Chapter 10 · Ghost Bait

"Don't touch it," Cane snapped, his hand clamping around Lyra’s wrist before she could reach for the shimmering data-cube.

He shoved her back against the rusted bulkhead of the sunken outpost, the metal groaning under her weight. The space was tiny, smelling of brine and old electricity. He was too close—so close she could feel the heat radiating off his chest and the faint, metallic scent of his diving gear.

"It’s right there, Cane," Lyra hissed, trying to wrench her arm free. "That’s the intel on the Eye. If we leave it, Silas wins."

"If you touch it, we’re dead before we hit the airlock," Cane retorted. He didn't let go. His grip wasn't cruel, but it was absolute. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous low that vibrated in her own chest. "You think Silas just left a treasure chest in the middle of a ruin? It’s a tripwire, Lyra. You’re the bait, and I’m the idiot walking into the trap."

Lyra glared up at him, her breath hitching. The power imbalance was suffocating.