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"Get away from that hatch!" Cassian caught Lyra by the back of her coat just as she kicked the emergency wheel loose.
The hatch shuddered under her boot. Beyond it, the black sea pressed against the ironclad hard enough to make every rivet complain.
Lyra twisted, elbowing backward. "Let go. It’s calling me."
"The sea doesn’t call. It kills." Cassian hauled her off the hatch and slammed her against the deck. "Brant! Lock the inner dogs!"
"Already trying!" Brant shouted from the control cage. "The damn wheel’s jammed halfway!"
A deep knock rolled through the submarine.
Not metal against metal. Something outside had struck the hull with a head the size of a boiler.
Lyra’s blindfold had slipped below one eye. Her uncovered iris caught the blue pulse from the instrument board and reflected it like a shard of glass.
"There," she whispered. "You hear it now."
Cassian planted one knee beside her hip and caught both her wrists in one hand. Her coat was soaked from the last dive, cold fabric bunching beneath his fingers. She fought like a trapped knife, all sharp shoulders and furious breath.
"I hear the hull cracking," he said. "That’s not the same thing."
"You’re afraid."
"I’m busy."
"Your hands are shaking."
Cassian looked down. She was right. The deck trembled under them, but his grip stayed steady.
He leaned closer. "Keep fighting me and I’ll strap you to the captain’s chair."
"Try it. I’ll bite through the straps."
"You already tried biting me."
"You deserved it."
Another impact slammed into the vessel. The lights flickered. A warning bell gave one weak chirp, then died.
Brant cursed from the control cage. "Captain, the bait canister is still stuck in the launch throat. If we don’t free it, we can’t draw the crawler away from us."
Cassian glanced toward the forward maintenance hatch. The canister sat beyond that hatch, wedged in the external deployment tube. The thing outside had followed their descent for six minutes, scraping along the hull whenever the engines changed pitch. They had one chance to shove the blood bait into open water and make the beast chase it.
One chance. One jammed canister. One navigator currently trying to open the submarine like a tin can.
Lyra pulled against his hand. "Let me up."
"Why?"
"Because the bait is wrong."
"That’s not an answer."
"It’s screaming at me."
Cassian’s jaw tightened. "Everything is screaming at you. Pick one problem."
Her face went pale beneath the streaks of salt and engine soot. She turned her head toward the hatch, tracking something he couldn’t hear.
"It isn’t the bait," she said. "It’s underneath the bait."
Brant shoved his head through the control cage door. "What does that mean?"
Lyra’s fingers closed around Cassian’s sleeve. Her nails dug through the wet leather.
"There’s a second hull below us," she said. "A wreck. Big one. It’s still warm."
Cassian stared at her. "Wrecks don’t stay warm in the trench."
"This one does."
"You’re hallucinating again."
"Then why can you feel it?"
He did feel something. Not heat. A faint vibration under the deck, too slow for machinery and too regular for the beast outside.
Thump.
Pause.
Thump.
The blood bait canister rattled in its housing.
Brant’s expression changed. "That’s not the crawler."
"No," Lyra said. "It’s not."
Cassian shoved himself upright and dragged her with him. "Brant, keep the ballast locked. I’m opening the maintenance hatch."
"With her?"
"She knows the tube."
"She also tried to vent us into the trench."
Lyra wiped blood from the corner of her mouth with her sleeve. "You pulled me away from the hatch before I could stop the pressure leak. You’re welcome."
Brant looked at Cassian. "She says that like she didn’t nearly crack the inner seal."
"She says a lot of things." Cassian tightened the strap around Lyra’s wrist and clipped the other end to his belt. "She stays attached to me."
Lyra looked down at the line between them. "You’re chaining me to you now?"
"Until the beast stops trying to eat us."
"That could take hours."
"Then stay close."
For half a second, neither of them moved.
The chain ran between their bodies, short enough that her shoulder brushed his chest when the submarine rolled. Cassian felt the heat of her through two layers of wet clothing. Her breath caught, just once. Then she shoved a palm against him.
"Don’t enjoy this."
"I’m not."
"Liar."
"You’re the one staring at my mouth."
Her lips parted. The pause lasted less than a heartbeat, but Cassian saw it. So did she.
Lyra slapped his chest. "Open the hatch, Captain. Before I decide the beast has better manners."
