## CHAPTER 1 — BORING WORK Several weeks after Panam had accidentally acquired four pets, nobody at the safehouse found Reyes taking another job particularly interesting. That was useful. Reyes preferred lies that bored people. “Two weeks?” Kiro looked up from her coffee. Reyes shrugged. “About.” Ace, sitting sideways across Mai’s lap at the kitchen table, paused with a piece of toast halfway to her mouth. “About?” “Twelve days if they’re efficient. Fifteen if they aren’t.” Mai looked over from behind Ace’s shoulder. “Escort work?” “Yeah.” “What kind?” “The boring kind.” Kiro narrowed her eyes. “There are exciting kinds?” “There are dangerous kinds.” “That’s not the same thing.” “In my line of work, it usually is.” Brenda snorted from the other side of the table. Iris kept reading whatever was on her tablet. “How profitable is boring?” she asked. Reyes took another drink. “Surprisingly.” Iris lowered the tablet. “That is not a number.” “It is the number you’re getting.” Iris considered that. “Then it must be surprisingly profitable.” “See?” Reyes pointed at her. “She understands.” Kiro was still looking at her. Reyes noticed. Of course she did. “What?” “Two weeks.” “Approximately.” “That is a long time.” “For escort work?” “For you.” Reyes raised an eyebrow. Kiro immediately pointed at her. “Do not make that face.” “What face?” “That one.” Ace lowered the toast. Mai’s arm settled around her waist. Both of them had gone very still. Reyes glanced at them. “No.” Ace widened her eyes. “I didn’t say anything.” “You were about to.” “I genuinely wasn’t.” Mai kissed Ace’s temple. “She was.” “Traitor.” “Always.” Kiro put down her mug. “I’m deciding whether to complain.” “About the job?” “About losing access to certain recreational facilities.” Ace choked. Mai caught the toast before it hit the floor. Brenda laughed. Iris’s tablet lowered another inch. Reyes stared at Kiro. “Recreational facilities.” “Yes.” “You have hands.” Kiro looked personally insulted. “That is appalling customer service.” “Customer?” “Sexfriend.” “That is not better.” “It is more accurate.” Brenda pointed across the table. “She has you there.” “No, she does not.” Kiro leaned back. “I have needs.” “You also have other people.” “Completely irrelevant.” Reyes looked at her. Kiro held the expression with absolute seriousness for perhaps two seconds. Then her mouth twitched. Reyes shook her head. “You’re impossible.” “You like me.” “Sometimes.” “Ouch.” Ace had recovered enough to breathe. She looked at Kiro. “You’ll survive.” Kiro turned toward her. “You have Mai literally wrapped around you.” Ace glanced down at the arm around her waist. Then up at Mai. “True.” “Your opinion is invalid.” Ace smiled brightly. “Sounds like a you problem.” Kiro opened her mouth. Mai cut in. “No throwing Ace before breakfast.” Kiro looked offended. “I wasn’t going to throw her.” Ace pointed at her. “She was thinking it.” “I was thinking many things.” “Exactly.” Normal safehouse noise resumed around them. That was useful too. Nothing about Reyes’s announcement had landed as suspicious. Nobody asked why the assignment had appeared suddenly. Nobody wanted client names. Nobody asked where she would be sleeping. Boring escort work existed. Reyes did it. The explanation fit her well enough that nobody needed to pull at it. Only Kiro kept glancing at her. Not suspiciously. Just personally. Two weeks mattered differently when someone had grown accustomed to seeing you whenever she wanted. Reyes understood that. That was why she had told Kiro this time. The previous so-called corpo companion job had taught her something useful. Eight days away without mentioning it beforehand had produced an amount of outrage wildly disproportionate to the actual offense. Kiro had not been angry because Reyes needed permission. Kiro had been angry because Reyes had simply forgotten to tell her. Reyes had no intention of repeating that particular stupidity. She pushed away from the counter. “Come here.” Kiro looked up. “Why?” “Advance compensation.” That got her moving. Reyes caught the front of Kiro’s shirt and kissed her. Not a polite goodbye. Not enough to derail the morning. Enough that when Reyes finally released her, Kiro needed a moment before her eyes opened. “There,” Reyes said. Kiro considered. “Insufficient.” “Greedy.” “Yes.” Reyes smiled. Kiro caught her wrist before she stepped away. The joke softened. “Ping me?” “When I can.” “And don’t get shot doing boring work.” “I’ll try.” “If it stops being boring?” “I’ll tell you.” That answer was technically true. The job was not. There was no two-week escort assignment. No client. No convoy. No dull motel rooms. No surprisingly profitable babysitting. The entire thing was fabricated. Reyes had built it that way deliberately. Good lies did not attract attention. And a two-week absence created room. Room for Reyes to be unavailable. Room for nobody to wonder why she was not answering immediately. Room for another woman to exist in Night City without creating inconvenient questions. Across the room, Shammy had been sketching through the entire conversation. She still had not looked up. That was impressive. Reyes walked behind the couch on her way toward the door. Shammy turned one page. Reyes stopped. The new page held a quick pencil sketch. A woman with wild hair. Four leashes. Four collars. Beside the drawing, Shammy had written: **BORING WORK.** Reyes stared. Shammy continued drawing. Quietly, Reyes said: “Fuck you.” Shammy did not look up. “Have a profitable trip.” Reyes’s mouth twitched. Nobody else reacted. Good. For less than a second Shammy finally glanced up. Their eyes met. Shammy knew. Nobody else did. Reyes left. --- Victor took one look at her when she entered the clinic and pointed toward the chair. “No blood.” “No.” “No damaged chrome.” “No.” “No mysterious object you found somewhere and decided to touch.” “No.” Victor relaxed. “Best appointment I’ve had all week.” Reyes sat. “Birgitta.” Victor’s relief disappeared. “Of course.” She smiled. “Just the voice.” “That is somehow reassuring.” “The rest already exists.” “I know.” Victor pulled up her file. The name on the display required very little searching. **BIRGITTA.** Face architecture. Voice profile. Previous calibration data. Reyes watched him open the voice settings. Nothing experimental this time. No need to invent anything. The woman already existed. Victor merely needed to give Reyes back the one part she could not take out of storage herself. “Same voice?” he asked. “Exactly.” “Same range?” “Yes.” “Same resonance.” “Yes.” “Same brightness.” “Yes.” Victor looked sideways at her. “You’re very attached to this ridiculous voice.” “I hate this ridiculous voice.” “Sure.” “I do.” “Mm-hm.” Reyes stared at him. Victor smiled. “Seven days.” There it was. The actual limit. Not the twelve-to-fifteen-day fiction currently wandering around the safehouse pretending to be a job. Seven. Reyes nodded. “Fine.” “I mean seven.” “I heard you.” “No pushing it because you decided you need another night.” “I know.” “No deciding that eight is basically seven with optimism.” “I know.” Victor pointed at her. “You people are why doctors repeat themselves.” “You repeat yourself because you enjoy hearing your own voice.” “My voice currently works without medical intervention.” “Show-off.” He shook his head and began setting up. The procedure was familiar enough now that Reyes knew which sensations to ignore. Pressure. Warmth. A strange internal tightness. Small changes accumulating somewhere deeper than ordinary conscious control. Victor made her speak. Then again. Then again. At first she still sounded like herself. Then less so. Her natural register climbed. Resonance shifted. The weight disappeared from it. Another adjustment. “Again.” “My name is Reyes.” Wrong. Better. Victor changed something. “Again.” “My name is Reyes.” Higher. Brighter. Lighter. Reyes stopped. Victor looked at her. “Don’t fight it.” “I’m not.” “You are.” She swallowed once. The sensation was familiar too. Then she let her voice settle where Victor had put it. “My name is Reyes.” The bright woman saying the sentence sounded ridiculous. Victor smiled. “There.” Reyes closed her eyes. “Oh, I still hate this.” Victor laughed. “Perfect.” She opened them. “That wasn’t a compliment.” “I know.” He ran the final checks. “Talk.” “About what?” “Anything.” “You charge too much.” “Stable.” “Your coffee is terrible.” “Stable.” “You enjoy this entirely too much.” “Also stable.” Reyes paused. Then something about her changed. Not her face. Not her hair. Not yet. Her posture loosened. The stillness stopped being quite so complete. Her eyes opened toward Victor instead of simply resting on him. The smile arrived much faster. “Oh, Victor,” she said brightly, “you could just admit you missed her.” Victor looked at her for two seconds. Then pointed toward the door. “Get out.” Birgitta laughed through Reyes’s face. “Seven days,” Victor called after her. Reyes lifted one hand without turning. She knew. --- She did not go home. That would have defeated the point. She did not return to the safehouse. That would have been considerably worse. Instead Reyes crossed Night City. Then crossed more of it. She changed transit once without needing to. Then again because she preferred it that way. The trip had nothing to do with somebody following her. Nobody was. The separation was architectural. Birgitta did not connect to Reyes’s apartment. She did not connect to the safehouse. She did not connect to O’Sullivan SAS. She did not connect cleanly to Jig-Jig either. Eventually the city thinned into the kind of industrial geography people passed without remembering. Fences. Service roads. Stacked steel. Storage yards whose entire purpose was to contain things nobody wanted in their apartment. Reyes walked the final distance. The container looked exactly as it should. Uninteresting. One rented steel box among hundreds. No sign. No private garage. No clever hidden entrance. No connection to anyone Reyes knew. Perfect. She checked the yard once. Then again. Not paranoia. Maintenance. She opened the lock. The steel door moved outward. Darkness waited inside. Reyes stepped through and closed it behind her. A small light came on. Nothing had changed. Narrow bench. Mirror. Secure storage. Garment rail. Basic washing facilities. Shower. Climate control quietly protecting equipment and clothing that had cost far too much to leave at the mercy of Night City weather. Reyes stood in the middle of it. Her own red hair. Her own face. Her own clothes. Birgitta’s voice. The combination remained stupid. She looked at herself in the mirror. “Hello.” Bright. Warm. Lively. Reyes stared at the reflection. “Fucking ridiculous.” Even worse. She smiled despite herself. Then opened the first compartment. The container held Birgitta. That was what it was for. Not Reyes’s spare wardrobe. Not mission equipment. Not anything connected to her ordinary life. Birgitta. Nothing else. The ChromeLock system came first. Reyes prepared it, checked the stored settings and looked once at the color specification. No need. She knew it. Smoked copper-grey. Muted. Copper living underneath grey without ever becoming Maeve’s copper-red. Nothing neon. Nothing close to Reyes’s natural red. Nothing remotely like the black operational cover. Birgitta. She activated the system. The change moved through her hair gradually. Red surrendered. Grey appeared first. Then the warmer undertone. Reyes turned her head beneath the light. Cool from one angle. Restrained copper from another. Exactly right. No Lena required. Lena had built the system. Reyes knew how to use it. She moved on. Contacts. Very light brown. She washed her hands, fitted the first and then the second. Blink. Again. The familiar eyes vanished. Another anchor gone. Reyes looked into the mirror. Red hair had been one of the strongest markers people knew. The eyes had been another. Neither remained. The face came next. She opened the protected compartment. The mesh rested inside exactly as she had left it. Maintained. Protected. Waiting. Reyes inspected it before use. No damage. No contamination. No reason not to trust it. She prepared the interface herself. Victor had been necessary when the face was created. He was not necessary every time Reyes wore it. That was the entire point of the second-generation system. Reyes initiated the fit. The mesh settled. Cool first. Then warm. Then almost impossible to distinguish from skin. She waited while the system established full dermal contact. The mirror changed. Not all at once. Enough tiny differences accumulating until Reyes simply stopped being the woman reflected there. Different jaw. Different cheeks. Different mouth. Different balance around the eyes. Scandinavian architecture without caricature. Natural. Warm. Fully alive. She smiled. The unfamiliar face smiled back. Too small. Reyes. She stopped. Let her shoulders loosen. Let the habitual economy leave her posture. Let attention move outward. The second smile came easier. Open. Interested. A little shameless. Better. “Hello, gorgeous.” Now the voice fit. Birgitta looked at herself. Smoked copper-grey hair. Very light brown eyes. Scandinavian face. Bright voice. Almost. She opened the wardrobe. The clothes had remained exactly where they belonged. Dresses. Skirts. Shorts. The elegant contradiction Lena had built into all of them. Expensive. Controlled. Almost conservative at first glance. Fast-drop underneath. Shoes in their own storage. Accessories arranged where mistakes would be obvious. Everything maintained. Everything waiting. Reyes had not brought Birgitta home after the first shift. She had left her here. Where she belonged. Birgitta chose an outfit. Not because Reyes needed to rediscover the wardrobe. She already knew what she liked. Dark. Clean lines. Enough restraint to let the woman inside it cause the trouble. She changed. Checked every fastening. Walked once across the container. Stopped. Looked back at the mirror. Too much Reyes in the first two steps. Interesting. Again. This time Birgitta moved. Not runway theater. Not exaggerated joytoy performance. Just social movement. A woman who looked at the room as though she expected something enjoyable to happen inside it. A woman who smiled because eye contact was fun. A woman who had no problem making the first move. Reyes’s judgment remained underneath. So did the awareness. So did every exit she had already noticed without appearing to notice them. Birgitta did not remove any of that. She simply changed what people saw first. Birgitta crossed the container once more. Better. She stopped at the mirror. The transformation was complete. No Lena. No Victor standing beside her. No construction process. No experiment. That part was over. This was activation. Reyes had entered the container. Birgitta would leave it. She checked the time. Plenty. Her own clothes went onto the bench. Exactly where they would wait until Reyes eventually came back for them. Then one final equipment check. Contacts. Mesh. Hair. Wardrobe. Shoes. Accessories. Nothing forgotten. Nothing carried that pointed backward. Birgitta looked at herself. Several weeks ago, this had been a strange new woman testing whether she could survive one full shift without being recognized. Now Night City knew Birgitta. Suzie knew her. Mandi knew her. Dalia knew her. Nova and Vega knew her. Deja knew her. Panam certainly knew her. Only one of those people knew the joke underneath. Sera. Birgitta smiled. That was still funny. She killed the main light. Opened the container. The storage yard waited outside. Before stepping through, she looked back once. Garment rail. Storage. Bench. Mirror. Reyes’s clothes. The physical boundary between two lives could apparently be made from corrugated steel and a very good lock. Birgitta stepped outside. Closed the door. Locked it. Checked the lock. Then checked it again. Some habits did not need changing. She started walking. Seven days of Birgitta’s voice were already running. The safehouse expected Reyes to be gone for roughly twice that. Good. The lie only needed to create space. It did not need to match the machinery inside it. By the time Birgitta reached the street, the storage yard had disappeared behind her. Nothing visible connected her to Reyes. Exactly as intended. She smiled. Bright. Easy. Already looking forward to the evening. Madame Panam was expecting her. --- ## CHAPTER 2 — BIRGITTA Panam was waiting outside Lizzie’s. Of course she was. Birgitta saw her before Panam saw Birgitta. One hand in the pocket of her jacket. Weight settled onto one leg. Expression suggesting that the entire surrounding district had already disappointed her personally at least twice today. And in her other hand— A leash. Birgitta smiled. Bright. Immediate. Panam noticed. Her eyes moved over Birgitta once. Hair. Face. Clothes. Shoes. Then back to her eyes. “Late.” Birgitta checked the time. “Two minutes.” “Late.” “You counted.” “Yes.” “Missed me?” “No.” “Liar.” Panam’s expression held. One second. Two. Then the corner of her mouth moved. Birgitta stopped in front of her. Panam did not immediately attach the leash. First came the collar. Two fingers slipped beneath it. Routine. Fit. Skin. Nothing pinched. Nothing caught. Birgitta stood still for the inspection. Not because she had to. Because Panam was doing it. “Comfortable?” “Yes.” “Eat?” “Yes.” “Actual food?” Birgitta looked offended. “Owner.” “Answer.” “Yes.” “Water?” “Yes.” “Sleep?” “Plenty.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta smiled. “Mostly.” “How much?” “Six hours.” “Birgitta.” “Six and a half.” Panam stared. “Fine. Seven.” “That number changed three times.” “I was remembering more accurately.” “You were lying more accurately.” Birgitta leaned closer. “Brightly.” Panam snorted. Then attached the leash. Click. Small sound. Large effect. Birgitta felt it immediately. Not restraint. Connection. Panam gave the line the smallest testing pull. Birgitta stepped closer without hesitation. “There.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta looked back. “Yes, owner.” That did it. The tiny change around Panam’s eyes. Still there. Birgitta had become very good at finding it. “That one was free,” she said. “Generous.” “I know.” Panam caught the back of her neck and kissed her. No audience yet. No performance. No stable. No Madame. Just hello. Birgitta leaned into it. One hand found Panam’s waist. The kiss lasted long enough to become its own thing before Panam finally drew back. Birgitta smiled differently afterward. Less for the street. Panam noticed. She always did. “Ready?” “Always.” “That worries me.” “It should.” Panam turned toward the entrance. “Come on, pet.” Birgitta followed. “Yes, owner.” --- Lizzie’s was loud before they even reached the main floor. Not unusual. The shape of the noise was. Birgitta heard Sera’s name twice before she saw her. That was unusual only in frequency. Sera did not disappear into public spaces. She changed them. Not deliberately. That was almost worse. The moment people realized she was there, attention began bending toward her. Some people stared openly. Others tried not to. A pair near the bar were whispering with the particular intensity of people pretending they were absolutely not discussing the internationally known artist sitting thirty meters away. One woman had already taken three separate routes past Sera’s table for reasons that fooled nobody. Another man was talking quietly to a Mox near the bar, glancing toward Sera after every few sentences. The Mox shook her head. The man tried again. Another shake. He looked disappointed but not offended. Good. Sera was not working tonight. Apparently the message required repetition. Birgitta smiled. Some things survived fame. One of them was people believing perhaps the previous no had somehow been insufficiently optimistic. Sera herself was sitting with Mandi, Nova and Vega as though none of this existed. Which probably required effort. Mandi was talking. That required more. Nova had a drink in front of her. Vega had somehow acquired food. And a few tables away, Deja sat close beside a woman in an expensive silver jacket, laughing at something the client had said. Sera’s eyes moved toward the entrance. Found Panam. Then Birgitta. Then the leash. Her expression did not change. Almost. Birgitta caught the almost. Of course she did. Sera knew exactly who was walking beside Panam. Nobody else did. That private fact remained safely buried beneath the noise. Mandi noticed next. She immediately raised both hands. “Madame!” Panam stopped walking. Closed her eyes. Birgitta laughed. Nova looked down into her drink. Vega did not even pretend. Sera’s smile became dangerous. A faint static halo lifted the edges of her silver-white hair. Amusement, betrayed immediately. Panam opened her eyes. “Mandi.” Mandi pointed at herself. “Me?” “Yes, you.” “I was greeting you.” “You were being annoying.” “Those are not mutually exclusive.” From the nearby table, Deja raised her glass without turning fully away from her client. “She has a point.” Panam looked at her. “You are working.” “Yes.” “Then work.” Deja turned back toward her client. “Yes, Madame.” Her client laughed. Mandi nearly folded over the table. Panam stared at the ceiling. Birgitta touched her arm. “Breathe, owner.” Panam looked at her. “You are not helping.” “I know.” “That smile proves it.” “I have a very honest face.” Sera made a small choking sound. Birgitta looked at her. Sera lifted her glass innocently. Nothing to see here. Panam gave the leash a slight pull. “Table.” “Yes, owner.” Birgitta went willingly. --- Sera had learned something interesting about being Sera in Lizzie’s. Sitting down did not make people stop noticing her. It merely created a fixed location for the noticing. She had already declined three requests tonight. One had come through Suzie. One through another Mox. One directly, from a very nervous woman who had approached respectfully enough that Sera had answered her personally. No. Warmly. Firmly. The woman had thanked her and left smiling anyway. That part Sera liked. The other part— The constant awareness. The glances. The murmurs. The little spikes whenever somebody recognized her. That could become tiring. Tonight it was useful. Because it made the contrast impossible to miss. People noticed Sera. People watched Sera. People wanted access to Sera. Panam did something different. Panam watched Birgitta. Not the way the room watched Sera. Not fascination. Not hunger. Responsibility. Sera had begun noticing that difference several evenings ago. Tonight she could not stop. Panam sat beside Birgitta. The leash remained in her hand. Loose. Never wrapped tightly around her fist. Never used to keep Birgitta physically close when Birgitta already wanted to be there. Just held. Mandi had begun arguing with Vega about something involving whether noodles counted as breakfast if nobody had slept yet. Nova had made the strategic error of attempting logic. Deja was still working. Suzie Q passed the table once, gave Sera a small nod, and intercepted another hopeful approach before it reached them. Sera barely noticed. Because Panam had looked at Birgitta’s empty glass. Reached for the water. Filled it. Set it in front of her. No question. Birgitta looked down. Then at Panam. “Thank you, owner.” Panam nodded. That was all. Sera stared. Mandi saw her. Of course Mandi saw her. “You’re doing it again.” Sera looked over. “Doing what?” “Thinking loudly.” “I do not think loudly.” “You absolutely do.” “That is not a thing.” Mandi leaned closer. “Your face has subtitles.” Sera frowned. “My face is doing nothing.” “It just did the thing.” “What thing?” “The thing where you pretend something isn’t interesting.” Sera stared at her. Mandi grinned. “There.” “You are unbearable.” “True.” Sera took a drink. Mandi followed her line of sight. Panam. Birgitta. Collar. Leash. Panam’s hand. Back to Sera. Something sharpened behind Mandi’s black eyes. “Oh.” Sera immediately pointed at her. “No.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You were going to.” “I was thinking.” “Quietly.” Mandi smiled. “I can learn.” “No, you can’t.” “Fair.” Panam looked over. “What are you two doing?” “Nothing,” Sera said. “Market research,” Mandi said at the same time. Sera kicked her under the table. “Ow.” Panam looked at Mandi. Then Sera. Then wisely decided she did not want the answer. “Wonderful.” Birgitta was laughing. Sera looked at her. Reyes laughed differently. Smaller. Sharper. Often like laughter had caught her by surprise and escaped before she could stop it. Birgitta gave laughter away. Bright. Easy. Public. The voice helped. The face helped. The posture helped. But Sera knew. Underneath all of it— Reyes. Still Reyes. Which made what happened next even more interesting. A man stopped near their table. Not close enough to intrude. Expensive clothes. Minimal visible chrome. Early forties, perhaps. His attention was on Birgitta. Not Sera. That alone earned Sera’s interest. Panam saw him. Birgitta saw him. Nobody moved immediately. The man spoke first. “Birgitta?” Birgitta turned toward him with a smile. “Hi.” The man glanced at Panam. Then the leash. Then back. “Working?” Birgitta looked at Panam. Not for permission to answer. That distinction was obvious once Sera knew to watch for it. Panam gave the man a long, quiet assessment. Then looked at Birgitta. “Interested?” Birgitta studied him. “Maybe.” Panam nodded toward the open space away from the table. “Talk.” Birgitta stood. Panam stood with her. Sera watched the entire movement. No order needed. No confusion. Panam led her several steps away. Then gave Birgitta room. Not privacy exactly. Space. The leash remained loose between them. The man introduced himself. Birgitta did not. Apparently unnecessary. He looked at her. “What would an evening with you cost?” Birgitta smiled. “That depends on the evening.” Good. Panam took over exactly where she should. “What are you looking for?” “Dinner. Private room afterward, if she wants.” “How long?” “Three hours.” “Location?” He named one nearby. Mox-accessible. Known. Panam asked the few things that mattered. No guests. No recording. Nothing unusual. Then: “Offer?” He gave one. Well above Birgitta’s ordinary baseline. Serious enough to continue. Birgitta’s smile sharpened. Sera saw her register it. Not simply enjoy it. Use it. A data point. How somebody handled being asked plainly what the experience was worth to him. Whether ego appeared. Whether negotiation became pressure. Whether the person opposite her understood that Birgitta flirting with him did not mean he had already purchased anything. The man glanced at Panam again. “And Madame?” Panam visibly hated how normal that title had become. Birgitta visibly loved that she hated it. “What about her?” “What exactly does she do?” Birgitta did not answer immediately. She looked at Panam. Panam’s face remained neutral. Your answer. Sera saw that too. “She controls access,” Birgitta said. “Meaning?” “You talk to her first.” “And?” “She decides whether you get as far as talking seriously to me.” The man looked between them. “And you decide whether I book you.” “I decide whether I want you.” Pause. “That sounds like two approvals.” “It is.” “So she can say no.” “Yes.” “And you can say no.” “Yes.” “Can she say yes for you?” Birgitta’s expression changed. Barely. “No.” Immediate. Absolute. The man nodded. Good. “So she doesn’t choose clients for you.” “She filters them for me.” “Difference?” “Enormous.” Panam finally spoke. “If I don’t like you, you don’t waste her time.” The man looked at Birgitta. “And if she likes me?” Birgitta smiled. “That remains my business.” He laughed again. Even Panam’s mouth moved. Sera sat back. There it was. Not ownership replacing agency. Ownership carrying work. Responsibility. Access. Safety. Structure. And inside it, Birgitta remained entirely capable of wanting, refusing, choosing. The man looked at the leash. “Then why call her owner?” Birgitta smiled. “Because she is.” “That doesn’t explain anything.” “No.” “Deliberately?” “Yes.” He laughed. Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam had apparently reached a decision. “Anything else I need to know?” The man shook his head. “No.” “Good.” Then Panam looked at Birgitta. Nothing spoken. Nothing needed. Birgitta looked at the man again. Longer now. Actually deciding. The man did not rush her. Sera noticed that too. Birgitta smiled. “Yes.” Panam nodded once. “The offer stands?” “Yes.” Payment transferred. Panam checked it. Then her hand moved to Birgitta’s collar. Click. The leash came free. Birgitta’s body registered the absence. Tiny change. Sera saw it. Panam touched Birgitta’s upper arm. “Ping me when you’re done.” “Yes, owner.” The client heard that. His expression shifted. Not shock. Recognition, perhaps. Some small understanding that the word belonged to something larger than whatever public image he had assumed. Birgitta took his hand. “Come on.” They left. Panam watched until the private hallway swallowed them. Then she returned to the table carrying an empty leash. Sera looked at it. Again. Damn it. --- Panam sat down. Sera looked at her. Panam looked back. “What?” “Nothing.” “That was not nothing.” Sera smiled. “She’s good.” Panam’s expression changed immediately. Pride. Unmistakable. “Yes.” Sera caught it. Panam caught Sera catching it. “What?” “You’re proud of her.” Panam frowned. “So?” “Nothing.” “You keep saying nothing while visibly meaning something.” “Occupational hazard.” “You’re an artist.” “Exactly.” Panam groaned. Sera looked toward the private hall. “Has she always been that good with people?” Panam considered. “She likes people.” Sera laughed. “That is not what I asked.” “I know.” “And?” Panam looked toward where Birgitta had disappeared. “She pays attention.” Sera waited. Panam added: “And she has fun.” “But.” Panam’s eyes came back to her. “She knows when fun stops.” There. Sera felt something small and private twist inside her. Because Panam did not know. She had never known. She knew Birgitta. Not Reyes. And yet she had somehow found exactly the part underneath the cover that mattered. Judgment. Boundaries. The line. Sera smiled. “Yeah.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “What?” “Nothing.” “For fuck’s sake.” Sera laughed. Across the room, somebody approached Suzie again. Sera’s name. Clearly. Suzie listened. Shook her head. The prospective client glanced toward Sera. Sera met his eyes. Smiled politely. Shook her head too. He raised both hands. Understood. Left. Panam watched the exchange. “Does that ever stop?” “No.” “Annoying?” “Sometimes.” “You could stop coming here.” Sera looked at her. Panam’s expression remained perfectly neutral. Sera smiled slowly. “But then I wouldn’t see you.” Panam held her gaze. “Could see me somewhere else.” “I do.” “Yes.” “And I still come here.” Panam’s mouth moved. “Idiot.” “Your idiot.” The words came out before Sera thought about them. Panam went still. Not much. Enough. Sera heard them again inside her head. Your idiot. Not owner. Not pet. Nothing like that. Just the kind of stupid affectionate claim lovers made without architecture attached. Except— Sera’s eyes dropped. The empty leash lay across Panam’s hand. Panam followed her gaze. Said nothing. Sera looked back up. Interesting. Very interesting. Mandi returned carrying food. She dropped into the chair beside Sera. Looked at Sera. Looked at Panam. Looked at the leash. Then back to Sera. Her eyebrows rose. Sera kicked her. Harder this time. “OW.” Panam looked over. “What?” “Nothing,” Sera said. “Violence,” Mandi said. “You deserved it.” “I probably did.” Panam pointed at the food. “Eat.” Mandi looked offended. “I am eating.” “You were holding it.” “That is a necessary precursor.” “Pet.” Mandi stopped. The joke disappeared. Only for a moment. Then she smiled. Smaller. “Yes, owner.” And ate. Sera watched. Again. The little things. Panam noticed when people forgot. Panam noticed when they lied badly. Panam noticed tiredness. Hunger. Bad clients. Good clients. The point where somebody needed teasing. The point where teasing needed to stop. Sera had seen dominance before. Plenty of it. Night City was full of people who liked giving orders. That was cheap. This was not. Anyone could hold a leash. Panam carried what came with it. That was the part Sera could not stop looking at. --- Birgitta returned forty-eight minutes later. Sera knew because Panam checked the time once. Only once. The private hallway door opened. The client emerged first. Relaxed. Smiling. Birgitta followed. Also smiling. Different smile from before. Less sharp. Satisfied. Panam stood before either of them had reached the table. Automatic. She crossed the room. Sera watched. The client said something to Panam. Panam listened. Nodded. No problem. No complaint. No tension. Then the man looked back at Birgitta. “Again?” Birgitta smiled. “Ask Madame.” Panam closed her eyes. The man laughed. So did Birgitta. He left. Panam turned immediately toward her. “How are you?” “Good.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta knew exactly what that look meant. “Actually good.” “Water?” “Yes.” “Need anything?” Birgitta’s eyes went to the leash in Panam’s hand. “Yes.” Sera stopped breathing for half a second. Panam’s expression softened. She lifted the leash. Click. Back onto the collar. Birgitta exhaled. Quiet. Barely audible from where Sera sat. But Sera saw the release move through her. Not restraint returning. Something settling back into place. Panam gave the leash one small pull. “Come on, pet.” Birgitta followed. “Yes, owner.” They returned to the table. Panam poured water. Birgitta drank. No discussion. Routine. Care. Ownership without erasure. Sera stared at the leash. Then at Panam’s hand. Again. Panam caught her this time. Fully. Their eyes met. Sera did not look away. Neither did Panam. For a moment the room disappeared around the eye contact. Not literally. Sera’s public gravity continued operating. Somebody recognized her near the entrance. Another whisper. Another glance. Suzie redirected another hopeful question. Mandi was eating. Nova had returned. Vega was arguing with her about something. Deja had disappeared with her client. Birgitta was drinking water beside Panam. Everything continued. But Sera looked at Panam’s hand. And for the first time did not merely think: _I understand why Birgitta wants that._ The thought was different now. Sharper. Personal. _I want to know what that feels like._ Panam raised one eyebrow. Sera smiled. Small. Private. Dangerous. Panam said nothing. Smart woman. Sera looked down at her drink. Then once more at the leash. The idea did not go away. It settled. And stayed. --- ## CHAPTER 3 — I WANT IN Sera waited two days. That was already longer than she wanted to. Long enough to prove to herself that the thought was not merely Lizzie’s, neon, Panam’s hand around a leash, or the particular way Birgitta had exhaled when the clip returned to her collar. The idea followed her home. That was the problem. Not because home made it wrong. Because home proved it was real. Shammy lay between Ace and Mai that first night, warm and familiar and entirely where she belonged. Ace slept close enough that one knee rested against hers. Mai’s arm crossed Shammy’s waist from behind. No absence. No lack. No ache asking to be filled. Home. Triad. Complete. Shammy stared into the dark for a while. Then thought of Panam’s hand. The leash. The responsibility underneath it. And smiled. That told her enough. The thing she wanted was not somewhere else because something here had failed. It was simply something else. Another shape. Another language. Another piece of trust she already had with someone she already loved. By the second day, Sera had stopped pretending the thought might disappear. Panam messaged her shortly after six. **Food?** Sera looked at the message. Smiled. Typed: **Your place.** The answer came immediately. **Fine.** Then: **Bring something drinkable.** Sera: **You own alcohol.** Panam: **I own mistakes. Bring something drinkable.** Sera laughed aloud. Mai looked up from the couch. “What?” “Panam.” Ace, half-curled beside her, nodded solemnly. “That explains nothing and everything.” Sera pocketed the holo. “I’m going out.” Mai’s eyes moved over her face. Not suspicious. Observant. “To Panam?” “Yeah.” Ace smiled. “Have fun.” Sera paused for half a second. Then smiled back. “Planning to.” Ace’s grin sharpened. “That sounded promising.” “Behave.” “No.” Mai put a hand over Ace’s mouth. “We’ll try.” Ace made an offended noise into her palm. Sera leaned down. Kissed Ace. Then Mai. “Don’t wait up.” Mai released Ace just long enough for Ace to say: “We absolutely weren’t going to.” “Good.” Sera left before Ace could improve the sentence. --- Panam’s apartment smelled faintly of food and engine grease. Sera still did not understand how. Panam opened the door wearing an old tank top and loose pants, hair tied back, expression already suspicious. “You’re smiling.” “So?” “That means something.” “I smile.” “Not like that.” “Like what?” “Like you’re about to start shit.” Sera held up the bottle. “I brought something drinkable.” Panam took it. Looked at the label. “Acceptable.” “High praise.” “Don’t get used to it.” Sera stepped inside. Panam closed the door behind her. Familiar room. Familiar mess. A jacket over the back of a chair. Truck parts where truck parts had no reasonable right to exist. Two mugs that had clearly never belonged to the same set. A folded blanket on the couch. One smoked copper-grey hair tie near the armrest. Sera noticed it. Panam noticed Sera noticing it. Neither spoke for a second. Then Sera picked it up. “Birgitta?” “Yeah.” “She coming back tonight?” “No.” That made Sera look up. Panam was already walking toward the kitchen. “Booking.” “Long one?” Panam snorted. “You could say that.” Sera followed her. “How long?” “Until tomorrow afternoon.” Sera stopped. Panam looked over her shoulder. “What?” “That isn’t a booking. That’s temporary custody.” “Do not start.” Sera smiled. “What the hell did somebody book her for?” Panam set the bottle down. “Corpo event.” “Escort?” “First.” Sera waited. Panam knew that look. “Dinner.” She opened a cabinet. “Reception.” Two glasses. “Private after-event.” She set them down. “Overnight.” Sera’s eyebrows rose. “Breakfast tomorrow.” Panam opened the bottle. “And apparently some late lunch thing if his schedule doesn’t move.” Sera stared. Panam poured. “That enough detail for you?” “For now.” “Wonderful.” Sera sat at the counter. “Expensive?” Panam laughed once. “Stupidly.” That explained why the offer had survived Panam’s first filter. It did not explain why Birgitta had accepted it. Sera knew that. Panam knew she knew enough to ask. “And?” Panam handed her a glass. “And what?” “Did Birgitta actually want him?” Panam’s expression changed. Very slightly. Then she nodded. “Oh, yeah.” Sera smiled. “That definite?” “I showed her the offer.” “And?” “She read the event details.” Panam picked up her own glass. “Then his background.” A drink. “Then the photo.” Sera waited. Panam’s mouth twitched. “And told me to stop pretending I needed to sell it.” Sera burst out laughing. “Her type?” Panam gave her a flat look. “Very.” “How very?” “She asked if I’d already checked his security before she finished reading the rate.” Sera laughed harder. “That very.” “That very.” There was something particularly funny about hearing Panam calmly describe Reyes finding a corpo client attractive while having absolutely no idea she was describing Reyes. Sera kept that part to herself. Barely. Panam narrowed her eyes. “What?” “Nothing.” “That was absolutely something.” “I’m picturing Birgitta seeing the photo.” “That’s basically what happened.” Panam shook her head. “One second she was listening like a professional.” “And then?” “Then suddenly I was the one taking too long.” Sera put one hand over her mouth. “Stop.” Panam pointed at her. “You asked.” “I know.” “Asshole.” Sera managed to recover. “Okay. Serious question.” Panam waited. “You checked him.” “Yes.” “Properly.” “Yes.” “Event security?” “Yes.” “Staff?” “Yes.” “Recording?” “No hidden recording. Event coverage is public areas only, and she knows where.” “Private space?” “Clean.” “Contract?” “Nothing cute buried in it.” “Drugs?” “Nothing required. Nothing being slipped to her if the client wants to keep his teeth.” Sera smiled. “There she is.” Panam frowned. “Who?” “Madame.” “Fuck you.” Sera grinned. Panam continued anyway. “He was upfront about what he wanted.” “Which is?” “Company at the event. Overnight if they both still want it by then.” Sera nodded. “Good.” “And whatever happens privately is between them.” “Better.” “He understood that booking the block buys Birgitta’s time.” Panam’s expression hardened slightly. “Not her consent to every possible thing that might fit inside it.” There. Sera felt it again. The exact thing that had been following her home. “And Birgitta?” “Asked me why I was still talking.” Sera laughed. “Of course she did.” “She likes him.” “Apparently.” “She likes the event too.” That surprised Sera. “Really?” “Apparently she thinks spending an evening watching rich corpos pretend they don’t hate each other sounds entertaining.” Sera stared. Then remembered who was underneath Birgitta. “Actually, yes. That tracks.” Panam looked at her strangely. Sera lifted her glass. “Artist. People watching.” Close enough. Panam accepted it. The holo on the counter pinged. Panam’s eyes moved immediately. Sera noticed that too. Panam picked it up. Read. The tension she had not visibly been carrying disappeared. Small. But Shammy knew her. “Birgitta?” Panam looked up. “Yeah.” “Good?” Panam read the message again. Then snorted. “What?” “She says he’s better looking in person.” Sera laughed. Panam continued reading. “And the food is insulting.” “Everything okay?” “Yeah.” Panam typed something. Sera watched. Not over Panam’s shoulder. She did not need to see the words. The important thing was simpler. Birgitta checked in. Panam checked back. Panam knew where she was. Who she was with. What was happening. When the booking should end. And somewhere inside all that structure Birgitta was apparently having a wonderful time with a man she genuinely wanted to spend the night with. Panam put the holo down. Sera looked at her. Again. Panam caught it. “No.