. In every sense that matters to the law."
Lyra glared, her chest heaving. "I hate you."
"Good," Cain’s voice dropped an octave. "Hate keeps you sharp. Now, shut up and move."
He released her. Before she could even balance herself, a deafening crash echoed from the end of the alley. The corrugated metal fence exploded inward in a shower of sparks.
Three figures stepped through the smoke. Matte-black armor. Council High Hunt. The kind of soldiers who didn't take prisoners.
"Target acquired," one droned, raising a pulse-rifle.
Lyra froze. She looked at Cain. He didn't look surprised. He looked annoyed.
He stepped in front of her, his broad shoulders shielding her. He didn't draw a weapon. Instead, he reached back, grabbed her hand, and squeezed hard.
"Wait!" the lead hunter shouted through a modulator. "Enforcer Cain, step aside. That core is Council property. By order of Victor, the girl is to be retrieved immediately."
Cain didn't budge. "Change of plans. She’s under my jurisdiction now. Bound by a Level 7 Soul-Contract."
Silence. The hunters shifted, weapons humming as they charged.
"A contract?" the hunter sneered. "You’re risking a court-martial for a fugitive?"
"I'm not risking anything," Cain said, his voice turning ice-cold. He pulled Lyra flush against his side, his arm winding tightly around her shoulder, dragging her into his heat. "I'm claiming a reward. Fire a single shot, and I'll report this as an illegal assault on a protected witness."
The lead hunter hesitated. "You can't protect her forever, Cain. The Council wants that core. They'll come for her—and you—with everything they have."
Cain smirked. "Let them come."
He began to back away, dragging Lyra into the deeper shadows.
"She's a monster, Enforcer!" the hunter boomed one last time. "That core will eat her alive from the inside out!"
Cain stopped. He looked down at Lyra, his eyes searching hers for the truth of the vision he'd seen.
"Is that true?" he whispered.
Before Lyra could answer, a second explosion rocked the street. A voice screamed from the rooftops—a voice that sounded exactly like the brother she had lost three years ago.