Noose keyed in the lock. The door hissed open.

  White light spilled over a restrained cot.

  Karauro laid still.

  Eyes opened.

  Disconnected.

  Noose raised the bracelet, numbers green.

  Contained.

  The hallway alarm chirped once.

  “Subject transfer, Severian,” guards said through comms. “Confined. Masked.”

  Noose’s stomach tightened.

  She knew it was uncommon for prisoners to communicate with anyone.

  The inner door slid opened.

  Onyx guards dragged Severian in and strapped him into the chair.

  He leaned forward anyway—eager, waiting on the reveal.

  Noose unlatched Karauro’s muzzle.

  He didn’t speak. His vacant eyes stayed fogged.

  She hated seeing him like this.

  Then Severian spoke. “You!”

  His single green eye brightened with recognition.

  Karauro stayed silent.

  Noose brushed grime from his cheek, he gave nothing back.

  Severian’s smile sharpened.

  “Spire boy. You’ve endured so much.” He tilted his head, delighted. “And now it appears you’re the butcher of my people.”

  Karauro glanced at him.

  “Didn’t expect you to survive Athereon’s grinding pit.” His voice controlled.

  Severian chuckled.

  “Vesta was a treat,” he said. “I noticed you while rearranging the bodies, captivated by the puppy love with the girl, and a small Spire boy.”

  Karauro’s lip twitched—small, involuntary.

  Severian leaned closer.

  “You’ve been busy. Ending our lovely Ripper.” His gaze traced Karauro’s face like he owned it.

  “It’s no surprise you look so… mature behind those stunning eyes.”

  Noose struggled to track the exchange. Like two people reuniting.

  Noose felt it—Karauro’s teeth locked.

  Breathing deeper.

  His shoulder rose.

  Her bracelet chirped.

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  A hairline spike.

  Severian smiled wider.

  “So, butcher… did you save that girl?”

  Karauro’s voice came out with a faint growl.

  “No.”

  The cot straps ripped apart.

  Halo-eyes blazed bright orange.

  Ichor seeped from Karauro’s arms—crawling, thickening—until it formed claws around his cuffed hands.

  He slammed the poly-glass.

  A spiderweb crack erupted across it.

  Guards snapped rifles up.

  Karauro dragged his claws down the glass.

  It made Noose’s skin crawl.

  Ichor smeared where the claws scraped—dark, scorned—eating at the surface like it wanted through.

  His grin came slow.

  Wrong.

  “I’ll use your cultist bones as a toothpick.”

  Noose didn’t hesitate.

  She triggered the dampener.

  Three vials punched up from the collar and pierced his skin.

  She caught him before he hit—his head dropping onto her shoulder.

  His breath was intense for one second—

  then it broke.

  Guards rushed in.

  They dragged him out, like a tranquilized creature.

  Noose didn’t look at Severian.

  She just left.

  Verran entered, calculating everything.

  His gaze flicked once to the damaged glass, then snapped back to Severian.

  “Share what you know about Ash-Hive,” Verran said calmly. “It’s your latest project—and the only reason you survive inside these walls.”

  Severian frowned.

  “And if I don’t?”

  Verran’s mouth twitched.

  “Then next time you rattle his cage,” he said, voice still even, “I’ll have my men step out.”

  He held Severian’s stare.

  “And I’ll let it eat what’s left of you for dinner.”

  Verran grinned.

  ---

  They secured Karauro again—cold steel, tight restraints.

  Noose waited until the guards cleared out.

  She loaded another dampener into the chamber.

  Their footsteps trailed away.

  Her eyes met his.

  Empty.

  He was there, yet not genuinely engaged.

  Noose had found a routine to pull him back when she was alone with him.

  She removed her gauntlet and set it on the table.

  Noose approached Karauro cautiously.

  She hated using him like a tool.

  Her fingers hesitated.

  Then glided over his cheeks.

  “Karauro,” she said quietly. “Look at me.”

  He didn’t move at first.

  It was like someone had programmed him to stay gone.

  Noose swallowed down her frustration.

  “Focus on me.”

  His gaze locked onto hers.

  A faint glimmer surfaced—thin, fragile.

  He stirred, like something inside him had been yanked back by a chain.

  Noose pulled the muzzle away without pause.

  “Noose?” he rasped. “What happened?”

  Her annoyance returned fast—armor snapping back into place.

  “You snapped,” she replied flatly, voice subdued by protocol.

  “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  Karauro licked his lips.

  “Just after they removed the coffin suit… when we arrived in Onyx.”

  Noose grabbed a water bottle and adjusted the cot.