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You were thinking.” “That is still legal.” “Unfortunately.” Sera smiled into her glass. Exactly. This. This was what she wanted to talk about. --- Dinner happened first. That was probably good. Panam handed her food. Complained about a supplier. Swore about axle pricing. Explained, in significant detail, why somebody’s idea of preventative maintenance technically counted as sabotage. Sera listened. Argued. Teased. Ate. Normal. That made the subject beneath everything feel stranger rather than less. Panam had known Shammy long enough that silence did not need filling. She had known Sera long enough that performance did not need maintaining. They could sit across from each other, eat, say nothing for thirty seconds and not immediately assume something had broken. That mattered. It also made Sera increasingly certain she had chosen exactly the right woman to ask something potentially ridiculous. After dinner, Panam took the bottle to the couch. Sera followed. Panam sat at one end. Sera sat beside her. Close. Not touching immediately. Then Panam’s knee found hers. Familiar. Sera looked at her. Panam looked back. “What?” “Nothing.” “That was something.” “You’ve been spending too much time around me.” “No.” Panam poured a little into each glass. “I’ve been spending too much time around Mandi.” “Worse.” “Much.” Sera smiled. Then the smile faded. Panam saw it. Of course she did. That was the difficulty with talking to someone who knew you well enough to recognize when a joke had stopped carrying the weight. Panam set her glass down. “What?” Sera looked toward the table. The jacket. The window. Anywhere except directly at Panam for approximately three seconds. “I’ve been thinking.” Panam leaned back. “That never ends well.” “Fuck you.” “Later.” Sera looked at her. Panam’s mouth twitched. It helped. A little. Sera exhaled. “I want in.” The silver-white hair at her temples lifted almost imperceptibly, carrying a faint ionized gradient that had not been there a second earlier. Panam noticed. Of course she did. Panam went still. Not confused. Careful. “In what?” Sera looked directly at her. “The stable.” Panam’s answer was immediate. “No.” Sera blinked. Then laughed once. “Wow.” “No.” “You didn’t even think about it.” “I did.” “For half a second.” “Enough.” “Panam.” “Sera.” “That was a spectacularly efficient conversation.” “Good.” “Unfortunately, we’re not done.” “Yes, we are.” “No.” Panam picked up her glass. Sera took it from her hand and put it back down. Panam looked at the glass. Then Sera. “That was rude.” “You’re avoiding me.” “I answered you.” “You rejected me.” “Yes.” “Not the same thing.” “Feels pretty similar.” Sera stared. Panam stared back. The old, familiar battle of two women who both knew the other could outwait most people and therefore had long ago stopped pretending silence was a winning strategy. Sera broke first. “Why?” “Because.” “That’s not an answer.” “It’s an excellent answer.” “For children.” “You’re being childish.” “I’m asking you to explain yourself.” “You’re asking me to put a collar around your neck.” “Yes.” Panam’s jaw tightened. There. Not anger. Something deeper. Sera watched it. “Why does that scare you?” Panam looked at her sharply. “It doesn’t.” “Bullshit.” “Careful.” “Panam.” “No.” There was the word again. Different this time. Not rejection. Defense. Sera softened. “Okay.” Panam frowned. The change in tone had caught her. Sera leaned back. No pressure. No advancing. Just room. “I’m not asking because it looks hot.” Panam said nothing. “I mean, it does.” Panam closed her eyes. “Sera.” “It does.” “I know.” “Good.” Panam opened her eyes again. Sera’s smile faded. “But that isn’t why.” Panam watched her. Sera continued. “I’ve watched you with Birgitta.” That landed first. Not Mandi. Not Nova. Not Vega. Birgitta. Panam’s first pet. “I’ve watched you with the others too.” Panam looked away. Sera kept speaking. “I know what the jokes look like.” “Good.” “I know what people see.” “Better.” “I know what Mandi makes it look like.” Panam groaned. “That little menace makes everything look like a fucking circus.” “Yes.” “And she enjoys it.” “Also yes.” Sera smiled faintly. “But that isn’t what I’ve been watching.” Panam looked back. Sera lowered her voice. “I’ve been watching you.” Panam’s expression changed. Not much. Enough. “When you hold the leash,” Sera continued, “you’re not thinking about the leash.” Panam said nothing. “You’re thinking about whoever is on the other end.” Silence. “Food.” Panam’s eyes shifted. “Water.” Another small change. “Sleep.” Sera glanced briefly toward the holo on the table. “Where they are.” Panam followed the glance. Sera continued. “Who they’re with.” A small pause. “Whether the client felt wrong. Whether they came back different. Whether somebody is pretending they’re fine because they don’t want to ruin the evening.” Panam looked toward the window. Sera watched her profile. “You keep track.” “I have to.” There. Sera smiled. “No.” Panam looked at her. “You don’t have to.” “Yes, I fucking do.” “If you accept it.” Panam stopped. Sera held her gaze. “That’s the difference.” Panam’s expression tightened. Sera knew she had reached the center. “You take it seriously.” “Of course I take it seriously.” “I know.” “They give me that much trust—” Panam stopped herself. Too late. Sera heard the sentence anyway. “They give you that much trust,” she repeated quietly. Panam looked away again. “If I fuck it up—” “You won’t.” “You don’t know that.” “I know you.” That brought Panam’s eyes back. Sera did not smile now. No Sera-performance. No artist. No public face. Shammy underneath all of it. “I know you.” The room became quieter. Not literally. The city still moved beyond the windows. Something heavy passed somewhere outside. A siren existed far enough away not to matter. But the conversation changed. Panam knew it too. Sera continued. “I know what you look like when you’re worried and trying to sound angry instead.” Panam stared. “I know what your hand does when you’re checking whether I’m actually asleep.” “Sera.” “I know when you pretend you’re only bringing me food because you happened to make too much.” “I do make too much.” “You make exactly enough.” “Fuck you.” Sera smiled. “There you are.” Panam’s mouth moved despite herself. Sera leaned a little closer. Not enough to crowd. Enough to make this private in a room where they were already alone. “You and I already trust each other.” “Yes.” “We already sleep together.” “Yes.” “We already love each other.” Panam’s face changed again. That word did not scare either of them. Not anymore. “Yes.” Sera nodded. “So I’m not asking you to build something from nothing.” Panam was silent. “I’m asking you to add something deliberate to something that already exists.” Panam rubbed both hands over her face. Sera waited. Eventually Panam dropped them. “You know what makes this different?” “What?” “You matter too much.” Sera stared at her. Then almost laughed. “Panam.” “No.” “Do you hear yourself?” “Yes.” “That may be the worst argument you have ever made.” “It’s not an argument.” “It’s absolutely an argument.” Panam leaned forward. “Birgitta asked me for this before I knew where the fuck it was going.” Sera listened. “I knew I liked her.” Panam paused. “I knew I wanted her.” Another pause. “But I didn’t know—” She stopped. Sera waited. Panam looked at her hands. “—how much responsibility it would become.” There. Honest. Finally. Sera did not interrupt. Panam continued. “Mandi made it worse.” Sera smiled despite herself. “Of course she did.” “Then Nova.” A sigh. “Vega.” Panam looked exhausted by the concept. “And suddenly everyone thinks I have a fucking stable.” “You do.” “I hate you.” “You love me.” “Unfortunately.” Sera smiled. Panam did not. Not yet. “With them,” Panam said, “I learned it while I was doing it.” Sera nodded. “With you?” Panam finally looked at her. “I already know exactly how much I can hurt you.” Sera went very still. Not physically. Emotionally. There it was. Not fear of the Triad. Not fear that Shammy would leave home. Not jealousy. Not some stupid idea that a collar would move Sera from one relationship into another. Panam was afraid because the relationship was already deep enough to have weight. Sera understood. That made the answer easier. “You already can.” Panam stared. Sera lifted one hand before Panam could interrupt. “I’m not saying that dramatically.” “Sounds dramatic.” “Shut up.” Panam did. Sera continued. “You already matter enough to hurt me.” Quiet. “That isn’t new.” Panam’s expression tightened. “The collar doesn’t create that.” “No.” “The leash doesn’t create that.” “No.” “Owner doesn’t create that.” Panam looked away. Sera touched her wrist. Gentle. Familiar. “What those things would create is a structure around something we already trust.” Panam looked down at Sera’s fingers. Sera’s thumb moved once. “When we’re in bed and you tell me to stay still, I trust you.” Panam’s eyes darkened slightly. Sera noticed. Filed it away for later. “When you pull me closer, I go.” Panam said nothing. “When you tell me to eat because I forgot, I complain.” “You complain a lot.” “And then I eat.” “Eventually.” “When you tell me I’m done working because I’m too tired to admit it—” “You get pissy.” “Yes.” “And?” “And usually discover you were right about twenty minutes later.” Panam smiled despite herself. “Usually?” Sera narrowed her eyes. “Do not ruin my point.” “Continue.” Sera did. “I already give you pieces of this.” Panam looked at her. “I want to know what happens when I stop pretending they’re accidental.” The smile vanished from Panam’s face. Not because she disliked the answer. Because she understood it. Sera let the silence sit. Panam was good at silence. So was Shammy. Sera did not need to fill every gap. Eventually Panam asked: “Why the stable?” Sera thought about it. Then answered honestly. “Because that’s where I saw it.” Panam waited. “I saw Birgitta give you something and you treat it carefully.” Panam’s eyes shifted briefly toward the holo again. “I saw Mandi turn it into a joke and still trust you underneath the joke.” Another shift. “I saw Nova and Vega understand what the rules were without becoming less themselves.” Sera leaned back slightly. “And I looked at you holding the leash.” A small smile. “And thought…” Panam waited. Sera exhaled. “Fuck.” Panam almost laughed. “That profound?” “Very.” “What exactly did you think?” Sera looked directly at her. “I want that.” Panam went quiet. Not startled now. No defensive no. Just the answer landing properly. Sera continued. “Not theirs.” Panam frowned slightly. “Mine.” There. That mattered. “I don’t want to be Birgitta.” “No.” “I don’t want to be Mandi.” “God help us.” Sera laughed. “I don’t want whatever Nova has or Vega has.” Panam nodded. “I want the version that would exist between you and me.” Panam looked at her for a long time. “And Sera?” Sera knew what she meant. The cover. The artist. The woman Night City knew. “The collar belongs to Sera.” Panam’s attention sharpened. Sera continued carefully. “Sera is the one who would wear it publicly.” “And Shammy?” “She’s the one asking.” Panam’s jaw shifted. That answer reached somewhere deeper. “The cover doesn’t make the consent less real.” “No.” “And when Sera comes off?” “The relationship doesn’t.” Panam stared at her. Sera smiled faintly. “You already know that.” “Yes.” “Good.” Another long silence. The holo remained quiet. That mattered too. No emergency. No problem. Birgitta was exactly where she had chosen to be. Panam could sit here with Shammy without abandoning anything. Then Panam stood. Sera watched her cross the room. Not leaving. Thinking. Panam stopped near the window. Hands on hips. Very Panam. Sera remained on the couch. Did not follow. Did not push. Eventually Panam spoke without turning. “I’m not saying yes tonight.” Sera smiled. Not disappointment. Progress. “I know.” “I mean it.” “I know.” “You are not going to annoy me into it.” “I would never.” Panam turned. Sera smiled brightly. Panam pointed at her. “That face means the opposite.” “Possibly.” “Sera.” “Fine.” Sera softened. “I won’t.” Panam studied her. Then returned to the couch. Sat. Closer this time. Their knees touched immediately. Panam looked at Sera’s face. Not Sera’s public face. Not completely. Looking for Shammy. Finding her. “If I say yes,” Panam said, “I don’t want this becoming something we only understand when we’re turned on.” Sera nodded. “Good.” “I don’t want you asking for an owner because you like the word.” “I like the word.” “I know.” Sera smiled. “But no.” Panam continued. “If I take responsibility, I take responsibility.” “Yes.” “And if you hand me something, I’m not treating it like a toy because we’re lovers.” “I wouldn’t want you to.” Panam’s eyes narrowed. “And I am not fucking competing with Ace and Mai.” Sera’s expression changed immediately. “No.” “Good.” “Never.” That answer came fast enough that Panam relaxed slightly. Sera touched her knee. “This isn’t about them.” “I know.” “It isn’t about choosing.” “I know.” “They are home.” “I know.” Panam’s hand settled over Sera’s. “And I am not.” Sera looked at her. Not hurt. Because the sentence was correct. Different architecture. Different gravity. Different love. “No,” Sera said softly. Panam nodded once. Sera turned her hand under Panam’s. Their fingers linked. “You’re Panam.” That finally got a smile. Small. Real. “Profound.” “I’m an artist.” “Apparently.” They sat there for a while. No decision. Not yet. Sera was okay with that. Mostly. Then Panam lifted their joined hands. Turned Sera’s wrist slightly. Looked at it. Sera’s pulse jumped. Panam noticed. Of course she fucking did. Her eyes rose slowly. Sera said nothing. Panam’s thumb brushed once over the inside of her wrist. Not a collar. Not a leash. Not an answer. But not nothing. Sera smiled. Panam narrowed her eyes. “Do not.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You were about to.” “I was thinking.” “Loudly.” Sera laughed. Panam released her hand. “Give me time.” Sera nodded. “Okay.” “Actually.” “Yes.” “No ambush tomorrow.” “I said okay.” “No showing up with a collar.” Sera stared. “I wouldn’t.” “Mandi would.” “I am not Mandi.” “Thank fuck.” Sera leaned closer. “Panam.” “What?” She kissed her. Slow. Warm. Nothing to prove. Panam’s hand moved to Sera’s waist automatically. Held her there. Familiar. Exactly the problem. Exactly the reason. When they separated, Sera stayed close. Forehead nearly touching Panam’s. Panam looked at her. Sera smiled. “Think about it.” “I am.” “Good.” Panam exhaled. “You’re going to be impossible until I answer.” “Yes.” “Wonderful.” “Love you.” “Fuck you.” Sera grinned. “Later?” Panam’s eyes narrowed. Then she pulled Sera into another kiss. Not an answer. Still not. But Sera was patient. Sometimes. And somewhere across Night City, Birgitta was spending an absurdly expensive evening with a corpo she had wanted badly enough to make Panam stop selling the offer. Panam knew where her first pet was. Shammy knew exactly why that mattered. And somewhere underneath Sera’s smile, Shammy already knew the conversation was not over. --- ## CHAPTER 4 — YOU ALREADY HAVE ME Panam kissed her again. That changed the conversation. Not because either of them forgot it. Quite the opposite. Sera felt every part of it remain between them while Panam’s hand tightened at her waist and the careful distance they had maintained for the last hour finally stopped pretending it was necessary. The first kiss had been warm. This one was hungry. Familiar hunger. That mattered. No collar. No leash. No owner. Nothing new had been agreed. This was not Panam testing the thing Sera had asked for. This was Panam and Shammy. Lovers. Already established. Already trusted. Already very good at understanding what the other wanted without needing to turn every movement into negotiation. Sera’s hand slid into Panam’s hair. Panam made a quiet sound against her mouth. There. That sound. Sera knew it. Loved it. Panam shifted closer. Sera went willingly. The couch became inconvenient almost immediately. Not because either woman lacked imagination. Because Panam’s apartment contained an actual bed and both of them were old enough to appreciate competent logistics. Sera broke the kiss just long enough to breathe. “Bed?” Panam looked at her. “Yes.” Simple. Mutual. Done. Sera stood. Panam caught her wrist before she got more than one step. Sera looked back. Panam’s expression had changed. Not uncertainty. Something more deliberate. “You sure?” Sera smiled. “About bed?” “About tonight.” That erased the joke. Sera understood. The conversation had changed the emotional temperature. Panam wanted to know whether what came next belonged to desire or momentum. Sera turned fully toward her. “I want you.” Panam held her eyes. “Not because of the stable.” “No.” “Not because you think—” Sera stepped closer. Touched Panam’s cheek. “Panam.” Panam stopped. “I wanted you before I asked.” That landed. Sera smiled faintly. “I will want you if you say no tomorrow.” Panam’s hand closed around hers. “And if I say yes?” Sera’s smile changed. “Then I’ll probably become unbearable.” “Already there.” “Good.” Panam stood. Sera had exactly enough time to laugh before Panam kissed her again. --- The bedroom was dark except for Night City leaking through the window. Blue. Pink. Amber from distant traffic. Shifting light crossing familiar skin. Sera had been here before. That was another reason the night felt right. Nothing about the room needed to become ceremonial just because the conversation had mattered. Panam knew how Sera liked to be kissed. Sera knew which touch along Panam’s neck made her shoulders loosen. They knew how quickly the other liked to move. They knew where play became pressure. Where teasing became invitation. Where invitation became unmistakable want. Tonight they took their time anyway. Not cautiously. Deliberately. Panam sat on the edge of the bed. Sera stood between her knees. For a moment they only looked at each other. Panam’s hands rested at Sera’s hips. Sera touched the side of her face. A soft static lift moved through Sera’s silver-white hair, then settled as Panam’s hands steadied at her hips. The traitorous little reaction made Sera smile. No artist. No audience. No public Sera. No Madame. Just Shammy looking at someone she already loved. Panam turned her face and kissed the inside of Shammy’s wrist. Exactly where her thumb had rested earlier. Shammy’s breathing changed. Panam noticed. Of course. Her eyes lifted. Shammy smiled. “Do not.” Panam’s mouth curved. “I didn’t say anything.” “You were thinking.” “Loudly?” “Bitch.” Panam laughed softly. Then drew her closer. Shammy went. No hesitation. Their clothes gradually stopped being relevant. Not discarded in some dramatic rush. Removed because hands wanted skin instead. Because Panam wanted Shammy closer. Because Shammy wanted the warmth beneath Panam’s shirt. Because familiarity did not make anticipation smaller. Sometimes it made it worse. Better. Panam kissed her slowly. Then lower. Then back to her mouth when Shammy pulled her there. Their movement became less verbal. Not silent. Never entirely. Shammy laughed once when Panam nearly tangled them both in the edge of the blanket. Panam swore at the blanket. Shammy laughed harder. “You’re very commanding.” “Shut up.” “Yes, ma’am.” Panam stopped. Shammy’s laughter faded. There. The phrase had landed differently. Not enough to become the thing they had discussed. But close enough to remind them both it was waiting somewhere nearby. Panam looked at her. Shammy held the gaze. Then deliberately reached for her. “Later.” Panam understood. Whatever owner might become did not need to be smuggled into tonight. Tonight belonged to them as they already were. Panam kissed her. “Later.” And they let the subject go. For a while. The rest became warmth. Hands. Breath. Familiar pressure becoming less careful as each woman made her want clear. Shammy trusted Panam enough not to hide what felt good. Panam trusted Shammy enough to believe the answer. They adjusted around each other without embarrassment. Laughed when rhythm briefly failed. Found it again. Panam’s forehead pressed against Shammy’s for one suspended moment when intensity climbed too quickly. Shammy touched her face. Panam slowed. No frustration. No impatience. Simply attention. “Okay?” Panam asked. “Yes.” “More?” Shammy smiled. “Yes.” Panam gave it to her. Not as an order. Not as an owner. As a lover who knew her. Shammy’s hands tightened against her. Her bright public Sera voice was nowhere in the room. This was Shammy’s. Lower. Less controlled. Eventually words stopped helping. The room narrowed. Panam. Shammy. Heat. The shifting city light. The pressure of hands that knew where they belonged. The moment when anticipation stopped being something either of them could hold at a distance. Shammy’s release arrived first. Not theatrical. It simply overtook her. Her body tightened. Breath caught. Panam held her through it without moving away. Shammy pressed closer instinctively, face against Panam’s shoulder, hands gripping hard enough that Panam would probably complain later. Not now. Panam stayed exactly where she was until Shammy’s body stopped trying to decide whether to move or remain completely still. Then Shammy lifted her head. Eyes unfocused. Panam smiled. That was a mistake. Shammy saw it. “Don’t look smug.” “I’m not.” “You are.” “I’m concentrating.” “Liar.” Panam laughed. Shammy kissed her. Then changed the balance between them. Not hurried. Very intentional. Panam understood almost immediately. Her smile disappeared. Good. Shammy preferred that. She knew Panam too. Knew what built slowly. What made her lose the next sentence. What made her hand tighten against Shammy’s back. What turned control into trust in the opposite direction. Panam’s breathing changed. Shammy stayed with her. No performance. No scoreboard. No attempt to even anything. Just wanting the woman she loved to feel good. Panam went still when it reached her. Completely still. Shammy held her. The tension broke through Panam in one sharp wave and then left her pressed close, forehead against Shammy’s shoulder, breathing hard. Neither moved. That mattered too. The short stillness after. No immediate joke. No reaching for clothes. No sudden emotional retreat because the intense part had ended. Shammy wrapped both arms around Panam. Panam’s hand flattened against her back. They stayed there. Breathing. Warm. Close. Eventually Panam said into Shammy’s shoulder: “Fuck.” Shammy smiled. “Excellent review.” Panam laughed weakly. “Shut up.” “There she is.” Panam lifted her head. Shammy kissed her forehead. Soft. Nothing demanded afterward. Nothing owed. They shifted gradually into the bed properly. Panam pulled the blanket over them. Shammy settled against her side. For several minutes they did absolutely nothing. That might have been Shammy’s favorite part. No need to decide the future while skin was still warm and bodies were still catching up. Panam’s fingers moved lazily along Shammy’s arm. Shammy’s head rested against Panam’s chest. The holo on the nightstand pinged. Panam’s hand stopped. Shammy felt it. Neither needed to ask who. Panam reached for the holo. Read. Her body relaxed. Shammy smiled against her. “Birgitta?” “Yeah.” “Everything good?” Panam snorted. “What?” “She says the reception finally became interesting.” Shammy started laughing. Panam continued reading. A pause. Then: “Apparently the corpo got bored too.” “Oh?” Panam gave her a look. Shammy’s eyebrows rose. “That good?” “She added a smile.” Shammy laughed harder. “Scandalous.” Panam typed a short reply. Shammy watched her put the holo back down. “Need to do anything?” “No.” “Good.” Panam settled again. Shammy rested her head back where it had been. There. No contradiction. Panam’s first pet was having an extremely profitable and apparently increasingly enjoyable evening elsewhere. Panam knew. Birgitta knew Panam knew. Nothing needed rescuing. Nobody had been forgotten. Shammy closed her eyes. “That was convenient.” Panam frowned. “What?” “Nothing.” “Shammy.” “Nothing.” Panam poked her side. Shammy flinched. “Violence.” “Answer.” Shammy smiled into her chest. “Your first pet has impeccable timing.” Panam stared at the ceiling. Then groaned. “Do not call her that like she’s some historical artifact.” “Original pet?” “Worse.” “Founding pet?” “Shammy.” “Pet Prime?” Panam grabbed the pillow. Shammy caught her wrist. “No violence after sex.” “That is not a rule.” “It is now.” “Who made it?” “Me.” “You’re not in charge.” Shammy smiled. “Yet?” Panam froze. Shammy froze too. Then very slowly lifted her head. Panam’s eyes closed. “Oh, fuck me.” Shammy’s grin became enormous. “You said it.” “I did not.” “You absolutely did.” “I said you’re not in charge.” “And then I said yet.” “That was you.” “But you didn’t correct it fast enough.” “That is not how language works.” “It is tonight.” Panam shoved the pillow over Shammy’s face. Shammy laughed underneath it. --- Much later, the apartment had gone properly quiet. The bottle remained unfinished. Good decision. Shammy lay on her side facing Panam. Panam had one hand tucked beneath the pillow. The other rested between them. Neither was asleep. Shammy knew because Panam’s breathing was wrong. Panam knew Shammy knew because apparently everyone in their orbit had become cursed with the ability to hear thinking. “You meant it,” Panam said. Shammy’s eyes opened. There it was. Back again. No neon. No arousal driving it now. No immediate heat. Exactly where Panam needed the conversation to be. “Yes.” Panam looked at her. Shammy waited. “I keep trying to find the part I don’t like.” “And?” “I found plenty I’m afraid of.” Shammy smiled faintly. “That sounds promising.” Panam frowned. “Do you want me to throw you out?” “No.” “Then don’t be clever.” Shammy mimed locking her mouth. Panam stared. Shammy lowered her hand. “Sorry.” “No, you’re not.” “No.” Panam sighed. Then looked at the ceiling. “With Birgitta, it started there.” “The owner thing.” “Yes.” Panam’s expression tightened slightly. “She asked for it before I understood what the fuck it would become.” Shammy listened. “I knew I liked her.” A pause. “I knew I wanted her.” Another. “But I didn’t know how much responsibility would come with saying yes.” There. Shammy did not interrupt. “Mandi made it worse.” “Obviously.” “Then Nova.” Panam sighed. “Vega.” “Stable.” “Do not.” Shammy smiled. Panam continued. “With them, I learned while I was doing it.” Shammy nodded. “With you…” Panam stopped. Shammy waited. Panam finally looked at her. “With you, I already know exactly how much I can hurt you.” Shammy went still. Not frightened. Because she understood. This was not about the Triad. Not about Ace. Not about Mai. Not some concern that Shammy wanted another home. Panam knew better than that now. This was about depth. They already mattered to each other before the collar existed. Shammy reached across the space between them. Touched Panam’s wrist. “You already can.” Panam’s jaw tightened. “I’m not saying that dramatically.” “Sounds dramatic.” “Shut up.” Panam did. “You already matter enough to hurt me.” Quiet. “The collar doesn’t create that.” “No.” “The leash doesn’t create that.” “No.” “Owner doesn’t create that.” Panam looked down at Shammy’s fingers around her wrist. Shammy’s thumb moved once. “What those things would create is a structure around something we already trust.” Panam stayed silent. Shammy continued. “When you tell me to eat because I forgot, I complain.” “You complain a lot.” “And then I eat.” “Eventually.” “When you know I’m exhausted before I admit it, I get pissy.” “Very.” “And then twenty minutes later I discover you were right.” “Always.” “Fuck you.” “Accurate.” Shammy smiled. “I already give you pieces of this.” Panam looked at her. “I want to know what happens when we stop pretending they’re accidental.” The words settled between them. Panam looked away. Then back. “Why pet?” Shammy blinked. “What?” “Why that word?” She thought about it. “Because submissive isn’t quite right.” Panam listened. “I can be.” A small smile. “You know.” Panam’s mouth twitched. “I know.” “But that isn’t the center.” “No.” “Owned sounds too broad by itself.” Panam nodded slowly. “Pet has warmth.” Something changed in Panam’s face. “Care.” “Yes.” “Dependence?” “Some.” “Chosen?” “Always.” “Rules?” “Yes.” “Play?” “Yes.” “Discipline?” Shammy smiled. “If earned.” Panam raised one eyebrow. “Careful.” Shammy’s body answered before her mouth could. Panam saw. Of course. “That.” Shammy sighed. “What?” “You provoke me and then everything about you says yes, please.” “My body is loyal.” “To me, apparently.” “Panam.” Panam smiled. Shammy leaned closer. “Pet means I let you take care of me.” “Yes.” “And I let you make some choices.” “Yes.” “And when I give you that responsibility, you actually carry it.” Panam’s expression became serious again. “I have to.” Shammy smiled. “That’s why.” Panam went quiet. Then something uncertain entered her face. “And you really want it to be me.” Shammy stopped. That one again. She shifted closer. “No.” Panam frowned. “No?” Shammy touched her chest. “I don’t want it to be you.” Panam’s expression closed. Shammy immediately continued. “I need you to understand that wording is wrong.” Panam stared. Shammy held her gaze. “You already have me.” Panam’s eyes flickered. The room changed. Shammy kept going. “You have had me.” “As a lover.” “Yes.” “As someone you trust.” “Yes.” “As someone you choose.” “Yes.” Shammy leaned closer until their foreheads touched. “I know.” A beat. “That’s why I’m asking.” Panam stopped breathing for a second. Shammy smiled faintly. “I wouldn’t ask someone I wanted to test.” Panam’s hands settled against her waist. “I wouldn’t ask because I thought being controlled would fix something.” “Good.” “I don’t need fixing.” “No.” “I don’t need rescuing from Ace and Mai.” “No.” “I don’t need a new relationship.” Panam frowned. Shammy touched her chest again. “I already have one.” Understanding. Them. Existing. Real. “I want another dimension of this one.” Panam breathed out slowly. That landed. Shammy felt it. Panam’s hands tightened gently at her waist. “If I say yes, I mean yes.” Shammy went still. Panam continued. “I am not doing halfway.” “Okay.” “If Sera wears my collar, it’s my collar.” “Yes.” “I choose it.” Shammy’s smile started. Panam pointed at her. “Don’t.” “I’m not doing anything.” “You’re glowing.” “Physically impossible.” “Shut up.” Shammy failed completely to suppress the smile. Panam continued. “I choose the leash.” “Yes.” “You do not buy either of them and hand them to me.” “Okay.” “We go together.” That surprised her. Shammy blinked. “Together?” “Yes.” “But you choose.” “I choose.” Shammy’s smile became helpless. Panam saw it. “Jesus Christ.” “What?” “You really want this.” Shammy answered without teasing. “Yes.” Panam stared. Then nodded once. “Good.” Shammy’s pulse jumped. Panam noticed. The woman was becoming intolerable. “Work,” Panam said. Shammy listened. “It doesn’t become automatic.” “No.” “You choose every client.” “Yes.” “I control access.” “Yes.” “I decide whether something is even worth putting in front of you.” “Yes.” “You decide whether you want it.” “Yes.” “I can tell you an offer feels wrong.” “Yes.” “I can refuse to facilitate it.” “Yes.” “But I don’t get to turn your no into yes.” “Never.” “And I don’t get to take your yes away just because I’m feeling possessive.” Shammy considered. “You can still refuse to help make it happen.” “Yes.” “But whether I want someone remains mine.” “Yes.” Panam nodded. “Good.” Shammy smiled. “Madame controls access.” Panam’s face darkened. “Do not.” “Sera controls Sera.” Panam stared. Shammy smiled sweetly. “That part is good.” “The first word is not.” “Night City disagrees.” “Night City is stupid.” “Frequently.” Panam exhaled through her nose. “If you’re Sera publicly, the collar stays.” Shammy’s smile faded into attention. “Not only Jig-Jig.” “Artist nights.” “Yes.” “Appearances.” “Yes.” “Whenever I’m Sera.” “If we do this.” Shammy smiled. “If.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “The leash is different.” “Not automatic.” “No.” “Not every appearance.” “No.” Panam’s hand rose. Fingers rested gently against Shammy’s bare throat. Exactly where the collar would eventually sit. “The collar can become part of Sera.” Shammy’s breathing changed. Panam noticed. “The leash changes what people see.” “Yes.” “It says something more specific.” “Yes.” “So I choose when I’m holding it.” Shammy looked at her. “And I choose whether I’m wearing it.” Panam’s mouth moved. “Exactly.” No ambiguity. Shammy smiled. “Good.” Panam’s thumb moved once against her throat. Neither woman spoke for several seconds. Then Panam said: “Tell Ace and Mai before anything visible happens.” Shammy nodded. “Obviously.” “I don’t need their permission.” “No.” “You don’t need their permission.” “No.” “But they shouldn’t learn because Sera appears somewhere wearing my collar.” Shammy laughed softly. “That would be rude.” “Yes.” “And funny.” “Shammy.” “Rude. Definitely rude.” Panam stared. Shammy smiled. “I’ll tell them.” “Good.” “And everyone else?” Panam considered. “Not our problem.” Shammy’s eyebrows rose. Panam’s expression became grimly satisfied. “If Night City loses its fucking mind afterward, it can do that without consulting us.” Shammy laughed. Then looked at Panam. “You still haven’t said yes.” Panam looked back. “No.” Shammy waited. Panam said nothing. Shammy’s eyebrows rose. “That was cruel.” “You said you wanted an owner.” “I said I wanted you.” Panam’s eyes changed. Shammy continued. “Specifically you.” “I know.” “Good.” A beat. “So?” Panam sighed. “You’re impossible.” “You knew that before we started sleeping together.” “Should’ve taken it as a warning.” “Too late.” Panam looked at her for a long moment. Then her hand closed gently at the back of Shammy’s neck. Not forcing. Holding. “You’re sure.” “Yes.” “Shammy.” “Yes.” “Sera.” “Yes.” “Both.” “Yes.” Panam searched her face. Found whatever she needed. Then: “Yes.” Shammy stopped breathing. Panam’s mouth twitched. “Breathe.” Shammy did. Once. Again. Then the smile began. Slowly. Helplessly. Panam groaned before it even finished. “Don’t.” “You said yes.” “I know what I said.” “You said yes.” “Shammy.” “You—” Panam rolled them. Shammy yelped as her back hit the mattress and Panam ended above her. “That was your last free repetition.” Shammy looked up. Delighted. “Yes, ma’am.” Panam closed her eyes. “That is going to become a problem.” “Probably.” Panam looked down at her. Shammy’s smile softened. No teasing. “Thank you.” Panam’s expression softened back. “Don’t thank me yet.” “Why?” “We still have to shop.” Shammy’s smile returned instantly. Panam groaned. “Oh, fuck.” “You choose.” “I know.” “The collar.” “I know.” “And leash.” “I KNOW.” Shammy laughed. Panam caught her wrists and held them lightly above her head. Not because she needed to. Because both of them liked the answer. Shammy stopped laughing. Panam saw that too. “Still want this?” Shammy met her eyes. “Yes.” Panam lowered her face until their mouths were almost touching. “Good.” Shammy smiled. “Owner?” Panam froze. The word sat between them. New. Not yet backed by metal. Not yet visible. Not quite earned into ritual. Panam looked at her. “No.” Shammy blinked. Panam’s mouth curved. “I am not your owner yet.” Shammy stared. Then the smile came back. Slow. Dangerous. “You said yet.” Panam realized the mistake. Too late. Shammy began laughing. Panam dropped her forehead against Shammy’s shoulder. “Fuck.” “You said yet.” “I heard myself.” “You definitely said yet.” “I’m changing my mind.” “No, you’re not.” Panam lifted her head. Shammy was still smiling beneath her. Warm. Certain. Entirely Shammy. Entirely Sera. Already hers in every way that had existed before tonight. Soon— something new. Panam kissed her. Mostly to shut her up. It worked. For a while. Not nearly long enough. Because when Panam finally pulled away, Shammy was still smiling. And her first words were: “You still said yet.” --- ## CHAPTER 5 — YOU ASKED HER WHAT? Shammy chose breakfast. Not because breakfast was especially appropriate. Because breakfast meant everyone would already be in one place. That was efficient. It was also a terrible idea. She realized this the moment Panam walked through the safehouse door and Ace looked up from Mai’s lap. Not beside Mai. On Mai. Sideways. One leg hanging over the arm of the chair, coffee balanced dangerously in one hand while Mai’s other arm remained firmly around her waist. Ace looked at Panam. Then Shammy. Then Panam again. Her eyebrows rose. Shammy stopped in the doorway. “Oh, no.” Ace smiled. “I didn’t say anything.” “That face said six things.” Mai looked at Shammy over Ace’s shoulder. “Seven.” “Traitor,” Ace said. Mai kissed the side of her head. “Always.” Brenda was already at the table. Iris beside her. Both had coffee. Both had noticed Panam arriving with Shammy. Neither had spoken yet. That was worse. Shammy looked behind her. Panam was still there. Unfortunately. “You wanted me here,” Panam said. “I am reconsidering.” “Too late.” “Helpful.” Panam closed the door. Shammy walked into the room. Panam followed. Ace’s smile widened. Brenda looked between them. Iris lowered her tablet. Mai remained infuriatingly calm. Shammy sat. Panam did not. She leaned against the counter instead. Distance. Not retreat. Enough to make clear that this was Shammy’s conversation. Good. Shammy picked up her coffee. Drank. Put it down. Nobody spoke. That was unacceptable. “Why are you all staring at me?” Ace widened her eyes. “We’re not.” Five people continued staring at her. Shammy looked at Panam. Panam looked suddenly fascinated by the wall. Coward. Shammy inhaled. “I asked Panam something.” Ace’s eyes immediately went to Panam. Panam remained very interested in architecture. Brenda leaned forward. Iris’s tablet lowered another inch. Mai’s expression did not change. “What?” Ace asked. Shammy looked at her. “The stable.” Silence. Excellent. Then Ace blinked. Once. Twice. “What about it?” Shammy resisted the urge to leave. “I asked to join.” Nothing moved. Then Brenda inhaled wrong. Iris caught her cup before she knocked it over. Ace stared at Shammy. Mai stared at Shammy. Panam finally looked away from the wall because apparently even she wanted to witness the damage. Ace spoke first. “You asked her what?” There it was. Shammy closed her eyes. “I knew breakfast was a mistake.” Brenda made a strangled sound. Shammy looked at her. “Do not.” Brenda immediately covered her mouth. Her shoulders shook. “Iris.” Iris looked at her partner. “Control yourself.” Brenda nodded seriously. Then lost it. The laugh escaped hard enough that she had to turn away. Shammy stared. “This is why nobody tells you anything.” Brenda tried to answer. Failed. Ace was still processing. “You.” “Yes.” “Asked Panam.” “Yes.” “To join her stable.” Panam muttered: “I hate that word.” Everyone ignored her. Shammy nodded. “Yes.” Ace’s mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. Then she slowly put her coffee on the table. “Oh.” Shammy did not like that tone. “No.” Ace looked innocent. “What?” “That oh.” “I only said oh.” “You said it maliciously.” Mai’s mouth twitched. Shammy caught it. “You too?” Mai shook her head. “No.” A beat. “Not maliciously.” Brenda made another choking sound. Iris rubbed her back. Panam looked toward the door. Shammy saw. “Don’t even think about it.” “I’m thinking about several things.” “Leaving is not one of them.” “It was becoming attractive.” Ace pointed at Panam. “You said yes?” Panam’s eyes closed. Shammy’s smile appeared before she could stop it. Ace saw. Of course she did. “Oh, my God.” “Do not.” “She said yes.” Shammy tried for dignity. “Yes.” Ace stared. Then looked at Panam. Then back at Shammy. Then at Panam again. “You asked her to be your owner.” Shammy covered her face. Brenda lost whatever remained of her composure. Mai laughed. Actually laughed. Softly, but unmistakably. Shammy lowered her hands. “You are all terrible people.” Ace leaned forward as far as Mai’s arm allowed. “You asked her.” “Yes, Ace.” “To be your owner.” “Yes, Ace.” “And she said yes.” “Yes, Ace.” Ace looked delighted. Shammy pointed. “If you make one pet noise, I will throw you through the window.” Ace’s eyebrows rose. “I wasn’t going to.” Panam said: “She absolutely was.” “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” Ace turned toward Panam. “You’re supposed to protect your pet.” Panam answered immediately. “Not yet.” Silence. Panam froze. Shammy slowly turned toward her. Ace’s grin became catastrophic. Brenda slapped one hand against the table. Iris closed her eyes. Mai looked positively serene. Panam stared at all of them. “Not one fucking word.” Shammy smiled. “You said yet.” “I know.” “You did it again.” “I know.” Ace whispered: “Pet.” Panam pointed at her. “You.” Ace immediately hid her face against Mai’s shoulder. Mai wrapped both arms around her. “Protected.” “You are enabling her.” “Yes.” Shammy laughed. She could not help it. That broke something. The room loosened. Brenda finally recovered enough to breathe. Iris pushed her coffee toward her. “Hydrate.” Brenda took it. “Thank you.” Panam muttered something under her breath. Nobody asked. Probably wise. Ace lifted her head again. This time the humor remained, but something warmer had joined it. “You really want this.” Not a joke. Shammy looked at her. “Yes.” Ace nodded once. A faint lift ran through Shammy’s silver-white hair before settling again, happiness making itself visible despite her attempt at composure. Ace saw it. Naturally. That was all. No question about why. No concern about what it meant for the Triad. They had already lived the answer. Shammy had come home after asking. She had slept between Ace and Mai after the idea first appeared. Nothing in her had moved away from them. Nothing needed defending. Mai looked at Panam. Not for reassurance. Not to test her. Just looking at someone who mattered to Shammy. “You’re choosing the collar?” Panam looked at her. “Yes.” Ace made a tiny noise. Panam’s head snapped around. “I heard that.” Ace buried her face against Mai again. Mai’s mouth curved. Shammy smiled. “And leash.” Panam looked at her. “You did not need to add that.” “Yes, I did.” “You absolutely did not.” Brenda leaned forward. “You’re choosing both?” Panam sighed. “Yes.” Brenda looked at Iris. Iris looked back. Something passed between them. Shammy immediately distrusted it. “What?” Brenda smiled. “Nothing.” “Bullshit.” Iris picked up her tablet. “We were merely noting that Panam has developed a remarkably specific shopping category.” Panam stared. Ace began shaking silently against Mai. Shammy covered her mouth. Brenda pointed at Iris. “See? This is why I love her.” Iris kissed her cheek. Panam looked toward the ceiling. “I should have stayed home.” Shammy touched her knee under the table. Panam looked at her. No teasing for one second. Shammy smiled. Panam’s expression softened. Then Ace ruined it. “When are you shopping?” Panam looked at her. “No.” Ace blinked. “That was a question.” “And that was an answer.” “You can’t no a when.” “I just did.” Mai rested her chin lightly against Ace’s head. “Technically impressive.” Panam stared. Shammy laughed. “Soon.” Panam’s eyes moved to her. Shammy smiled sweetly. “We agreed together.” “We agreed we would go together.” “Exactly.” “That does not mean soon.” “It means eventually.” Ace immediately said: “Yet.” Panam stood straighter. “Fuck all of you.” Brenda was crying. Actually crying. Iris handed her a napkin. Shammy leaned back in her chair and decided that perhaps this had been worth doing at breakfast after all. Mostly. Mai looked at Shammy. “Visible?” There. Actual question. Shammy nodded. “Sera wears the collar.” Ace stopped laughing. Brenda quieted too. Iris looked up. Panam remained against the counter. Shammy continued. “When I’m Sera, it stays.” “Jig-Jig?” Mai asked. “Yes.” “Artist events?” “Yes.” “Public appearances?” “Yes.” Mai nodded slowly. “That is significant.” “I know.” Ace looked at Shammy. “So the collar becomes part of Sera.” “Yes.” Panam spoke from behind them. “The leash is different.” Everyone looked at her. “Not automatic.” Shammy nodded. “Not every appearance.” “No.” Mai understood first. Of course she did. “The collar says belonging.” Panam looked at her. “Yes.” “The leash says active handling.” A small pause. “Yes.” Shammy smiled. Exactly. Brenda’s eyebrows rose. “So Night City is going to see Sera wearing Panam’s collar.” “Yes.” “And eventually—” Panam pointed at her. “Do not.” Brenda stopped. Smiled. Panam knew. Everybody knew. Eventually somebody would see Sera at the end of Panam’s leash. The social consequences of that image had not yet happened. But the room could already feel them coming. Ace’s smile returned slowly. Panam noticed. “No.