Cassian smiled without warmth. "There she is."
He spun the first locking wheel. It resisted, then broke free with a sharp metallic snap. The second wheel refused to move.
Brant grabbed a pressure bar from the wall. "Move."
"No."
"Captain—"
"If that wheel shears, I want your hands nowhere near it."
Brant snorted. "If it shears, we’ll all have water in our lungs."
Lyra tilted her head. "The pressure is uneven. Lift the wheel while you turn it."
Cassian looked at her. "You can feel that?"
"I can feel the stress in the bolts."
"And here I thought you were busy hearing ghosts."
"Keep talking and I’ll let the ghosts have you."
He wedged one shoulder beneath the wheel and lifted. Lyra reached past him, her fingers sliding over the cold housing. Her knuckles brushed his hand.
"Now," she said.
Cassian turned.
The wheel moved a quarter inch, then screamed.
Outside, the beast struck again. The deck jumped. Lyra lost her footing and crashed into him, both hands catching against his ribs. Cassian grabbed her waist before she went down. Her blindfold slipped fully loose, hanging around her neck.
Her bare face was inches from his.
"You’re bleeding," she said.
"You noticed."
"Your neck."
"It’s a scratch."
"No. It’s bait."
Cassian’s hand tightened at her side. "What?"
Lyra’s fingertips rose toward his throat, stopping just short of his skin. Her expression changed. The anger went out of it. So did the feverish confusion.
"The crawler smells your blood," she whispered. "It doesn’t want the canister. It wants you."
Brant swore. "Captain, you left blood on the dive ladder."
"I’m aware."
"You said it was nothing."
"It is nothing."
Lyra looked between them. "You’re lying to him."
Cassian caught her wrist before her fingers reached his neck. "Save the diagnosis."
"Your pulse is too fast."
"You’re standing on a submarine hull while a trench beast tries to fold it. Everyone’s pulse is fast."
"Not like yours."
The words hit closer than they should have. Her thumb was warm against his glove, and her attention stayed on his face as if she could see him through the darkness.
Cassian lowered his voice. "You want to keep me alive, navigator?"
"I want to keep myself alive. You’re attached to me."
"Then follow my orders."
"Give me an order worth obeying."
He leaned in until his mouth was near her ear. "Stay behind me. Touch nothing unless I tell you. And if you start walking toward that hatch again, I’ll carry you."
Lyra’s breath brushed his jaw. "You’ve been looking for an excuse to do that."
"You keep giving me reasons."
She went still.
Then she smiled, small and dangerous. "Open the hatch."
Cassian released her wrist and turned the wheel again. This time, it spun.
The maintenance hatch popped inward. A blast of freezing vapor rolled across the deck. The narrow chamber beyond held the bait deployment tube, a rack of pressure gauges, and the steel canister wedged at an angle inside its launch cradle.
The canister was the size of a coffin. Its red pressure seal blinked once every three seconds.
Brant crouched beside the opening. "Pressure’s climbing."
"How high?" Cassian asked.
"High enough that I’m reconsidering my career choices."
"You never had career choices. You had debt."
"That’s still a choice."
Lyra stepped into the chamber.
The chain snapped tight between her and Cassian. He caught her coat before she could lunge farther.
"I said behind me."
"The canister is ringing."
"It’s a pressure vessel. They all ring."
"Not like this one."
She pressed her palm to the steel.
The red light on the canister turned white.
Every gauge jumped.
Brant recoiled. "Get her off it!"
Cassian yanked Lyra backward. The canister hammered against its cradle. Something struck the inside from within.
Once.
Twice.
A third time, harder.
Lyra stared at the sealed lid. "There’s something inside."
"The bait is liquid," Cassian said.
"Then the liquid has a heartbeat."
Brant’s face drained of color. "Captain, that’s impossible."
"Nothing’s impossible down here. Cut the outer clamps."
"If I cut them, the canister launches."
"That’s the point."
"With her standing beside it?"
Cassian shoved Lyra against the chamber wall and braced one arm beside her head. His body blocked the hatch and the canister both.
"You stay here," he said.
Lyra’s shoulders pressed into the steel. "You’re doing that thing again."
"What thing?"
"Putting yourself between me and the thing that can kill us."
"It’s called command."