  Guiding the bottle to his mouth.

  He drank—long, greedy—and let out a slow exhale.

  “Thanks,” he rasped.

  “For what?” Noose said. “It’s my job as your handler.”

  Karauro’s mouth twitched.

  A small grin.

  “Then I’d prefer you stay in your role,” he said. “I wouldn’t want a different handler.”

  Noose stiffened and jammed the bottle back into his mouth.

  “Drink more before you become more delusional.”

  Karauro sputtered, coughing around the rim.

  “What?” he gasped. “I can’t compliment you doing your job? Are you trying to drown me?”

  Noose turned her face away.

  A smirk tried to show itself.

  She killed it.

  “Get some rest, Ciro.”

  She lowered the cot flat again and turned to leave.

  But her gaze lingered on him—

  those void-like eyes, hiding whatever he wouldn’t let spill.

  Guilt.

  ---

  She returned to her own quarters.

  The door hissed shut behind her.

  Noose exhaled and checked her bracelet.

  Vitals green.

  “Idiot,” she muttered.

  She removed her armor and continued toward the shower, stripping off her clothes along the way.

  Hot water cascaded over her blonde hair, darkening it as it adhered to her skin.

  She opened her eyes.

  Stared at the hand that had touched his cheek.

  A reflected blank expression.

  “That’s five hours he loses,” she mumbled.

  ---

  Noose returned for the last check-up. Hair still damped at the ends, armor gone, now wearing a nexon-fabric.

  She entered the room. Where Karauro had been left.

  Still there in the cot. Awake.

  "Your'e stable." she said.

  He blinked once.

  "Stable is a word for caged animals." he murmered.

  Noose paused. "Don't."

  Karauro's silence created a moment of quiet before he could say something ridiculous.

  She watched him with her arms crossed.

  He looked through her, like listening to a signal only Karauto could hear.

  "This is your final check-up, so if you need anything basic, say it now." she swollowed the lingering Irritation.

  "I have a request," he said calmly.

  Noose immediately retorted. "Assets do not make requests."

  Karauro hummed, a slight amusement that lacked warmth.

  "Mmm. Pretty sure they do...if they can still talk."

  Her eyes sharpened.

  "Try again."

  Karauro quickly looked at the collar and then focused on her again.

  "An audience with Verran."

  Noose didn't bilnk. "Why?"

  he exhaled through his nose. "I'm done being handled like a problem I didn't choose."

  "And you think fixing that?" She said.

  "No." his voice still controlled. " Decisions do."

  ---

  Karauro sat opposite of Verran.

  Noose observed with perfect posture.

  He asked to speak with Verran.

  Soldiers stood behind.

  "An unusual request from someone in your position; are you planning to make demands?" Verran finally broke the silence.

  "I wouldn't call it demands if it benefits Onyx more than me," Karauro smirked.

  Holvok loomed behind, a slight twitch in his brow.

  "Alright, you have my attention, but it better not involve returning you to Spine," Verran began.

  Karauro maintained his smug expression.

  "I want to join Onyx, not just as an asset, your specialized soldier," he declared, having clearly weighed his options.

  Verran's brow furrowed.

  His gaze fell on Noose.

  She shrugged.

  "First time hearing it, sir." Her expression restrained.

  Karauro leaned back slightly.

  "You wanted efficiency, right?" He tilted his head.

  "In exchange, I need structure—someone who wields their weapon with intent," Karauro concluded.

  Noose appeared irritated, glaring at Karauro and his pitch.

  "Your handler is quite skilled, no need for anyone else," he said neutrally.

  Verran finally let out a breath and chuckled.

  "What makes you think we’d entertain your suggestion?" Verran replied, a hint of irritation in his voice.

  "Onyx is desperate," Karauro responded nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders.

  "Without me, your men would have perished if I hadn’t turned my claws towards the enemy." His gaze swept over the soldiers in the room.

  "Since you appreciate leverage, adding me as another pawn will help level the playing field.” He paused, contemplating.

  "Considering how you operate, a king or queen is nothing without their pawns to place them." His grin appeared almost inhuman.

  Noose's eyes widened, sensing a shift in the atmosphere.

  Verran pressed his tongue against his cheeks.

  "Wow, you’ve got a mouth on you. It would have been great if we'd found you much earlier." Verran gestured to Karauro, showcasing him to the room.

  Karauro’s expression turned neutral.

  "From now on, you’re Onyx, not Spine. You wear our colors, follow orders, bleed, and train here—" Verran's words cut off.

  By Karauro clearing his throat.

  " One last thing," Karauro met Verran’s gaze, unwavering.