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You’re thinking.” Ace looked delighted. “Apparently everyone can hear it now.” Shammy pointed at her. “See?” Mai’s arms tightened around Ace. Ace settled back against her. Normal. Completely normal. That was the point. Shammy looked around the room. Ace in Mai’s lap. Brenda touching Iris’s hand. Panam pretending she had not voluntarily walked into this disaster. The safehouse unchanged by the fact that Shammy had asked for something new. No fracture. No renegotiation of who loved whom. No territory changing hands. Just another fact entering a life already built to contain unusual shapes. Ace looked at Shammy again. The teasing had faded. “Happy?” Shammy answered immediately. “Yes.” Ace smiled. “Good.” Mai nodded. Brenda softened. Iris did too. Panam watched Shammy. Shammy looked back. Nothing else needed saying. Naturally, Brenda said something anyway. “So does the pet get treats?” Panam’s head snapped toward her. “Brenda.” “What?” Iris looked thoughtful. “Operationally reasonable question.” Panam stared at her. “You were supposed to be the responsible one.” “I was.” “What happened?” Iris glanced at Brenda. “Brenda.” Brenda kissed her cheek. “Love you.” Iris smiled. “Exactly.” Shammy covered her face. Ace started laughing again. Mai rested her chin on Ace’s head. Panam looked toward the door one more time. Shammy caught it. “Don’t.” Panam looked at her. “Your family is insane.” “Our family.” Panam froze. Not because the word meant Triad. It did not. Shammy knew that. Panam knew that. The broader orbit had become too tangled for simplistic categories ages ago. Still, the word landed. Panam’s expression softened. Only slightly. Then she recovered. “Still insane.” “Yes.” Shammy reached out. Panam took her hand. No collar yet. No leash. No owner-language required. Just lovers holding hands in a kitchen while Ace was still laughing, Brenda was still making things worse, Iris was pretending not to help her, and Mai looked far too pleased with the entire universe. Shammy squeezed Panam’s fingers. Panam squeezed back. Ace saw. Of course she did. She smiled. Shammy pointed at her. “Don’t.” Ace raised both hands. “I didn’t say anything.” Panam sighed. “That sentence means nothing in this house.” “Now you understand,” Mai said. Panam looked around at all of them. Then at Shammy. “You owe me.” Shammy smiled. “For what?” “This.” She gestured at the room. Brenda. Ace. The laughter. Everything. Shammy leaned closer. “How much?” Panam’s eyes narrowed. Shammy’s smile became dangerous. Panam saw where the answer could go. “No.” Shammy laughed. Ace immediately looked interested. “What?” “Nothing,” Panam and Shammy said together. That only made it worse. --- ## CHAPTER 6 — JUST LOOKING By late afternoon, Birgitta’s absurdly long corpo booking had ended without incident. That was the official version. Panam’s private version involved one message containing the words: **Worth every fucking minute.** Followed by another: **He wants to book again.** Then: **Also the lunch was better.** Panam had stared at the messages for several seconds. Shammy, walking beside her, had noticed. “Birgitta?” “Yes.” “Good?” Panam pocketed the holo. “Smug.” “So good.” “Apparently.” “Corpo survived?” “Apparently.” “Birgitta?” Panam looked at her. “Unfortunately.” Shammy smiled. “Your relief is touching.” “My first pet just spent nearly a day with some rich asshole.” “Rich attractive asshole.” “That does not improve the sentence.” “It apparently improved Birgitta’s day.” Panam gave her a look. Shammy grinned. Then Panam stopped walking. Shammy took two more steps before noticing. She turned. “What?” Panam pointed toward the storefront. Shammy followed the gesture. Then stopped smiling. Not because the place was intimidating. Because suddenly this was real again. The shop occupied a narrow street-level space in Westbrook that looked expensive without advertising why. No neon collar hanging above the entrance. No animated leash. No window full of cheap bondage gear pretending chrome made plastic luxurious. The display was almost offensively restrained. Leather. Metal. Fine chain. Several collars mounted like jewelry. A few leashes arranged beside them. Nothing loud. Nothing novelty. Nothing that looked disposable. Shammy looked at Panam. Panam looked at the window. Then at Shammy. “We’re just looking.” Shammy’s smile returned. “Oh.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “What?” “Nothing.” “That was something.” “You said just looking.” “Yes.” “Very normal phrase.” “Yes.” “People say it immediately before buying things.” Panam stared. Shammy smiled brightly. “We’re just looking.” “Keep talking and we’re leaving.” “No, we’re not.” Panam’s eyebrows rose. Shammy’s pulse reacted before her common sense did. Not owner. Not yet. Still— interesting. She smiled. Panam noticed. “Oh, fuck off.” “You saw that?” “You are terrible at hiding it from me.” “I’m an artist.” “That has nothing to do with anything.” “It explains sensitivity.” “To being threatened with leaving a collar shop?” “Apparently.” Panam looked toward the entrance. Then back. “Last chance.” “To behave?” “Yes.” “No.” Panam sighed. Then opened the door. Shammy followed her inside. --- The first thing Shammy noticed was that the store smelled like leather. Actual leather. Not synthetic fragrance trying to persuade customers of authenticity. Leather. Clean metal. Something faintly woody underneath. The second thing she noticed was the price of the first collar she saw. “Oh.” Panam stopped beside her. “What?” Shammy pointed. Panam looked at the price. Then at Shammy. “That’s not bad.” Shammy stared. “Madame.” Panam’s eyes closed. “I am going home.” “You said just looking.” “I hate you.” “No, you don’t.” Panam started walking. Shammy followed. The store was divided less by function than by intent. Everyday wear. Formal. Discrete. Decorative. Control-oriented. Performance. A section that appeared almost entirely designed for corpo clients who wanted ownership symbolism to look like high jewelry. Another used heavier leather and exposed hardware without crossing into cheap theatricality. The leashes were the same. Fine chain. Braided leather. Soft webbing. Rigid reinforced lines designed for actual control. Short leads. Long leads. Some decorative enough to be useless. Some useful enough to look almost industrial. Panam ignored the latter immediately. Shammy noticed. “No?” “No.” “You didn’t even touch it.” “I have eyes.” “Very pretty ones.” Panam kept walking. Shammy smiled. The woman behind the counter watched them with professional disinterest. Not ignoring. Not hovering. Good. Shammy appreciated stores where staff understood that people buying intimate things often preferred several minutes before being asked questions. Panam stopped in front of a wall of collars. Shammy stopped beside her. For several seconds neither spoke. That felt ridiculous. They had discussed love. Trust. Ownership. Consent. Work. Public identity. Sex. Ace. Mai. The stable. Everything. And somehow a wall of collars managed to make both of them quiet. Shammy looked sideways. Panam was studying them seriously. Not browsing aesthetically. Evaluating. Width. Material. Closure. Hardware. Weight. Shammy smiled. Panam caught it without looking. “Stop.” “I’m not doing anything.” “You’re watching me.” “Yes.” “Why?” Shammy considered pretending not to know. Didn’t. “Because you’re choosing.” Panam finally looked at her. “Not today.” “Looking.” “Yes.” “Very seriously.” Panam turned back toward the wall. Shammy’s smile grew. “You have criteria.” “Of course I have criteria.” “Oh, this is adorable.” Panam turned slowly. Shammy immediately raised both hands. “Sorry.” “You are not.” “No.” Panam looked like she was considering murder. Shammy loved her. This was going extremely well. --- Panam rejected the first collar because the ring was too large. The second because the interior edge felt wrong beneath her thumb. The third because it was too decorative. The fourth because it was not decorative enough. Shammy watched this happen. By the fifth rejection she could no longer remain silent. “You know you’re shopping for an artist.” Panam looked at her. “Yes.” “A famous artist.” “Yes.” “A woman who regularly appears in public.” “Yes.” “Who wears expensive clothes.” “Yes.” “And you just rejected that one for being too pretty.” “It was stupid.” “It was beautiful.” “It had six fucking chains hanging off it.” “Decorative chains.” “Exactly.” Shammy laughed. Panam took another collar from the display. Dark material. Narrower. Simple metalwork. Shammy watched Panam turn it over. Touch the inside. Check the closure. Then put it back. “No?” “Too plain.” Shammy stared. “You are impossible.” “You asked me to choose.” “That may have been my first mistake.” Panam looked at her. “Want to choose yourself?” Shammy answered immediately. “No.” Panam paused. The joke disappeared. Only for a second. Shammy held her eyes. “No,” she repeated more softly. Panam nodded. Then turned back to the display. Something warm moved through Shammy. This was exactly why she had wanted to come with her. Not because Shammy needed to approve the aesthetics. Although she absolutely intended to have opinions. Because she wanted to watch Panam decide. Wanted to see what Panam thought suited her. What Panam considered too much. Too little. Too fragile. Too severe. Too anonymous. What Panam saw when she imagined Sera wearing something Panam had chosen. There was intimacy in that. Unexpectedly large intimacy. Shammy stepped closer. Their shoulders touched. Panam did not move away. “What are you looking for?” Panam kept her eyes on the wall. “I don’t know yet.” “That sounded honest.” “It was.” “Scary.” “Shut up.” Shammy smiled. Panam continued looking. Then: “Something you can actually live in.” Shammy’s smile faded into attention. “Not something that works for two hours and then annoys you.” “Okay.” “Nothing that catches on your clothes.” “Good.” “Nothing that looks like costume jewelry.” “Very good.” “Nothing that disappears either.” Shammy looked at her. Panam still faced the display. “It should be obvious?” “Yes.” “How obvious?” Panam thought. “If someone knows what they’re looking at, there should be no question.” Shammy’s pulse shifted. “And if they don’t?” “They’ll still know it matters.” There it was. Shammy went quiet. Panam noticed. Looked at her. “What?” “That was…” Shammy searched. “Good.” Panam’s expression softened. “Yeah.” Shammy touched her hand. Panam let their fingers link for a moment. Then immediately ruined it. “And it has to survive you.” Shammy stared. “What the fuck does that mean?” “You.” “That explains nothing.” “You move around.” “I am a human being.” “You throw yourself on couches.” “Sometimes.” “You paint.” “Yes.” “You climb things.” “Rarely.” “You fell off a table two weeks ago.” “That table was structurally dishonest.” Panam stared. Shammy smiled. “It was.” “You need durable.” “I need less judgment.” “Wrong store.” Shammy laughed. --- The saleswoman approached after Panam had rejected another six. “Need help?” Panam looked toward her. “Yes.” Shammy’s eyebrows rose. Panam ignored her. The woman looked between them once. Professional. No assumptions spoken aloud. “What are you looking for?” Panam pointed at Shammy. “For her.” Shammy smiled. The woman looked at her neck. Then at Panam. “Daily wear?” “Yes.” Panam answered before Shammy. The woman nodded. “Public?” “Yes.” “Discrete?” “No.” That answer came even faster. Shammy felt it. The saleswoman did too. Not emotionally. Professionally. “Decorative?” “Some.” “Locking?” Panam paused. Shammy looked at her. Panam looked back. That question had not come up yet. Interesting. The saleswoman waited. Shammy did not answer for Panam. Panam finally said: “Secure. Not permanently locking.” “Quick release?” “Yes.” “Visible?” Panam considered. “No.” The woman nodded. “Good. Activity?” Panam looked at Shammy. Shammy smiled. Panam sighed. “Too much.” “Helpful.” “She needs to be able to wear it through normal daily movement, performance, travel, work.” “Sleep?” Panam looked at Shammy again. Shammy raised an eyebrow. “That’s your call.” Panam’s expression changed. The saleswoman waited patiently. Panam said: “Potentially.” Shammy’s pulse kicked. Panam definitely noticed. The saleswoman did not. Professional. Excellent woman. “Skin sensitivity?” “No,” Shammy answered. “Implants at the neck?” “No.” “Hair snag risk?” “Yes.” “Style?” Panam looked around. Then at Shammy. The woman waited. Panam said: “Not cute.” Shammy stared. “I can be cute.” Panam looked at her. “No.” “Bitch.” “See?” The saleswoman’s mouth twitched. Shammy noticed. “You can laugh.” “I’m working.” “So is she.” Panam pointed toward Shammy. “She is not.” “Emotionally.” The saleswoman failed. A small laugh escaped. Panam closed her eyes. “Great.” Shammy smiled. “I like her.” “Please don’t.” The woman recovered. “Not cute.” Panam nodded. “Not harsh either.” “Material preference?” “Show me.” That was apparently the correct answer. The woman led them deeper into the shop. --- The first fitting collar was soft black leather with brushed metal hardware. Shammy looked at it. Then at Panam. Panam looked at the saleswoman. “Can she try it?” “Of course.” The woman handed it to Shammy. Shammy did not take it. Panam noticed. The saleswoman noticed. Shammy looked at Panam. “Could you?” Silence. Not awkward. Just sudden. Panam stared at her. Shammy held her gaze. This was not _the_ collar. They both knew that. No ownership ritual. No final consent. No claim. Just fitting. Still. Shammy wanted Panam’s hands there. Panam understood. She took the collar. “Turn around.” Shammy’s body reacted immediately. Panam saw. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Shammy smiled and turned. “Not a word.” “I didn’t say anything.” “Your shoulders did.” “My shoulders are innocent.” Panam stepped closer. Shammy felt her before she was touched. Then fingers brushed her hair aside. Slowly. The silver-white strands lifted softly into Panam’s fingers as though the air had forgotten which way gravity worked. Then, under Panam’s touch, they settled. Panam gathered enough of it away from the back of her neck to expose the skin. Shammy’s breathing changed. Ridiculous. This was a fitting. A shop. A stranger several meters away. And Panam’s fingers were at the back of her neck holding a collar. Shammy closed her eyes. “Still just looking?” she asked. Panam’s hand stopped. “Do you want me to put this on or not?” “Yes.” “Then behave.” The answer came out before Shammy could stop it. “Yes, ma’am.” Panam exhaled. Shammy could almost hear her counting. Then leather touched her throat. Soft. Cool at first. Panam brought the ends together behind her neck. Adjusted. Closed the temporary fitting clasp. Her fingers stayed there for one extra second. Shammy noticed. Panam definitely noticed herself noticing. “Turn.” Shammy turned. Panam looked. Not casually. Shammy stopped smiling. The intensity of that inspection surprised her. Panam looked at the width against Shammy’s neck. The color against her skin. How it sat beneath her jaw. Where the front ring rested. Then Panam’s eyes met hers. Something moved between them. Shammy smiled slowly. “Well?” Panam touched the front of the collar with two fingers. Shammy’s pulse kicked beneath the leather. “No.” Shammy blinked. “No?” “Too wide.” Shammy stared. “All that?” “What?” “You looked at me like—” “I was checking it.” “You were not checking it.” Panam’s mouth twitched. “Too wide.” “You’re evil.” “Yes.” Panam reached behind her neck. Released it. The leather left Shammy’s skin. The absence was annoyingly noticeable. Panam handed the collar back. “Next.” Shammy looked at the saleswoman. “She does this on purpose.” The woman accepted the collar. “I’m staying professionally neutral.” “Coward.” --- The next one was narrower. Deep brown rather than black. Panam disliked the color before it reached Shammy. The next used polished silver. Too bright. Another had a subtle geometric pattern worked into the leather. Panam liked the pattern. Shammy hated the closure. Rejected. A dark graphite collar with low-profile hardware lasted longer. Shammy wore it for several minutes. Walked. Turned her head. Looked down. Looked up. Panam watched everything. “Comfortable?” “Yes.” “Any pull?” “No.” “Hair?” “Fine.” Panam stepped behind her. Checked. Shammy stood very still. The saleswoman had wisely moved to another part of the shop. Panam’s fingertips traced the back edge. “Too loose.” “You fitted it.” “Fitting clasp.” “Blaming technology.” “Yes.” Panam adjusted. Shammy inhaled. Panam’s fingers stopped. “Too tight?” “No.” “Then what?” Shammy looked at her reflection. Panam stood behind her. Hands at her neck. The collar between them. She met Panam’s eyes in the mirror. “You know what.” Panam stared back. A long second. Then another. “Yes.” That answer was quiet. Shammy’s expression softened. Panam looked back at the collar. Then frowned. “No.” Shammy nearly screamed. “What now?” “Ring sits wrong.” “Panam.” “It does.” “You have spent five minutes touching my neck.” “Necessary.” “You enjoyed it.” “Not relevant.” “Highly relevant.” Panam removed the collar. Shammy turned around. “You are enjoying this.” Panam put the collar down. “We’re shopping.” “You are enjoying shopping.” “No.” “Liar.” “I am evaluating equipment.” Shammy stared. “Equipment.” Panam froze. Shammy’s eyes narrowed. Panam started walking. “Oh, no.” “Next section.” “You called my collar equipment.” “I was speaking generally.” “Madame.” “Do not.” “Madame Panam, procurement specialist.” “Shammy.” “Stable logistics.” “I will leave you here.” “You need me for sizing.” Panam stopped. Closed her eyes. Shammy walked up behind her and wrapped both arms around her waist. Panam sighed. “You are impossible.” Shammy kissed her shoulder. “You said yes.” “That fact becomes less charming every time you use it.” “No, it doesn’t.” Panam turned inside her arms. Looked at her. Shammy smiled. Panam kissed her. Quickly. Firm enough to reset the universe. When she pulled back: “Leashes.” Shammy blinked. Then grinned. “Oh, fuck.” “Exactly.” --- Shammy had not expected leash shopping to feel more intimate than collar shopping. She was wrong. The collar would be hers to wear. The leash existed almost entirely in relation to Panam. That changed everything. Panam picked up a thin chain. Tested the weight. Put it back. “No.” A braided leather lead. Too stiff. Another. Too long. Shorter. Too short. Shammy watched. “You really have done this four times.” Panam looked at her. “Four pets.” Shammy smiled. “Soon five.” Panam returned to the leash. “Potentially.” “You already said yes.” “The collaring hasn’t happened.” “Technicality.” “Important technicality.” Shammy nodded. It was. She liked that Panam treated it that way. Intent was not the act. Agreement was not final ritual. Sera would still stand in front of Panam later. Ask. Panam would still answer. Nothing assumed. Good. Panam picked up another leash. Soft black leather. Narrow. Enough weight to feel present without dragging. A small clip. She tested it with her thumb. Once. Again. Shammy watched her face. Panam noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “That is always a lie.” “I like watching you.” “That’s creepy.” “We’re lovers.” “Still creepy.” Shammy smiled. “Imagine holding it.” Panam went still. Shammy’s voice had softened without intending to. Panam looked down at the leash. Then at Shammy. No collar around her neck now. Nothing to attach it to. Still— the image existed. Sera. Collar. Panam’s leash. Panam holding the other end. Public. Private. Jig-Jig. Artist event. Every meaning they had discussed compressed into one simple line between two people. Panam looked back at the leash. Shammy’s heart beat faster. Panam put it down. Shammy stared. “You bitch.” “Not this one.” “Why?” “Clip.” “What’s wrong with it?” “Too small.” “You just imagined the whole thing and rejected it because of the clip.” “Yes.” Shammy covered her face. Panam walked past her. “This is why I’m choosing.” Shammy lowered her hands. “I hate how much I agree with you.” “Good.” They kept looking. --- An hour later, Shammy had tried nine collars. Panam claimed it was seven. Shammy counted the two immediate rejections because they had touched her neck. Panam claimed this was fraudulent statistics. They had examined enough leashes that Shammy had stopped pretending she understood the distinction Panam was making between two apparently identical black leads. Panam did. Apparently. The saleswoman had brought water. That felt appropriate. Shammy sat on a padded bench while Panam stood in front of another display. Serious. Concentrating. Shammy watched her. Love did strange things. Sometimes it meant waking beside Ace and Mai. Sometimes it meant watching Panam spend sixty minutes rejecting collars because none of them yet looked exactly right around a neck she already knew intimately. Shammy smiled. Panam looked over. “What?” “Nothing.” “I swear to God.” Shammy laughed. Panam walked back toward her. “Done?” Shammy asked. “No.” “Tired?” “No.” “Hungry?” Panam looked suspicious. “No.” “Turned on?” Panam stared. Shammy smiled sweetly. “Market research.” “You’re done talking.” “Probably wise.” Panam sat beside her. Their shoulders touched. For a minute they simply looked at the displays. Shammy leaned her head against Panam’s shoulder. Panam let her. “Found anything?” Shammy asked. “A few.” Shammy lifted her head. “A few?” “Yes.” “Finalists?” Panam looked at her. “Do not make this into a fucking competition.” “Finalists.” “No.” “Semifinalists?” “Shammy.” She laughed. Panam’s expression softened. Then she looked toward one particular section of the wall. Shammy followed. Could not tell which collar. Interesting. Panam had seen something. Maybe. Shammy felt excitement start. Panam noticed. “We are just looking.” Shammy nodded gravely. “Of course.” “I mean it.” “Absolutely.” “No decisions today.” “None.” Panam narrowed her eyes. Shammy held the most innocent expression she could manufacture. Panam stood. “Come on.” “Where?” “Coffee.” Shammy blinked. “We’ve been here an hour and you’re leaving without buying anything?” Panam stared. Shammy’s grin broke through. “Oh, my God.” “Do not.” “You actually meant just looking.” “Yes.” “That’s so responsible.” “Fuck you.” Shammy stood. Panam headed toward the door. Shammy followed, delighted. The saleswoman looked up from the counter. “Find anything useful?” Panam stopped. Looked back at the displays. Just once. Shammy saw it. So did the saleswoman. Panam answered: “Maybe.” The woman nodded. “No rush.” “Exactly.” Shammy smiled. Panam saw. “Not one word.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You were going to.” “I was thinking.” “Loudly.” Shammy laughed. They stepped outside. The door closed behind them. Night City swallowed the quiet luxury of the shop immediately. Traffic. Light. People. Noise. Panam put her hands into her jacket pockets. Shammy walked beside her. For almost twenty meters, she behaved. Then: “So which one?” Panam kept walking. “No.” “You saw one.” “No.” “You looked back.” “I have eyes.” “You had a face.” “I always have a face.” “That particular face.” Panam stopped. Shammy stopped too. Panam turned toward her. “You asked me to choose.” “Yes.” “So let me choose.” The teasing left Shammy immediately. She nodded. “Okay.” Panam studied her. Apparently checking whether okay really meant okay. It did. Then Panam touched the side of Shammy’s neck. Bare. Still bare. Her thumb moved once over the place where nine temporary collars had rested. Shammy leaned slightly into the touch. Panam’s expression changed. Not owner. Not yet. But closer than yesterday. “I’ll know when I see it,” Panam said. Shammy smiled. “I know.” Panam lowered her hand. Then caught Shammy’s fingers instead. They started walking again. Shammy squeezed her hand. Panam squeezed back. No collar. No leash. No purchase. Just looking. For now. Shammy managed another thirty meters before saying: “You totally have finalists.” Panam groaned. “Goddammit, Shammy.” --- ## CHAPTER 7 — THIS ONE Panam went back the next day. Shammy knew because Panam sent her exactly three words. **Come with me.** No explanation. No address. No attempt at pretending the destination might be somewhere else. Shammy looked at the message. Then at Ace. Ace was sitting on the floor beside the couch with one of Shammy’s sketchbooks open across her knees. She looked up. “What?” Shammy held up the holo. “Panam.” Ace’s expression transformed immediately. “Oh.” Shammy pointed. “Do not.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You made a face.” Mai looked over from the kitchen. “What kind?” Ace smiled. “The collar-shopping face.” Shammy closed her eyes. “There should not be a collar-shopping face.” “There is now.” Mai smiled. Shammy looked at both of them. “You’re terrible.” Ace handed back the sketchbook. “You’re excited.” “No.” Mai raised an eyebrow. Shammy sighed. “Fine.” Ace’s grin widened. “Very?” Shammy stood. “I’m leaving.” “That means yes.” Shammy pointed at her on the way past. “You are becoming Panam.” Ace looked horrified. Mai kissed her forehead. “No.” Ace relaxed. “Good.” Shammy left before either could improve the situation. --- Panam was waiting half a block from the shop. Not directly outside. Of course not. Hands in her jacket pockets. Expression neutral. Far too neutral. Shammy walked up. Panam looked at her. “You’re smiling.” “So are you.” “I am not.” “You are internally.” “That isn’t visible.” “I know you.” Panam stared. Shammy grinned. “Loud thinking.” “Fuck you.” “Later.” Panam turned toward the shop. Shammy fell into step beside her. They reached the door. Panam stopped. Shammy stopped too. Panam looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” “That face.” “What face?” “The one you had yesterday.” Shammy smiled. “The excited one?” “The dangerous one.” “Same face.” “I know.” Panam opened the door. Shammy followed. --- The saleswoman looked up. Then recognized them. A smile appeared. Small. Professional. But definitely there. “Back already?” Panam stopped. Shammy smiled brightly. “Yes.” Panam looked at her. Shammy corrected: “We are.” The woman’s eyes moved to Panam. “Still just looking?” Panam stared. Shammy covered her mouth. The saleswoman’s smile deepened by perhaps one millimeter. Panam pointed at her. “You.” “Yes?” “You encouraged her.” “I said nothing.” Shammy lowered her hand. “Oh, I like her even more now.” Panam ignored both of them and walked toward the collar wall. Shammy followed. So did the saleswoman, at a respectful distance. Panam stopped in front of the same section she had looked back at yesterday. Shammy noticed immediately. Said nothing. Mostly because Panam would probably throw her out. Panam studied the display. Not all of it. One part. Shammy watched. There were six collars there. All refined. Dark. Minimal without being plain. The sort of pieces that would work with almost anything Sera wore without disappearing into it. Shammy felt her pulse increase. Panam reached out. Not yet. Her hand stopped. Moved to another collar. Touched it. Lifted it from the display. Shammy’s breath changed. Panam looked at her. “No.” Shammy blinked. “I didn’t say anything.” “You were about to.” “I was breathing.” “Suspiciously.” Shammy smiled. Panam turned the collar over in her hands. Soft black leather. Not glossy. Deep enough in tone to absorb most of the room’s light. The hardware was darker too. Brushed gunmetal rather than polished silver. Nothing decorative hanging from it. Nothing ornamental for the sake of ornament. The front ring was small but unmistakable. Integrated cleanly into the design. Visible. Purposeful. The edges were slightly rounded. The interior lined in something softer. Shammy stared. Panam ran her thumb across the lining. Then checked the closure. Low-profile. Secure. Fast enough to release deliberately. Not accidental. Not theatrical. Shammy knew before Panam said anything. This was one of them. Maybe the one. Panam looked toward the saleswoman. “Can she try this again?” The woman nodded. “Of course.” Shammy’s heart kicked. Panam looked at her. “Turn around.” Shammy did. No joke this time. Not immediately. Panam stepped closer. Shammy felt her fingers gather her hair away from her neck. The movement was familiar now. Still intimate. Still worse than it had any right to be in a shop. The leather touched her throat. Cool. Then warm. Panam brought the ends together. Fastened the fitting clasp. Adjusted once. Then again. Her fingertips moved beneath the lower edge. Checking space. Comfort. Shammy’s breathing changed. Panam stopped. “Too tight?” “No.” “Too loose?” “No.” “Anything pulling?” “No.” “Hair?” “Fine.” Panam’s fingers remained at the back of her neck. One extra second. Shammy felt it. Panam did too. Then: “Turn.” Shammy turned. Panam looked. That look again. Not casual. Not purely technical. Evaluation and something warmer beneath it. Shammy held still. The collar sat close. Narrow enough not to dominate. Wide enough not to read as jewelry. The gunmetal front ring caught light only when she moved. It looked expensive. Deliberate. Not cute. Not harsh. Sera. Shammy knew it. Panam knew it. Neither said anything. The saleswoman looked between them. Stayed quiet. Good woman. Panam lifted two fingers. Touched the ring. Shammy’s pulse jumped under the collar. Panam’s eyes flicked upward. Shammy smiled. Panam did not. Not yet. She looked at the collar again. Then at Shammy’s face. “This one.” Shammy stopped breathing. There it was. No hesitation. No maybe. No finalist. No just looking. This one. Shammy’s smile started slowly. Panam narrowed her eyes. “Do not.” “You picked.” “Yes.” “You picked.” “I know.” “For me.” Panam stared. Shammy’s smile widened. “For Sera.” Panam’s expression softened. “Yes.” A faint ionized sheen moved through the silver-white hair framing Sera’s face. Not spectacle. Just enough to betray how hard those two words had landed. That hit differently. Shammy looked toward the mirror. Sera’s collar. Not because it was physically on her now. Not yet. This was fitting. But because Panam had chosen it. That changed everything. Shammy touched the front ring lightly. Panam caught her hand. “Don’t.” Shammy looked at her. “What?” “Not yet.” The words were quiet. No joke. Shammy lowered her hand. “Okay.” Panam reached behind her neck. Opened the fitting clasp. Removed the collar. The absence felt immediate. Shammy hated that. Good. That meant the eventual moment would matter. Panam handed the collar to the saleswoman. “This one.” The woman nodded. “Good choice.” Shammy smiled. Panam saw. “Do not start.” “I haven’t.” “You will.” “Yes.” Panam sighed. Then looked toward the leash display. Shammy’s pulse immediately found a second gear. Panam saw. “Jesus Christ.” “What?” “You’re doing it again.” “Existing?” “Reacting.” “To leash shopping?” “Yes.” Shammy smiled. “Interesting.” “No.” “Very.” Panam started walking. Shammy followed. --- This time Panam did not test twenty. She knew more clearly what she wanted. Same material. Same hardware. Nothing decorative. No chain. No glittering nonsense. No oversized clip. Something that belonged with the collar rather than merely attaching to it. The saleswoman brought out three. Panam rejected the first immediately. “Too stiff.” Second. She tested the clip. Pulled. Twisted. Checked the swivel. “No.” Shammy watched. “What?” Panam showed her. “Too much play.” Shammy looked at the clip. Then at Panam. “I understood none of that.” “I know.” “Sexy, though.” Panam stared. Shammy smiled. The saleswoman looked away. Coward. Third. Soft black leather. Same finish as the collar. Matching gunmetal clip. Medium length. Long enough not to feel restrictive by default. Short enough that Panam could shorten it easily with one wrap around her hand. Panam tested the clip. Once. Again. Pulled harder. Checked the stitching. Then the handle. Shammy watched every movement. Panam looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” “That has become your least convincing word.” “I’m watching you choose.” “I know.” “I like it.” “I know.” Panam’s mouth moved. Almost a smile. She attached the clip to a metal test ring on the display. Pulled. Released. Then gathered part of the leash into her hand. Shortened it naturally. Shammy stared. There. The image. Not complete. But close. Panam holding it. Sera on the other end. Panam noticed Shammy’s expression. Her own changed. The teasing disappeared. She looked down at the leash. Then at Shammy. “This one.” Shammy’s breath caught. Again. Panam looked toward the saleswoman. “Matching set.” The woman nodded. “Easy.” Shammy stared at Panam. Panam looked back. There was something almost ridiculously intimate about the two items now lying together on the counter. A collar Panam had chosen. A leash Panam had chosen to match it. Not worn. Not yet claimed. Waiting. Shammy stepped closer. “Can I ask something?” Panam looked suspicious. “That depends.” “Can I wear the collar out?” Panam’s answer was immediate. “No.” Shammy smiled. “Good.” Panam blinked. “You wanted me to say no.” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because it isn’t mine yet.” Panam went still. Shammy nodded toward the collar. “You picked it.” “Yes.” “You bought it.” “We haven’t paid yet.” “You’re going to.” “Yes.” “But I don’t wear it until you put it on me.” Panam looked at her. Shammy’s voice softened. “That matters.” Panam held her gaze. Then nodded. “Yes.” The saleswoman remained very interested in the register. Excellent professional instincts. Panam picked up the collar. Not to put it on Shammy. Just held it. Looked at it once. Then at Shammy’s bare throat. Something in Shammy’s chest tightened pleasantly. Panam put the collar back on the counter. “Package both.” The saleswoman nodded. “Of course.” Shammy smiled. Panam saw. “Stop.” “I’m happy.” “That’s worse.” “You love me.” “Unfortunately.” “Still.” “Yes.” The answer came too fast to be defensive. Shammy softened. Panam did too. For about three seconds. Then the saleswoman asked: “Same account as the others?” Silence. Shammy’s eyes moved very slowly toward Panam. Panam closed hers. Oh. Oh, this was wonderful. Shammy turned toward the saleswoman. “The others?” Panam opened her eyes. “No.” The woman looked confused. Shammy looked delighted. “How many times has she been here?” Panam pointed. “Do not answer that.” The woman hesitated. Shammy smiled. “You absolutely can.” Panam stared at her. The saleswoman looked between them. Professional judgment failed. Slightly. “Enough that I recognized her.” Shammy covered her mouth. Panam looked toward the ceiling. “I hate this store.” “No, you don’t.” Shammy lowered her hand. “You bought all four here?” Panam stared. Shammy stared back. Panam sighed. “Most of them.” “Most?” “Mandi was difficult.” Shammy’s mouth fell open. The saleswoman’s smile finally escaped. Panam saw. “You too?” “Sorry.” “No, you’re not.” “No.” Shammy began laughing. Panam looked at her. “What?” “You have a collar store.” “I do not have a collar store.” “You have a preferred supplier.” “Stop.” “A stable procurement relationship.” “Shammy.” “Recurring customer.” “I swear to God.” The saleswoman handed Panam the payment authorization. Shammy leaned against the counter. “How many pets does she have on your records?” Panam turned. “No.” The woman looked at Panam. Then at Shammy. Then smiled. “I don’t track pets.” Panam visibly relaxed. The woman continued: “I track purchases.” Panam’s expression died. Shammy folded over laughing. “Fuck you,” Panam told the saleswoman. The woman took the abuse with excellent grace. “Would you like the usual protective case?” Shammy straightened. “The usual?” Panam slapped the authorization. Paid. The saleswoman packaged the collar and leash. One compact dark case. Unmarked. Secure. Almost formal. She handed it to Panam. Not Shammy. That mattered. Panam took it. Shammy noticed. Of course she did. The saleswoman looked at the case. Then Panam. Then Shammy. Her smile returned. “Nice stable.” Panam froze. Shammy inhaled. Panam slowly looked at her. Then at the saleswoman. “Fuck you.” Shammy lost it. Completely. The saleswoman laughed. Actually laughed this time. Panam turned toward the door with the case under one arm. “I am never coming back.” The woman called after her: “See you next time.” Panam stopped. Shammy nearly fell into a display. Panam looked over her shoulder. The saleswoman smiled. Panam stared for three full seconds. Then walked out. Shammy followed, still laughing. --- Outside, Panam made it half a block before speaking. “I hate you.” Shammy wiped her eyes. “I didn’t say it.” “You encouraged her.” “I barely participated.” “You interrogated her.” “Research.” “You asked how many collars I bought.” “Important data.” Panam kept walking. The case remained under her arm. Shammy looked at it. Her laughter softened. There it was. Really there. Not abstract anymore. Panam noticed her looking. “What?” “Nothing.” “Shammy.” She smiled. “You’re carrying my collar.” Panam stopped. Shammy stopped too. Night City moved around them. People passing. Traffic. Advertisements. None of it mattered for a second. Panam looked down at the case. Then at Shammy. “Not yours yet.” Shammy’s pulse jumped. “No.” Panam stepped closer. Close enough that Shammy had to tilt her head slightly. “I mean that.” “I know.” “You get one more chance.” Shammy’s expression changed. No teasing. “When?” “When you’re Sera.” Shammy nodded. Panam continued. “When I have this in my hands.” Another nod. “I ask.” “Yes.” “You answer.” “Yes.” “If that answer is anything except yes, nothing happens.” “Yes.” “No disappointment.” “I know.” “No obligation because I bought it.” “I know.” “No obligation because we talked about it.” “I know.” “No obligation because you wanted it yesterday.” Shammy smiled faintly. “I know.” Panam searched her face. “Good.” Shammy looked at the case again. Then back at Panam. “And if I say yes?” Panam’s expression changed. Something warmer. Stronger. More deliberate. “Then I put it on you.” Shammy’s breath caught. Panam saw. Of course. “And the leash?” Panam lifted one eyebrow. Shammy smiled. Panam stepped even closer. “After.” One word. Enough. Shammy’s pulse went stupid. Panam’s mouth twitched. “That bad?” “Shut up.” “Oh.” “Panam.” “You wanted this.” “Yes.” “Good.” Panam started walking again. Shammy followed. For several steps she behaved. Then: “So when?” Panam groaned. “Goddammit.” “Tonight?” “No.” “Tomorrow?” “No.” “Soon?” Panam looked at her. Shammy smiled. Panam looked forward again. “Soon.” Shammy stopped. Panam kept walking for two steps before noticing. Turned. Shammy stood in the middle of the sidewalk smiling like an idiot. Panam pointed at her. “Do not make me regret that word.” Shammy caught up. “Too late.” Panam shook her head. Shammy slipped her hand into Panam’s free one. Panam took it. The other arm kept the case secure against her side. Inside: One collar. One leash. Chosen. Matching. Waiting. Shammy looked at Panam. Panam looked back. No owner yet. No pet yet. But the distance between intention and reality had just become very, very small. --- ## CHAPTER 8 — NOT YET Panam did not bring the case to Lizzie’s. That was the first thing Sera noticed. Not because she had expected to see it sitting on the bar like some absurdly expensive threat. Not exactly. But Panam had left the shop carrying one dark case under her arm. Inside it: One collar. One leash. Chosen. Matching. Waiting. And now Panam stood near the bar with Birgitta beside her and no case anywhere in sight. Sera stopped just inside the room. Public Sera tonight meant white. Of course. A long sculptural coat-dress cut from fabric expensive enough to look almost liquid beneath Lizzie’s neon, white on white until movement found the seams. Silver-white hair. Electric-blue eyes. No collar. No leash. Not yet. Her hair betrayed the thought before her face did. A faint lift moved through the strands near her temples. Curiosity. Expectation. Perhaps the smallest possible amount of impatience. Then Panam saw her. The lift settled. Not completely. Enough. Panam’s mouth moved. Barely. Sera walked over. Mandi noticed first. Of course she did. Her eyes went from Sera’s face to her bare throat. Then to Panam. Then back. “Oh.” Panam pointed at her without looking away from Sera. “No.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You made a noise.” “It was a very small noise.” “Still counts.” Birgitta smiled into her drink. Sera reached them. Panam looked her over once. Not the room’s look. Not celebrity. Not spectacle. Sera knew the difference now. Panam’s eyes checked posture. Energy. The way Sera carried herself. Whether the smile was real. Then settled on her face. “Hi.” “Hi.” Sera leaned down and kissed her. Warm. Familiar. Not a declaration. Just hello. When she straightened, Panam’s gaze dropped once more to Sera’s bare throat. Sera caught it. Panam caught Sera catching it. Neither woman said anything for one beat. Then Sera asked: “Where is it?” Mandi inhaled. Panam turned her head. “Mandi.” “I’m leaving.” “You are not.” “I can leave emotionally.” Birgitta laughed. Sera kept looking at Panam. Panam answered: “Home.” Sera’s expression changed. Small. Panam saw. “Problem?” “No.” “That sounded like a problem.” “It sounded like one syllable.” “You can fit a lot into one syllable.” “So can you.” “True.” Sera considered her. Then smiled. “Good.” Panam’s eyebrows rose. “Good?” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because if you had brought it, I would have wondered whether you already decided what tonight was supposed to become.” Panam stared. Sera’s smile softened. “You didn’t.” “No.” “Good.” The silver-white hair at Sera’s temples settled another fraction. Panam noticed that too. Her hand rose. Not to Sera’s throat. To her shoulder. A simple touch. Sera leaned into it before she could pretend not to. Panam smiled. “Still want it?” “Yes.” Immediate. No theater. Panam nodded. “Good.” Sera waited. Panam did not continue. Sera’s eyes narrowed. “That’s it?” “Yes.” “You’re evil.” “You asked me to choose.” “You chose.” “Yes.” “You bought it.” “Yes.” “You said soon.” Panam’s eyes closed. Birgitta laughed openly now. Mandi whispered: “She said the word.” Panam opened one eye. “Both of you can work.” Mandi immediately became innocent. Birgitta looked delighted. Sera smiled. “Soon.” Panam looked at her. “Not tonight.” There. Clean. Sera absorbed it. No disappointment weaponized into silence. No attempt to make Panam explain before she was ready. Just the answer. “Okay.” Panam’s expression changed slightly. “You mean that?” “Yes.” “Actually?” “Panam.” “I’m asking.” Sera touched her wrist. “Yes.” A beat. Then: “I’m still going to complain.” Panam laughed. “That I believe.” --- The stable remained four. That mattered more tonight than Sera expected. Birgitta was already collared and leashed beside Panam. Mandi arrived ten minutes later carrying her own leash. She stopped in front of Panam. Held it out. Panam looked at her. “Everything good?” “Yes.” “Eat?” “Yes.” “Water?” “Yes.” “Actually?” Mandi sighed. “Yes, owner.” Panam took the leash. Mandi turned. Click. Two. Nova arrived after that. Same pattern. Her leash. Her hand. Panam’s questions. Her answers. Click. Three. Vega came last. Four. Sera watched from beside the bar. No jealousy. No strange sense of exclusion. Something closer to recognition. There was a difference between wanting something and pretending you already had it. Tonight, Sera wanted. That was enough. Her hair reacted anyway. A soft static halo appeared for half a second when Panam gathered all four leashes into one hand. Sera felt it. Closed her eyes. Mandi saw. Of course she did. “Oh.” Sera pointed at her. “No.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You keep saying that.” “Because it keeps being true.” “No.” Birgitta looked between them. “What?” “Nothing,” both women said. Panam looked over. “Absolutely not nothing.” Sera smiled. “Four.” Panam followed her gaze to the leashes. Then back. “Yes.” Mandi’s grin became catastrophic. Sera did not look at her. “Still four.” Panam understood. Her face softened only slightly. “Yes.” Sera nodded. “Good.” That surprised Panam. Sera saw. “I mean it.” “Why?” “Because I don’t want the number to change because you bought something.” Silence. Birgitta looked down into her glass. Mandi’s grin disappeared. Nova and Vega both became very interested in not interrupting. Sera continued. “I want it to change because we both say yes when it matters.” Panam stared at her. Then nodded once. “Exactly.” Sera smiled. The hair around her shoulders settled completely. --- A client approached Mandi first. Face-to-face. Good. “Working?” Mandi looked at Panam. Interested. Panam’s attention shifted. “What are you looking for?” “One hour.” “Here?” “Yes.” “Anything unusual?” “No.” “Offer?” The woman named it. Above ordinary. Not absurd. Panam looked at Mandi. Mandi looked at the woman properly. Then smiled. “Yes.” Panam unclipped her. Three. Mandi took her leash. “Check in.” “Yes, owner.” Then left with the client. Sera watched. Panam caught her. “What?” “Nothing.” “No.” Sera smiled. “You do that very naturally now.” “What?” “Move from us to work.” Panam frowned. “I’m sitting in a bar.” “You know what I mean.” Panam did. Sera could tell. She continued: “You don’t become colder.” Panam’s eyes narrowed. “You become clearer.” That landed. Sera looked toward where Mandi had disappeared. “The line changes hands. The person doesn’t.” Panam was quiet. Then: “That why you still want in?” Sera looked back. “Yes.” A faint ionized gradient moved through the silver-white hair framing her face. No spectacle. Just truth refusing to stay entirely internal. Panam reached out. Touched the back of her fingers lightly to Sera’s cheek. The gradient faded. Sera smiled. “Still not tonight?” Panam dropped her hand. “No.” “Worth trying.” “Was it?” “No.” Panam laughed. --- Sera received two approaches of her own before midnight. Both respectful. Both face-to-face. Both began the right way. “Working?” “No, thank you.” The first person accepted it immediately. The second smiled and said: “Worth asking.” Sera smiled back. “Yes.” That was all. Panam never intervened. No need. Sera was not one of her pets tonight. Sera was still entirely Sera. She found that reassuring rather than disappointing. Near the end of the night, Mandi returned. Happy. Good. Panam’s attention moved immediately. “How are you?” “Excellent.” “Water.” “Yes.” “Food.” “Yes.” “Break.” Mandi looked down at the leash in her hand. Then smiled. “Yes, owner.” She kept it. Went to the bar. Water first. Food. Then break. Only later did she come back. Leash offered. Panam took it. Click. Four. Sera watched the entire sequence. Panam caught her again. This time Sera answered before she could ask. “Yes.” Panam blinked. “Yes what?” “Still yes.” Panam stared. Then laughed softly. “You are impossible.” “You knew that before you bought the collar.” “Unfortunately.” Sera leaned down. Kissed her. When she pulled back, her silver-white hair lifted in a faint amused static. Panam touched the side of her neck. Bare skin. Still bare. The static settled under her hand. Sera closed her eyes for one second. Then opened them. “Soon?” Panam sighed. “Soon.” Sera smiled. Not yet. That was different from no. And tonight— that was enough. --- ## CHAPTER 9 — WALK WITH ME Sera sent the message shortly after noon the next day. **Walk with me tonight.** Panam read it twice. Then typed: **WHERE?** The answer came immediately. **JIG-JIG.** Panam stared at the holo. Of course. **WHY?** Three dots. Then: **BECAUSE THAT IS WHERE PEOPLE WILL SEE IT WHEN IT HAPPENS.** Panam sat back. There it was. Not pressure. Not a demand for tonight. A conversation about consequence. Panam typed: **FINE.** Sera: **THAT SOUNDED ROMANTIC.** Panam: **FUCK YOU.** Sera: **LATER. MAYBE. ❤️** Panam locked the holo. “Menace.” Nobody heard. Good. --- Sera met her outside Lizzie’s after dark. White again. Always white in public. Tonight the couture was sharper than the night before: long asymmetrical layers, sculptural shoulders, fabric that moved like folded light rather than cloth. No collar. No leash. The bare throat was becoming ridiculous in Panam’s head now that she knew exactly what would eventually sit there. Sera saw her looking. “Eyes up.” Panam looked directly at her face. “Happy?” “Immensely.” A faint static lift ran through Sera’s silver-white hair. Panam pointed. “Traitor.” Sera touched her own hair. “It likes you.” “Your hair does not get an opinion.” “That seems discriminatory.” “Walk.” Sera smiled. “Yes, ma’am.” Panam stopped. Sera kept walking for two steps. Turned. “What?” “You’re doing that on purpose.” “Possibly.” Panam joined her. “Menace.” “Still yours?” Panam looked at her. Not owner. Not pet. Lover. “Yes.” Sera’s expression softened. The hair settled. They walked. --- Jig-Jig noticed Sera before they reached the busiest stretch. Of course it did. One head turned. Then another. Someone recognized the white couture before the face. Someone else recognized the height. Then the name moved. Sera. Quietly first. Then not quietly. Sera did not change pace. Panam did. Barely. Enough to scan the crowd. Exits. Hands. Holos. Anyone moving toward them too directly. Sera noticed. “You’re doing it.” “What?” “Exactly what I mean.” Panam looked at her. Sera gestured around them. “You’re not thinking about how this looks.” “I’m thinking about whether that idiot is going to walk backward into traffic.” A man twenty meters away was indeed walking backward while staring at Sera. Sera looked. He nearly collided with a vendor. Panam sighed. “Fucking city.” Sera laughed. The laugh produced another faint halo around her hair. Panam watched it for half a second. Then returned to the crowd. “That,” Sera said. “What?” “You keep track.” “We already had this conversation.” “Yes.” “So why are we having it again?” “Because this is the public version.” Panam went quiet. There. That was why Sera had asked her here. They kept walking. No leash between them. No visible symbol of the thing they had agreed might exist. Still, people watched. Sera was Sera. Panam was becoming recognizable beside her for entirely different reasons. Rich Nomad. Madame. The woman with four pets. The woman who controlled access without controlling desire. Rumors moved faster than either of them liked. Or admitted liking. Sera looked ahead. “When you collar me, this gets louder.” Panam’s jaw shifted. “Yes.” “Much louder.” “Yes.” “People will assume things.” “Yes.” “They’ll think you bought me.” Panam’s expression hardened. Sera saw. “They’ll be wrong.” “Yes.” “They’ll think the collar means you choose every client.” “Wrong.” “They’ll think the leash means I lost agency.” “Very fucking wrong.” Sera smiled. “Good.” Panam looked at her sharply. “Good?” “That you hate those readings.” “I hate stupid.” “No.” Sera stopped. Panam stopped with her. People flowed around them. Not close. Sera’s presence created its own strange buffer. Sera looked down slightly to meet Panam’s eyes. “You hate the idea that anyone would mistake my choice for your entitlement.” Panam stared. That was uncomfortably precise. Sera continued. “That matters more.” Panam exhaled. “Yeah.” Sera nodded. “Then walk with me.” Panam frowned. “I am.” “No.” Sera reached for her hand. Panam let her take it. “Walk with me knowing what they’ll think later.” Panam looked at their joined hands. Then at the people watching. Then back at Sera. No collar. No leash. Nothing to hide behind. Just them. Panam squeezed her hand. “Fine.” Sera smiled. “Romantic.” “Shut up.” They walked. --- The social experiment lasted exactly seven minutes before someone approached. Woman. Mid-thirties perhaps. Beautiful suit. Confident enough to get close without pretending not to know who Sera was. She stopped at a respectful distance. Looked at Sera. “Working?” Sera smiled. “No.” Immediate. The woman nodded. “Another night?” “Ask another night.” “Fair.” She glanced at Panam. Recognition. “Madame?” Panam stared. The woman smiled. “Sorry.” “No, you’re not.” “No.” Sera laughed. The woman left. Panam watched her go. Then Sera. “You could have said maybe.” “I could have.” “You didn’t.” “No.” “Why?” Sera looked at their joined hands. “Because I wanted to walk with you.” Panam stopped thinking for a second. Sera saw. Her smile softened. The static at the edges of her hair faded completely. Panam raised their joined hands and kissed her knuckles. Sera’s eyes brightened. “You’re making this difficult.” “You bought a collar.” “You asked for it.” “Yes.” “Your fault.” “Shared liability.” Panam laughed. --- They reached the far end of Jig-Jig and turned back. Sera took the quieter side of the street this time. Panam noticed. “Enough audience?” “For now.” “Good.” “You hate audiences.” “I hate idiots.” “Overlapping categories.” “Large overlap.” Sera smiled. They walked another block. Then Sera asked: “Private or public?” Panam knew immediately. “The collar.” “Yes.” Panam looked ahead. “I assumed private.” Sera nodded. “That would be easier.” “Yes.” “For you?” “For both of us.” Sera thought. Then: “I don’t want easier if easier makes it look like Sera is pretending.” Panam looked at her. Sera continued. “The collar belongs to Sera publicly.” “Yes.” “So the first time Sera wears it shouldn’t look like something that happened offstage and then appeared as costume.” Panam’s expression changed. That was a very Sera answer. Artist brain. Public semiotics wrapped around a deeply private choice. Sera saw her understanding. “I don’t need a performance.” “Good.” “I don’t want a fucking ceremony.” “Better.” “I want the choice visible.” Panam slowed. Sera did too. “Visible?” “Yes.” “How visible?” Sera looked back toward Lizzie’s in the distance. Panam followed her gaze. “Oh, no.” Sera smiled. “I didn’t say anything.” “You looked.” “Looking is legal.” “Barely.” Sera turned back. “No cameras.” “Yes.” “No staged crowd.” “Yes.” “No announcement.” “Yes.” “Just somewhere people already know both of us.” Panam stared. “Lizzie’s.” Sera smiled. “Maybe.” Panam closed her eyes. “You learned that word from the wrong people.” “I learned it from you.” “Worse.” --- They ended the walk where it had started. Outside Lizzie’s. Sera turned toward Panam. Panam looked at her bare throat again. Sera noticed. “Still not tonight?” Panam stepped closer. Touched two fingers lightly to the side of Sera’s neck. The silver-white hair nearest her hand settled as if the air itself had exhaled. “Still not tonight.” Sera nodded. No argument. Panam studied her. “You’re really okay with that.” “Yes.” “Why?” Sera smiled. “Because every time you say not yet and mean it, I trust the yes more.” Panam went very still. Sera regretted nothing. Panam’s hand moved behind her neck. Not closing around anything. Just holding. She pulled Sera down slightly. Kissed her. Slow. Public enough that several people noticed. Private enough that none of them mattered. When they separated, Sera’s hair carried a soft static halo again. Panam looked at it. Then at her. “Soon.” Sera smiled. “You still hate that word.” “Yes.” “Good.” She kissed Panam once more. Then stepped back. No collar. No leash. Still no pet. But the shape of the eventual moment had become clearer. And both women had chosen that too. --- ## CHAPTER 10 — FOUR LEASHES Four leashes looked different once a fifth collar existed somewhere else. Not physically. Panam knew that. The leather had not changed. The clips had not changed. Birgitta was still Birgitta. Mandi was still Mandi. Nova and Vega remained exactly as impossible as they had been before Sera asked for anything. But Panam noticed the number now. Four. Not five. Four. That was correct. She stood at Lizzie’s with Birgitta’s leash in one hand while Mandi approached carrying hers. Mandi stopped. Held it out. Panam looked at her. “Good?” “Yes.” “Food?” “Yes.” “Water?” “Yes.” “Sleep?” Mandi hesitated. Panam narrowed her eyes. “Define yes.” “Enough.” “That is not a number.” “It is emotionally a number.” Panam stared. Birgitta laughed. Mandi smiled. “Six.” “Hours?” “Yes.” “Better.” Panam took the leash. Mandi turned. Click. Two. Nova arrived next. Three. Vega last. Four. The count settled. No ceremony. No performance. Four pets. Four leashes. Exactly as it had been before the collar store. Panam liked that. More than she expected. It meant nothing had changed merely because a future possibility existed. Good. --- Sera arrived twenty minutes later. The room noticed. It always did. White couture turned her height into architecture rather than simply scale: long pale layers cut close through the torso and opening into sharp asymmetry below, the whole thing expensive enough that nobody needed a label. Silver-white hair. Electric-blue eyes. Bare throat. No collar. No leash. Sera stopped near the bar. Looked at Panam. Then at the four leashes. Her hair lifted. Not much. A faint static halo at the edges. Panam saw it from across the room. Sera saw Panam seeing it. Neither woman smiled immediately. Then Sera’s mouth moved. Panam’s followed. Mandi looked between them. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Panam turned. “What?” “You two are having a whole conversation without words.” “No, we’re not.” Birgitta said: “Yes, you are.” Nova nodded. Vega took a drink. Panam looked at all four. “You are supposed to be my pets.” Mandi smiled. “We are.” “Then support me.” “Emotionally?” “Yes.” “No.” Panam stared. Sera laughed from across the room. The halo grew slightly. Panam pointed at her. “You’re not helping either.” Sera walked over. “Not a pet.” Panam froze. Mandi folded over laughing. Birgitta put a hand over her mouth. Nova looked away. Vega failed entirely. Sera stopped beside Panam. Smiling. Bare throat very deliberately bare. Panam stared at her. Sera leaned closer. “Yet.” Panam closed her eyes. The four pets died. Not literally. Probably. --- The first booking went to Vega. A woman approached correctly. Face-to-face. “Working?” Vega looked at Panam. Interested. Panam turned to the client. “What are you looking for?” “Two hours.” “Here?” “First hour. Then dinner nearby if she wants.” “Anyone else?” “No.” “Anything unusual?” “No.” Panam looked at her long enough to decide she liked the way the woman answered. Then: “Offer?” The woman named it. Good. Not insulting. Not stupid. Panam looked at Vega. Vega considered. Then smiled. “Yes.” Panam unclipped her. Three. Vega took her own leash. “Check in when you move.” “Yes, owner.” They left. Sera watched. Panam noticed. “You’re doing it again.” “What?” “Thinking loudly.” “That phrase is spreading.” “Because it’s useful.” Sera looked at the remaining leashes. Three. Then at Panam. “No panic.” “Why would I panic?” “You used to count them like losing one meant you had failed.” Panam’s expression changed. Sera continued carefully. “Now you know the count moves.” “Of course it moves.” “I know.” “You go to work, you take your leash. You come back, you take care of yourself. Then if you want it back in my hand, you bring it.” Sera smiled. Panam heard herself. Stopped. Sera’s smile widened. “What?” “That sounded like a system.” “It is a system.” “Panam.” “What?” “You like systems now.” “I like not losing people.” The joke vanished. Sera looked at her. There. The center again. Not leashes. Not ownership aesthetics. Not the stable as spectacle. Responsibility. Sera’s hair settled completely. “Yeah,” she said softly. Panam looked away first. --- Mandi worked next. One hour. Good client. Good offer. Panam screened just enough. Mandi said yes. Two leashes remained. Birgitta and Nova. A man approached Birgitta ten minutes later. “Working?” Birgitta studied him. Maybe. Panam saw it. “What are you looking for?” “Dinner. Two hours. Maybe longer if she wants.” “Location?” He named one. Mox-approved. “Guests?” “No.” “Offer?” He gave it. High. Birgitta’s eyebrows rose. Panam looked at her. Not the number. Her. Birgitta smiled. “Yes.” Panam unclipped her. One. Nova. Birgitta took her leash. “Ping when location changes.” “Yes, owner.” She kissed Panam’s cheek before leaving. Sera watched. One leash. Panam looked down. Then at Nova. Nova looked back. “Lonely?” Panam stared. Nova smiled. Sera laughed. Panam pointed at both of them. “I can still assign chores.” Nova looked offended. “This is Lizzie’s.” “I’ll find chores.” Sera leaned against the bar. “Madame invents labor.” “Banned.” --- The room generated a different problem. Sera was standing beside Madame Panam. Four-pet stable publicly known. Sera publicly uncollared. People noticed that too. A few clearly knew enough gossip to understand there had been rumors. Somebody near the booths whispered: “I thought Sera joined.” Another voice: “She didn’t.” A third: “Yet.” Panam heard that one. Closed her eyes. Sera’s hair lifted in traitorous amusement. Panam looked at her. “Your fault.” “I’m standing here.” “Exactly.” A man eventually approached Sera. Good clothes. Good posture. Nervous enough to be human. “Working?” Sera looked at him. Actually considered. Panam did not move. Not her pet. Not her booking to manage unless Sera invited that structure. Sera’s electric-blue eyes narrowed slightly. Then she smiled. “No, thank you.” The man nodded. “Understood.” He left. Panam watched him go. Sera looked at Panam. “What?” “Nothing.” “That was something.” “You handled it.” “I usually do.” “I know.” Sera smiled. “Good answer.” Panam frowned. “What answer?” “The one you didn’t give.” Panam understood. No unnecessary reach. No pretending the future owner structure existed early. Good. “Yeah.” Sera’s hair settled again. --- Mandi returned first. Happy. Panam looked at her. “Good?” “Very.” “Everything fine?” “Yes.” “Water.” Mandi lifted her leash in salute. “Yes.” “Food.” “Yes.” “Break.” “Yes, owner.” She walked away still carrying the leash. Sera watched. Vega returned shortly afterward. Same sequence. Water. Food. Break. No leash offered yet. Birgitta remained out. Panam checked her holo once. Message waiting. **DINNER GOOD. MOVING TO SECOND LOCATION. EVERYTHING FINE.** Panam typed: **GOOD. PING WHEN DONE.** Birgitta: **YES, OWNER. ❤️** Panam locked the holo. Sera had seen the expression. Not the message. “Fine?” “Yes.” “Good.” No jealousy. No competition. Just information settling. Mandi eventually returned from break. She walked to Panam. Held out her leash. Panam took it. Mandi turned. Click. Two. Vega followed later. Three. Nova had never left. Three leashes in Panam’s hand. One pet still working. Sera still not one of them. Correct. --- Birgitta returned near the end of the night. Pleased. Good. Panam stood before she reached the bar. “How are you?” “Excellent.” “Actually?” “Actually.” “Water.” “Yes.” “Food.” “Yes.” “Break.” Birgitta looked at the leash in her hand. Then at Panam. “After.” Panam nodded. “After.” Birgitta went. Sera looked at Panam. Panam caught it. “What?” Sera shook her head. “Nothing bad.” “That’s suspicious.” “I’m learning patience.” Panam laughed once. “Bullshit.” “A little.” The silver-white hair at Sera’s temples lifted. Panam watched. “Very little.” “Yes.” They waited. Not ceremonially. Just together. Birgitta drank. Ate. Sat for a while. Talked to Mandi. Laughed at something Nova said. No one hurried her. Eventually she stood. Picked up the leash. Walked back. Held it out. Panam took it. Birgitta turned. Click. Four. There. The number returned naturally. Sera watched all four lines gather into Panam’s hand. Her hair rose in the softest possible static halo. Panam looked at it. Then at Sera. Sera did not pretend this time. “I still want that.” Panam’s expression softened. “I know.” “Four.” “Yes.” “Still four.” “Yes.” Sera stepped closer. Not into the leashes. Not into the stable. Beside Panam. Separate. For now. “Good.” Panam looked at her. “You keep saying that.” “Because you keep making me more certain.” That hit. Panam looked down at the four leashes. Then back at Sera’s bare throat. Her hand rose. Two fingers touched lightly beneath Sera’s jaw. The static halo collapsed gently around the touch. Sera’s eyes softened. Panam said quietly: “One more time when it matters.” Sera understood. Not another interrogation. Not distrust. The final yes. The visible act. Choice becoming structure. She nodded. “One more time.” Panam lowered her hand. Sera smiled. “Soon?” Panam groaned. Mandi heard. Of course she did. “Soon what?” Panam turned. “Work.” Mandi raised both hands. Sera laughed. The room moved around them. Four leashes. Four collars. Four pets. And one woman in white standing beside Panam with a bare throat and a future neither of them intended to rush. Not five. Not yet. --- ## CHAPTER 11 — REFRESHING SEX Panam had stopped arguing with herself. That was new. Not the stable. Not the collars. Not the increasingly ridiculous amounts of money moving through an arrangement she had never intended to build. The new part was simpler. Madame. She was Madame. The word no longer required an internal correction afterward. No _temporarily_. No _this is just something that happened_. No attempt to hide behind an older version of herself because that version felt easier to explain. Panam still loved driving. Still loved engines. Still loved the road when the road was good and even, occasionally, when it was trying to kill her. But she had finally looked at the numbers. Really looked. And the numbers had been insulting. Fuel. Vehicle wear. Repairs. Ammunition. Route fees. Bribes. Security. Days away. Risk of being shot. Risk of having the cargo shot. Risk of having the fucking truck shot. Against— Lizzie’s. A drink. Client screening. Boundaries. Four women she cared about. Four leashes they handed to her when they wanted her holding them. And money that made courier contracts look like an elaborate joke. Panam had stared at the totals. Then stared longer. Then finally muttered to an empty apartment: “Fine.” That had not been enough. A minute later: “I’m Madame.” Nobody heard. Good. But saying it had felt unexpectedly right. So tonight, when someone at Lizzie’s called: “Madame!” Panam simply turned. “What?” No flinch. No correction. No _don’t call me that_. Just— what? The man who had called lifted a holo. “Offer for Nova.” Panam held out her hand. He sent it. Panam read. Looked across the room. Nova and Vega were sharing a couch, heads close together over something on Vega’s holo. Panam forwarded the summary. Nova read. Looked toward Panam. Shook her head once. Panam deleted it. “No.” The man nodded. “Fair.” And left. No argument. No insult. No attempt to approach Nova directly after the refusal. Panam took another drink. Sera, standing nearby without collar or leash, watched her with entirely too much amusement. Panam noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “That is never nothing.” Sera smiled. “You didn’t react.” “To what?” “Madame.” Panam stared at her. Then deliberately took another drink. Sera waited. Panam exhaled. “It’s my fucking title.” Sera went still. Then her smile became enormous. Panam pointed at her. “Do not.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You’re thinking loudly.” “Yes, Madame.” Panam rolled her eyes. But smiled. Just slightly. Sera saw that too. Of course she did. And that was when Rogue walked into Lizzie’s. --- Suzie Q saw her first. The reaction was small. Which made it obvious. Suzie had been wiping down the bar. Her hand stopped. Not because Rogue was unwelcome. Because Rogue simply did not appear at Lizzie’s without a reason very often. Rogue crossed the room without entourage, urgency or any visible need to announce herself. Several people recognized her immediately. More recognized her after watching everyone else recognize her. The room adjusted. Not the social detonation Sera could create merely by entering. Different gravity. Older. Sharper. Dangerous in a way that needed no performance. Rogue reached the bar. Suzie looked at her. “Did Afterlife burn down?” Rogue sat. “No.” “Claire throw you out?” “No.” Suzie put a drink in front of her. Rogue looked at it. Then at Suzie. Suzie waited. “So.” Rogue picked up the glass. “So.” “What are you doing here?” Rogue drank. Panam was close enough to hear. So were Sera and Mandi. Dalia and Deja were farther down the bar. Birgitta was returning from the floor. Nova and Vega were still on the couch. Rogue looked around once. Then answered with the conversational tone of someone explaining she had stopped in for dinner. “I came for sex.” Suzie stared. The bartender two meters away stopped moving. Someone behind Rogue inhaled a drink wrong. Mandi’s eyebrows climbed. Dalia slowly turned her head. Sera’s mouth opened. Then closed. Panam stared. Suzie recovered first. “You came to Lizzie’s.” “Yes.” “For sex.” “Yes.” Suzie leaned one elbow against the bar. “Refreshing change?” Rogue considered. “That was the idea.” Then her eyes moved. Mandi first. Mandi noticed instantly. Her smile changed. Bright. Knowing. Rogue knew exactly who Mandi was. Mandi knew exactly what Rogue knew. Neither broke cover. No need. Rogue’s gaze moved. Dalia. Dalia met it without blinking. One eyebrow rose. There was recognition there too. History. Possibility. Then Rogue’s eyes moved again. Panam. And stopped. Not dramatically. Just long enough. Panam felt it. Her body noticed first. Warmth. Interest. A small, deeply inconvenient tightening somewhere below thought. Panam lifted her glass. “What?” Rogue drank. “Still deciding.” Mandi covered her mouth. Dalia looked toward the ceiling. Sera turned away entirely. Panam stared at all three. “You are children.” Deja looked between them. “What did I miss?” Dalia patted her arm. “Nothing important.” Rogue smiled into her drink. --- She did not approach Panam immediately. That would have been too easy. Instead Rogue stayed at the bar. Talked briefly with Suzie. Drank. Watched. Panam knew she was being watched. Unlike most people in Lizzie’s, Rogue was not fascinated by the visual alone. Four collars did not impress Rogue by themselves. Four attractive women did not impress Rogue by themselves either. Night City contained plenty of both. Rogue watched structure. Birgitta approached first. Leash folded neatly in one hand. Panam saw her. Held out her own hand. Birgitta placed the leash into it. Panam clipped it to the collar. No command. No collection. No assumption. Birgitta smiled and settled comfortably beside her. Rogue’s eyes dropped briefly to the exchange. Then lifted again. Mandi came next. Same ritual. Her leash. Her choice. Panam’s hand. Click. Mandi settled on Panam’s other side. “Madame.” Panam looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” Panam stared. Mandi smiled. Rogue saw that too. Nova eventually left the couch. She crossed the room carrying her leash. Stopped in front of Panam. Offered it. Panam took it. Clipped it. Three. Vega remained with Sera and Dalia for another ten minutes. Then she too came across the room. Leash in hand. Panam accepted it. Click. Four. The room noticed. Of course it did. It always fucking noticed. Four separate women. Four collars. Four voluntary lines gathered into Panam’s hands. And Sera standing nearby without either collar or leash, completely outside that structure for now. Rogue’s gaze moved across them once. Birgitta. Mandi. Nova. Vega. Then Panam. Not counting trophies. Evaluating Madame. Panam understood that. And unexpectedly liked it. An offer came through for Mandi. Panam read it. Turned the holo. Mandi read. “No.” Deleted. Another for Vega. Panam screened it. Vega considered. Asked one question. Panam answered. Vega shook her head. Gone. No pressure. No bargaining on behalf of the client. No _are you sure?_ Rogue watched. A corpo approached Nova directly. Not aggressive. Just careless. Panam stepped half a pace. “Offers through the Mox.” The man looked at her. “I only wanted to ask—” “I know.” Panam pointed toward the bar. “Mox.” Nova smiled pleasantly. “Mox.” The man nodded. “Right.” He left. Rogue watched that too. No threat. No theatrical dominance. Structure. Boundaries. Panam suddenly knew exactly what Rogue was looking at. Not the stable. Not really. Her. Sera appeared beside Panam. No leash. No collar. Just Sera. She followed Panam’s gaze toward Rogue. “Oh.” Panam looked at her. “What?” Sera’s smile became wicked. “Nothing.” “Stop saying that.” Rogue met Panam’s eyes across the room. Sera leaned slightly closer. “She likes what she sees.” Panam took a drink. “Rogue likes lots of things.” “Yes.” Sera glanced toward Mandi. Then Dalia. Then back to Panam. “But she keeps looking at one.” Panam refused to answer. Sera smiled. “Madame.” Panam turned. “What?” Sera’s eyebrows rose. Panam realized she had answered instantly. Again. This time she did not care. “Yeah,” she said. Sera’s expression softened. Panam looked back toward Rogue. “I told you.” “What?” Panam took another drink. “It’s my title.” Sera smiled. “Yes, Madame.” --- Eventually Rogue stood. Suzie watched her. “Decision made?” Rogue finished the drink. “Yes.” Suzie followed her gaze. Panam. Then looked back. “Oh.” Rogue’s mouth twitched. Suzie shook her head. “Have fun.” “That’s the plan.” Panam saw Rogue approaching. Four leashes remained in her hands. Rogue stopped directly in front of her. Looked down. Four. Then up. “Madame.” Panam felt the title. Accepted it. “What?” Mandi’s head turned. Birgitta smiled. Nova and Vega exchanged a glance. Sera’s eyes became very bright. Rogue noticed every reaction. “You really did stop fighting it.” Panam frowned. “I have no idea what you mean.” “Of course.” “What do you want?” Rogue looked at Mandi. Mandi smiled beautifully. Then toward Dalia farther down the bar. Dalia raised her glass. Then Rogue returned her attention to Panam. “You.” Silence. Panam blinked. Mandi made a tiny choking sound. Sera went motionless. Birgitta’s eyebrows climbed. Nova smiled. Vega whispered: “Oh.” Panam stared at Rogue. “You came here to get laid.” “Yes.” “And you picked me.” “Yes.” “After looking at Mandi.” “Yes.” “And Dalia.” “Yes.” Panam glanced toward Dalia. Dalia was openly enjoying this now. Panam looked back at Rogue. Rogue shrugged. “I know what I like.” Mandi leaned toward Birgitta. “This is fantastic.” Panam pointed without looking. “I can still give that leash back.” Mandi immediately straightened. Rogue laughed. That laugh did something annoyingly effective to Panam’s concentration. Rogue stepped closer. Not touching. Not yet. “I already know Mandi.” Mandi’s smile deepened. “I already know Dalia.” Dalia lifted her glass again. Rogue’s eyes remained on Panam. “I came here because I didn’t know Madame.” Panam’s pulse changed. There. Not Panam the Nomad. Not Panam someone had known around the edges of other relationships. Madame. The woman standing with four chosen leashes in her hands. The woman managing access. The woman other people trusted with their boundaries. The woman who had finally stopped pretending this identity was temporary. Panam liked the distinction. Very much. “What exactly are you asking?” Rogue’s expression stayed calm. “Come home with me.” Sera stopped breathing. Mandi visibly bit her lip. Birgitta became fascinated by her drink. Nova looked delighted. Vega looked worse. Panam looked at Rogue. “Tonight?” “That’s usually what coming home with someone means.” “You’re very funny.” “I’ve been told.” Panam studied her. No offer. No money. No booking language. Rogue had come to Lizzie’s looking for sex. Had looked at Mandi. Dalia. Panam. And chosen her. Not despite Madame. Because of her. Panam glanced down at the four leashes. Rogue followed her eyes. “No stable.” Panam looked up. “No?” “Not tonight.” “No business.” “No.” Rogue stepped close enough that Panam could smell her perfume. “I want Madame.” Fuck. Mandi whispered: “Oh, that was good.” Panam turned her head. Mandi immediately looked innocent. Rogue waited. That mattered. No assumption. No expectation built from reputation. Panam looked at the four women connected to her. Then began returning what they had given. Birgitta first. Panam unclipped the leash. Placed it into Birgitta’s hand. Birgitta smiled. “Have fun, Madame.” Panam narrowed her eyes. Birgitta escaped. Mandi next. Panam handed over the leash. Mandi unclipped herself. Then kissed Panam’s cheek. “Very refreshing fun.” Panam stared. Mandi ran. Nova held out her hand. Panam returned the leash. Nova unclipped herself. “Ping us if plans change.” “I will.” A quick kiss to Panam’s cheek. Gone. Vega last. Panam handed hers over. Vega unclipped. Looked at Rogue. Then Panam. “Madame has excellent taste.” Panam stared. Vega fled laughing. No leashes left. Just Panam. Rogue. And several women doing an appalling job of pretending not to watch. Sera stepped closer. Again, no collar. No leash. Not part of the stable. Just someone who knew Panam very well. “You want to go.” Not a question. Panam looked at Rogue. Then back to Sera. “Yes.” Simple. No denial. Sera smiled. Warm now. “Then go.” Panam touched her arm briefly. “Behave.” Sera laughed. “No.” “Of course not.” Rogue turned toward the exit. Panam followed. --- They made it halfway there. Dalia called: “Panam.” Panam stopped. Turned. Dalia walked over. Deja stayed at the bar. Dalia looked at Rogue. Then Panam. Then at Panam’s empty hands. She understood. Of course she did. Dalia leaned closer. “Madame.” Panam sighed. “Yes?” Dalia froze for half a second. Then her smile became enormous. Panam saw it. “Don’t.” Dalia lifted both hands. “I said nothing.” “You are all unbearable.” Rogue looked amused. Dalia glanced at her. “Bring her back eventually.” Panam stared. “I am standing right here.” “Yes.” “I can bring myself back.” “Probably.” “Fuck you.” Dalia kissed Panam’s cheek. “Have fun.” Panam muttered something rude. Rogue opened the door. Panam walked through. Behind them, Mandi shouted from somewhere near the bar: “REFRESHING!” Panam stopped. Rogue caught her arm. “No murder.” “I know where she works.” “Yes.” “I can wait.” Rogue laughed. Panam let herself be pulled outside. --- Rogue’s place was quiet. That was the first thing Panam noticed. Not luxurious in the performative corpo sense. Comfortable. Private. Secure. Nothing accidental. Rogue closed the door. Panam looked around once. Then at her. “So.” “So.” “You really came to Lizzie’s because you wanted sex.” “Yes.” “That is deeply weird.” Rogue stepped closer. “Coming from Madame?” Panam smiled. “Fair.” Rogue touched her waist. Slowly. Enough time for Panam to move away. She did not. Instead she placed both hands on Rogue’s shoulders. “You were staring.” “Yes.” “At Mandi.” “Yes.” “Dalia.” “Yes.” “Me.” “Mostly you.” Panam smiled. No embarrassment. No need to hide that she liked the answer. “Why?” Rogue looked at her for several seconds. “Because I already knew what the other two were like.” Panam laughed. “And?” “I wanted to find out whether Madame lived up to the advertising.” Panam’s smile changed. “There was advertising?” “Four leashes are difficult to miss.” “That isn’t advertising.” “It is in Night City.” Panam considered. “Fair.” Rogue kissed her. Panam had enough warning to refuse. She did not. She met the kiss immediately. Rogue’s hand tightened at Panam’s waist. Panam pulled her closer. No clients. No stable. No one waiting for permission. No money. Just two women who had looked at each other across Lizzie’s and chosen. Rogue broke the kiss just enough to breathe. “Still want this?” Panam answered by kissing her again. Rogue laughed against her mouth. “Good.” Panam pushed her backward one step. Rogue’s eyebrows rose. “There’s Madame.” Panam did not deny it. “Shut up.” “No.” They kissed again. Jackets came off. Then boots. Hands learned where they were welcome. Each pause became an answer before movement continued. Rogue caught Panam by the hips. Panam held her gaze for one deliberate beat. Then pulled her closer. The room narrowed. Heat. Breath. Rogue’s low laugh when Panam surprised her. Panam’s answering grin. No need for performance. No audience to impress. No title required to make the dynamic real. But when Rogue eventually murmured: “Madame.” Panam smiled against her mouth. And kissed her harder. Much later, the apartment became quiet again. --- Panam lay on her back. One arm beneath her head. Breathing slowly. Comfortable. Very comfortable. Rogue lay beside her. Neither spoke for a while. Eventually Panam said: “Well.” Rogue turned her head. “Well?” Panam looked at her. “That was refreshing.” Rogue laughed. A real one. Panam smiled. Rogue rolled onto her side. Studied her. Panam recognized the look. “What?” “I want this again.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “You sound surprised.” “I’m not.” “Then why the face?” “I’m scheduling.” Panam groaned. “You really are turning sex into calendar management.” “Yes.” “Of course you are.” Rogue rested her head on one hand. “Certain evenings.” Panam looked at her. “How certain?” “Regular.” “Weekly?” “Not necessarily.” “Good.” “Twice a month minimum.” Panam laughed. “Minimum?” Rogue’s expression remained completely serious. “Minimum.” “Confident.” “Yes.” Panam considered. Not a booking. Not a client. Not payment. Rogue wanting a recurring place in Madame’s private life. “What kind of evenings?” “Ours.” “That was disgustingly vague.” “You understood it.” Unfortunately, yes. Panam looked back at the ceiling. “No stable business.” “No.” “No assumptions.” “No.” “If one of us doesn’t want sex—” “Then we do something else.” Panam looked at her. Rogue continued. “Drink. Talk. Sleep. Whatever.” Panam nodded slowly. That was better. Not scheduled performance. Scheduled space. “For us.” “Yes.” Panam thought about it. Then: “Fine.” Rogue’s eyebrow lifted. “Fine?” “Do not make me say it twice.” Rogue smiled. Panam pointed at her. “That face.” “What face?” “You know.” “I don’t.” “Bullshit.” Rogue moved closer. Panam let her. “Certain evenings,” Rogue repeated. “Certain evenings.” “Private.” “Yes.” “Madame.” Panam looked at her. There was no internal argument anymore. No old identity standing behind the word complaining. Panam was Madame whether she held four leashes or none. She was Madame at Lizzie’s. She was Madame here. She was Madame alone in her apartment. Not because anyone had given her the title. Because she had accepted it. Panam smiled. “Yes.” Rogue’s expression shifted. Small. Satisfied. “Good.” Panam kissed her once. Slowly. Then settled back. For a while neither spoke. Panam eventually closed her eyes. Four pets. Four leashes. A stable that somehow made more money than anything she had done on the road. And now Rogue wanted recurring evenings with Madame herself. Not paid. Not booked. Wanted. Panam smiled. “This city is fucking ridiculous.” Rogue’s hand settled comfortably against her waist. “You fit right in.” Panam opened one eye. “Careful.” Rogue smiled. “Madame.” Panam closed her eye again. This time the word felt exactly right. --- ## CHAPTER 12 — SERA Panam came back to Lizzie’s the following evening in an unusually good mood. This was immediately suspicious. Mandi noticed first. Of course she did. Panam had been inside for perhaps thirty seconds when Mandi appeared in front of her, looked carefully at her face and said: “Oh.” Panam stopped. “What?” Mandi’s smile grew. “Nothing.” “No.” “I didn’t say anything.” “You said _oh_.” “Yes.” “Why?” Mandi leaned slightly closer. Panam stared. Mandi’s eyes travelled over her face. Then her shoulders. Then back. “Oh.” Panam pointed toward the private rooms. “I can put you to work.” Mandi laughed. “So refreshing?” Panam closed her eyes. There it was. “I hate all of you.” “No, you don’t.” “Currently reconsidering.” Mandi kissed her cheek. “Welcome back, Madame.” Panam opened her eyes. The title landed. Comfortably. That was becoming disturbingly ordinary. “Where’s Birgitta?” “Bar.” “Nova?” “Private.” “Vega?” “With Dalia and Deja.” Panam nodded. Mandi studied her again. Panam caught it. “What?” “You didn’t argue.” “About what?” “Madame.” Panam started walking. “It’s my fucking title.” Mandi froze. Panam got three steps before realizing she had lost her. She turned. Mandi was staring. “What?” Mandi put one hand dramatically over her heart. “Oh, fuck.” Panam sighed. “Do not make this a thing.” “You made it a thing.” “I absolutely did not.” “You just said—” “Mandi.” Mandi grinned. “Yes, Madame.” Panam kept walking. This time she did not even pretend to be annoyed. --- Birgitta was at the bar. Collar visible. Leash folded beside her drink. She saw Panam and smiled. Not the bright public smile Birgitta gave almost everyone. Warmer. Personal. Panam stopped beside her. Birgitta picked up the leash. Held it out. Panam looked at it. Then at her. “Already?” “I felt like it.” Panam took it. Birgitta turned enough to present the collar ring. Panam clipped the leash. Click. Birgitta settled closer. Normal. Apparently. Panam still occasionally found it strange how quickly something objectively ridiculous could become routine. She ordered a drink. Suzie placed it in front of her. Then looked at Panam. Long enough. Panam frowned. “What?” Suzie shook her head. “Nothing.” “For fuck’s sake.” Birgitta laughed. Suzie leaned against the bar. “Good night?” Panam stared. “How the hell does everybody know?” Suzie’s mouth twitched. “Know what?” Panam narrowed her eyes. Suzie maintained perfect innocence. Birgitta failed less convincingly. Panam looked between them. “You’re both terrible.” “Madame,” Birgitta said sweetly. Panam looked at her. “Yes?” Suzie stopped moving. Birgitta blinked. Panam took a drink. “What?” Birgitta’s smile slowly widened. “Oh.” “No.” “But—” “No.” Suzie laughed. Panam pointed at her. “You especially.” “I haven’t done anything.” “Everyone keeps saying that tonight.” “That usually means you’re the problem.” Panam considered. “Fuck you.” Suzie nodded. “There she is.” Panam took another drink. Then noticed Dalia and Deja approaching. Dalia had already seen enough. Her expression was catastrophic. “No.” Dalia had not even spoken. Panam pointed at her anyway. “No.” Dalia stopped beside Deja. “I was going to ask how your evening was.” “No, you weren’t.” “I absolutely was.” Deja looked between them. “Did I miss something?” Dalia smiled. “Apparently Madame had a refreshing—” Panam moved. Dalia escaped around Deja. Deja laughed. “Hey!” “You chose your company,” Panam said. Dalia peeked around Deja’s shoulder. “I regret nothing.” Panam looked at the ceiling. Birgitta leaned gently against Panam’s side. The leash remained loose between them. For approximately ten seconds, everything was normal. Then Lizzie’s front door opened. And the room changed. --- Sera had that effect. White couture made the entrance even harder to ignore: sculptural, expensive, unmistakably Sera, built around her height rather than trying to soften it. Not because she demanded it. She did not. That was part of the problem. She simply entered. People turned. A few at first. Then more. Conversation did not stop. It shifted. Heads moved. Bodies repositioned. Two people near the rear stood because the people in front of them had blocked the sightline. Someone near the booths said her name. Someone else checked. Then another. The information propagated. Sera. Here. Tonight. Panam watched it happen. She had seen Sera attract attention before. She still found the mechanics fascinating. Sera wore no collar. No leash. Not yet. Just Sera. Artist. Celebrity. Desired enough that her presence immediately changed the economics of the room. Her hair caught the light. Her eyes moved across Lizzie’s. Found Panam. And stopped. Sera smiled. Then started walking toward her. Panam’s stomach tightened. Not desire exactly. Not only. Responsibility. Expectation. Something about what was coming. Because Panam knew. The collar was with her. So was the leash. Selected together. Chosen by Panam. Accepted by the woman underneath Sera. But not worn. Not yet. Tonight was the final decision. And apparently Sera had chosen where she wanted to make it. Publicly. Panam had known that too. Knowing did not prepare her for what happened to the room when Sera walked directly toward Madame Panam. People started noticing the destination. Not simply Sera. Panam. Birgitta at the end of one leash. Mandi approaching from the side. Dalia and Deja watching. Nova had emerged from the private corridor and stopped. Vega returned from somewhere behind them. The existing stable gathered almost accidentally. Four collars. Four known pets. Madame in the center. And Sera walking toward her without one. Someone understood before the rest. Panam saw the realization cross a stranger’s face. The stranger whispered something. The person beside her stared. Then another. Oh. Fuck. Panam looked toward Suzie. Suzie already knew. She had two Mox moving outward. Not toward Sera. Around the area. Space. Privacy inside publicity. No crowding. No fucking recording. One Mox caught someone lifting a holo. “Down.” The holo disappeared immediately. Good. Sera reached Panam. Stopped. For one beat, she said nothing. Panam looked at her. Sera looked back. The room around them remained loud enough to be Lizzie’s. But the immediate space felt very quiet. Sera smiled. “Madame.” Panam felt the word settle into place. “Yes?” Sera inhaled. Then said clearly: “I want you to be my owner. I want to be your pet. Will you collar me?” Silence. Not complete. Impossible in Lizzie’s. But close enough that Panam heard glasses touching the bar several meters away. Mandi’s eyes widened. Nova stopped breathing. Vega whispered something that sounded extremely rude. Dalia’s mouth slowly opened. Deja stared. Birgitta’s smile became soft. Panam looked at Sera. Not at the audience. Not at the four collars already around her. Sera. “Here?” Sera nodded. “Yes.” “You’re sure?” “Yes.” Panam studied her. The public version of the conversation needed to remain public. No private names. No private relationships. No explanations the room had no right to hear. Only the things that mattered. “You know what the collar means to me.” “Yes.” “Say it.” Sera’s expression became serious. “That you take responsibility for me when I give it to you.” Panam nodded. “And?” “That you don’t own my choices.” “Good.” Panam’s voice remained calm. “If somebody wants access to you?” “They go through you.” “And then?” “I decide.” “Not me.” “No.” “Not the money.” “No.” “Not the client.” “No.” “Who?” Sera smiled. “Sera.” Panam nodded once. “Good.” The room was listening. Panam knew it. She also knew this was probably the most useful thing they could hear. The collar was not a sale. The leash was not consent to anyone else. Madame controlled access. The woman wearing the collar controlled herself. Panam continued. “If you want the collar off?” “I tell you.” “And?” “You take it off.” “No argument.” “No argument.” “If I think something is unsafe?” “You stop it.” “If you think I’m wrong?” “I tell you.” “And if you still want it after that?” Sera’s eyes held hers. “We talk.” Panam smiled slightly. “Good answer.” Sera’s smile returned. “I know.” Panam rolled her eyes. There she was. The room breathed again. Barely. Then Panam said: “Last chance.” Sera became still. “Do you want this?” No performance. No teasing. No audience. Just the question. Sera answered immediately. “Yes.” Panam reached into her jacket. The room reacted before the collar was fully visible. A wave. Not sound exactly. Recognition. Black leather. Brushed dark gunmetal. Clean. Elegant. Nothing theatrical. The small front ring caught the light. Sera looked down at it. Then back at Panam. Her expression softened. They had already chosen this. Still— this moment was different. Panam held the collar in both hands. “Turn around.” Sera did. The social explosion happened quietly. People stood. More this time. Not rushing closer. Mox made sure of that. But everyone who could see wanted the sightline. Panam stepped behind Sera. Lifted the collar. For one second she stopped. The leather rested lightly against Sera’s neck. Not fastened. Still reversible. Still only possibility. Panam leaned close enough that only Sera should have heard. “Still yes?” Sera whispered: “Yes, Madame.” Panam closed the collar. Click. Sera’s eyes closed. Briefly. The room exhaled. Panam checked the fit. Two fingers. Comfortable. Secure. Intentional. Then Sera turned. Panam saw her in it for the first time. Not Shammy trying a collar in a store. Sera. Public. Visible. The black leather looked almost understated against her. Which somehow made it stronger. Sera touched the front ring. Her smile appeared slowly. "You're now mine.", Panam said. She reached into her jacket again. The matching leash came out. That created actual noise. Someone near the back said: “Holy shit.” Another voice: “She’s really doing it.” Suzie immediately: “No recording.” Several holos disappeared. Panam looked at Sera. “Leash too?” Sera’s smile became radiant. “Yes.” Panam clipped it to the ring. Click. And Lizzie’s detonated. --- The reaction was not cheering. That would have been easier. It was the collective sound of dozens of people suddenly talking at once. Sera. Collared. Sera. Leashed. Madame Panam. Stable. Rich Nomad. Five. Someone said that last one loudly enough to hear. “Five.” Panam looked around. Birgitta. Mandi. Nova. Vega. Sera. Five. Fuck. It was different when the fifth was Sera. Panam had known that intellectually. Seeing the room understand it was something else. Sera alone bent social attention. Now that attention had a visible line running from her collar directly into Panam’s hand. People followed it with their eyes. Sera. Collar. Leash. Panam. Again. Sera. Collar. Leash. Panam. The sequence repeated around the room like an infection. Panam looked down at the leash. Then at Sera. Sera was watching her. Happy. Not embarrassed. Not uncertain. Very much Sera. Very much choosing this. Panam tightened her fingers slightly around the lead. Sera stepped closer. “You okay?” Panam stared at her. “You’re asking me?” “Yes.” Panam glanced around. “This is insane.” Sera smiled. “Regret?” “No.” The answer came instantly. Sera’s expression softened. “Good.” Panam looked at the room again. “No, seriously. What the fuck?” Sera laughed. Mandi appeared at Panam’s other side. “That’s five.” Panam looked at her. “Apparently.” Mandi blinked. “You admitted it.” “There are objectively five of you.” Nova joined them. “Stable.” Panam sighed. Vega: “Madame’s stable.” Panam looked at Vega. Vega smiled. Dalia shouted from two meters away: “NICE STABLE!” The room heard. Several people laughed. Panam turned slowly. Dalia immediately hid behind Deja. Deja looked betrayed. “Again?” Panam pointed toward Dalia. “Fuck you.” Dalia peeked around Deja. “There she is.” Panam shook her head. Sera leaned toward her. “You know what?” “No.” “You didn’t deny the stable either.” Panam looked at her. Sera smiled. Panam considered denying it now. Then looked at five women. Five collars. One new leash in her hand. No. Pointless. “Fine.” Sera’s eyes widened. Mandi: “Oh, shit.” Birgitta laughed. Panam stared at them. “What?” Sera was nearly glowing. “You said fine.” “Yes.” “About the stable.” Panam looked at the ceiling. “I am surrounded by idiots.” “Your idiots,” Sera said. Panam looked back at her. There it was again. That weight. Trust. Choice. Responsibility. Panam felt herself smile. “Yeah.” Sera went still. Panam realized what she had just admitted. Too late. Mandi made a noise. Nova hugged Vega. Dalia nearly collapsed against Deja. Panam raised one finger. “Anyone turns this into a fucking ceremony, I’m leaving.” Suzie called from behind the bar: “Too late.” Panam looked at her. Suzie lifted a glass. “To Madame.” Several people nearby copied her. Panam stared. “Oh, fuck off.” Laughter. But Panam was smiling. --- It took less than three minutes. Panam noticed the man because he had spent most of those three minutes trying to convince himself to move. Late thirties, perhaps. Expensive clothes without corpo-logo desperation. Sober. Nervous enough to be genuine. His attention stayed on Sera. But he did not stare like he had purchased the right. Eventually he approached. The Mox watched him. Panam did too. He stopped at a respectful distance. Sera looked at him. He swallowed. Then asked the question Night City had used longer than anyone in the room cared to remember. “Working?” There it was. No holo. No anonymous offer. No messages. A person. Standing in front of another person. Sera smiled. Then looked at Panam. That single glance changed the entire conversation. The man followed it. His eyes landed on the leash. Then followed it upward. Into Madame’s hand. Understanding arrived. “Oh.” Panam raised one eyebrow. Sera’s smile widened slightly. The man looked between them. “So I ask—” “You asked her,” Panam said. The man nodded slowly. “Right.” Panam liked that answer. She looked at Sera. Sera considered him. Not long. Then: “Maybe.” The man’s face brightened. Panam cut in before hope became assumption. “Maybe means conversation.” He nodded. “Okay.” “Nothing else.” “Understood.” Panam looked at him more carefully. “You know who she is.” “Yes.” “You understand there’s no recording.” “Yes.” “No braindance.” “Yes.” “No hidden hardware.” “Yes.” “Mox venue.” “Fine.” “If she says stop?” “We stop.” “If I say the situation is unsafe?” “We stop.” He nodded after each one. No bargaining. Good. Then he asked: “Rate?” Panam looked at Sera. Sera looked back. This part they had not set. Not yet. Panam could feel half the nearest section of Lizzie’s pretending not to listen. Of course. The man waited. Panam thought about Sera. Not merely expensive. Scarce. Desired enough that simply entering a room changed its center of gravity. And now Night City knew she could, at least theoretically, be working. That did not mean Panam intended to spend every evening listening to idiots ask whether they could afford her. She looked at the man. “Seven figures.” His eyes widened. Dalia made a choking sound somewhere behind Panam. Deja whispered: “What the fuck?” Mandi went completely silent. The man stared. “For—” Panam interrupted. “To continue this conversation.” Silence. His expression changed. He had expected a rate. That was not what he had received. “Seven figures just to talk?” “No.” Panam shook her head. “You’re talking now for free.” Sera covered a smile. Panam continued. “Seven figures means an offer is serious enough for me to spend time on it.” The man looked at Sera. Then Panam. “And if I offer enough?” “She can still say no.” Sera nodded. “I can.” “And if I offer more?” Sera smiled. “I can still say no.” The man absorbed that. Panam watched him understand the structure. Not purchase. Access. Not entitlement. Possibility. He breathed out. “Okay.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Okay?” “I can’t do that much.” No resentment. No insult. Just fact. Panam nodded. “Then you have your answer.” The man looked at Sera. “Worth asking.” Sera smiled warmly. “Yes.” He nodded to Panam. “Madame.” Panam answered without hesitation. “Have a good night.” He left. No humiliation. No drama. Just a conversation that had ended. Sera watched him go. Then looked up at Panam. “Seven figures?” Panam turned. “It was your rate earlier. You disagree now?” Sera thought. Mandi had edged closer. Dalia and Deja were openly listening now. Nova and Vega had abandoned any pretense. Birgitta stood beside Panam looking deeply entertained. Sera finally shook her head. “No.” Panam nodded. “Good.” “But that isn’t my rate.” “No.” Sera’s smile appeared. Panam continued. “You don’t have one.” Mandi whispered: “Oh, fuck.” Panam ignored her. Sera’s eyes stayed on Panam. “So offer high enough buys what?” “Nothing.” Dalia laughed. Panam looked at her. Dalia lifted both hands. “Sorry.” Panam turned back. “A serious offer proves someone is serious enough that I’m willing to hear the rest.” Sera considered that. A faint amused static lifted through her silver-white hair. Then: “And after you hear it?” “I decide whether it’s worth putting in front of you.” Sera smiled. “And after that?” “You decide.” “Always?” Panam stared. “Always.” Sera’s expression softened. Her hair settled. “Yes, owner.” Panam nodded. There. Simple. Madame controlled access. Sera controlled Sera. The room had heard enough to understand. Or misunderstand creatively by morning. Either way, Night City still did not have a published number. Only a rule. The offer had to be serious enough for Madame Panam to keep listening. That was not the price of Sera. Not a booking fee. Not a guarantee. Mandi finally spoke. “That is obscene.” Panam looked at her. “You object?” “No.” Mandi smiled. “I’m proud.” “Fuck off.” Dalia leaned closer. “So what happens when someone actually accepts?” Panam looked at her. Then at Sera. Sera smiled. Panam’s answer was immediate. “Then we listen.” “And if Sera says no?” Panam shrugged. “Then no.” Dalia nodded slowly. For once, no joke. “Good.” Another person had been watching. A woman this time. Beautiful. Very expensive suit. She finished her drink. Set the glass down. Then walked toward them. Panam noticed. So did Sera. The woman stopped. Looked directly at Sera. No hesitation. No holo. No message. Just the old question. “Working?” Sera looked at Panam. Panam looked at the woman. And smiled. Night City was learning. --- ## CHAPTER 13 — NO The woman did not look nervous. That alone made her different. She stood in front of Sera with the quiet confidence of someone accustomed to asking expensive questions and hearing honest answers. “Working?” Sera looked at her. Then at Panam. The movement was small. It was enough. The woman followed Sera’s eyes to the leash in Panam’s hand. Unlike the man before her, she did not look surprised. She had been watching. Of course she had. Her gaze moved from the leash to Panam’s face. “Madame?” Panam nodded once. The woman looked back at Sera. “Working?” Sera smiled. “Potentially.” “Good.” No assumption. No immediate number. Panam liked that. “What are you looking for?” Panam asked. The woman turned toward her. “Private company. Tonight if possible. Several hours.” “Here?” “Preferably. Mox room.” Panam nodded. “Guests?” “No.” “Recording?” “No.” “Anything unusual?” The woman thought before answering. “No.” That was another point in her favor. People who answered too quickly usually had a creative definition of unusual. Panam looked toward Suzie. Suzie had been listening from behind the bar. A tiny nod. Venue screening handled the rest. Good. Panam looked at Sera. Sera was listening. Interested enough not to end it. That was all Panam needed for now. “Duration?” “Four hours.” Panam nodded. “Offer?” The woman gave her a number. Quietly. Not for the room. Panam did not react. She had learned that trick surprisingly quickly. Inside, however— Fuck. It cleared the threshold. Comfortably. Not absurdly. Not enough to make Panam wonder whether somebody intended to buy a small building instead. But serious. Very serious. Panam looked at the woman again. “You understand that number gets you nothing by itself.” “Yes.” “She can still say no.” “I understand.” “She can change her mind later.” “Yes.” “If that happens?” “We stop.” “No negotiation.” “No negotiation.” “No complaint afterward.” The woman smiled. “I’m not buying a product, Madame.” Panam held her gaze. Good answer. Very good answer. Panam looked at Sera. This was the line. Everything before it belonged to Madame. Screening. Safety. Terms. Whether the offer deserved Sera’s attention at all. Everything after it belonged to Sera. Panam turned slightly toward her. “Worth hearing.” Sera nodded. Panam gave her the terms. Quietly. Duration. Location. Conditions. The offer. Nothing embellished. Nothing sold. Nothing omitted. Sera listened. Her expression did not change much. Then she looked at the woman. For several seconds. The woman waited. Sera looked back at Panam. “No.” Panam nodded. “Then no.” That was it. The woman blinked once. Not offended. Perhaps disappointed. Definitely disappointed. But she nodded. “All right.” Panam watched her carefully. No argument came. No higher number. No _what if_. No attempt to make Sera explain herself. The woman looked at Sera. “Thank you for considering it.” Sera smiled. “Thank you for asking properly.” The woman inclined her head toward Panam. “Madame.” Then she walked away. Dalia stared after her. Then at Panam. “That’s it?” Panam looked at her. “What else would there be?” “She offered—” Dalia stopped herself. Good. There were still too many ears nearby. She lowered her voice. “She offered a fucking lot.” “Yes.” “And Sera said no.” “Yes.” “And you just—” “Dalia.” Dalia looked at her. Panam shrugged. “Then no.” Sera smiled. Dalia stared for another second. Then slowly nodded. “Okay.” Mandi had been watching too. She leaned against the bar. “So there actually is no amount.” Panam frowned. “For what?” “That guarantees Sera.” “No.” Mandi looked at Sera. Sera shook her head. “No.” Nova joined them. “What if someone offers something completely insane?” Sera considered. “I might become extremely interested.” Everyone laughed. Panam did too. Sera grinned. “But interested isn’t yes.” Panam pointed at her. “That.” Vega leaned toward Nova. “So money matters.” “Of course money fucking matters,” Panam said. They looked at her. Panam spread one hand. “This is work.” Sera nodded. “Very expensive work, apparently.” “Getting more expensive by the minute,” Dalia said. Sera looked pleased. Panam continued. “Money can make an offer worth considering. It can make somebody worth listening to. It can make you think twice.” Sera looked at her. “But?” Panam met her eyes. “It doesn’t make you want somebody.” Sera’s smile softened. “No.” “And if you don’t want them?” “No.” Panam nodded. “Exactly.” Birgitta had been quiet through most of the exchange. Now she smiled. “That was almost professional.” Panam slowly turned toward her. Birgitta immediately looked innocent. “Almost?” “I left room for improvement.” “You’re on my leash.” “Yes, owner.” “You know I can assign work.” Birgitta’s smile became brighter. “You know I enjoy work.” Panam stared at her. Mandi laughed. Dalia covered her mouth. Nova looked away. Vega failed completely. Panam sighed. “I walked into that.” “Yes, owner.” “Fuck.” Sera leaned against Panam. The new collar was still impossible not to notice. Panam looked down at her. “You happy?” “Yes.” “Even after turning down that?” Sera raised an eyebrow. “Especially after turning down that.” Panam understood. The collar had not reduced her freedom. The leash had not transferred her decisions. The money had not changed the rules. First real test. Passed. Sera looked toward the woman, now seated again at the other side of Lizzie’s. “She was attractive.” Panam blinked. Dalia immediately turned. Mandi did too. Panam looked at Sera. “You said no.” “Yes.” “Why?” Sera smiled. “Because I didn’t want to spend four hours with her tonight.” The faint charge that had been holding her silver-white hair away from her shoulders eased at the same time. Decision made. Pressure gone. Panam waited. That was apparently the entire explanation. Sera laughed. “What?” “Nothing.” “You expected something complicated.” “Maybe.” “No.” Sera leaned closer. “I wanted to be here.” Her fingers touched the collar. “With you and others.” Panam felt the answer somewhere uncomfortable and warm. “Okay.” Sera smiled. “Very eloquent, owner.” “Careful.” “Yes, owner.” Panam looked away before Sera could enjoy her expression too much. Unfortunately Deja had already seen it. “Oh, that is adorable.” “Deja.” “Madame.” “I swear to God.” Deja retreated laughing. Panam shook her head. Then felt a small movement against her hand. Sera. The leash. Sera had reached up and gently touched Panam’s fingers where they held it. Not taking it away. Just acknowledging it. Panam looked at her. Sera smiled. Still here. Still hers. Still entirely herself. Good. --- The next “Working?” came twenty minutes later. Sera said no before Panam needed to ask a single question. The one after that lasted perhaps thirty seconds. No. Then another. No. Panam began to understand the problem. Sera’s collar had not discouraged interest. It had weaponized it. People had seen the structure. Seen that asking was possible. Seen Madame screening access. And somehow Night City had interpreted that not as _unavailable_ but as: _There is a door._ A very expensive door. A heavily guarded door. A door that might still remain closed after you reached it. But a door. Panam looked around Lizzie’s. People watched Sera. Then Panam. Then the leash. The Rich Nomad story was changing in real time. Sera noticed her expression. “What?” “You’re trouble.” Sera smiled. “You collared me.” “I’m beginning to recognize the tactical error.” “You can take it back.” Panam looked at her. Sera’s expression was playful. But Panam answered seriously. “Do you want me to?” The playfulness disappeared. “No.” “Then I’m not taking shit back.” Sera smiled. “Good.” Panam squeezed the leash once. Loose again immediately. Then another voice came from beside them. “Working?” Panam turned. Man. Older. Well dressed. Calm. He was looking at Sera. Sera studied him. Then looked at Panam. Different look this time. Not dismissal. Interest. Small. But real. Panam noticed. Of course she did. Madame was getting very good at noticing. Panam looked at the man. “What are you looking for?” He smiled. And the next conversation began. --- ## CHAPTER 14 — YES “What are you looking for?” The man smiled. “Dinner.” Panam waited. Nothing followed. “Dinner.” “Yes.” “With Sera.” “That was the idea.” Sera laughed softly. Panam looked at her. Interest still there. Definitely. Panam returned her attention to the man. He was perhaps fifty. Maybe a little older. Expensive clothes, but comfortable in them. No visible security hovering nearby. No nervous glances toward exits. No chemically sharpened focus. No drunken looseness. Chrome where Panam expected chrome and nothing about him screamed walking weapons platform. More importantly, he had approached Sera like a person. Panam had already learned that this eliminated an impressive percentage of Night City. “Just dinner?” “Dinner first.” There it was. Panam raised an eyebrow. He smiled. “If we enjoy each other’s company, I’d like the evening to continue.” “And if you don’t?” “We finish dinner.” Sera looked amused. “And if I don’t?” He turned toward her. “Same answer.” Good. Panam did not need to ask Sera whether she had heard it. Her expression said enough. “Where?” The man named a restaurant. Panam knew it. High-end. Private tables available. Good security. Neutral ground. Not somewhere she would object to Sera walking into. “After?” “My suite.” “Hotel?” He named it. Also good. Panam nodded. “How long?” “Dinner plus four hours, if she wants the rest.” Sera tilted her head. “You planned this.” “I hoped.” Different word. Good word. Sera smiled. Panam noticed that too. “What do you want from the four hours?” He looked at Sera rather than Panam. “Her company.” Panam waited. The man sighed. “And yes, Madame, I understand what you're asking.” Panam almost smiled. “Good.” “I’m attracted to her.” Sera's mouth twitched. “Very attracted.” Now Sera smiled. “But I’m not going to stand in the middle of Lizzie’s and give you a list.” Panam actually smiled. “Better answer.” “I thought so.” Dalia, somewhere behind them, made a tiny approving sound. Panam ignored her. Mostly. “Anything she should know before deciding?” The man considered. “I like conversation. I like good food. I like beautiful women. I have no interest in hurting anyone, humiliating anyone, or pretending money makes somebody mine.” Sera glanced at Panam. Panam felt the leash in her hand. Interesting choice of words. The man noticed. “I’m guessing that last part matters tonight.” “It does,” Panam said. He nodded. “Then there it is.” Panam looked at Sera. Still interested. More now. Good. Only one thing remained on Panam’s side. “Offer?” The man stepped closer. Not into her space. Enough that he could give the number without donating it to every curious ear in Lizzie’s. He did. Panam kept her face still. Inside— Well. Fuck. Above the line. Significantly. Not stupid money. But enough that Panam immediately understood this was not somebody throwing a number at Sera to see whether celebrity could be purchased. He had come prepared. Panam looked at him. “You knew.” “I had a suspicion.” “About the number?” “About Sera.” He glanced toward the collar. “The number changed after tonight.” Panam's eyes narrowed slightly. “How?” “Up.” Sera laughed. Panam looked at her. Sera covered her mouth. “Sorry.” “No, you’re not.” “No.” Panam looked back at the man. “You understand the offer doesn't make the decision.” “Yes.” That was all she needed. No lecture. He had watched. He knew. Panam turned toward Sera. “Worth hearing.” Sera stepped closer. Panam gave her the relevant pieces quietly. Dinner. Restaurant. Hotel. Four hours after dinner if Sera wanted them. And the number. Sera’s eyebrows rose. “Oh.” Panam waited. Sera looked at the man. This time longer. He did not smile at her. Did not sell himself. Did not improve the offer. He simply waited. Sera looked back at Panam. Panam knew before she spoke. “Yes.” A faint ionized gradient moved through the silver-white hair at Sera’s temples, curiosity turning visibly into choice. Panam nodded. “Then yes.” The man exhaled. Not dramatically. But Panam caught it. So did Sera. She smiled. “Nervous?” “A little.” “Good.” He laughed. “Why good?” “Means you’re not completely stupid.” “That’s encouraging.” “It was intended to be.” Panam felt herself relax slightly. Not entirely. Madame apparently did not entirely relax when one of her pets was about to leave with someone she had met five minutes ago. That was probably healthy. Sera looked down at the leash. Then at Panam. And Panam understood another thing. This was new. Not Sera working. Not Sera choosing a client. That was old. The collar was new. The owner was new. The question was obvious. Panam loosened her hand. Sera reached for the clip. Then stopped. Looked at Panam. Panam shook her head. “No.” Sera blinked. Panam stepped closer. “My job.” Something warm crossed Sera’s face. She turned slightly. Presented the ring. Panam unclipped the leash. Click. The man watched. Quietly. Panam folded the leash once. Then held it toward Sera. Sera looked at it. “For later,” Panam said. Understanding. Sera took it. Her leash. Her choice whether it returned to Panam’s hand when she came back. Sera folded it carefully and slipped it into her bag. The collar stayed around her neck. Madame’s collar. Visible. Public. Working. That— Panam realized— was going to cause its own fucking category of problems. Mandi appeared beside Dalia. “Oh, this is going to be catastrophic.” Panam looked at her. “Why?” Mandi pointed discreetly toward Sera. “Because she’s leaving with a client wearing Madame’s collar.” Panam looked. Then at the room. Then back at Sera. Fuck. People had noticed. Of course they had noticed. Sera saw Panam’s face. “What?” “You’re going to start rumors.” Sera stared at her. Then slowly looked around Lizzie’s. At all the people pretending not to watch. She smiled. “I think that ship left port about twenty minutes ago.” Dalia snorted. Deja laughed. Birgitta raised her drink. Nova said: “Rich Nomad.” Vega finished: “Very rich Nomad.” Panam closed her eyes. “I hate this city.” “No, you don’t,” Mandi said. Panam opened one eye. “Currently heavily reconsidering.” Mandi grinned. Sera stepped closer to Panam. The client waited. No impatience. Another point in his favor. Sera kissed Panam’s cheek. Not theatrical. Warm. “See you later.” Panam looked at her. “Check in.” “I will.” “If anything feels wrong—” “I know.” Panam stopped. Right. She did know. Sera smiled. “Owner.” Panam looked at her. “I know.” “Good.” Then Sera turned toward the man. “Dinner?” He offered his arm. Sera looked at it. Then took it. “Yes.” They started toward the exit. Panam watched. The Mox watched. Half of Lizzie’s watched. Sera reached the door. Stopped. Turned. Looked directly at Panam. Touched two fingers to the collar. Then smiled. Panam felt that one. Sera left. The door closed. Silence lasted perhaps half a second. Dalia: “OH MY FUCKING GOD.” Panam turned. “No.” “She went to work wearing your collar!” “Yes.” “Your pet.” “Yes.” “Your _Sera_.” Panam pointed at her. “Careful.” Dalia’s grin became vicious. “Owner.” Panam lunged. Dalia escaped behind Deja again. “WHY AM I ALWAYS THE SHIELD?” “Because you’re useful!” Dalia shouted. Panam stopped. Deja looked offended. “That was almost sweet.” “It wasn’t.” Birgitta laughed into her drink. Mandi leaned against the bar. Nova and Vega were openly delighted. Suzie simply watched Panam. That was worse. Panam noticed. “What?” Suzie shook her head. “Nothing.” “No. Absolutely not. Everybody who says nothing tonight is thinking something terrible.” Suzie smiled. “First one.” Panam frowned. “What?” “First Sera booking since you became Madame.” Panam looked toward the door. Oh. Right. First offer worth passing on. First yes. First time the new structure had actually completed the entire path. Working? Madame. Screen. Offer. Sera. Yes. Work. Panam looked at the folded absence where Sera’s leash had been in her hand. The collar had gone with Sera. The leash had gone with Sera. Correct. It belonged with the pet until she chose to put it back into Madame’s hand. Panam liked that. More than she expected. “She said yes,” Panam said. Suzie nodded. “She did.” “That’s the important part.” Suzie smiled. “Exactly.” Panam took her drink. Birgitta moved beside her. Still leashed. Still happily so. “Owner?” Panam looked at her. “Yes?” Birgitta smiled. “You look proud.” Panam considered denying it. Then remembered she was apparently trying this new and terrible thing called accepting obvious facts. “Yeah.” Birgitta’s expression softened. Panam took a drink. Then Birgitta said: “Owner?” Panam nearly inhaled whiskey. Mandi folded over laughing. Dalia screamed. Deja slapped both hands over her face. Nova grabbed Vega. Suzie turned away because even she had limits. Panam coughed. Recovered. Looked at Birgitta. Birgitta stood perfectly innocent at the end of Panam’s leash. Panam pointed toward the private rooms. “Work.” Birgitta smiled brightly. “Working?” Panam stared at her. The entire group exploded. “Fuck all of you.” --- Sera checked in after dinner. Short. Everything good. Having fun. Panam read it once. Then again. Not because she was worried. She told herself. Mandi looked over from beside her. “She okay?” “Yes.” “Good.” Panam put the holo away. Twenty minutes later she nearly checked it again. Didn’t. Madame had responsibilities. Madame did not hover. Probably. She poured herself another drink. Across Lizzie’s, somebody approached Nova. “Working?” Nova smiled. Normal business continued. Panam watched the room. Mandi. Nova. Vega. Birgitta. Four pets present. Sera elsewhere. Five total. And for the first time Panam understood that the stable did not stop existing when she could not see every member. That was— Fuck. That was almost domestic. She rejected the thought immediately. Then accepted it five seconds later because apparently tonight was about personal growth. “Fuck,” she muttered. Dalia looked over. “What now?” “Nothing.” Dalia's eyes narrowed. Panam pointed at her. “Do not.” “I didn't say anything.” “That has never stopped you.” Dalia smiled. Panam took another drink. Sera was working. Sera had chosen yes. Madame had done her part. And somewhere beyond Lizzie’s, Night City was learning something else. Sera could say no. Sera could say yes. The collar changed neither. It only made the route visible. Panam looked down at Birgitta’s leash in her hand. Then toward the door Sera had left through. Madame controlled access. Her pets controlled themselves. Simple. Almost. Panam smiled into her drink. Yeah. She could live with that. --- ## CHAPTER 15 — FOUR LEASHES Sera had been gone for almost an hour when Mandi disappeared. Panam noticed. Not immediately. She was talking with Suzie about nothing particularly important when she looked toward the place Mandi had occupied near the bar and found empty space. “Where did Mandi go?” Suzie glanced toward her. “No idea.” Panam frowned. Birgitta stood beside her, still attached by the only leash currently in Panam’s hand. “You lost one already?” Panam looked at her. “I did not lose anyone.” “Mm.” “Don’t.” “Yes, owner.” Panam had discovered that _owner_ was considerably more dangerous than _Madame_. Madame had become a title. Owner was personal. Worse, every one of them appeared to know it. Panam took a drink. “Why are you smiling?” “I’m happy.” “That looks suspiciously like plotting.” “I can do both.” Panam considered that. “Fair.” The private corridor opened. Mandi returned. Panam looked at her. Then at what she was carrying. Oh. Mandi crossed Lizzie’s without hurry. Her collar was already visible. The leash was folded neatly in one hand. Panam stared. Mandi stopped in front of her. Neither spoke. Mandi simply held out the leash. Panam looked at it. Then at her. “You felt like it?” Birgitta laughed. Mandi’s eyes flicked toward her. “She told me you asked her that.” “Traitor.” “Yes, owner,” Birgitta said. Panam sighed. Then took Mandi’s leash. Mandi turned slightly. Presented the ring. Panam clipped it. Click. Two. Mandi settled beside her, smiling brightly. Panam looked down. Two black leads now ran from her hand. She was still processing that when Nova appeared. Panam stared. Nova stopped several steps away. A leash hung from her hand. “No.” Nova smiled. Panam pointed. “You coordinated this.” “No.” “Mandi?” “No.” “Birgitta?” “Absolutely not,” Birgitta said. Panam looked at Vega. Vega was standing farther away. Empty-handed. Apparently innocent. Panam narrowed her eyes. Vega raised both hands. “Not me.” Panam looked back at Nova. “Then why?” Nova shrugged. “I wanted to.” That killed the argument. Immediately. Panam knew it. Nova knew it. Everyone else definitely knew it. Panam held out her hand. Nova placed the leash into it. Turned. Click. Three. Panam looked at the leads. Birgitta. Mandi. Nova. All three loose. Nobody pulled. Nobody needed to. That was never the point. The physical connection itself was the point. Chosen. Visible. Temporary whenever they wanted it to be. Panam looked up. Vega was gone. “Fuck.” Mandi laughed. “You noticed.” “She’s getting hers.” Nova smiled. “Probably.” “You absolutely coordinated this.” “Nope.” Panam looked at Birgitta. Birgitta smiled brightly. “Owner, sometimes your pets independently reach the same excellent conclusion.” “That sentence is horrifying.” “Still true.” Panam took another drink. Suzie was watching. Panam caught her. “No.” Suzie raised an eyebrow. “I didn't say anything.” “That’s worse tonight.” Suzie looked at the three leashes. Then at Panam. Then smiled. Panam pointed at her. “Whatever you're thinking, stop.” “I was thinking you need a bigger hand.” Mandi folded over. Nova laughed. Birgitta nearly spilled her drink. Panam stared at Suzie. “You've been waiting for that.” “About thirty seconds.” “Fuck you.” The corridor opened again. Vega appeared. Leash in hand. Suzie lost whatever remained of her composure. Panam looked at the ceiling. “Of course.” Vega walked over. Stopped. Held it out. Panam looked at her. Vega smiled. “No conspiracy.” “I don't believe any of you.” “Does it matter?” Panam looked at the leash. No. It didn't. She took it. Vega turned. Click. Four. Panam stared at her hand. Four leashes. Birgitta. Mandi. Nova. Vega. Four women standing around her by choice. Four collars. Four physical lines terminating in her hand. And one absent pet somewhere across Night City wearing the fifth collar with the fifth leash safely in her bag. Panam breathed out. “Well.” Dalia arrived at exactly the wrong moment. Or the right one. Depending on whether anyone involved valued Panam’s dignity. She stopped. Looked at Panam’s hand. Counted. Once. Then again. Her face transformed. Panam immediately pointed at her. “Don't.” Dalia looked at the four women. Then Panam. Then the four leashes. “Oh, I am absolutely going to.” “Dalia.” “Madame.” “No.” “Owner.” “Fuck off.” Dalia laughed. Deja appeared behind her. “What did I—” She saw. Stopped. “Oh.” Panam closed her eyes. Not again. Deja walked closer. “Okay.” Panam opened one eye. “What?” “I admit it.” “What?” “That is a look.” Panam looked down at herself. Nothing unusual. Same clothes. Same boots. Same Panam. Except— Four leashes. Ah. “No.” Deja laughed. “I didn't even say what kind.” “You were going to.” “Maybe.” Dalia leaned against her. “She absolutely was.” Panam shook her head. Then she noticed the rest of Lizzie’s. Again. The attention was different from Sera’s collaring. That had been an event. A detonation. This was slower. People noticing one by one. Looking toward Panam. Looking down. Counting. One. Two. Three. Four. Then looking around. Searching. Panam knew exactly who they were searching for. Sera. Not here. And that somehow made it worse. Because everybody who had witnessed the collaring knew there were five. Four leashes visible. Fifth pet elsewhere. Working. Wearing Madame’s collar. Panam could almost hear the Rich Nomad story rewriting itself. Dalia could apparently hear it too. “Oh, fuck.” Panam looked at her. “What?” Dalia scanned the room. “They're counting.” “I noticed.” “And they know Sera left with a client.” “Yes.” “Still wearing your collar.” “Yes.” “And now you're standing here with the other four on leash.” Panam stared at her. “I am aware of my immediate surroundings.” Dalia’s grin appeared. “This is going to be _horrific_ by tomorrow.” Panam considered. “Good.” Dalia blinked. That was not the expected answer. Panam smiled. “If they're talking about me, maybe they'll leave the rest of you alone.” Mandi snorted. “Optimistic.” “Let me have this.” “No.” Panam looked at the four leashes again. Something had changed. Not the stable. That already existed. Not her responsibility. She had accepted that too. This was visibility. She had spent years surviving by knowing when not to be noticed. Nomad. Courier. Merc. Jobs done cleanly enough that the important part was reaching the other side. Madame was the opposite. Madame occupied space. Madame was meant to be seen. And apparently four beautiful women voluntarily attached to her hand made invisibility somewhat difficult. Panam looked at Birgitta. “You started this.” Birgitta looked genuinely offended. “I merely expressed my own preferences.” “Mandi?” “Same.” “Nova?” “Yes.” “Vega?” “Absolutely.” Panam sighed. Four independent decisions. That was worse. And better. Fuck. “Fine.” Mandi smiled. Panam immediately pointed at her. “Do not celebrate every time I say fine.” “We don't, owner.” “Yes, you fucking do.” Nova laughed. Vega leaned closer to her. Birgitta rested comfortably against Panam’s side. The four leads remained loose. Panam realized she liked the weight of them. Not heavy. Barely anything. Leather. Hardware. Four tiny points of awareness in one hand. She knew who was where without looking. Birgitta shifted. Mandi stepped closer to the bar. Nova turned toward Vega. Vega moved with her. Information through touch. Simple. Practical. Panam smiled despite herself. Mandi noticed. “Oh.” Panam's smile vanished. “No.” “You like it.” “I tolerate it.” Birgitta: “Owner.” Panam looked at her automatically. “Yes?” Birgitta just smiled. Panam stared. “You are becoming a problem.” “I was already a problem.” “Fair.” Dalia looked toward the entrance. “So what happens when Sera comes back?” Panam's attention shifted. The question landed harder than Dalia probably intended. Four leashes. Sera had hers. If Sera returned and wanted it attached again— Five. Panam looked at her hand. There was technically room. Probably. Suzie followed her gaze. “Oh, no.” Panam looked up. “What?” Suzie smiled. “You're doing the math.” “I am not.” “You looked at your hand.” “I have a hand.” Dalia nearly fell against Deja. Mandi started laughing. Nova turned away. Vega covered her face. Birgitta whispered: “Five.” Panam glared at her. “Don't.” Birgitta smiled. “Yes, owner.” Panam drank. --- Sera returned a little after midnight. Panam saw her before most of the room did. The front door opened. Sera stepped inside. Alone. Madame’s collar still around her neck. She looked— Good. Very good. Relaxed. Bright-eyed. Hair slightly less perfect than when she had left. Smile unmistakable. Panam felt the last small knot of responsibility in her chest loosen. Then the rest of Lizzie’s noticed. Again. The room shifted. Again. Sera paused just inside. Her eyes searched. Found Panam. Then dropped. Four leashes. Sera stopped. Her smile changed. Slowly. Dangerously. Panam knew exactly what she had seen. “No.” Sera was still ten meters away. She laughed. Then started walking. People followed her with their eyes. This time they knew where she was going. Panam watched her approach. Collar visible. Bag over one shoulder. Sera stopped in front of her. Looked at Birgitta. Mandi. Nova. Vega. Then Panam. “Busy?” Panam lifted the hand holding four leashes. “Apparently.” Sera smiled. “How was work?” Panam asked. “Excellent.” “You had fun?” “Yes.” “Everything good?” “Very.” Panam nodded. Enough. Sera's smile softened. “Thank you.” “For what?” “Letting me choose.” Panam frowned. “That wasn't mine to let you do.” “I know.” Sera touched the collar. “That's why.” Panam understood. “Okay.” Sera looked at the four leashes again. Then reached into her bag. The room nearest them went noticeably quieter. Panam saw the black leather appear. Oh. Fuck. Sera unfolded her leash. Held it out. Not a command. Not an expectation. The same simple active choice the others had made. Panam looked at her. “Again?” Sera smiled. “I felt like it.” Birgitta made a delighted sound. Panam looked at her. “You're a terrible influence.” “Yes, owner.” Panam took Sera’s leash. Sera turned slightly. Presented the ring. Panam looked at the four already in her hand. Then at the fifth. She clipped it. Click. Five. Lizzie’s lost its fucking mind. --- ## CHAPTER 16 — FIVE Lizzie’s lost its fucking mind. Not metaphorically. Someone cheered. Someone else shouted: “FIVE!” That was apparently all the permission the room needed. The number travelled. “Five!” “Holy shit.” “That’s Sera.” “I know that’s fucking Sera.” “Rich Nomad!” Panam closed her eyes. Five leashes rested in one hand. Birgitta. Mandi. Nova. Vega. Sera. All five women close enough that Panam could feel every small movement through the leather. Sera laughed. Not quietly. Panam opened her eyes. “This is your fault.” “My fault?” “You came back.” “I was supposed to stay away?” “That would have been inconvenient.” Sera smiled. “Owner.” “No.” “You missed me.” “You were gone a few hours.” “You missed me.” Panam stared at her. Sera waited. Five seconds. Panam sighed. “Yes.” Sera’s smile softened instantly. “Good.” A soft static halo lifted through her silver-white hair. Panam saw it and looked even more annoyed, which only made it worse. Mandi made a tiny sound. Panam pointed at her with her free hand. “Nothing.” Mandi raised both hands. “I said nothing.” “You made a sound.” “Apparently sounds are illegal now.” “For you? Considering it.” Nova laughed. Vega leaned against her. Birgitta looked toward the room. “They're still counting.” Panam followed her gaze. They were. People who had missed some part of the evening were being rapidly educated by people who had witnessed it. Panam could practically identify the sequence from facial expressions alone. Four before. Sera arrived. Sera asked. Sera collared. Five. Sera went working. Four visible. Sera came back. Five leashes. Apparently this was now important Night City history. A woman near the bar looked directly at Sera’s collar. Then at Panam. Then at the five leashes. She whispered something to her companion. The companion looked at Panam with an expression normally reserved for either celebrities or dangerous animals. Panam frowned. “What?” Sera followed her gaze. “They're scared of you.” “Why?” Five women looked at Panam. Panam noticed. “Oh, fuck off.” Mandi laughed. Suzie appeared behind the bar with another drink. Panam looked at it. “I didn't order this.” “No.” “Who did?” Suzie pointed vaguely toward the room. Panam looked. Several people raised glasses. Panam stared. “What the fuck is happening?” “You're having a good night.” “I was having a good night.” Suzie smiled. “You still are.” Panam looked at the five women around her. Annoyingly— yes. She was. Very. Panam picked up the drink. “Fine.” Five smiles appeared. Panam froze. “No.” Sera laughed. “You said it.” “I say that word constantly.” “Not like that.” “There is no special way I say fine.” Birgitta: “There absolutely is.” Mandi nodded. Nova nodded. Vega nodded. Sera nodded. Panam stared at five unanimous faces. “I own idiots.” Sera’s eyebrows rose. Panam heard herself. Too late. The five women became very still. “Oh, no.” Mandi was first. “You said—” “No.” Birgitta: “Owner said—” “No.” Nova was smiling. Vega had both hands over her mouth. Sera looked delighted. Panam pointed at all of them. “Do not.” Sera stepped closer. The leash between them shortened naturally. “You own what?” Panam stared. “Sera.” “Yes, owner?” “That was a warning.” “It sounded like my name.” Dalia screamed from somewhere behind them. Panam turned. “YOU.” Dalia immediately moved behind Deja. Deja threw both hands outward. “No! Absolutely not! I resign as human shield!” Dalia grabbed her shoulders. “You can't resign!” “I was never hired!” Panam laughed before she could stop herself. That ruined everything. Dalia pointed. “She laughed!” “I laugh.” “At us!” “Frequently!” “Madame is happy!” Panam stopped laughing. Slowly. Dalia realized what she had just called her. Her eyes widened. Panam pointed. “You're not even one of them.” Dalia looked at the five leashes. Then Panam. Then shrugged. “Apparently it's contagious.” Deja folded against the bar laughing. Panam looked at Suzie. “Help.” “No.” “Excellent management.” “Thank you.” Panam drank. --- The first person brave enough to approach the full stable took nearly ten minutes. He did not approach Sera. That surprised Panam. He approached Mandi. Mandi saw him coming. The man stopped at a respectful distance. His eyes flicked once toward Panam. Then back to Mandi. “Working?” Mandi smiled. “Yes.” Simple. Normal. Almost disappointingly so. Then Mandi looked at Panam. Ah. There it was. Panam looked at the man. Noticed his posture. His clothes. His eyes. Where his attention went and where it did not. Sober enough. Calm. No obvious problem. Mandi was interested. Panam asked: “What are you looking for?” “Two hours. Private room.” “Anything unusual?” “No.” “Offer?” He gave it. Mandi’s eyebrows rose slightly. Panam looked at her. “Interested?” “Yes.” Panam nodded. “Then talk.” That was it. Mandi turned toward the man. The conversation became theirs. Panam remained close enough to intervene if needed. Did not. A minute later Mandi looked back. “Yes.” Panam nodded. “Then yes.” Mandi smiled. She reached toward the leash. Stopped. Then looked at Panam. Panam understood. Again. Apparently this was going to become a ritual too. She unclipped Mandi. Click. Four. Mandi accepted her leash when Panam handed it back. Folded it. Then leaned in and kissed Panam’s cheek. “See you later, owner.” “Have fun.” “I intend to.” The client waited. Mandi joined him. They disappeared toward the private corridor. Panam looked down. Four leashes. Something about the missing fifth line felt immediately noticeable. Not wrong. Just absent. Sera noticed Panam looking. “You felt that.” Panam frowned. “What?” “When she left.” “I watched her leave.” “No.” Sera touched her own leash lightly. “The hand.” Panam looked down. Four lines. There had been five. She could tell the difference. “Maybe.” Sera smiled. “Owner.” “Don't get philosophical.” “I wasn't.” “You were about to.” “I was about to call you adorable.” Panam stared. “That is worse.” “Yes.” --- The stable moved through the night. Not as a unit. That would have been ridiculous. Mostly. Nova went working next. She brought her attention to Panam with one glance when someone approached. Panam listened. Asked two questions. Watched Nova. Nova wanted it. Click. Three. Vega lasted another forty minutes before a woman she had apparently been watching for half the evening finally asked: “Working?” Vega’s smile answered before her mouth did. Panam barely needed to do anything. A few words. An offer. Vega looked at her. “Yes.” Click. Two. Then there were Birgitta and Sera. Both still leashed. Both beside Panam. Panam looked around. “This is easier.” Birgitta laughed. “You miss them already.” “I did not say that.” “You didn't need to.” Sera leaned against Panam’s other side. Panam looked from one to the other. “This feels like an ambush.” “It isn't,” Sera said. Birgitta nodded. “We would have planned better.” “Comforting.” Sera looked toward the private corridor. “It's interesting.” “What?” “How natural it is.” Panam followed her gaze. Mandi working. Nova working. Vega working. Their leashes with them. Their collars still worn. Their choices intact. And when they returned— if they wanted the leash attached— they would bring it back. Not because Panam demanded it. Because they wanted the connection. Panam looked at Birgitta. Then Sera. “Yeah.” Sera smiled. Panam caught it. “What?” “You didn't argue.” “I am learning.” Birgitta looked impressed. “Dangerous.” “Fuck you.” “Yes, owner.” Panam shook her head. Then Sera’s expression shifted. Her eyes moved past Panam. Toward the entrance. Panam followed. A woman had entered Lizzie’s. Tall. Expensive. Corporate enough that the clothes probably cost much more than Panam’s first car. She looked around. Not searching randomly. Searching for someone. Her gaze found Sera. Stopped. Then moved to Panam. To the leash. Back to Sera. Sera sighed. Panam noticed. “You know her?” “No.” “That sigh said something.” “I know the type.” Panam watched the woman approach. Confident. Not arrogant. At least not yet. She stopped in front of Sera. Looked at the collar. Then at Panam. Then back to Sera. “Working?” Sera considered. Panam felt the smallest movement through the leash. Not interest. Not rejection either. Evaluation. Sera looked at Panam. Panam waited. Sera said: “Potentially.” The woman smiled. “I'd like the evening.” Panam asked: “What kind of evening?” “Dinner. Drinks. Private company afterward.” Sera listened. Panam watched. “Duration?” “Until morning.” Panam’s eyebrow rose. The woman noticed. “Assuming Sera wants to stay.” Better. Panam looked at Sera. Sera gave nothing away. “Offer?” The woman stepped closer. Quietly gave Panam the number. Panam's face remained still. Inside— Oh. Now that was interesting. Not fifty million interesting. Nothing remotely that insane. But comfortably above the threshold. Very comfortably. Panam looked at Sera. “Worth hearing.” Sera moved closer. Panam quietly gave her the offer. Sera blinked. Then looked at the woman again. Longer this time. The woman waited. Sera finally smiled. “No.” The woman looked surprised. Only briefly. “May I ask why?” Sera considered. “Yes.” Panam watched her. Sera smiled. “I've already worked tonight.” The woman nodded. “And?” Sera looked at Panam. Then at Birgitta. Then toward the private corridor where the others had gone. Then back at the woman. “And I want the rest of tonight here.” Simple. The woman accepted it. “Another night?” Sera smiled. “Ask another night.” No promise. No refusal. Good. The woman nodded. “Fair.” Then she looked at Panam. “Madame.” Panam nodded. The woman left. Birgitta watched her go. “That was a lot.” “Yes.” Sera looked at Panam. “You're not going to tell me I should have taken it?” Panam frowned. “Why the fuck would I do that?” Sera smiled. “Correct answer.” “You already knew the answer.” “Yes.” “Then why ask?” “I like hearing you say it.” Panam stared. Birgitta laughed. Panam pointed at Sera. “Menace.” Sera leaned closer. “Your menace.” Panam sighed. “Apparently.” --- Mandi returned first. Happy. Very happy. Her client had already left through the main room. Mandi stopped in front of Panam. “Good?” Panam asked. “Very.” “Everything fine?” “Excellent.” Panam nodded. “Water.” “Yes, owner.” “Food.” “Yes.” “Break.” Mandi smiled. “Yes.” She kept her leash. Good. A few minutes later Nova returned. Same sequence. Water. Food. Break. Her leash stayed with her too. Vega came back twenty minutes after that. Panam checked her once. Then: “Water.” Vega nodded. “Food.” Another nod. “Break.” “Yes, owner.” No leash yet. Care first. Only later, when each woman had eaten, hydrated and decided her break was finished, did Mandi stand and bring her leash to Panam. Panam smiled before she could stop herself. Mandi saw. “Oh.” “No.” “You smiled.” “I smile.” Mandi held out the leash. “Owner.” Panam took it. Mandi turned. Click. Three. Nova followed when she was ready. Her leash. Her hand offering it. Click. Four. Vega was last. She crossed the room, held out her own leash and waited. Panam took it. Click. Five. No ceremony this time. No explosion. Just the voluntary return after care. The room noticed anyway. Of course it did. Panam stood with all five again. Birgitta. Mandi. Nova. Vega. Sera. Five collars. Five leashes. Five women who had independently decided they wanted those lines running back to her hand. Panam looked down. Then around. Sera watched her. “Well?” Panam looked at her. “Well what?” “How does it feel?” Panam considered lying. Everyone waited. She sighed. “Good.” Silence. Panam immediately regretted honesty. Mandi’s eyes widened. Nova smiled. Vega whispered: “Oh, shit.” Birgitta looked radiant. Sera’s expression became impossibly warm. Panam pointed at them. “Do not make me regret answering.” Sera stepped closer. “Wouldn't dream of it.” “Liar.” “Yes, owner.” Panam shook her head. Then something moved through Lizzie’s. Not sound. Attention. Different this time. People were looking toward the entrance again. Panam followed. Nobody had entered. Instead someone near the front was talking to someone else. Then looking toward Panam. Another person heard. Turned. Another. A rumor moving physically across the room. Panam frowned. “What now?” Suzie was listening. Her expression changed. Slowly. Then she laughed. Panam stared. “What?” Suzie shook her head. “Oh, this is good.” “That sentence has never helped me.” Suzie leaned across the bar. “Apparently someone just asked what it costs to book Madame.” Silence. Five leashes became very still in Panam’s hand. Panam stared at Suzie. “What?” Suzie smiled. “Not one of your pets.” “I understood that part.” Mandi's mouth opened. Nova looked delighted. Vega stared at Panam. Birgitta whispered: “Oh.” Sera— Sera started laughing. Panam turned toward her. “No.” Sera laughed harder. “Absolutely not.” Sera tried to speak. Failed. Panam looked back at Suzie. “Who?” Suzie nodded toward the front of Lizzie’s. Panam followed the gesture. A man stood near the entrance. Attractive. Very attractive. Respectful distance from everyone around him. Watching Panam. Not the stable. Panam. He saw her looking. And smiled. Panam felt something immediate and deeply inconvenient. Oh. Fuck. Sera stopped laughing. Slowly. She looked at Panam. Then at the man. Then back at Panam. Her eyes narrowed. “Oh.” Panam did not look at her. “No.” Sera’s smile began. Panam knew that smile. “Don't.” “You like him.” “I have never met him.” “That wasn't what I said.” Panam finally looked at Sera. Five pets were now watching her. Every single one. Panam tightened her grip on five leashes. “Not. One. Word.” Mandi smiled. Birgitta smiled. Nova smiled. Vega smiled. Sera smiled. Panam looked toward the man again. He was still waiting. Still watching her. Still attractive. Fuck. Then he started walking toward them. --- ## CHAPTER 17 — WORKING? He walked directly toward Panam. That was the first problem. The second was that the closer he got, the better he looked. Not polished into corpo perfection. Not overloaded with chrome. Not trying too hard. Tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair. A face that had probably been broken once and repaired well enough that the slight remaining imperfection improved it. Panam noticed all of this in approximately three seconds. She resented every second. Sera noticed Panam noticing. That was the third problem. The man stopped at a respectful distance. His eyes went to Panam. Stayed there. Not Sera. Not Mandi. Not Nova. Not Vega. Not Birgitta. Not the five collars. Panam. He smiled. “Working?” Panam stared at him. There it was. The oldest question in Night City. Asked directly. Face-to-face. Exactly as it should be. Just aimed at the wrong fucking woman. “No.” The man nodded. “All right.” And stopped. No argument. No _how much_. No attempt to reinterpret the answer. Panam had expected something else. Apparently so had everyone around her. The man glanced once at the five leashes in Panam’s hand. Then back at her. “Can I buy you a drink?” Panam considered. “Yes.” Five leashes moved. Very slightly. Panam looked down. Then slowly at the five women attached to them. Every single face was innocent. Suspiciously innocent. “Don't.” Nobody spoke. The man laughed. Panam looked back at him. “What?” “Nothing.” “That word is becoming dangerous tonight.” “So I gathered.” He gestured toward the bar. “Drink?” Panam nodded. They moved approximately four steps. Which was as far as Panam could conveniently move while holding five leashes without reorganizing a significant percentage of Lizzie’s social geometry. The pets moved with her. Of course they did. The man noticed. He did not look bothered. That earned him another point Panam had no intention of acknowledging. Suzie looked at him. Then Panam. Her expression became unbearable. Panam pointed at her. “Whiskey.” Suzie smiled. “I didn't say anything.” “Whiskey.” The man ordered his own drink. Something simple. Panam approved. She hated that too. Suzie placed both glasses down. The man lifted his. “To unsuccessful business.” Panam looked at him. Then laughed. Damn it. She touched her glass to his. “To taking no for an answer.” “Low standard.” “You'd be surprised.” “No, I wouldn't.” Another point. Fuck. Panam drank. The man did too. Then he looked at the leashes. “May I ask?” Panam followed his gaze. “About?” “The obvious.” “No.” He nodded. “All right.” Sera made a tiny sound. Panam turned. Sera had covered it with a cough. Badly. Panam narrowed her eyes. Sera smiled. The man looked between them. “I feel like I'm missing something.” “You are.” “Should I be worried?” “No.” “Yes,” Mandi said. Panam turned. Mandi immediately drank water. Water. Right. Panam's eyes narrowed for an entirely different reason. Mandi had returned from work less than half an hour ago. She had received exactly none of the things Panam should have made sure she received. Fuck. Panam looked at Suzie. “Food.” Suzie understood immediately. “For?” Panam looked at Mandi. Then Nova. Then Vega. “All three.” Three expressions changed. Mandi smiled. Nova softened. Vega blinked. Panam pointed toward the seating area. “Sit.” Mandi raised an eyebrow. “Owner?” “Water. Food. Break.” That smile became enormous. “Yes, owner.” Nova: “Yes, owner.” Vega: “Yes, owner.” Panam looked at Birgitta and Sera. “You two stay out of this.” Birgitta smiled. “I wasn't going to say anything.” “Bullshit.” “Probably.” Panam guided the three returning workers toward one of the larger booths. Five leashes complicated the operation. Suzie solved half of it by sending water ahead. Actual water. Not alcohol. Mandi sat. Nova beside her. Vega opposite. Panam put water in front of each one. Mandi picked hers up. “I was already drinking.” “Drink more.” “Yes, owner.” Nova took hers without argument. Vega smiled into the glass. Panam looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” “Everyone is banned from saying nothing.” The man had remained near the bar. Waiting. Not following. Interesting. Panam looked toward him. He lifted his glass slightly. No impatience. No demand for her attention. Another fucking point. Sera followed Panam's gaze. “Oh.” Panam turned back. “No.” “You looked.” “I have eyes.” “You keep using that defense.” “Because I keep having eyes.” Birgitta laughed. Suzie arrived with food. Nothing elaborate. Enough. Protein. Carbs. Salt. Something Mandi immediately stole from Nova’s plate. Nova slapped her hand. “Yours is identical.” “I wanted hers.” Panam stared. “Children.” Mandi looked at her. “Your idiots.” Panam froze. Sera made a delighted noise. “No.” Mandi grinned. “You said it first.” “I regret everything.” “No, you don't.” Panam looked at the three women. They were drinking. Eating. Settling. The difference was subtle. She could see it now that she was actually looking. Mandi's energy had been slightly too bright when she returned. Nova quieter. Vega carrying a little residual tension through her shoulders. Nothing wrong. Nothing bad. Just work still attached to them. Water. Food. Break. Simple. Panam should have noticed sooner. She would next time. Mandi caught her expression. “Owner.” Panam looked at her. “We're fine.” “I know.” Mandi smiled. “But?” Panam shrugged. “You worked.” “So?” “So I take care of my people.” Silence. Oh. Fuck. Panam realized what she had said. Again. Apparently honesty was a disease tonight. Nova looked down at her food. Vega smiled. Mandi's expression became very soft. Birgitta leaned against Panam. Sera did the same from the other side. Panam stared straight ahead. “Anyone makes this emotional, I'm leaving.” “You're holding five leashes,” Sera said. Panam looked at her. “So?” “We're coming with you.” Panam laughed. “Fuck.” Across the room, the man smiled into his drink. He had seen enough to understand something. Not everything. He had no right to everything. But enough. Panam gave the returning three several more minutes. No work. No clients. No decisions. Just water. Food. Break. Mandi finished first. Nova took longer. Vega leaned back and finally let her shoulders drop. There. Better. Panam noticed. Good. Then Mandi looked toward the man. Then at Panam. “He waited.” “Yes.” “Still hot.” “Mandi.” “What?” “You're on break.” “Eyes still work.” Sera immediately laughed. Panam glared at both of them. “Traitors.” Birgitta looked at the man. “He is attractive.” “Birgitta.” “Yes, owner?” “Stop helping.” “I thought I was agreeing.” “That is the problem.” Nova looked over. “Oh.” Panam pointed at her. “No.” Nova smiled. “I understand now.” “You understand nothing.” Vega looked too. Then back at Panam. “Oh.” “For fuck’s sake.” Five women were now openly enjoying this. Panam stood. “Break continues.” Mandi looked at her. “Where are you going?” “To finish my drink.” “With him?” Panam stared. “With my drink.” “Which is with him.” “Mandi.” “Yes, owner.” Panam walked back toward the bar. The five women remained in the booth. For approximately two steps. Then Panam felt the leashes tighten gently behind her. She stopped. Looked at her hand. Right. Five leashes. She turned. Five women looked back. Mandi raised an eyebrow. Panam looked at the distance between herself and the booth. Then at the man. Then at the leashes. Then at the ceiling. “This is ridiculous.” Sera smiled. “You can leave us here.” Panam looked at her. Meaning clear. The leashes. She could hand them over. Set them down. Unclip them. Whatever the women wanted. Sera was giving her the option. Panam considered it. Then shook her head. “No.” Five expressions changed. Panam pointed at the booth. “Move.” They moved. The entire booth migrated toward the bar. Not literally. But close enough. Chairs shifted. Space opened. Suzie laughed so hard she had to turn away. Panam returned to the man with five pets, three plates, several bottles of water and the rapidly collapsing remains of her dignity. He looked at the procession. Then Panam. “Complicated drink.” Panam laughed again. “Shut up.” “Yes, Madame.” That landed differently. Not owner. Madame. Public. Respectful. And somehow, from him— Fuck. Panam took her whiskey. “You know the title.” “Everyone in here knows the title.” “Apparently.” He looked toward the five women. Then back at Panam. “I won't ask.” “Good.” They drank. A moment passed. Comfortable. Panam liked comfortable. That was dangerous. The man set his glass down. “I meant what I asked.” Panam knew exactly which question. “Working?” “Yes.” “No.” He nodded. Still no disappointment weaponized into pressure. “Okay.” Panam looked at him. “You're still here.” “You said I could buy you a drink.” “You did.” “And you haven't told me to leave.” Panam considered. “True.” “So I'm enjoying the drink.” Simple. Panam hated how much she liked simple. Sera was watching her. Panam could feel it without looking. Mandi too. Probably all five. She refused to give them the satisfaction. The man finished half his drink. Then: “Would it bother you if I asked again another night?” Panam looked at him. That was new. Not another offer. Not escalation. Permission to ask. “You can ask.” His smile returned. “Same answer?” “Probably.” “Probably isn't no.” Panam's eyes narrowed. He immediately lifted one hand. “Not negotiating. Observing.” Panam held his gaze. Then smiled despite herself. “Careful.” “Yes, Madame.” There it was again. Fuck. The man finished his drink. Placed the glass down. “Have a good night.” Panam blinked. “You're leaving?” “I got my answer.” “You got a no.” “Yes.” “And a drink.” “And a drink.” He smiled. “Good enough for tonight.” Panam stared at him. He nodded toward the stable. “Ladies.” Five polite responses. Then to Panam: “Madame.” Panam nodded. He turned. Walked toward the exit. Did not look back. Panam watched him. All the way. The door closed. Silence behind her. Panam continued staring at the door for another second. Then: “Not.” She turned. Five women were looking at her. “One.” Sera smiled. “Word.” Mandi drank her water. Nova suddenly became fascinated by her food. Vega bit her lip. Birgitta looked radiant. Panam pointed at all five. “I mean it.” Sera tilted her head. Panam knew what was coming. “Don't.” Sera smiled. “Working?” Lizzie’s heard Panam swear from the other side of the room. --- ## CHAPTER 18 — MY TURN Lizzie’s heard Panam swear from the other side of the room. Sera looked delighted. Panam pointed at her. “You are a terrible pet.” Sera smiled. “Still your pet.” “That is currently under review.” “No, it isn't.” “No.” Sera’s smile softened. Panam realized she had answered too quickly. Again. Fuck. Birgitta laughed beside her. Panam looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” “That word is banned.” “I forgot.” “No, you didn't.” “No.” Panam sighed. Mandi was still eating. Nova had finished most of her water. Vega had finally relaxed completely into the booth. Good. Break meant break. Panam looked at the three of them. “Another ten minutes.” Mandi looked up. “I’m fine.” “I know.” “I finished eating.” “I have eyes.” Mandi grinned. Panam stared. “Ten.” “Yes, owner.” Nova nodded. Vega lifted her water in acknowledgment. Good. Panam picked up her whiskey. Sera watched. “You know.” “No.” “I haven't said anything.” “You were going to.” “I was going to say you're getting very good at this.” Panam stopped. That was— annoyingly reasonable. She looked at Sera. “Thank you.” Sera blinked. Apparently she had not expected that. Panam smiled. “Got you.” “You bitch.” “There it is.” Birgitta laughed. Then her attention moved. Not toward Panam. Not toward Sera. Across the room. Panam noticed immediately. Different posture. Tiny shift. Interest. Panam followed her gaze. A woman stood near the opposite end of the bar. Mid-forties, perhaps. Tall. Athletic. Dark tailored jacket over something deliberately less formal. Expensive boots. Short blonde hair. Minimal visible chrome. The sort of confidence that came from knowing exactly where she was and not needing the room to know who she was. She was looking at Birgitta. Birgitta was looking back. Panam smiled. Oh. Interesting. Birgitta noticed the smile. “What?” Panam took a drink. “Nothing.” Birgitta narrowed her eyes. “That word is banned.” Panam looked at her. “Fuck.” Sera laughed. The woman started walking toward them. Birgitta watched her come. No attempt to hide the interest now. Panam felt it through the leash before Birgitta moved at all. A tiny change in tension. Not pulling. Awareness. Anticipation. Panam looked at her. “You like her.” Birgitta glanced sideways. “I have never met her.” Sera made a choking sound. Panam slowly smiled. Birgitta realized. “Oh, fuck you.” Panam's smile widened. “That wasn't what I said.” Mandi nearly dropped her fork. Nova folded forward. Vega covered her mouth. Sera leaned against Panam, laughing helplessly. Birgitta stared at her owner. “You remembered that.” “Word for fucking word.” “I hate all of you.” “No, you don't.” Birgitta sighed. “No.” The woman reached them. Her eyes went to Birgitta first. Good. Then briefly to Panam. To the leash. Back to Birgitta. She smiled. “Working?” Birgitta answered immediately. “Yes.” Panam laughed. Birgitta looked at her. “Owner.” “Yes?” “Professionalism.” Panam straightened. “Right.” Sera whispered: “She said yes very fast.” Birgitta turned. “Sera.” “Yes?” “Fuck you.” Sera smiled. Panam looked at the woman. Close up, the initial read held. Sober. Comfortable. Interested without staring. Chrome subtle enough that Panam couldn't immediately inventory it. No obvious weapons beyond what half of Night City carried to buy groceries. More importantly, Birgitta was interested. Very. Panam asked: “What are you looking for?” The woman kept her attention primarily on Birgitta. “Company.” “For?” “Three hours.” “Here?” “I have a suite nearby.” Panam named the hotel she thought the woman meant. The woman nodded. Good hotel. Good security. Close enough that transport wasn't an issue. “Anything unusual?” “No.” Birgitta smiled. The woman caught it. “Disappointed?” “Undecided.” The woman laughed. Birgitta’s smile widened. Oh, yes. Definitely her type. Panam almost didn't need the rest. Almost. “Offer?” The woman gave it. Quietly. Panam raised an eyebrow. Not absurd. Not Sera territory. But considerably above Birgitta’s normal rate. Enough to make this an extremely good three hours. Panam looked at Birgitta. Birgitta was already looking at her. That expression was familiar. Panam had seen it before. Photo. Profile. Long corpo booking. Panam trying to explain the money. Birgitta effectively telling her to shut the fuck up and stop selling something she already wanted. Panam smiled. “Offer's good.” Birgitta waited. Panam told her. Birgitta's eyebrows rose. “Very good.” The woman smiled. “I hoped so.” Birgitta looked at her. “Three hours?” “Yes.” “Your suite?” “Yes.” “Just us?” “Yes.” Birgitta glanced at Panam. “Yes.” Panam blinked. “I haven't asked.” “You were going to.” Sera laughed. Panam looked at the woman. “She does this.” “I noticed.” Birgitta smiled brightly. Panam shook her head. “Then yes.” Birgitta immediately reached toward her leash. Stopped. Turned. Presented the ring. Panam unclipped her. Click. Four. Birgitta turned back. Panam folded the leash. Held it out. Birgitta took it. Then Panam caught her wrist gently before she could step away. Birgitta looked at her. “Check in.” “Yes, owner.” “If plans change—” “I know.” “If she suddenly develops a collection of knives and a basement—” The woman raised one eyebrow. “No basement.” Panam looked at her. “Knives?” “Kitchen.” Birgitta laughed. Panam considered. “Acceptable.” The woman smiled. “I'll try to remain within specification.” “I like her,” Sera announced. Birgitta looked at Sera. “So do I.” The woman turned toward Birgitta. “That's encouraging.” Birgitta slipped her leash into her bag. Then looked back at Panam. “Anything else, owner?” Panam studied her. Bright. Interested. Already leaning mentally toward the evening. No hesitation. “No.” Birgitta smiled. Then stepped close. Kissed Panam’s cheek. “See you later.” “Have fun.” “Oh, I intend to.” The woman offered her hand. Not arm. Hand. Birgitta looked at it. Then took it. Interesting. They started toward the exit together. Sera watched. Panam watched. Mandi watched while chewing. Nova and Vega watched from their mandatory break. Birgitta reached the door. Looked back. Not at the room. At Panam. She touched two fingers lightly to her collar. Panam smiled. Birgitta left. The door closed. Four leashes remained in Panam’s hand. Panam looked down. Sera looked at her. “You felt that too.” “Yes.” Sera blinked. Panam looked at her. “What?” “You admitted it.” “I am capable of learning.” Sera smiled. “Dangerous.” Panam looked at her. “That joke is getting old.” “No, it isn't.” “No.” --- Mandi’s ten minutes ended. She immediately stood. Panam looked at her. “How do you feel?” “Good.” “Water?” “Finished.” “Food?” Mandi pointed at the empty plate. “Break?” “Owner, you watched the entire fucking thing.” “Yes.” Mandi smiled. “Then excellent.” Panam nodded. “Good.” Nova finished shortly afterward. Vega took another few minutes. Panam did not rush her. That mattered. She realized it mattered because Vega noticed. When Vega finally stood, she rolled her shoulders once. Relaxed. Ready. Panam looked at her. “Good?” “Good.” “Actually?” Vega smiled. “Actually.” “Fine.” Mandi made a sound. Panam pointed without looking. “I heard that.” “I know.” Panam shook her head. Water. Food. Break. Easy. She could do that. More importantly— she liked doing it. Fuck. Sera leaned closer. “You're thinking again.” “Unfortunately.” “About?” “Nothing.” Sera gasped. “Banned.” Panam looked at her. “I own the ban.” Sera stared. Panam stared back. Then both started laughing. --- The evening settled again. Four pets currently with Panam. One working. Three freshly returned and properly recovered. One Sera who had apparently decided her personal purpose in life was making Panam confront herself. Normal. By current standards. Panam had almost finished her whiskey when the front door opened. For one stupid second she looked. Not consciously. Just— looked. The man was not there. Panam turned back to the bar. Sera said nothing. Panam slowly looked at her. Sera was smiling into her drink. “Don't.” “I said nothing.” “Banned.” Sera laughed. Mandi noticed. “What?” “Nothing,” Sera said. Panam pointed. “Both of you.” Nova looked toward the entrance. Then Panam. “Oh.” “No.” Vega understood next. “Oh.” “No.” Mandi finally understood. Her face lit up. “Oh.” “STOP SAYING OH.” Suzie laughed behind the bar. Panam glared at everyone. “He left.” Sera nodded. “Yes.” “He asked if he could ask again.” “Yes.” “I said he could.” “Yes.” “That does not mean I'm waiting for him.” Sera looked toward the entrance. Then back at Panam. “I didn't say you were.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “You implied it.” “I smiled.” “You weaponize smiling.” “Apparently.” Panam drank. The door opened again. Panam did not look. Absolutely did not. Three seconds. Five. Ten. Mandi leaned toward her. “You can look.” “I don't want to.” “Okay.” Panam looked. Not him. She turned back. Four women smiled. “Fuck all of you.” Sera leaned against her. “Owner.” “What?” “He's coming back.” “You don't know that.” “No.” Sera smiled. “But he asked permission.” Panam looked at the door. Then at her drink. Then at the four leashes in her hand. Somewhere in Night City, Birgitta was enjoying a very profitable three hours with a woman she had wanted before Panam had finished asking questions. Panam smiled. Good. Her pet was having fun. That was enough. For tonight. Probably. Then Mandi asked: “So what happens when he offers money again?” Panam looked at her. “I say no.” Mandi nodded. “Okay.” Nova: “What if he offers more?” “No.” Vega: “A lot more?” “No.” Sera: “A stupid amount?” Panam looked at all four. “No.” They nodded. Accepted it. No teasing. No argument. Panam relaxed. Then Sera took a drink. “Good.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “What?” “Nothing.” “Banned.” Sera smiled. “Just establishing the baseline.” Panam stared at her. A horrible feeling arrived. “Sera.” “Yes, owner?” “What fucking baseline?” Sera's smile became radiant. Panam closed her eyes. “Oh, fuck.” --- ## CHAPTER 19 — AGAIN “Oh, fuck.” Sera smiled. Panam pointed at her. “No.” “You don't even know what I was going to say.” “Yes, I do.” “What?” “That whatever happens next, you're going to claim this conversation predicted it.” Sera considered. “That is roughly correct.” “Exactly.” Mandi looked between them. “What baseline?” Panam turned. “Do not encourage her.” “I genuinely don't know.” Sera looked at Mandi. “Madame said no.” “Yes.” “To him.” “Yes.” “And she says she'll say no again.” Mandi nodded. “Yes.” “So now we know where we started.” Panam stared at Sera. “There is nowhere to go from no.” Sera smiled. “Correct.” “Stop agreeing with me like that.” “Like what?” “Like I'm walking into something.” Nova laughed. Vega smiled. Panam looked at both. “You too?” Nova raised her hands. “I have learned to remain neutral.” “You said that while laughing.” “I didn't say I was good at it.” Panam sighed. Four leashes. Four smiling problems. One missing problem currently working. This was her life now. Apparently. --- Birgitta checked in forty minutes later. Panam felt her holo pulse. She opened the message. Everything good. Very good, actually. Staying the full three hours. Panam smiled. Sera saw. “Birgitta?” “Yes.” “Good?” “Very.” Sera nodded. No teasing. That was one thing Panam had noticed. They could be impossible about everything else. But when it mattered— when one of them was working— the jokes stopped. “Good,” Sera said. Panam put the holo away. Mandi had moved close enough that her leash barely had any distance left in it. Nova and Vega were talking quietly. All four had recovered from their work. Water. Food. Break. Panam had remembered. Would remember next time. Simple. The front door opened. Panam did not look. Sera did. Panam saw her expression. Fuck. “No.” Sera's eyebrows rose. “I didn't say anything.” Panam turned. Him. Same man. Different jacket. Same face. Same irritatingly effective smile. He saw Panam. Panam saw him. He started toward her. Mandi whispered: “Baseline.” Panam looked at her. “Traitor.” “Yes, owner.” The man reached them. His eyes went directly to Panam. “Evening.” Panam looked at him. “You came back.” “You said I could.” “I did.” He nodded. Then— “Working?” Panam laughed. She actually fucking laughed. “No.” “All right.” He turned toward the bar. Panam blinked. “That’s it?” He looked back. “You said no.” “Yes.” “So that's it.” Panam stared. The man smiled. “Did you expect an argument?” “No.” That was technically true. Mostly. “Good.” He started away. Panam watched. Sera made a tiny noise. Panam turned. “What?” Sera shook her head. “Nothing.” “Banned.” Sera smiled. “He didn't offer anything.” “No.” “He didn't ask how much.” “No.” “He just asked.” “Yes.” “And left you alone.” “Yes.” Sera nodded. “Interesting.” Panam frowned. “What is interesting?” “You.” “Me?” “Yes.” “What did I do?” Sera smiled. “Exactly.” Panam stared at her. “I hate conversations with you.” “No, you don't.” “No.” The man had reached the bar. Ordered a drink. Did not look back at Panam. That was— Panam looked away. Then back. Still not looking. Fuck. Mandi saw. Panam caught her seeing. “Don't.” Mandi drank. Nova suddenly became interested in Vega. Vega suddenly became interested in Nova. Sera was not even pretending. Panam sighed. “He's attractive.” Four heads turned. Panam froze. Fuck. Sera's mouth opened. Panam pointed directly at her. “I KNOW.” Sera closed it. Mandi whispered: “Progress.” “I heard that.” “Yes, owner.” Panam took a drink. “He's attractive. That means nothing.” Sera nodded. “Correct.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “No.” “What?” “You're doing it again.” “Agreeing?” “Yes.” “Would you prefer I lie?” “Yes.” Sera laughed. Panam looked toward the man. He was talking with Suzie now. Suzie looked at Panam. Panam immediately knew betrayal was occurring. Suzie smiled. Panam pointed at her from across the room. Suzie ignored her. The man laughed at something. Panam watched. Damn it. He had a good laugh too. This was becoming unreasonable. --- He stayed for almost an hour. Never approached Panam again. That somehow made it worse. Panam noticed him without wanting to notice him. Talking. Drinking. Once helping someone retrieve a dropped jacket. Once refusing an obviously intoxicated woman's invitation with enough grace that the woman laughed instead of getting angry. Panam watched that one carefully. Sera watched Panam watching. Panam did not acknowledge it. Eventually the man paid. Stood. Looked toward Panam. Their eyes met. He nodded. Panam nodded back. He walked toward the door. Panam felt something stupid. Disappointment. Tiny. Annoying. Absolutely unacceptable. Then he stopped. Turned. Walked back. Panam's heart did something equally stupid. Sera felt Panam shift through the leash. Panam knew she felt it. Neither said anything. The man stopped in front of Panam. “May I ask you something?” Panam looked at him. “You've been doing that.” He smiled. “Different question.” “Go.” “Would you have dinner with me?” Panam blinked. Not— Working? Not booking. Dinner. “Paid?” “No.” Interesting. “Why?” “Because I'd like to have dinner with you.” Simple. Again. Panam looked at him. Then at the four women around her. All four immediately looked elsewhere. Cowards. Panam looked back. “No.” The man nodded. “All right.” Panam frowned. He smiled. “Same rules.” “What rules?” “No means no.” Right. Panam felt something loosen. And something else tighten. Fuck. “Can I ask again?” Panam stared at him. “You're persistent.” “Yes.” “You know that's not always a good thing.” “Yes.” “Why should I let you?” The man considered. Then shrugged. “You don't have to.” That answer landed. Panam studied him. No performance she could see. No challenge. No _I'll wear you down._ Just— permission remained hers. Panam nodded once. “You can ask.” “Thank you.” He turned. Panam watched him take two steps. Then: “Wait.” He stopped. Turned. Panam immediately regretted speaking. Too late. “What?” Panam looked at him. “What's your name?” His smile changed. Smaller. Realer. He gave her a first name. Panam repeated it once. He nodded. “And you are Panam.” Panam raised an eyebrow. “Apparently I'm famous.” He looked at the leashes. “Currently?” Panam laughed. “Fuck you.” “Maybe eventually.” Silence. Absolute. Catastrophic. Silence. The man froze. Panam froze. Five seconds earlier there had been four women around Panam. Now there were four predators who had just smelled blood. The man closed his eyes briefly. “That sounded better before I said it.” Panam stared. Then laughed. Hard. Not polite. Not controlled. Actual laughter. The man looked relieved. Sera folded against Panam. Mandi had both hands over her mouth. Nova was shaking. Vega had gone red. Panam finally recovered enough to breathe. “You should leave.” “Yes.” “Now.” “Definitely.” He backed away. Panam pointed toward the door. “Before I change my mind about letting you ask again.” He smiled. “Good night, Madame.” “Go.” He went. Panam watched him leave. The door closed. Silence. Panam slowly turned. Four women stared back. “No.” Mandi made a strangled sound. “No.” Nova covered her face. “No.” Vega turned away. “No.” Sera looked Panam directly in the eyes. “Maybe eventually.” Lizzie’s exploded. “FUCK ALL OF YOU.” --- Birgitta returned twenty minutes later. Perfect timing. Of course. She walked through the door glowing. Not literally. But close enough. Panam saw her. Birgitta saw Panam. Then Birgitta noticed everyone else still laughing. “What happened?” Panam pointed. “No one tells her.” Birgitta stopped. “Oh.” “Birgitta.” “What?” “You just got back.” “Yes.” Panam held out her free hand. “Water.” Birgitta smiled. Oh. That smile. Warm. Immediate. “Yes, owner.” Suzie already had it coming. Birgitta accepted the bottle. Drank. Panam watched until she had taken enough. “Food.” “Yes, owner.” “Then break.” Birgitta looked at the four others. Then Panam. “What did I miss?” “Nothing.” Five voices answered: “BANNED.” Birgitta burst out laughing. Panam closed her eyes. “Great.” Food arrived. Birgitta ate. Panam checked her without making it an interrogation. Happy. Relaxed. A little pleasantly tired. No tension. No problem. “How was she?” Panam asked. Birgitta smiled. “Excellent.” “Everything good?” “Everything very good.” “Worth it?” Birgitta looked at Panam. “Owner, I would have taken that booking for my normal rate.” Panam laughed. “Thought so.” “The money was insulting.” “Insulting?” “To the universe. Not me.” Sera laughed. Birgitta ate another bite. Panam gave her time. Water. Food. Break. No hurry. Eventually Birgitta leaned back. Satisfied. Panam looked at her. “Better?” “Yes.” Birgitta reached into her bag. Panam knew what was coming. The leash appeared. Birgitta held it toward her. Panam took it. Birgitta turned. Presented the ring. Click. Five. There. Complete again. Panam felt the familiar five points settle into her hand. Birgitta moved naturally beside her. Then looked around. Five smiling faces. One annoyed owner. “What did I miss?” Panam glared at everyone. Sera smiled. “A man asked if Madame was working.” Birgitta's eyes widened. Panam sighed. “And?” Sera: “She said no.” Birgitta nodded. “Reasonable.” “He came back.” “Oh.” “Asked again.” Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam stared at Sera. “Traitor.” Sera continued. “She said no.” “Still reasonable.” “Then he asked her to dinner.” Birgitta slowly smiled. Panam pointed at her. “No.” “She said no.” Birgitta's smile faded slightly. “Oh.” Panam nodded. “Thank you.” Sera continued: “Then he accidentally suggested they might fuck eventually.” Birgitta stopped. Panam looked at the ceiling. There was no God. Or if there was, God had left Night City years ago. Birgitta looked at Panam. Then at Sera. Then back at Panam. “Accidentally?” “Yes,” Sera said. Panam sighed. “Yes.” Birgitta considered. “Was he attractive?” Five women went silent. Panam stared at her. Birgitta waited. Panam sighed. “Yes.” Birgitta smiled. “Oh.” Panam pointed. “Don't you fucking start.” Birgitta leaned warmly against her owner. “Wouldn't dream of it.” Panam looked at the five leashes in her hand. Then at five smiling women. Then toward the entrance. Baseline. No. Fine. Simple. The door opened. Panam looked. Not him. She looked away immediately. Five leashes shifted. Five women noticed. Nobody said anything. That was somehow worse. Panam drank her whiskey. Tomorrow, she decided, she was delivering cargo. Cargo did not smile at her. Cargo did not ask if she was working. Cargo did not ask her to dinner. And cargo definitely did not accidentally suggest fucking her eventually. Panam smiled despite herself. Fuck. --- ## CHAPTER 20 — MARKET RESEARCH Panam delivered cargo the next day. On purpose. She took a job she normally would have passed to someone else. Nothing glamorous. Medical supplies. Watson to Santo Domingo. Good route. Reasonable pay. Minimal chance of anyone shooting at her. Probably. She drove. She listened to the engine. She watched traffic. She delivered the cargo. Nobody asked: Working? Nobody called her Madame. Nobody attached themselves to her hand. Nobody asked permission to ask her out again. Nobody accidentally suggested fucking her eventually. It was wonderful. Panam collected payment. Looked at the number. And frowned. That was the problem. The job had taken most of the afternoon. Fuel. Wear. Traffic. Loading. Unloading. Two checkpoint delays. One ganger who had spent thirty seconds considering whether Panam’s vehicle looked profitable enough to become his problem. The money was— fine. Perfectly respectable. Panam stared at it. Then remembered the offer Birgitta had received for three hours. “Fuck.” She closed the payment screen. Absolutely not. She was not doing that math. --- Later that night, Panam walked into Lizzie’s. Sera was already there. White couture. Madame’s collar visible at her throat. Silver-white hair refusing to look entirely still even when Sera did. Of course she was. Mandi sat beside her. Dalia and Deja occupied part of the bar. Nova and Vega were talking near the booths. Birgitta had not arrived yet. Panam made it six steps. Sera looked at her. “Cargo?” Panam stopped. “How the fuck do you know?” Sera smiled. “You smell like your truck.” “I do not.” Mandi leaned closer. Sniffed. Panam stared. Mandi smiled. “You kind of do.” “Both of you can fuck off.” Dalia looked over. “How much?” Panam turned. “What?” “The cargo.” Panam narrowed her eyes. Dalia’s expression was far too innocent. “No.” “I only asked what it paid.” “No.” Deja started laughing. Panam pointed at Dalia. “You've been talking.” Dalia put one hand against her chest. “Me?” “Yes.” “Never.” “Liar.” “Frequently.” Panam reached the bar. Suzie put whiskey in front of her. Panam looked at it. “Thank you.” “You look like you need it.” “I delivered cargo.” Suzie nodded. “My condolences.” Panam stared. “What the fuck is wrong with everyone?” Suzie smiled. “Nothing.” “Banned.” Suzie blinked. Sera laughed. “Long story.” Panam drank. Then looked around. “Where's Birgitta?” “Coming,” Sera said. Panam nodded. “And nobody is working?” Mandi raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking professionally?” “Yes.” “Then no.” Nova shook her head. Vega too. Sera smiled. “No.” Panam nodded. Good. She put her drink down. Mandi reached into her bag. Panam saw black leather. “Oh.” Mandi walked over. Held out the leash. Panam took it. Click. One. Nova noticed. Reached for hers. Click. Two. Vega: Click. Three. Sera waited until Panam looked at her. Then smiled. Leash already in hand. Panam sighed. “Menace.” “Yes, owner.” Click. Four. Panam looked down. Four. Still strange. Still good. Fuck. The door opened. Birgitta entered. Saw them. Saw Panam. Smiled. Reached into her bag while she was still walking. Panam started laughing. “You didn't even get here yet.” Birgitta held out the leash. “I am here.” “You're technically still arriving.” “Owner.” Panam took it. Birgitta turned. Click. Five. There. Five points of awareness settled into Panam’s hand. Sera watched her. Panam looked at Sera. “Don't.” Sera smiled. “I wasn't going to say anything.” “You were going to say I missed this.” “Did you?” Panam looked at the five leashes. “Yes.” Sera smiled. Panam pointed. “But I admitted it before you said it.” “That counts.” “Good.” Progress. Apparently. --- The first hour was almost normal. Which in Lizzie’s currently meant three booking approaches, one rejected offer, two accepted, Mandi disappearing for forty minutes, returning happy, and Panam immediately putting water in her hand before Mandi could say anything. Mandi looked at the bottle. Then Panam. Panam pointed. “Drink.” “Yes, owner.” Food followed. Then break. No discussion. No forgetting. When Mandi eventually brought her leash back, Panam clipped it without ceremony. Click. Five again. Simple. Panam liked simple. Then the front door opened. Sera looked. Panam did not. Sera looked at Panam. Panam still did not. Birgitta noticed. Then Mandi. Then Nova. Then Vega. Panam stared determinedly at her whiskey. Nobody said anything. That was suspicious. Panam waited. Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen. “Oh, fuck all of you.” She looked. Him. Of course. Same man. Different clothes again. Dark shirt this time. No jacket. That was unfair. Panam stared for approximately half a second too long. Sera whispered: “Oh.” Panam looked at her. “Do you want me to ban vowels next?” Sera smiled. The man saw Panam. Smiled. And started walking. Five leashes became suspiciously quiet. Panam looked at them. “You are all terrible at pretending not to watch.” Birgitta looked offended. “I am not pretending.” “Fair.” He reached them. Stopped. Same respectful distance. Same attention. Panam. “Evening.” Panam nodded. “Evening.” He glanced at the five leashes. “Full complement tonight.” Panam looked down. “Apparently.” Five women smiled. The man looked back at Panam. Then asked: “Working?” Panam smiled. Damn it. “No.” He nodded. “All right.” Nobody moved. He looked toward the bar. “Drink?” Panam considered. “Yes.” Sera made a sound. Panam turned. “Vowel ban.” Sera closed her mouth. The man laughed. They moved to the bar. Five pets came with Panam. He had apparently accepted that this was simply part of the terrain. Suzie saw him. Saw Panam. Then placed a second whiskey beside Panam’s first. Panam stared. “I still had one.” “You're going to need both.” “Suzie.” Suzie walked away. Traitor. The man ordered his drink. Panam looked at him. “So.” “So.” “You came back.” “I said I would.” “You said you'd ask.” “Yes.” “You did.” “Yes.” “And I said no.” “Yes.” Panam waited. He waited. She frowned. “You're annoying.” “I've been told.” “You don't seem disappointed.” “I would prefer yes.” That was— direct. Panam liked direct. “But?” “But you said no.” Right. Again. Fuck. They drank. The five pets remained nearby. Not intruding. Technically. Emotionally, Panam could feel them leaning into the conversation from several meters away. The man glanced toward Mandi. Then Nova. Vega. Birgitta. Sera. Then Panam. “Can I ask something about how this works?” Panam's eyebrow rose. “That depends.” “I'm not asking about them.” “Good.” “I'm asking about you.” Panam became still. Sera did too. “What about me?” “You don't work.” “No.” “You've made that clear.” “Yes.” “You also let me keep asking.” “Yes.” He took a drink. “So I'm trying to understand whether I'm asking the wrong question.” Panam stared at him. Oh. That was clever. Not manipulative. Not yet. But clever. “What question should you be asking?” “I don't know.” “Then you're doing poorly.” He laughed. “Fair.” Panam smiled. He looked at her for a moment. Then: “Would an offer change the answer?” Five leashes went completely still. Panam felt every one. She did not look at them. “No.” The man nodded. “Okay.” Panam drank. He did too. Then Panam frowned. Because that answer— wasn't entirely accurate. Not because money would buy her. It wouldn't. Not because she wanted to work. She didn't. But— Panam looked at him. She already wanted him. That was the problem. Money could not create that. Money could, however— Fuck. Sera knew. Panam didn't know how. But Sera fucking knew. Panam could feel her looking. Panam sighed. “Wait.” The man looked at her. Panam hated this. “No offer changes a no.” He nodded. “I understand.” “That isn't the same thing.” He waited. Good. No interruption. Panam continued. “If I don't want you, I don't care how many zeros you put behind the number.” “Understood.” “If I don't like the situation, same.” “Yes.” “If something feels wrong, same.” “Yes.” Panam looked at him. He understood where this was going. She could see it. But he let her say it. Fuck him for that too. Panam took another drink. “If the answer isn't already completely no…” The man's eyebrows rose slightly. Behind Panam, somebody inhaled. Panam did not turn. “…then I suppose an offer might be information.” Silence. The man looked at her. “Information.” “Yes.” “Not a price.” “No.” “Not a guarantee.” “No.” “Not even an agreement to consider it.” “Correct.” He nodded. Panam watched him process. Then: “Okay.” That was all. Panam frowned. “You're not making an offer?” “No.” Now she was genuinely surprised. “Why?” “Because I wasn't prepared to make one.” Panam stared. He smiled. “I came here expecting you to say no.” “You're very optimistic.” “I prefer persistent.” “Dangerous word.” “I know.” He looked at her. “I asked whether money could change your answer because I wanted to know whether there was any point in thinking about it.” Panam's eyes narrowed. “And now?” “Now I know.” He finished his drink. Panam stared. “You're leaving again.” “Yes.” “You keep doing that.” “You keep saying no.” Panam laughed. Fair. He put the glass down. “May I ask again?” Panam considered. “Yes.” He nodded. “Good night, Madame.” “Good night.” He turned. Walked away. Five women watched him leave. Panam watched him too. The door closed. Silence. Panam turned around. Five faces. “Oh, no.” Sera smiled. Panam pointed at her. “No.” Sera said nothing. Birgitta looked impressed. Mandi looked delighted. Nova had both eyebrows raised. Vega was biting her lip. Panam looked at all five. “What?” Sera finally spoke. “Information.” Panam closed her eyes. “Fuck.” Mandi: “Not a price.” “Yes.” Nova: “Not a guarantee.” “Yes.” Vega: “Not even an agreement to consider it.” “I was there.” Birgitta smiled. “But not completely no.” Panam opened her eyes. Five smiles. She pointed. “I will drop every leash.” Nobody looked remotely threatened. Sera stepped closer. “Owner.” “What?” “You like him.” Panam sighed. “Yes.” Five expressions changed. Not mockery this time. Warmth. Interest. A little surprise at the clean admission. Panam looked toward the door. “I want him.” Silence. That was harder to say. More honest. And once said— easier. Sera smiled. “Good.” Panam looked at her. “That's it?” “What else?” “I expected abuse.” “Oh, that's coming later.” Panam laughed. “There she is.” Sera leaned gently against her. “The money isn't going to make you want him.” “No.” “If he comes back with an offer.” “When.” Panam froze. Sera's smile became enormous. Panam stared at her. “I said if.” “No.” “I absolutely said if.” Birgitta shook her head. “You said when.” Mandi nodded. Nova nodded. Vega nodded. Panam looked at five unanimous witnesses. “Fuck.” Sera laughed. Panam took her whiskey. Then the other whiskey Suzie had left. Suzie appeared at the far end of the bar. Panam pointed both glasses at her. “You knew.” Suzie smiled. “Market research.” Panam stared. “What?” Suzie nodded toward the door. “He's been asking questions.” Panam slowly lowered the glasses. “What questions?” “Not about your pets.” Good. Suzie continued. “About you.” Less good. “What about me?” Suzie shrugged. “Whether Madame ever takes bookings.” Panam stared. “And what did you say?” “The truth.” “Which truth?” Suzie smiled. “That Madame isn't available.” Panam relaxed. Then Suzie added: “But sometimes she says yes.” Panam stopped. Five leashes twitched. Panam looked at Suzie. “I have never said yes.” “Not yet.” “Suzie.” Suzie laughed. Panam pointed. “You are making a market.” “No.” “Yes.” “No. I'm refusing to tell the market you're impossible.” “That is the same fucking thing.” “Not in Night City.” Panam stared at her. Suzie leaned closer. “He asked whether you had a rate.” Panam went very still. “And?” “I said no.” Good. “He asked what kind of offer would be taken seriously.” Panam waited. Suzie smiled. “I told him to figure it out.” Panam stared. Then slowly— very slowly— started laughing. Sera joined her. Then Mandi. Birgitta. Nova. Vega. Panam put both whiskeys down. “Oh, this is going to be fucking stupid.” Suzie smiled. “Yes.” Panam looked toward the door. He would come back. She knew that now. And next time— he would have a number. Panam picked up one whiskey. Finished it. Then the other. Five pets watched her. Panam looked at them. “Nobody says a fucking word.” Sera smiled. “Yes, owner.” Panam nodded. “Good.” Then Dalia appeared beside Deja. She looked at the group. At Panam. At the five leashes. At the two empty whiskey glasses. “What did I miss?” Five women inhaled. Panam pointed at them. “No.” Dalia looked at Panam. Then Suzie. Suzie smiled. Dalia’s eyes narrowed. “Oh, this looks expensive.” Panam closed her eyes. Fuck. --- ## CHAPTER 21 — EXPENSIVE Panam closed her eyes. Fuck. Dalia waited. Panam kept her eyes closed. Maybe if she ignored reality long enough, reality would become bored and leave. “Panam.” “No.” “I haven't asked anything.” “You're about to.” “Yes.” “No.” Dalia looked at Suzie. Suzie smiled. Panam opened one eye. “Suzie.” “What?” “Do not.” “I haven't said anything.” “Everyone in this fucking building has learned that defense.” Deja appeared beside Dalia. She looked at Panam. Then at the five leashes. Then at the two empty glasses. Then at Suzie. “Oh.” Panam opened both eyes. “Don't.” Deja held up her hands. “I genuinely know nothing.” “Stay that way.” Dalia leaned against the bar. “So.” “No.” “Somebody wants to book you.” Panam stared at Suzie. Suzie shrugged. “I didn't tell her.” Dalia smiled. “Didn't need to.” “How?” Dalia gestured toward the room. Panam followed. People were looking at her. Again. Not everyone. Enough. Fuck. “The rumor is already moving,” Dalia said. “What rumor?” “That someone keeps asking Madame if she's working.” Panam stared. Dalia continued. “And Madame keeps saying no.” “Correct.” “And he keeps coming back.” “Also correct.” “And apparently now he's asking how offers work.” Panam looked at Suzie. Suzie raised both hands. “Night City.” Panam sighed. Dalia smiled. “And apparently Madame told him an offer could be information.” Five pets suddenly found the architecture fascinating. Panam looked at them. “Which one?” Nobody answered. Panam pointed at Sera. “You.” Sera looked offended. “I have been standing here.” “That has never stopped you from causing trouble.” “Fair.” Dalia's smile widened. “Information?” Panam drank from an empty glass. Nothing happened. She looked into it. “Fuck.” Suzie replaced it. Panam looked at her. “Enabler.” “Professional hospitality.” Panam drank. Dalia waited. Panam sighed. “I want him.” Dalia blinked. That changed everything. Not dramatically. Just enough. The teasing softened. “You do?” “Yes.” “Actually?” “Yes.” Dalia looked toward the entrance. “He your type?” Panam considered. “Unfortunately.” Deja laughed. Panam pointed. “Quiet.” Dalia looked at Sera. Sera nodded. “She really does.” Panam turned. “You don't get to confirm my attraction.” “I just did.” Panam sighed. Dalia considered this new information. Then: “So why keep saying no?” Panam looked at her. “Because I don't work.” Dalia looked around. Five collars. Five leashes. Lizzie’s. Suzie. Panam. Then back. “You manage five working joytoys.” “Yes.” “You screen clients.” “Yes.” “You negotiate offers.” “They make offers.” “Fine. You evaluate offers.” “Yes.” “You manage safety.” “Yes.” “You handle aftercare.” “Water, food, break.” Dalia smiled. “Yes.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “What?” “Nothing.” “Banned.” Dalia laughed. “You've built an entire profession around not working.” Panam stared at her. “That is bullshit.” Deja coughed. Sera looked away. Birgitta suddenly needed her drink. Mandi found something fascinating on the ceiling. Nova and Vega both failed to maintain neutral expressions. Panam looked around. “Fuck all of you.” Dalia leaned closer. “I'm not saying you should take clients.” “Good.” “I'm saying the distinction is becoming very funny.” Panam considered. “Still real.” “Absolutely.” Good. Dalia understood. That mattered. Then Dalia smiled again. “So how much?” Panam stared. “I don't have a rate.” “I know.” “Nobody sets one.” “I know.” “I don't want one.” “I know.” Dalia nodded toward the door. “So he has to figure it out.” Panam looked at Suzie. Suzie smiled. Panam looked back at Dalia. “Yes.” Dalia considered that. Then laughed. “Oh, that poor bastard.” Panam frowned. “Why?” “Because he has no fucking reference point.” “Good.” “No, think about it.” “I don't want to.” Dalia ignored her. “He knows what Mandi costs.” Mandi looked over. “Potentially.” “He can find out what normal premium company costs.” “Yes.” “He probably knows Sera is basically a financial hallucination.” Sera nodded thoughtfully. “Fair.” “But you?” Dalia pointed at Panam. “No rate.” “Yes.” “No history.” “Yes.” “No advertised availability.” “Yes.” “No known successful booking.” “Yes.” “And Suzie told him to figure it out.” Panam slowly smiled. “Yeah.” Dalia looked at Suzie. “You're evil.” Suzie smiled. “Thank you.” Panam laughed. Then Birgitta said: “He'll overbid.” Panam looked at her. “What?” Birgitta shrugged. “If he can afford to.” Dalia nodded immediately. “Yep.” Panam frowned. “Why?” Birgitta looked at her owner as if explaining something obvious. “Because underbidding is worse.” Panam considered. Deja joined in. “If he offers too little, he might make himself ridiculous.” Nova nodded. “If he offers too much, the worst thing that happens is you still say no.” Vega: “And he has already established that he can hear no.” Panam stared at all of them. “When did this become a fucking committee?” Sera smiled. “When you acquired five leashes.” Panam looked at her hand. Fuck. Dalia took a drink. “So he needs a number high enough that even if Madame says no, Madame understands he wasn't fucking around.” Silence. Panam did not like how logical that sounded. She liked even less that the thought produced a small pulse of anticipation. Not desire. That already existed. Something else. Curiosity. What did this man think she was worth? Fuck. Sera saw it. Of course she did. “Owner.” “No.” “You're curious.” “No.” Birgitta smiled. “You are.” Panam looked at her. “Water.” Birgitta blinked. “What?” “Drink water.” “I already did.” “Again.” Birgitta laughed. “Yes, owner.” Panam looked at Sera. “Anything else?” Sera smiled. “No.” “Good.” Panam drank. --- The man did not return that night. That was probably wise. Panam still looked at the door more often than necessary. Nobody commented. Not after Panam threatened to assign all five of them mandatory silent meditation. Sera had pointed out that she would simply meditate while smiling. Panam abandoned the plan. Eventually the evening began winding down. Mandi took her leash back first. Then Nova. Then Vega. Sera waited until last. Almost. She held out her hand. Panam gave her the leash. Sera folded it carefully. Then looked at Birgitta. Then at Panam. And smiled. Panam narrowed her eyes. “What?” “Nothing.” “Banned.” “Good night, owner.” “Good night, menace.” Sera kissed Panam's cheek. Then Birgitta's. And left. Panam looked down. One leash remained in her hand. Birgitta's. Birgitta looked at it too. Then at Panam. “Are we going home?” Panam paused. Home. Not technically. Not permanently. But for now— yeah. Panam sighed. “Yeah.” Birgitta smiled. “Good.” Panam held out the leash. Birgitta shook her head. Panam raised an eyebrow. “No?” “Keep it.” Panam looked at the leash. Then at Birgitta. “All the way?” Birgitta's smile brightened. “Yes, owner.” Panam laughed. “Fine.” She gathered the leash comfortably into her hand. Birgitta moved beside her. Suzie noticed. Of course she did. “Good night, Madame.” Panam looked at her. “Don't start.” Suzie smiled. “Wouldn't dream of it.” “Liar.” “Frequently.” Panam stared. Then looked toward Dalia. “You've infected her.” Dalia raised her glass. “Proudly.” Panam and Birgitta left together. --- The leash came off inside Panam's apartment. Not immediately. Birgitta stepped through the door first. Panam followed. Door closed. Locked. Quiet. Birgitta turned. Presented the ring. Panam unclipped her. Click. The leash came free. Birgitta took a breath. Not relief. Transition. Public Birgitta fading into private space. Still Birgitta. Still the cover. Still the voice. Still the face. But no audience. Panam folded the leash. Handed it back. Birgitta looked at it. Then at Panam. “Tomorrow?” Panam smiled. “If you want.” Birgitta took it. “I want.” “Then tomorrow.” Birgitta put the leash with the rest of her things. Things. There were enough of them now that Panam had stopped noticing how much of the apartment Birgitta had quietly occupied. Clothes. Shoes. Cosmetics. A bag near the chair. Another near the wall. Something charging beside Panam's own gear. Panam looked around. Birgitta caught her. “What?” “You practically live here.” Birgitta looked around too. “Yes.” “That wasn't a complaint.” “I know.” Panam laughed. “Good.” Birgitta disappeared toward the shower. Panam opened the fridge. Then stopped. “Water.” Birgitta's head appeared around the doorway. “I wasn't working.” “I know.” “You're doing aftercare on me for existing now?” “Hydration isn't fucking aftercare.” Birgitta smiled. “Yes, owner.” “Fuck you.” “Maybe later.” Panam stared. Birgitta disappeared into the bathroom. Panam laughed despite herself. This fucking week. --- Panam woke the next morning to coffee. That was suspicious. She opened one eye. Birgitta was in the kitchen. Barefoot. Wearing one of Panam's shirts. Panam stared. Birgitta noticed. “Morning.” Panam looked at the shirt. Then at Birgitta. “Is that mine?” “Yes.” “You have clothes.” “Yes.” “A lot of clothes.” “Yes.” “Expensive clothes.” “Yes.” Birgitta took a drink. “This was closer.” Panam closed her eye again. “Thief.” “Pet.” “That isn't a defense.” “It worked in my head.” Panam opened both eyes. Coffee waited for her. She sat up. Birgitta brought it over. Panam accepted. “Thank you.” “You're welcome.” Birgitta sat beside her. For a while, neither said anything. Panam drank. Birgitta leaned back. Normal. Almost absurdly normal. Panam smiled into the cup. Birgitta noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” Birgitta gasped. Panam pointed. “Don't.” Birgitta laughed. Then: “You're thinking about him.” Panam stared at her. “How?” “You were smiling differently.” “That is not evidence.” “It is when I've been living with you.” Panam stopped. Birgitta smiled. There it was again. Living. Panam looked around the apartment. “Practically.” “Practically.” Panam drank. Then sighed. “Yes.” Birgitta waited. “I was thinking about him.” “Still want him?” “Yes.” Immediate. No uncertainty. Birgitta nodded. “Good.” Panam looked at her. “You too?” “What?” “Everyone keeps saying good.” “Because wanting someone is easy.” Panam raised an eyebrow. Birgitta continued. “The difficult part is deciding what you're going to do about it.” Panam considered. “Currently?” “Yes.” “Say no.” Birgitta smiled. “Then say no.” Panam looked at her. No push. No argument. Just— choice. Panam smiled. “Thank you.” Birgitta leaned against her. “You're welcome, owner.” Panam finished the coffee. Then looked at the time. “I need to drive.” “Cargo?” “No.” Birgitta smiled. “Good.” Panam looked offended. “You too?” “I saw what the last one paid.” “That was respectable money.” “It was adorable.” Panam stared. Birgitta smiled sweetly. Panam pointed toward the kitchen. “Give me more coffee.” “Yes, owner.” --- Panam drove. Not cargo. Just drove. There was a difference. She took the truck into the Badlands because she wanted road under the tires and horizon instead of buildings. Birgitta stayed behind. She had her own things to do. Panam didn't ask. That was part of the arrangement too. Panam drove. She listened to the engine. Felt the road. Let Night City shrink behind her. That still worked. Always would. She loved driving. Loved the machine answering through her hands. Loved knowing that if she chose a direction, she could simply go. Madame had not taken that. Nothing could. She stopped on a ridge outside the city. Sat on the hood. Looked at Night City. Thought about him. “Fuck.” She laughed quietly. She wanted him. That remained true. If he appeared here right now with no money involved— yes. Absolutely yes. That answered the important question. Money wasn't creating anything. Good. The rest— the offer— was something different. Recognition, perhaps. A number someone chose without being told. An answer to a question Panam had never asked herself. What would somebody offer for Madame? Not Panam Palmer. Not courier. Not Nomad. Not merc. Madame. The woman with five leashes in one hand. The woman who screened the room. The woman people now apparently asked permission to approach. Panam laughed. “This is fucking ridiculous.” Night City did not disagree. --- That evening, Birgitta was waiting when Panam returned. Not ready. Waiting. There was a difference. Half her wardrobe seemed to have migrated onto Panam's furniture. Panam stopped inside the apartment. “What happened?” Birgitta looked around. “Clothes.” “I can see that.” “I was deciding.” “For Lizzie’s?” “Yes.” Panam looked at the collection. “You've been there every night.” “Yes.” “Why is tonight difficult?” Birgitta smiled. “Maybe something interesting will happen.” Panam stared. “You've been talking to Sera.” “Possibly.” “Traitor.” Birgitta selected an outfit. Panam showered. Changed. When she came back, Birgitta was ready. Smoked copper-grey hair perfect. Very light brown eyes. Scandinavian face. Bright Birgitta smile. Collar visible. Panam looked at her. Birgitta reached for the leash. Held it out. Panam smiled. Took it. Birgitta turned. Presented the ring. Click. One. Birgitta looked back over her shoulder. “Ready, owner?” Panam gathered the leash into her hand. “Yeah.” They left together. --- Lizzie’s noticed them. Of course Lizzie’s noticed them. Madame entering with her first pet already on leash had apparently become a recognizable event. Panam ignored it. Mostly. Mandi was waiting. Leash in hand. Click. Two. Nova. Click. Three. Vega. Click. Four. Sera approached last. She looked at Birgitta. Then Panam. “You came together.” Panam stared. “She practically lives at my apartment.” Sera smiled. Birgitta smiled. Panam pointed at both. “No.” Sera held out her leash. Panam took it. Click. Five. There. Five points of awareness. Five women. One hand. Panam looked down. Then at them. “You are impossible.” Sera smiled. “Happy?” Panam sighed. “Yes.” Five smiles. Panam pointed. “Quietly.” They laughed. Dalia and Deja were already at the bar. Suzie poured Panam whiskey. Panam accepted it. Everything was normal. For approximately six minutes. Then the front door opened. Nobody said anything. Panam knew anyway. She turned. Him. He was dressed well tonight. Not corpo. Not formal. Deliberate. Panam felt attraction arrive before thought. Immediate. Physical. Annoying. Welcome. She smiled. The man saw it. Stopped. For just a fraction of a second. Then smiled back. Sera whispered: “Oh, he saw that.” Panam did not take her eyes off him. “Yes.” Sera became quiet. That admission surprised her. Good. The man walked toward them. Panam waited. Five leashes rested in her hand. Dalia noticed from the bar. Her eyes moved between them. Then she straightened. The man stopped in front of Panam. “Evening.” “Evening.” He looked at her. No hesitation now. “Working?” Panam smiled. “No.” He nodded. “All right.” Panam waited. He did too. Then: “But I have an offer.” Every conversation within several meters became quieter. Panam noticed. So did Suzie. Suzie looked toward the nearest Mox. The Mox moved casually. Not clearing the room. Just reminding people that staring too obviously was unhealthy. Panam looked at the man. “Then make it.” He glanced around. “Privately.” Good answer. Very good answer. Panam nodded toward the back. “Come on.” She took one step. Five leashes followed. The man looked at them. Panam stopped. Right. Five pets. She looked at the women. Then at Dalia. Dalia looked back. Panam considered. No. Not yet. Panam looked at her pets. “Stay here.” Sera nodded. Panam began unclipping. Sera touched Panam's wrist. “Owner.” Panam looked at her. Sera smiled. “Take your time.” Warm. No joke. Panam nodded. “I will.” One by one. Click. Sera. Click. Birgitta. Click. Mandi. Click. Nova. Click. Vega. Five leashes returned to five hands. Panam looked at Dalia. “Watch them.” Dalia's eyebrows rose. Five pets looked at Dalia. Dalia looked at five pets. Then Panam. “Watch them?” “They don't need a handler.” “Correct.” “They don't need permission.” “Correct.” “So what am I watching?” Panam smiled. “The chaos.” Dalia considered the five women. “Fair.” Panam looked at her pets. “Nobody disappears until I'm back.” Five nods. Not a command about work. A request for five friends to stay put while Panam dealt with something unprecedented. They understood. The man waited. Panam nodded toward the back room. They walked. --- The soundproof door closed. Quiet. Just Panam. Him. No audience. No five leashes. No Suzie. No Dalia. Panam leaned against the edge of the table. “Okay.” The man remained standing. “I did what Suzie suggested.” Panam laughed. “That's usually dangerous.” “I noticed.” “She told you to figure it out.” “Yes.” “And?” He looked at her. “I figured it out.” Panam felt anticipation tighten low in her body. Not because of money. Because she already wanted him. The money was— information. She folded her arms. “Before you give me the number.” He waited. “I want to be very fucking clear.” “Okay.” “If I say no, that's the end.” “Yes.” “No counteroffer.” “Yes.” “No adding another zero in the hallway.” He smiled. “No.” “No asking what number would make me say yes.” “Understood.” Panam nodded. “Good.” He looked at her. “Anything else?” “Yes.” “This isn't a rate.” “No.” “If I say yes tonight, I don't suddenly become available next week.” “I know.” “If someone hears what you offered, that doesn't create a fucking menu.” “No.” Panam studied him. Still calm. Still listening. Still attractive. Fuck. “Okay.” The man breathed in. Then gave her the number. Panam stared at him. Silence. She had expected— high. Very high. Something stupid. This was not stupid. This was a neurological event. Panam blinked. “Say that again.” He did. Same number. Panam stared. “You're serious.” “Yes.” “For what?” “Tonight.” Panam's brain restarted. “How long?” “Until morning.” Panam stared. Dinner. Drinks. Private time. Night. Morning. Not a rushed room. Not two hours. An evening. A night. With a man she already wanted. And the number— Fuck. Panam looked at him. “Fifty million.” “Yes.” Panam laughed once. Sharp. Disbelieving. “Fifty.” “Yes.” “Million.” “Yes.” “Eddies.” He smiled. “Yes, Panam.” She pushed away from the table. Walked three steps. Turned. Looked at him. “Why?” He considered. Then answered simply. “Because I wanted my offer to be taken seriously.” Panam stared. That was Birgitta's logic. Dalia's. Nova's. All of them. Underbid and become ridiculous. Overbid and maybe still hear no. He had chosen not to be ridiculous. Panam laughed again. “Jesus fucking Christ.” The man waited. No pressure. No smile now. Just waiting. Panam looked at him. She wanted him. That answer had existed before the number. That was still the most important thing in the room. Would she want tonight with him if the number were zero? Yes. Fuck. Yes. Would she take fifty million for something she already wanted? Panam started laughing. The man smiled cautiously. “What?” Panam shook her head. “I'm thinking about cargo.” He looked confused. “Cargo.” “Yes.” “All right.” Panam did the math. Not precisely. She didn't need to. Fuel. Repairs. Ammo. Risk. Hours. Days. Weeks. Months. How many fucking cargo runs? Panam looked at him. Then at the soundproof door. Then back. “Stay here.” His eyebrows rose. “Okay.” Panam walked out. --- The door opened. Every eye found her. Five pets. Dalia. Deja. Suzie. Probably half of Lizzie’s despite the Mox pretending otherwise. Panam walked toward the bar. Dalia read her face. Immediately. “What?” Panam stopped in front of her. Dalia's eyes narrowed. “How much?” Panam looked at the five women. Then at Dalia. “Fifty million.” Silence. Absolute. Dalia stared. “No.” Panam blinked. “What?” “No.” Dalia looked genuinely offended on Panam's behalf. “No. Panam, no.” Panam started smiling. Dalia pointed toward the back room. “I don't care how hot he is. Nobody needs fifty million worth of—” Panam raised an eyebrow. Dalia stopped. The number finally reached the rest of her brain. Her expression changed. Slowly. She looked at Panam. Then at the five pets. Then at Panam again. “Fifty?” “Yes.” “Million?” “Yes.” Dalia stared for another second. Then held out both hands. “Give me the fucking leashes.” Lizzie’s exploded. --- ## CHAPTER 22 — GIVE ME THE FUCKING LEASHES Lizzie’s exploded. Not loudly at first. There was one perfect second in which everyone who had heard Dalia simply stared at her. Panam included. Dalia still had both hands out. “Come on.” Panam blinked. “You just told me no.” “That was before fifty million.” Mandi folded in half laughing. Nova covered her face. Vega turned away from the bar. Birgitta made a strangled sound. Sera looked at Dalia with something approaching religious admiration. Deja took one careful step away from her. Dalia noticed. “Don't you fucking dare.” “I said nothing.” “You were about to.” “I was thinking.” “Stop.” Deja smiled. Panam stared at Dalia's hands. Then at her face. “You understand they're not fucking luggage.” Dalia looked offended. “Yes.” “They don't transfer ownership because I have a date.” “I know.” “They don't need your permission to do anything.” “I know.” “They don't—” “Panam.” “What?” “Give me the fucking leashes.” Another wave of laughter moved through the group. Panam tried not to smile. Failed. “You are enjoying this.” “Immensely.” “Bitch.” “Yes.” Dalia wiggled her fingers. Panam looked at the five women. They were still holding their own leashes. Waiting. Not for Dalia. For her. Panam breathed out. “All right.” Sera stepped forward first. Of course she did. She offered her leash to Panam. Panam took it. Sera turned. Click. Birgitta next. Click. Mandi. Click. Nova. Click. Vega. Click. Five again. Panam gathered the leads into one hand. Familiar weight. Then she looked at Dalia. Dalia held out her hands. Panam did not give them to her. Not yet. “Temporary.” Dalia's expression softened. “I know.” “Handler.” “Yes.” “Not owner.” “I know, Panam.” “If any of them wants her leash back, she gets it.” “Immediately.” “If one of them wants to work—” Dalia waited. Panam looked at the five women. Then back at Dalia. “Normal.” Dalia nodded. “Normal.” “Thirty-two an hour.” “Yes.” “No creative economics.” Dalia smiled. “No fifty-million market research.” “Fuck you.” “Had to.” Panam pointed at her. “Nothing long tonight.” “Define long.” “No three-hour corpo adventures. No all-night bookings. No dinner, reception, hotel, breakfast and fucking lunch.” Birgitta looked innocent. “That was one time.” Panam turned. “It was yesterday.” “Still one time.” Sera laughed. Panam looked back at Dalia. “Keep it simple.” “Short bookings. Thirty-two an hour.” “Exactly.” “And they still decide.” Panam stared at her. “Obviously.” “I know. I wanted to hear you say it.” Panam's expression softened. “Yeah. They still decide.” Dalia nodded. “Got it.” Panam looked at her pets. “You hear that?” Mandi smiled. “Madame goes on one fifty-million-eddie date and suddenly we're the budget division.” Panam stared. Nova lost it. Vega leaned against her. Birgitta looked thoughtfully at Mandi. “Thirty-two thousand per hour does sound rather economical now.” “Do not fucking start.” Sera smiled. “Owner.” “What?” “Your market position may have changed.” “My market position can fuck itself.” “Apparently for fifty million.” Panam closed her eyes. Dalia laughed so hard her hands dropped. “Give me those before I change my fucking mind.” Panam opened her eyes. Then handed over the five leashes. Dalia's hands lowered slightly under the combined weight. “Oh.” Panam smiled. “What?” “They're heavier than they look.” Sera looked at her. “Responsibility usually is.” That quieted Dalia. Briefly. She adjusted the leads carefully. No wrapping. No pulling. Just holding. Five women stood around her. Dalia looked at them. Then Panam. “Okay.” Panam studied her. The joke remained. But underneath it— Mai. Reliable. Steady. Someone Panam trusted. “Okay,” Panam said. Dalia nodded. “Go negotiate your fifty-million-eddie date.” Panam stared. “Fuck.” “Yes.” “Stop making it sound like that.” “How should I make it sound?” Panam considered. Nothing arrived. Dalia smiled. “Exactly.” Suzie caught Panam's wrist lightly as she passed. Panam stopped. Suzie wasn't smiling now. “Want Mox in the room?” Panam considered. “No.” “Outside?” “Yes.” Suzie nodded. “Done.” Panam looked toward the soundproof room. Then back at Suzie. “If this goes forward, I want you to know where we're going.” “Obviously.” “Client identity.” “Yes.” “Vehicle.” “Yes.” “Hotel.” “Yes.” “Room.” “Yes.” “Check-in schedule.” Suzie nodded. “And an exit call.” Panam smiled. “Yeah.” Suzie squeezed her wrist once. Then released it. “Go.” Panam walked toward the back room. Behind her, Mandi said: “Dalia?” “What?” “If I work, do I have to call you Madame?” “No.” “Temporary Madame?” “No.” “Substitute Madame?” “I will fucking unclasp this leash myself.” Mandi laughed. “You're learning.” “Fuck all of you.” Panam entered the back room smiling. --- The man noticed. “That sounds promising.” Panam closed the door. “Don't get ahead of yourself.” His smile disappeared. “Understood.” Good. Panam walked back to the table. She did not sit. Neither did he. “Fifty million gets my attention.” He nodded. “It does not buy the answer.” “I know.” “Good.” Panam folded her arms. “Now we talk about what you're actually asking for.” “Dinner.” “You said until morning.” “Yes.” “So dinner isn't the whole answer.” “No.” Panam waited. He understood. “Dinner. Drinks if you want them. My hotel after, if you still want to come. Breakfast in the morning.” “And between hotel and breakfast?” He met her eyes. “Whatever we both want.” Better. Much better. “No assumptions?” “No.” “No performance list?” “No.” “No bullshit about what fifty million entitles you to?” “It entitles me to whatever you agree to.” Panam shook her head. “No.” He paused. Then understood. “It entitles me to nothing until you agree.” “Better.” “And after you agree, only what you keep agreeing to.” Panam stared at him. Fuck. He had learned the language fast. “Yeah.” He waited. Panam continued. “Where?” He named the hotel. Panam knew it. Expensive. Very. Good security. Neutral enough. “Suite?” “Yes.” “Anyone else there?” “No.” “Security?” “Hotel security. Mine stays outside the floor unless I call.” “You have personal security.” “Yes.” “Armed?” “Yes.” “Any reason they're going to get nervous when Mox checks them?” “No.” “Any reason Mox is going to find something you should have told me?” “No.” Panam watched him. No hesitation. “Recording?” “No.” “BD?” “No.” “Guests?” “No.” “Anything unusual?” “No.” “How much have you had to drink?” “One.” Panam had already seen that much. Nothing in his movements suggested more. No chemical sharpness. No looseness. His visible chrome didn't concern her. She didn't need an interrogation. She needed enough. And she had enough. Panam moved closer. Close enough to read him. His breathing changed. Small. There. She smiled. He noticed. Fuck. She liked that. “You want me.” “Yes.” “Good.” His eyebrows rose slightly. Panam smiled wider. “I want you too.” That landed. Harder than the fifty million had landed on her. Good. “But wanting you doesn't make you safe.” “I know.” “And money doesn't make you safe.” “I know.” “So Mox verifies everything.” “Yes.” “Payment before we leave.” “Yes.” “All of it.” “Yes.” “Clean transfer.” “Yes.” “If I leave at any point, we're done.” “Yes.” “No refund.” “Yes.” “If dinner is all you get—” “No refund.” “If I go to the hotel and change my mind at the door—” “No refund.” Panam smiled. “Learning.” “I've been paying attention.” That landed too. Panam looked at him for several seconds. Then: “Full identity.” He gave it. Panam sent it to Suzie. “Hotel details.” He sent them. “Security.” Again. Panam forwarded everything. They waited. The man did not complain. A response arrived. **IDENTITY CLEAN ENOUGH FOR NC. HOTEL CONFIRMED. SUITE CONFIRMED. SECURITY EXISTS. MOX WILL VERIFY ON ARRIVAL.** Then another. **AND YES, FIFTY FUCKING MILLION. I CHECKED TWICE.** Panam covered her mouth. The man raised an eyebrow. “Suzie?” “Yes.” “Good news?” “She thinks you're insane.” “That seems reasonable.” Panam lowered her hand. “She's not alone.” He waited. Panam looked at him. This was the actual moment. Not the number. Not the stable outside. Not Dalia's hands. Her answer. She could still say no. Nothing would break. She could walk outside. Take her leashes back. Go home with Birgitta. Wake up tomorrow. Drive. Easy. Then Panam imagined dinner. His hand near hers. That calm smile. The hotel. The door closing. No audience. No stable. No Madame unless she wanted Madame there. Just him. Her. And whatever happened because they both wanted it. Panam smiled. “Yes.” The man went completely still. That was satisfying. “Yeah?” Panam's smile widened. “Don't make me repeat myself.” He smiled. Real. Not victorious. Happy. That mattered. “All right.” Panam pointed at him. “Don't get smug.” “I wasn't planning to.” “You're thinking about it.” “Maybe a little.” “Dangerous.” “I've been told.” Panam shook her head. Then opened the door. --- Dalia stood where Panam had left her. Approximately. Five leashes still in hand. Sera beside her. Birgitta leaning against the bar. Mandi, Nova and Vega had apparently spent the entire interval explaining to Dalia why holding five leashes was substantially more entertaining than she had expected. Dalia looked exhausted already. Panam smiled. Dalia's eyes narrowed. “Well?” Panam walked closer. Five faces turned toward her. Suzie too. Deja. Several people pretending not to listen. “I said yes.” Chaos. Mandi screamed. Nova grabbed Vega. Birgitta's mouth fell open. Sera closed her eyes and smiled. Dalia stared. Then: “Oh, fuck.” Panam laughed. “Yes.” Dalia lifted the leashes. “Madame is working.” “No.” “Oh, absolutely.” “Do not.” Suzie leaned across the bar. “Working?” Panam pointed. “Fuck you.” The man emerged from the back room. The group turned toward him. He stopped. Panam watched him understand that fifty million had not purchased immunity from Lizzie’s. Dalia looked him over. Then at Panam. Then back. “You.” “Yes?” Dalia lifted the five leashes. “These are your fault.” He looked at them. Then Panam. “I feel like I'm missing substantial context.” “You are.” “Should I ask?” “No.” “Good.” Dalia nodded approvingly. Panam groaned. “Stop evaluating him.” “I'm holding five leashes. Apparently I've become management.” “You are temporary logistics.” Deja laughed. Dalia looked at her. “Quiet.” Panam smiled. “See? You're already becoming me.” Dalia looked horrified. “Take them back.” “Nope.” “Bitch.” “Yep.” Suzie pushed away from the bar. “Payment.” The room settled slightly. The man nodded. “Of course.” The secure transfer took less than a minute. Verification took longer. Then the number appeared. Fifty million. Panam stared. Suzie checked once. Twice. Then looked at Panam. “Holy shit.” Panam leaned closer. Actually there. Actually hers. “How many fucking cargo runs?” Suzie looked at her. “A lot.” “Helpful.” “I run a braindance club, not a freight company.” Panam laughed. Fifty million. For a night she already wanted. Night City was broken. Panam loved it. Suzie closed the terminal. “Verified.” Panam looked at the man. He looked at her. “Okay.” “Okay.” Suzie held up one finger. “Check-ins.” Panam sighed. “I know.” “Humor me.” Panam named them. Arrival. After dinner. Hotel. Before sleep if the evening reached that point. Morning. Immediate exit call if anything changed. Suzie nodded. “Mox?” Pinned. Ready. The man listened without complaint. Suzie looked at him. “If she wants out, you don't argue.” “I know.” “If we arrive?” “I open the door.” Suzie nodded. “Good.” Then Panam turned toward Dalia. “Business.” Dalia's expression changed immediately. “Normal?” “Normal.” “Thirty-two.” “Thirty-two.” “One hour preferred.” “Maximum two?” Panam considered. “Yes. Nothing longer tonight.” Dalia nodded. “No weird shit.” “Use your eyes.” “I know.” “Mox handles venue screening.” “I know.” “Ask what matters.” Dalia smiled. “I've watched you.” Panam stared. “That's concerning.” “It should be.” Panam looked at her pets. “If you want to work, work.” Five expressions brightened. “But tonight stays simple.” Mandi saluted. “Cheap and cheerful.” Panam stared. “Thirty-two thousand is not cheap.” Mandi looked toward the back room. Then at Panam. “Perspective.” Panam opened her mouth. Closed it. “Fuck you.” “Yes, owner.” Sera smiled. “And offers?” Panam looked at Dalia. Dalia understood. “Tonight?” “Flat.” “Thirty-two per hour.” “Exactly.” “No auction.” “No market experiments.” “No absurd escalation.” Dalia glanced at the man. “Already hit quota.” Panam laughed. “Exactly.” “And aftercare.” Panam pointed at her. “Say it.” Dalia rolled her eyes. “Water. Food. Break.” “In that order.” “Yes, mother.” Panam stared. Dalia smiled. Panam looked at the five pets. “Everyone good?” Five variations of yes. Panam stopped at Birgitta. “Home tonight?” Birgitta smiled. “I'll manage.” “Message me.” “I will.” Then Sera. Sera looked at her. “Go.” Panam paused. Sera's expression softened. “Seriously. We've got this.” Panam nodded. Then looked at Dalia. Dalia lifted the five leashes slightly. “I've got them.” “Handler.” “Handler.” “Not owner.” “Panam.” “What?” “Go fuck your fifty-million-eddie man.” Silence. The man coughed behind her. Birgitta bent forward laughing. Mandi nearly fell off the bar. Deja covered her face. Suzie simply walked away. Sera had tears in her eyes. Dalia realized what she had said. “Oh, for fuck's sake.” Panam laughed so hard she had to put one hand on Dalia's shoulder. “You walked into that one.” “I know.” “Again.” “I KNOW.” Panam straightened. Still laughing. Then kissed Dalia's cheek. “Thank you.” That stopped her. Dalia looked at Panam. Warm. “Have fun.” Panam smiled. “I intend to.” She turned. The man waited. Panam walked toward him. Stopped. Looked back once. Five leashes. Dalia. Her pets. Suzie behind the bar. Deja laughing. Birgitta smiling. Sera already watching the room. Normal business could continue. Nothing had stopped because Madame had finally decided to have some fun of her own. Panam looked at the man. “Dinner.” He offered his hand. Panam looked at it. Then took it. “Dinner.” They walked toward the door. Behind them: “Working?” Panam stopped. Turned. A woman had approached Nova. Dalia looked at the woman. Then Nova. Then, with five leashes still gathered in one hand: “One hour?” The woman nodded. Dalia looked at Nova. Nova smiled. “Yes.” “Thirty-two thousand.” “Fine.” Dalia looked at Nova again. “Your call.” Nova nodded. “Yes.” Dalia unclipped her. Click. Nova took her own leash. Panam stared. Dalia looked across the room at her. “What?” Panam smiled. “Nothing.” Dalia pointed toward the door. “GO.” Panam laughed. Then left with her fifty-million-eddie client while, behind her, Madame's stable simply kept working. --- ## CHAPTER 23 — WORTH IT The first thing Panam noticed was the car. She stopped outside Lizzie’s. Looked at it. Then at him. “Oh.” He looked at the car. Then at her. “Good oh?” Panam walked around the front. “Maybe.” “That sounds dangerous.” “It should.” The car was expensive. Obviously. But restrained. Dark. Low. Fast without desperately announcing it. The kind of machine built by people who understood that performance did not require illuminated vanity. Panam crouched slightly near the front wheel. He watched her. “Are you inspecting my car?” “Yes.” “I wasn't warned there would be an inspection.” “There wasn't one until I saw the car.” Panam straightened. “Factory?” “Mostly.” She turned slowly. “Mostly.” He smiled. “There it is.” “What?” “The dangerous part.” “What did you change?” “Suspension.” Panam looked back at the car. “Why?” “Because the factory setup was too soft.” Panam stared at him. He waited. “How much?” He told her. Panam's eyebrows rose. “That much?” “Yes.” “You actually drive it.” “Yes.” “Good.” He laughed. “That was apparently a test.” “You're doing better than expected.” “Comforting.” Panam looked through the windshield. Then at him. “Transmission?” He answered. Panam smiled. “Okay.” “Another test?” “No.” She walked toward the passenger side. “That one was curiosity.” He opened the door. Panam paused. Looked at him. Then got in. --- They were three blocks away when Panam said: “You changed the suspension and nothing else?” He glanced toward her. “I said mostly.” “Which means no.” “Which means mostly.” “Engine.” “A little.” Panam turned toward him. “How little?” He told her. Panam stared. “That is not a little.” “It is relative.” “No.” “Yes.” “No.” He laughed. Panam looked ahead again. “You're lying to yourself.” “I prefer optimistic accounting.” “You paid fifty million eddies for tonight.” “Exactly.” Panam laughed. “Fair.” He drove well. Panam noticed that too. Not aggressively. Not timidly. No pointless acceleration between lights. No performance for the woman sitting beside him. He simply knew the car. Where its edges were. How quickly it answered. How much space it needed. Panam relaxed into the seat. “Manual mode.” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because sometimes I want the gearbox to do what I tell it.” Panam looked at him. “Good answer.” He smiled. “You grade everything?” “Tonight?” “Yes.” “Apparently.” “And my score?” Panam considered. “Still alive.” “High praise.” “Don't get greedy.” --- The restaurant was expensive. Not theatrical. Good. Private tables. Good security. Enough space that conversations belonged to the people having them. Panam approved without saying so. They sat. A server appeared. Drinks. Food. No complications. Once they were alone again, he looked at Panam. “So.” “So.” “Am I allowed to ask about cars?” Panam smiled. “You're allowed to ask about cars.” “Good.” “Personal questions?” He understood immediately. “No.” “Good.” No explanation. No negotiation. No attempt to find the boundary by touching it repeatedly. Just— no. Panam liked that. A lot. He took a drink. “Favorite manufacturer?” Panam laughed. “That's a terrible question.” “Why?” “Because you're asking brand instead of car.” “Fine. Favorite car.” “Also terrible.” “Why?” “Favorite for what?” He smiled. “All right.” Panam leaned back. “Now you're learning.” “City.” She answered. “Track.” Different answer. “Long-distance comfort.” Another. “Something completely irresponsible.” Panam's smile widened. “Oh.” “There it is again.” “What?” “The dangerous oh.” Panam named one. He stared at her. “No.” “Yes.” “That thing is trying to kill whoever drives it.” “Exactly.” “That isn't a positive quality.” “It is if you win.” He laughed. Panam took a drink. “What about you?” He answered. Panam stared. “Boring.” “Reliable.” “Boring.” “Fast.” “Boring fast.” “That doesn't make sense.” “It makes perfect sense.” He argued. Panam disagreed. Dinner arrived. The argument continued. --- Twenty minutes later neither of them had mentioned the fifty million. Panam noticed. She also noticed she liked that. They had moved from cars to engines. From engines to manufacturers that had ruined perfectly good designs with unnecessary software. From there to dashboards. That became surprisingly hostile. “No.” He smiled. “You haven't seen it.” “I've seen enough.” “You can't judge an interface from a photograph.” “I absolutely can.” “No.” “If I need three menus to change something I should be able to touch directly, the designer should be shot.” “That seems disproportionate.” “Fine. Fired.” “Better.” “Then shot.” He laughed. Panam smiled into her whiskey. This was easy. That was unexpected. Not intimate. Not personal. Easy. There was a difference. He did not know where she lived. He did not know where she had grown up. He did not know what she had done before Madame. He had not asked. And Panam had no intention of telling him. Yet they had been arguing for nearly an hour. Perfect. --- Her holo pinged. Panam checked it. Dalia. **NOVA BACK. WATER. FOOD. BREAK.** A second message. **MANDI WORKING. ONE HOUR. 32.** Panam smiled. Typed: **GOOD.** Dalia responded immediately. **I HATE HOW EASY THIS IS.** Panam: **YOU'RE WELCOME.** Three dots. **BITCH.** Panam laughed. He looked at her. “Everything okay?” “Yes.” That was all she gave him. He nodded. That was all he asked. Another point. Panam put the holo away. “So.” He looked at her. “You said that monstrosity has good steering.” “It does.” “Prove it.” He smiled. “How?” Panam pointed toward the table. “Explain how.” He did. Panam attacked every weakness in the argument. Dinner continued. --- Afterward, he asked: “Hotel?” Panam looked at him. “Not yet.” He waited. Panam looked toward the street. “Walk.” He smiled. “Walk.” No question why. No attempt to redirect. They walked. Night City flowed around them. Noise. Light. Traffic. Panam liked walking beside him. That was new information. Useful information. They passed a dealership window. Panam stopped. He stopped beside her. Inside sat a ridiculous silver sports car. Panam looked at it. He looked at it. “No.” Panam turned. “What?” “No.” “You don't even know what I was going to say.” “You were going to say you like it.” “I do.” “Then no.” Panam laughed. “You have terrible taste.” “You chose the automotive equivalent of a knife fight earlier.” “And?” “And now that.” Panam looked through the glass. “Look at it.” “I am.” “Actually look.” “I am.” “No, you're seeing the badge.” “I'm seeing an engineering problem wearing jewelry.” Panam stared. Then laughed. “That was good.” “Thank you.” “Still wrong.” “Obviously.” They kept walking. A block later their hands brushed. Neither reacted. Another half block. Again. Panam looked at him. He looked at her. Panam reached over. Took his hand. He smiled. She pointed ahead. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “Good.” His fingers closed around hers. They continued walking. --- Panam's holo pinged again. Suzie. **CHECK-IN.** Panam typed: **GOOD. WALKING.** Immediate response. **GOOD.** Then: **VEGA WORKING. ONE HOUR. DALIA HAS IT.** Panam smiled. Put the holo away. No explanation. None requested. His thumb moved once across the back of her hand. Panam looked down. Then at him. He stopped the movement. Question. Panam squeezed his hand. Answer. They walked on. --- The hotel came later. Exactly the one verified earlier. Security exactly where expected. His people exactly where promised. Panam watched everything. He let her. No comments. No jokes. No attempt to hurry her. The elevator doors closed. Just them. Panam looked at him. He looked back. The entire evening shifted. Not suddenly. Nothing dramatic happened. There was simply no table between them anymore. No street. No restaurant. No conversation about cars to give their attraction somewhere safe to sit. Panam stepped closer. He remained still. Waiting. She liked that. Panam caught his jacket. Pulled him down. Kissed him. His response was immediate. Warm. Controlled. His hand touched her waist. Stopped. Panam moved closer. His arm tightened. The kiss deepened. Panam felt herself smile against his mouth. He noticed. Of course he did. They separated slightly. “What?” “Nothing.” He smiled. Panam narrowed her eyes. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “Good.” The elevator chimed. Panam released his jacket. He looked at it. Then at her. “You wrinkled it.” Panam stepped out. “Fifty million.” He laughed. “That isn't how that works.” “Tonight it is.” --- The suite was clean. Exactly as promised. Panam checked it anyway. Not obsessively. Thoroughly. Living area. Bedroom. Bathroom. Balcony. Exits. No surprises. No unexpected guests. No recording equipment she could see. Nothing that made the back of her neck tighten. He waited. When she finished, Panam sent the next check-in. **AT HOTEL. GOOD.** Suzie: **GOOD.** Then Dalia: **STOP CHECKING THE STABLE. I HAVE THEM.** Panam had not asked. She smiled. Another message. **MANDI BACK. AFTERCARE DONE. VEGA STILL OUT. EVERYONE FINE.** Panam typed: **THANK YOU.** Dalia: **GO AWAY.** Panam laughed. She put the holo face down. Then looked at him. He was standing near the window. Waiting. Still. No expectation performed as entitlement. Panam walked toward him. Stopped close. “You haven't asked me anything personal.” “No.” “Why?” “You told me not to.” Simple. Panam studied him. “That's it?” “Yes.” Panam smiled. “Good.” He looked at her. “Can I ask something not personal?” “Depends.” “Did you have fun tonight?” Panam's smile widened. “Yes.” “So did I.” “Good.” Silence. Panam looked at his mouth. Then his eyes. “I still want you.” His breathing changed. Small. Immediate. Panam felt the answer in herself too. Still there. Money had not created it. Dinner had not created it. The car argument had probably made it worse. But the attraction had been there before any of those things. Good. She reached up. Touched his jaw. His hand settled lightly against her waist. Panam closed the remaining distance. The kiss was slower than the elevator. No interruption waiting above them. No door about to open. No audience anywhere. She felt his hand move along her back. Pause. Panam leaned into it. Continue. Her fingers slid beneath the edge of his jacket. She pushed it from his shoulders. It fell onto a chair. Better than the floor. “Learning,” he murmured. Panam laughed softly. “Shut up.” She kissed him again. Her own jacket followed. Then time stopped being organized into useful pieces. A kiss. Another. His mouth against her neck. Panam's hands moving over his shoulders. A pause long enough to look at each other. Choice. Then closer. Clothing gradually abandoned. Warm skin. His hand stopping once. Panam guiding it where she wanted it. No misunderstanding. No hurry. They moved toward the bedroom because both of them were already moving that way. Panam laughed when the back of her knee found the mattress sooner than expected. He caught her. She pulled him down with her. The city burned beyond the windows. Neither looked at it. --- Later, neither spoke. For a while. Panam lay partly against him. His arm rested around her. Her leg across his. Their breathing slowing together. Warm. Comfortable. Still. Exactly the kind of stillness that only worked when nobody was wondering whether the other person regretted anything. Panam wasn't. Not even slightly. She smiled. His arm tightened gently. No question. Good. Panam closed her eyes. A minute passed. Maybe two. Then he said: “Can I ask one question?” Panam opened one eye. “Depends.” “Still not personal.” “Go.” He waited. “Worth it?” Panam stared at him. Then started laughing. He groaned. “I realized how stupid that sounded immediately.” Panam laughed harder. “You fucking walked into that.” “I know.” “Fifty million?” “I know.” “You want a customer review?” “No.” “Five stars?” “Please stop.” Panam buried her face against his shoulder, still laughing. He laughed too. Eventually she settled. Quiet returned. Panam traced one idle line across his chest. Then stopped. “This?” He looked at her. Panam shifted closer. “This was worth doing.” His expression softened. No victory. No satisfaction about the money. Just understanding. “Good.” Panam rested her head against him again. That was enough. --- Her holo vibrated. Panam reached for it. Dalia. **ALL FIVE ACCOUNTED FOR. TWO WORKED. NORMAL 32. BOTH AFTERCARE DONE. BIRGITTA HEADING HOME. EVERYONE FINE.** Panam smiled. **THANK YOU.** Dalia: **YOU OWE ME.** Panam looked around the suite. At the discarded clothes. At the man beside her. At the evening that had gone far better than she had expected. Then typed: **I CAN AFFORD IT.** The answer arrived immediately. **YOU BITCH.** Panam burst out laughing. He looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” He accepted that immediately. “Okay.” Panam looked at him. That— again. No fishing. No _who?_ No _what happened?_ No attempt to turn one laugh into access. She put the holo down. Then returned to his arms. Several quiet minutes passed. Eventually: “Madame?” Panam opened her eyes. That was allowed. He knew Madame. He had met Madame. He had spent fifty million eddies asking Madame for one night. “Yeah?” “Good night.” Panam smiled. “Good night.” She closed her eyes. No biography. No past. No life beyond the boundary she had drawn. He didn't need any of it. He had the part Panam had chosen to give him. Tonight. And, unexpectedly— Panam smiled against his shoulder. It had been a very good night. --- ## CHAPTER 24 — MORNING Panam woke slowly. Warm. Comfortable. Not alone. For several seconds she did nothing. Eyes closed. Breathing easy. A body beside hers. An arm resting loosely across her waist. Memory returned without urgency. Dinner. Cars. Walking. Elevator. Hotel. Him. Panam smiled. Fuck. Still good. That was useful information. She opened her eyes. Morning light had replaced Night City's neon. The room looked less dramatic now. Hotels always did. At night, glass and height made everything feel cinematic. In daylight, someone had to find their pants. Panam looked toward the floor. His were near the chair. Hers— Panam frowned. Where the fuck— She lifted her head. There. Half beneath the bed. “How?” Beside her, he moved. “What?” Panam pointed. “My pants.” He looked. Then at her. “I don't know.” “They're under the bed.” “I can see that.” “How?” “I was occupied.” Panam stared. Then laughed. “Fair.” He smiled. “Morning.” “Morning.” Neither moved. That was nice too. No awkward scramble. No immediate separation. No question hanging in the room about whether last night had been a mistake. Panam knew her answer. Apparently he did too. His hand moved slightly against her waist. Stopped. Panam noticed. Even now. Question first. She shifted closer. Answer. His arm settled around her again. Panam rested her head against his shoulder. For another minute, maybe two, they stayed exactly there. Then: “Coffee.” He laughed softly. “Good morning to you too.” “Coffee.” “I can order it.” Panam lifted her head. “Can you order good coffee?” “That sounds like another test.” “It is.” He reached for the hotel terminal. Panam watched. He ordered coffee. Breakfast. Then looked at her. “Anything specific?” Panam considered. Added food. He nodded. No commentary. Order sent. Panam settled back. “Acceptable.” “Still alive?” “For now.” “Excellent.” --- Her holo was on the bedside table. Panam picked it up. Messages. Suzie first. **MORNING CHECK.** Sent twelve minutes ago. Panam replied. **ALIVE. GOOD.** Suzie answered almost immediately. **GOOD.** Then: **DALIA SURVIVED.** Panam smiled. Dalia had left several messages. The first: **VEGA BACK. WATER FOOD BREAK.** Then: **SERA DECLINED TWO. MANDI DECLINED ONE. BIRGITTA DIDN'T WORK.** Then: **ALL DONE. I AM NEVER MOCKING YOUR JOB AGAIN.** Three minutes later: **THAT IS A LIE. I ABSOLUTELY AM.** Panam laughed. The man looked over. She shook her head. “Nothing.” “Okay.” Panam continued. One message from Birgitta. **Home. Everything good. Sleep well, owner. ❤️** Panam stopped. Home. She smiled. Good. Birgitta had gone back to the apartment. Of course she had. Panam typed: **Morning. Everything good here. Be back later.** Birgitta responded almost immediately. **Good morning, owner. Coffee exists here too. Just saying.** Panam smiled. **Threat?** **Information.** Panam laughed. Fuck. She put the holo down. “Good morning?” he asked. Panam looked at him. “Yes.” That was enough. He nodded. --- Coffee arrived. It passed. Barely. Panam told him so. He looked personally wounded. “This is excellent coffee.” “This is expensive coffee.” “Those aren't mutually exclusive.” “No. But they're not synonyms either.” He took another drink. “I like it.” “You paid fifty million for one night.” He stopped. Panam pointed at his cup. “Your financial judgment is already compromised.” He stared. Then laughed. “That was unfair.” “It was accurate.” Breakfast arrived shortly after. They ate in the sitting area near the windows. Panam wore the hotel robe. He had found pants. Probably wise. Morning made conversation different. Less charged. Still easy. They returned to cars without planning to. A discussion about electric drivetrains became an argument about artificial exhaust notes. “Absolutely not.” “They serve a purpose.” “No.” “They give feedback.” “Then engineer better feedback.” “Sound is feedback.” “Fake sound is theater.” “All engine sound is engineered.” Panam pointed her fork at him. “Careful.” “Am I wrong?” “Yes.” “How?” Panam explained. At length. He interrupted twice. Both times incorrectly. Panam corrected him. Both times aggressively. By the end he was smiling. “What?” “Nothing.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “That is my line.” “I learned it from Madame.” Panam paused. Then smiled. “Dangerous.” “I've been told.” --- Eventually breakfast ended. Coffee remained. Panam looked at the time. No rush. But the night had an edge. Morning. That had been part of the offer. They had reached it. She liked that. Clear boundaries were useful. He looked at her. Panam caught it. “What?” “Can I ask something?” “Depends.” “Not personal.” “Go.” He took a moment. “Can I ask you again sometime?” Panam became still. There it was. Not: When can I see you? Not: How much next time? Not: Can we make this regular? Just— permission to ask. Panam considered. “Yes.” His expression changed slightly. Not triumph. Good. “But.” He nodded. “This does not establish a price.” “I know.” “Fifty million is not my rate.” “I know.” “There is no rate.” “I know.” “And if you walk into Lizzie’s tomorrow with another fifty million—” “You can say no.” “Yes.” “And if I offer more?” Panam's eyes narrowed. He smiled. “Still no if you say no.” “Good.” “I was paying attention.” “You keep doing that.” “I recommend it.” Panam laughed. Then leaned back. “You can ask.” “Thank you.” “And I might say no.” “I know.” “Probably will.” “I know.” Panam studied him. Still fine. No disappointment weaponized into pressure. No negotiation. Good. She drank the last of her coffee. Then: “Also.” “Yes?” “If you tell anyone what you paid—” “I won't.” Panam stopped. “You didn't let me finish.” “I don't need to.” “Good.” He looked at her. “I assume people at Lizzie’s already know.” Panam thought about Dalia shouting with five leashes. “Unfortunately.” He laughed. “But it won't come from me.” “Good.” Panam stood. “Then we're done.” He looked up. There was a fraction of surprise. Not hurt. Just transition. Then he nodded. “All right.” Panam smiled. “You expected something more dramatic?” “No.” “Good.” She walked toward the bedroom. “I'm stealing the shower.” “Technically the room includes it.” Panam stopped. Looked back. He realized his mistake. “Never mind.” “Learning.” “Yes, Madame.” Panam smiled. Then disappeared into the bathroom. --- When she returned, dressed and ready, he was waiting near the window. Not blocking the door. Not standing beside her things. Not manufacturing one final intimate moment. Panam appreciated that. She picked up her jacket. Checked her holo. Everything. Good. He looked at her. “Ride?” Panam considered. “Yes.” He nodded. No assumption. Again. They left the suite. --- The elevator was quieter this time. Morning. Other people might enter. Nobody did. Panam stood beside him. Their shoulders almost touched. Halfway down, she reached over. Took his hand. He looked at her. Panam looked straight ahead. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “Good.” The doors opened. She released his hand. Public again. Different rules. Easy. --- His car waited downstairs. Panam looked at it. Then him. “You still need to fix the suspension.” He stared. “We discussed this.” “You were wrong.” “You haven't driven it.” Panam smiled. “Exactly.” He opened the passenger door. Panam stopped. “Wait.” He waited. She looked at the car. Then at him. “Next time you ask—” His eyebrows rose. Panam pointed at him. “I said you can ask. Do not get excited.” “I wasn't.” “Liar.” “Potentially.” Panam smiled. “If there is a next time.” “Yes.” “Bring something more interesting.” He looked offended. “This is interesting.” “This is competent.” “That is praise.” “It is not enough.” He stared at her. Then smiled slowly. “So now I need a better car to ask Madame out.” “No.” Panam got into the passenger seat. “You need a better car if you want to argue about cars.” He laughed. Closed the door. --- The drive back was easy. No personal questions. No attempt to use morning softness to get more access than Panam had offered. They talked about cars. Of course they did. A ridiculous concept vehicle. A manufacturer that had ruined its newest model. Whether autonomous systems had made most people worse drivers. That one nearly became a fight. “You cannot prove that.” “I don't need to.” “That is not how evidence works.” “Look at traffic.” “That isn't evidence.” Panam pointed through the windshield. “That is literally evidence.” “That is anecdotal observation.” “That gonk just changed four lanes without looking.” “He may have looked.” “He did not.” “You don't know.” “I watched him.” “While arguing with me.” “I can multitask.” He laughed. Panam smiled. Good. --- He stopped outside Lizzie’s. Panam looked at the entrance. Morning quiet. Different building in daylight. She unfastened the belt. Then paused. He did not. Waited. Panam looked at him. “Last night was good.” He smiled. “Yes.” “This morning too.” “Yes.” “Don't make it weird.” “I won't.” Panam believed him. That was enough. She leaned across. Kissed him. Not long. Not performative. Warm. Then pulled away. He looked at her. “Goodbye, Madame.” Panam smiled. “Goodbye.” She opened the door. Stepped out. Closed it. He waited until she was clear. Then drove away. Panam watched the car disappear. She stood there for several seconds. Then looked at Lizzie’s. No. Not yet. She had somewhere else to go first. --- Panam's apartment door opened. Quiet. She stepped inside. Locked it behind her. There were shoes near the wall that were not hers. Clothes over the chair that were not hers. Cosmetics on a surface where cosmetics had absolutely not existed before this week. Something charging beside her gear. Panam smiled. Home. For now. She took off her jacket. A voice came from deeper inside the apartment. “Owner?” Panam looked up. Birgitta appeared. Barefoot. Smoked copper-grey hair slightly imperfect from sleep. One of Panam's shirts again. Panam stared at it. Birgitta looked down. Then back up. “Yes.” “That is still mine.” “Yes.” “You have your own.” “Yes.” “Why?” Birgitta smiled. “This one was closer.” Panam laughed. There it was. Exactly where they had left it. Birgitta walked closer. Stopped. Looked at Panam carefully. Not teasing now. “How was it?” Panam considered. Then smiled. “Good.” Birgitta's face brightened. “Good.” Panam looked at her. “That's all?” “Do you want interrogation?” “No.” “Then good.” Panam laughed. Birgitta opened her arms. Panam stepped into them. Warm hug. No collar. No leash. No audience. Just— welcome home. Birgitta pulled back. Then looked at Panam's face. “You look happy.” Panam sighed. “Everyone keeps saying that.” “Maybe everyone has eyes.” “Banned.” Birgitta smiled. “Coffee?” “Yes.” “Food?” “I ate.” “Break?” Panam stared. Birgitta's smile became dangerous. “Water, food, break.” “I am not one of my pets.” “I know.” “You are not doing aftercare on me.” “I know.” “I had breakfast.” “I know.” Panam narrowed her eyes. Birgitta waited. Panam finally laughed. “Coffee.” “Yes, owner.” Birgitta turned toward the kitchen. Panam followed. Then stopped. Looked around her apartment. Birgitta's things. Her things. Two lives temporarily occupying the same space without either pretending it meant something it didn't. Panam smiled. Fifty million eddies. One very good night. A man who understood no. A man who understood boundaries. A man she might let ask again. And coffee waiting in her own kitchen. Panam shook her head. “This fucking week.” From the kitchen: “What?” “Nothing.” Birgitta laughed. Panam followed her in. --- ## CHAPTER 25 — HALF Coffee helped. It did not make fifty million eddies less absurd. Panam sat at the kitchen table. Birgitta sat opposite her. Between them: Coffee. Breakfast Birgitta had made for herself. Panam's holo. And a number Panam had opened three times already. Birgitta watched her. Panam ignored her. Birgitta continued watching. Panam drank coffee. Birgitta ate. Panam looked at the holo again. Birgitta smiled. Panam looked up. “What?” “Nothing.” “Banned.” Birgitta took another bite. Panam looked back at the number. Fifty million. Still there. No mistake. No reversal. No fraud warning. No suddenly missing zero. Panam locked the holo. Put it down. Waited. Picked it up again. Birgitta laughed. “Fuck you.” “I said nothing.” “You're laughing.” “Yes.” “That counts.” “Does it?” “Yes.” Birgitta smiled. Panam looked at the number again. “It's fucking stupid.” “Yes.” “I mean genuinely stupid.” “Yes.” “Nobody should pay this.” Birgitta considered. “He could.” “That isn't the point.” “He wanted to.” “Also not the point.” “He got what he wanted.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta lifted one shoulder. “Did he?” Panam paused. “Yes.” “Did you?” Panam paused again. Then smiled. “Yes.” Birgitta returned to breakfast. “Then the universe survived.” Panam stared. “That is your analysis?” “Yes.” “Fifty million.” “Yes.” “For one night.” “Yes.” Birgitta looked at her. “Would you like me to become morally distressed?” “No.” “Good.” Panam laughed. Then looked at the holo again. Her smile faded slightly. Not unhappily. Thoughtfully. “I don't want this to become a thing.” Birgitta understood immediately. “A rate.” “Yeah.” “It isn't.” “I know.” “You told him.” “Yes.” “Everyone else knows you don't have one.” “Night City knows whatever Night City decides it knows.” “That is also true.” Panam leaned back. “If somebody walks into Lizzie’s tonight and offers fifty million because they heard he did—” “You say no.” “Exactly.” “If they offer sixty?” “No.” “Seventy?” “No.” “One hundred?” Panam looked at her. Birgitta smiled. “Research.” “Fuck your research.” “Fair.” Panam took another drink. Then her holo pinged. Dalia. Panam opened it. **I HAVE QUESTIONS.** Panam smiled. Typed: **NO.** Immediate response. **NOT ABOUT SEX.** Panam: **STILL NO.** Dalia: **ABOUT MONEY.** Panam stopped. Birgitta saw it. “Dalia?” “Yes.” “What does she want?” Panam showed her. Birgitta smiled. “Answer.” “No.” The holo pinged. **SUZIE HAS QUESTIONS TOO.** Panam stared. Another. **AND SO DO I.** Suzie. Panam looked at Birgitta. “This is coordinated.” “Probably.” “I hate them.” “No, you don't.” “Currently negotiable.” Birgitta laughed. Panam opened a group call. Dalia appeared first. Suzie second. Deja's face appeared over Dalia's shoulder. Panam pointed. “No.” Deja disappeared. Dalia looked innocent. Panam looked at Suzie. “You started this.” “No.” “Liar.” “Professionally.” Panam sighed. “What?” Dalia smiled. “Good morning.” “No.” “Did you have fun?” “No.” Birgitta called from across the table: “She did.” Panam slowly turned. Birgitta smiled. Dalia's expression became radiant. “Oh.” Panam pointed at Birgitta. “Traitor.” “Yes, owner.” Suzie laughed. Panam closed her eyes. “Money.” Dalia recovered. “Right.” Suzie became more serious too. “The transfer cleared completely.” “I know.” “No flags.” “Good.” “No challenge.” “Good.” “No third-party hold.” “Good.” “It's yours.” Panam looked at the holo. “I know.” Suzie waited. Panam frowned. “What?” Dalia said: “What are you going to do with it?” Panam stared. “My money?” “Yes.” “Keep it.” “All fifty?” Panam stopped. There was something in the question. She looked at Suzie. Suzie did not say anything. Panam understood. “Oh.” Dalia smiled. “There it is.” Panam looked around her apartment. Then at Birgitta. Then back at the holo. “Mox.” Suzie nodded. Panam thought. The Mox had screened. Verified. Protected. Held Lizzie’s. Protected her pets. Protected her. Suzie had handled the entire thing without asking for anything. No fee had been discussed. No percentage. No contract. No cut. Because Panam's booking had never existed before. There was no structure. Panam looked at Suzie. “How much?” Suzie shook her head. “No.” Panam stared. “Suzie.” “No.” “You provided security.” “Lizzie’s provides security.” “You verified him.” “Yes.” “You verified the hotel.” “Yes.” “You kept check-ins.” “Yes.” “You had Mox ready to come through the fucking door if I missed one.” “Yes.” Panam leaned closer to the holo. “How much?” Suzie smiled. “No.” Panam stared. Dalia watched quietly now. Birgitta too. Panam considered. Then smiled. “Okay.” Suzie narrowed her eyes. “That was too easy.” “Yes.” “Panam.” “You said no.” “Yes.” “So I'm listening.” Suzie looked suspicious. “You're planning something.” “No.” “Liar.” “Frequently.” Dalia started laughing. Suzie pointed. “Don't.” Panam ended the call. Suzie's expression froze mid-objection. Silence. Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam looked at Birgitta. “What?” “You're planning something.” “No.” Birgitta waited. Panam picked up her coffee. “Fuck.” --- Twenty minutes later Panam was dressed. Birgitta watched from the couch. “Where are you going?” “Out.” “That is technically an answer.” “Yes.” “Lizzie’s?” “Yes.” Birgitta stood. Panam looked at her. “You don't have to come.” Birgitta smiled. “I know.” She disappeared toward the bedroom area. Panam waited. Birgitta returned a few minutes later transformed. Not fully. Enough. Clothes. Hair corrected. Makeup. Collar. The leash remained where she kept it. Panam looked at her. Birgitta looked back. “What?” “No leash?” “Do you want it?” Panam considered. Birgitta waited. Panam smiled. “Yes.” Birgitta smiled too. She retrieved it. Walked over. Held it out. Panam took it. Birgitta turned. Presented the ring. Click. One. Panam gathered the leash comfortably. Birgitta looked over her shoulder. “Ready, owner?” “Yeah.” They left together. --- Lizzie’s was quieter during the day. Not empty. Never empty. Suzie was behind the bar. She saw Panam. Then Birgitta. Then the leash. Then Panam again. “No.” Panam walked toward her. “I haven't said anything.” “No.” “You don't know why I'm here.” “Yes, I do.” “No, you don't.” “You have the face.” Panam stopped. “What face?” “The one you had right before you transferred half your last major payout into something stupid.” Panam stared. Birgitta looked between them. “This sounds historical.” “It is.” “Banned.” Suzie crossed her arms. “No.” Panam leaned on the bar. “Twenty-five million.” Suzie stared. “No.” Panam smiled. “Mox.” “No.” “Twenty-five.” “Absolutely fucking not.” “Security.” “No.” “Screening.” “No.” “Verification.” “No.” “Check-ins.” “No.” “Venue.” “No.” “Five pets working through Lizzie’s.” “That is separate business.” “Madame exists because Lizzie’s let the whole fucking insanity happen.” Suzie stared at her. “That's not worth twenty-five million.” Panam shrugged. “It is to me.” “No.” Panam looked at Birgitta. Birgitta smiled. “Don't involve me.” “Coward.” “Pet.” Panam looked back at Suzie. “Half.” “No.” “I'm not negotiating.” Suzie blinked. Panam smiled. There it was. Suzie saw it too. “You bitch.” “Yes.” “You cannot use your own rules on me.” “Why not?” “Because they're annoying.” “Now you understand.” Suzie stared. Panam continued. “Twenty-five million goes to the Mox.” “No.” “Not you.” “I know.” “Not Lizzie’s operating account.” “I know.” “The Mox.” Suzie became quieter. Panam did too. “Use it for security.” Suzie watched her. “Equipment.” Silence. “People.” Suzie's expression changed. “Medical.” Panam continued. “Safe housing. Training. Whatever the fuck you need.” “Panam—” “You made a place where five women can stand around in collars and decide for themselves who gets access to them.” Suzie said nothing. “You made a place where somebody can ask Working? and hear no without that becoming a fucking incident.” Birgitta's expression softened. Panam kept going. “You made a place where I could take fifty million from a man I wanted, walk out the door with him, and know that if I sent one bad message, Mox would come through the fucking wall.” Suzie looked away. Panam waited. Then: “Half.” Suzie shook her head. “Too much.” “Probably.” “Definitely.” “I don't care.” “Panam.” “I don't need fifty million.” Suzie looked back. Panam smiled. “Twenty-five is still fucking ridiculous.” Birgitta laughed softly. Suzie did not. Not yet. Panam pulled up the transfer. Suzie saw it. “No.” Panam pressed confirm. Suzie's holo pinged. Silence. Suzie looked down. Then up. “You fucking bitch.” Panam smiled. “Yes.” Suzie came around the bar. Panam had approximately half a second to realize what was happening before Suzie hugged her. Hard. Panam froze. Birgitta smiled. Panam slowly put one arm around Suzie. The other still held Birgitta's leash. Suzie pulled back. Eyes suspiciously bright. Panam pointed. “No.” Suzie laughed. “Fuck you.” “Better.” Suzie looked at the transfer again. “Twenty-five million.” “Yeah.” “The Mox.” “Yeah.” “You understand I'm going to make sure this gets used properly.” “That is why I gave it to you.” Suzie stared. Then hugged her again. Panam sighed. Allowed it. Birgitta watched. Still smiling. --- Eventually Suzie returned behind the bar. Panam sat. Birgitta beside her. One leash rested loosely between them. Suzie poured whiskey. Panam looked at it. “It's morning.” Suzie stared. Panam considered. “Fair.” She took it. Birgitta laughed. Suzie looked at Panam. “So.” “No.” “You have twenty-five million eddies.” “Yes.” “What are you going to do with them?” Panam drank. “Nothing.” Suzie stared. “Nothing?” “Not today.” “Responsible.” “Don't sound surprised.” “I've met you.” “Fuck you.” Suzie smiled. Then someone farther down the bar called her. Suzie left. Panam sat quietly. Birgitta leaned closer. “Feel better?” Panam looked at her. “What?” “Giving half away.” Panam considered. “Yes.” “Why?” Panam looked around Lizzie’s. Mox. Workers. Music. People. A place that had somehow become the center of the strangest professional transformation of Panam's life. She smiled. “Because now fifty million doesn't feel like mine.” Birgitta frowned slightly. Panam corrected herself. “No.” She looked at the leash in her hand. “That's wrong.” Birgitta waited. Panam smiled. “Because twenty-five feels like enough.” Birgitta smiled back. “Good.” Panam drank. Then her eyes narrowed. “Oh, fuck.” Birgitta looked at her. “What?” Panam opened her holo. Found an old payment. Not recent. A cargo run. Then another. Another. Numbers. Fuel. Expenses. Time. Risk. Panam stared. Birgitta watched her face. “Owner?” Panam scrolled. Her expression became increasingly offended. “No.” Birgitta smiled slowly. “What?” “No.” Panam opened another. Looked. Did math. Stopped. “Fuck off.” Birgitta laughed. “You're doing cargo math.” “No.” “You are.” “No.” Panam looked at twenty-five million. Then at an old payout. Then back. Silence. Birgitta waited. Panam put the holo face down. “I deliver fucking cargo.” Birgitta lost it. Suzie heard from the other end of the bar. She turned. “What?” Panam pointed at nobody. “Nothing.” Birgitta was laughing too hard to breathe. Suzie looked at Panam. Then at the holo. