Chapter 5

Cain didn't budge. He leaned in, his shadow swallowing her against the wall. He smelled of ozone and old leather—sharp, overwhelming, and too close.

"Three years, Lyra," he murmured. "Three years since that signal hit the archives. It's a ghost. A glitch in the void."

"It's not a glitch!" She tried to shove past him, desperate to hit the screen. "He wouldn't just leave a random signal for three years. He was hiding. He was waiting for *me*!"

Cain grabbed her upper arm. He didn't bruise her, but he stopped her dead. He spun her around, pinning her back against the bulkhead. The cold metal bit into her shoulder blades, but all she felt was the heat radiating from his chest.

His eyes—hard, analytical—scanned her face. He was looking for a lie.

"You're desperate," he said, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous vibration. "Desperation makes people see patterns in static. You want him back so bad you're willing to walk us both into a kill-box."

"I'm not desperate. I'm hopeful," she spat, though her voice trembled. "Something you wouldn't get. You're just a machine in a human suit."

Cain's lip curled. He didn't pull away. Instead, he shifted his weight, his thigh brushing hers. The contact was electric. Lyra's breath hitched. He leaned closer, lips nearly touching her ear.

"I'm a machine that knows how to survive," he whispered. "You? You're a battery with a target on her back. Follow a ghost, and we both end up as scrap."

Lyra tried to twist away, but his grip tightened on her sleeve. "Let me go. Just ten minutes. I can track the origin."

"No," he said flatly.

"Why not? You're an Enforcer! You're paid to find things!"

"I'm paid to keep you alive," he countered. His gaze dropped to her mouth for a fraction of a second before snapping back to her eyes. "And right now, your 'hope' is a death sentence."

*Shriek.*

The comms channel exploded. Static ripped through the cabin, followed by a sound that made the hair on Lyra's neck stand up. It wasn't human. It was a mechanical rasp—metal grinding on bone.

"Enforcer Cain," the voice grated. "Still playing babysitter to the little spark?"

Lyra froze. Cain's expression went stone-cold. He didn't let go of her arm, but his muscles locked. He flicked the channel open with his free hand.

"Who is this?" Cain demanded. "Identify yourself or I'll burn your relay to ash."

The voice laughed—a dry, clicking sound. "Always so aggressive. We don't want your ashes, Cain. We want the girl. The core inside her is wasted on a fugitive. Give her to us, and we'll give you the coordinates to the sector's hidden vault. Your promotion, wrapped in a pretty little bow."

Lyra felt a chill run down her spine. "What vault? What are they talking about?"

Cain ignored her. "You're wasting my time. Who are you?"

"A friend of your old mistakes," the voice replied. "Let's make this simple. That signal the girl thinks is her brother? We sent it. We knew she'd react. We knew you'd be close enough to hear it. Now, do we have a deal, or do we send the boarding pods to your current coordinates?"

Lyra's world tilted. She stepped back, her voice small. "You sent it? You lied?"

"Oh, honey," the voice rasped, "we didn't lie. We just used the right bait. Your brother's ghost is a very effective lure."

Cain slammed the comms shut.

The silence was heavier than the noise. He let go of her arm, stepping back, but the distance felt wrong. The air between them was jagged.

Lyra sank to the floor, her knees hitting the deck plating with a dull thud. "He's not here. He's not even out there, is he?"

Cain looked down at her. The hardness in his eyes flickered. He didn't offer a hand. He didn't offer comfort. He just stood there, arms crossed, like a jailer.

"I told you it was a trap," he said. The bite was gone. He sounded... tired.

"You knew?" she whispered. "You knew they'd use him?"

"I knew the signal was too clean," Cain replied, his boots clicking on the metal as he walked to the console. "Professional hunters don't leave trails. They leave breadcrumbs. This was a trail leading straight to a slaughterhouse."

Lyra let out a jagged breath—half-sob, half-laugh. "So that's it. I'm just bait. To the Council, to those things on the radio... even to you."

Cain stopped. He turned slowly, his gaze pinning her. He walked back, movements deliberate, and sank to one knee.

They were eye-level. The proximity was suffocating. She could see the faint scar along his jaw, the way his pupils were blown wide in the dim light.

"You think I'm using you?" he asked, his voice a low rumble she felt in her own chest.

"Aren't you?" she challenged, her voice cracking. "You're an Enforcer. I'm a walking paycheck."

Cain reached out. His thumb brushed the side of her cheek. It was a touch so light it was almost an accident, but it felt like a brand. Lyra didn't pull away. She couldn't.

"Maybe at first," he whispered, his face inches from hers. "But you're a lot more annoying than a paycheck. And a lot harder to ignore."

Lyra's heart skipped. She wanted to push him away. She wanted to lean in. She looked at his lips, then back to his eyes. "Why are you telling me this now?"

"Because you need to understand something," Cain said, his voice dropping, a secret meant only for her. He leaned in, his breath warm against her skin, lips almost grazing the shell of her ear.

Lyra shivered, eyes closing instinctively. "What?"

Cain's voice was a ghost of a whisper, cold and devastating.

"The signal wasn't just a lure, Lyra. It was a confirmation. The people who sent it... they've been using your brother for three years."

Lyra's eyes snapped open. "What do you mean?"

Cain pulled back just enough to look her in the eye.

"He's not a prisoner, Lyra. He's the one who signed the contract to hunt you."