"It’s called stupidity when the thing wants your blood."
"You’re not dying in this tube."
Her eyes tracked his face. "That sounded almost personal."
"Don’t make it personal."
"You started it."
"I started keeping you alive."
"No. You started using me."
The accusation landed clean. Cassian’s arm stayed against the wall, but his hand flexed beside her head.
Lyra lifted her chin. "You need my resonance to find the wreck. You need my sight to hunt the sunken core. Without me, you’re just a loud iron coffin with a death warrant."
"And without me, you’re chained in an inquisitor’s cell by morning."
"Maybe that’s better than being chained to you."
"You don’t mean that."
"You don’t know what I mean."
"I know you’re scared."
Her expression snapped shut. "Say that again."
"You heard me."
Lyra drove her knee toward his thigh. Cassian caught it with his leg and pressed closer, pinning her without crushing her. The metal wall chilled her back. His breath warmed the space between them.
"Try that again," he murmured, "and I’ll tie both ankles."
"Touch my boots and lose the hand."
"You keep threatening parts of me."
"You keep putting them in reach."
For one dangerous second, the only sound was the canister knocking behind him and their uneven breathing.
Then Lyra whispered, "Cassian."
He froze.
She almost never used his name.
"Move," she said. "Now."
He pulled her sideways just as the canister tore free.
The pressure clamps exploded across the chamber. Brant hit the deck. Cassian wrapped one arm around Lyra’s waist and dragged her beneath the hatch frame as the steel cylinder shot forward into the deployment tube.
The outer doors refused to open.
The canister slammed into them.
A thin line of red leaked around the seal.
Outside, the crawler made a low clicking sound. The noise vibrated through Cassian’s teeth.
Lyra covered her ears. "It knows."
"Brant! Manual release!"
"The lever’s jammed!"
"Break it!"
"With what?"
Cassian grabbed the pressure bar and shoved it into the mechanism. Brant joined him. Together, they forced the lever down.
The outer doors groaned apart.
Black water punched into the tube, carrying the bait canister with it. The red fluid smeared across the opening in long, twisting ribbons.
The crawler answered.
Its claws scraped the hull. One dragged over the viewing glass with a screech that made Lyra flinch.
"It’s coming," she said.
"Good."
"You sound pleased."
"I’m not pleased. I’m desperate. There’s a difference."
"That’s what men say when they’re enjoying a bad idea."
The bait canister vanished into the dark.
For three seconds, nothing happened.
Then the water outside erupted.
A pale shape whipped past the glass. Rows of hooked limbs flashed in the blue instrument glow. The creature clamped onto the bait with a crack like breaking doors.
The whole submarine lurched forward.
Cassian slammed into the wall, taking Lyra with him. Her hands caught the front of his coat. His palm closed around her shoulder to keep her from hitting the deck.
"Did it take the bait?" Brant yelled.
"Yes!" Lyra shouted back.
"Then why are we moving?"
"Because it’s dragging us!" Cassian shouted.
The engine room coughed. Pipes rattled. The tow chain screamed from somewhere behind the stern.
Brant ran for the controls. "Captain, we can cut the bait line!"
"Not yet."
"Not yet? It’s pulling us into the trench!"
"The wreck is below us."
Lyra shoved away from Cassian and dropped to one knee. She pressed both palms against the deck.
Her face tightened.
"There," she said. "Straight down. Forty yards. Maybe less."
"You said it was warm," Cassian said.
"It’s not warm now. It’s awake."
The vibration beneath the submarine changed.
The slow thump became a heavy, dragging pulse.
Something moved beneath them.
Brant stared at the depth gauge. "Captain, the trench floor just shifted."
"Cut the line," Cassian ordered.
Brant reached for the release.
Lyra snapped her head toward him. "Wait."
"We’re out of time," Cassian said.
"No. We’re out of distance."
She pointed toward the forward display. The sonar screen had filled with a shape that wasn’t the crawler.
A wreck lay beneath them, half-buried in pale bone and black sediment. Its hull was split along the spine. Towers leaned at impossible angles. Thick cables hung from the broken frame and disappeared into the trench floor.
Then a single green mark appeared on the sonar.
Inside the wreck.
Brant whispered, "That’s a life reading."
Cassian stared at the screen. "The wreck’s been down here for decades."
"The reading is moving," Brant said.
Lyra rose too fast. The chamber rolled, and she stumbled into Cassian. He caught her around the waist before she hit the console.
She gripped his coat, breathing hard. "They’re alive."
"Could be a false echo."
"No. I can hear them."
"How many?"
Her head turned toward the deck, listening through steel and black water.
"Seven," she said. "No. Eight."
Brant looked at Cassian. "Nobody survives that long in a dead wreck."
"Then somebody put them there recently."
A sharp crack came through the sonar receiver.
Not static.
A voice.
Weak. Distorted. Almost human.
"Please... don’t cut the line."
Brant’s hand stopped over the release lever.
Lyra went rigid against Cassian.
The voice came again, clearer this time.
"Captain... if you can hear us... open the lock."
Cassian reached for the receiver. "Identify your vessel."
Silence answered.
The crawler thrashed outside. The bait line pulled tight, dragging the ironclad lower. The depth siren began to wail.
Lyra seized Cassian’s wrist. "Don’t answer it."
"You said they were alive."
"I said something is alive."
The receiver clicked.
A second voice spoke through the static. This one was a woman’s. Calm. Close.
"Lyra Sterling."
Lyra’s grip tightened until her fingers shook.
Cassian looked at her. "They know your name."
"No," she said. "They know the name I buried."
The wreck’s sonar outline shifted.
A pressure door on its upper side began to open.
Metal groaned across the black water.
Brant backed away from the display. "Captain, that airlock is opening from inside."
"Cut the bait line," Cassian said.
Lyra turned on him. "If you cut it, the crawler comes straight for us."
"If we stay attached, we’re pulled into the wreck."
"That’s where the signal is."
"And whatever opened that lock."
The airlock widened another foot.
A pale hand pressed against the inner glass.
Then another hand joined it.
Then a third.
Living crew crowded behind the window, faces washed blue by dead emergency lights. Their mouths moved, but the receiver gave only static.
Cassian drew his sidearm.
Lyra grabbed the barrel and shoved it down. "Don’t."
"Get your hand off my weapon."
"They’re not attacking."
"They’re standing in a sealed wreck at crush depth and waving us closer. That’s an attack with patience."
The closest figure lifted a hand and pointed through the glass.
Not at Cassian.
At Lyra.
Her breath caught.
The woman’s mouth formed two words.
Cassian watched her lips move.
Lyra read them too.
"Come home."
Her knees buckled.
Cassian caught her against his chest. Her forehead struck beneath his jaw. He felt her shaking through the coat, felt the frantic beat of her pulse under his hand.
"Look at me," he ordered.
"Let go."
"No."
"Cassian, let go."
"Not while you’re trying to walk into that wreck."
"It knows me."
"That’s why you’re staying with me."
She pushed at his chest, but the chain between them had tightened around his belt. There was nowhere for her to go without taking him with her.
"You said I was a tool," she whispered. "You said I was useful."
"You are."
Her eyes flashed. "Say the rest."
Cassian held her tighter as the submarine dropped another ten yards.
"You’re also the only reason I’m not dead yet."
The words left his mouth before he could stop them.
Lyra stared up at him. Her breath touched his throat. Her hand remained against his chest, fingers curled in his coat instead of pushing him away.
Brant shouted, "Captain! The airlock is fully open!"
The wreck door yawned wide.
Dark water poured through it, but the people inside didn’t move. They stood shoulder to shoulder, eight pale figures in old pressure suits, all facing Lyra.
The woman in front raised one gloved hand.
Something bright glowed beneath her sleeve.
Lyra made a broken sound. "That’s my mother’s seal."
Cassian’s grip locked around her.
"Your mother is dead," he said.
"I know."
The woman behind the airlock glass slowly lifted her helmet visor.
Her face was too far away for Cassian to see clearly, but Lyra saw it.
She stopped breathing.
The woman smiled.
Then the receiver crackled one final time.
"Open your hatch, Lyra. Or we start with the captain."
Cassian looked toward the inner controls.
The airlock doors began to rotate, locking onto their vessel.
Lyra’s hand slid from his chest to the control lever.
"Don’t," Cassian warned.
She met his stare. "Then tell me who I’m supposed to save."
His fingers closed over hers on the lever, and the hatch mechanism gave one hard click before—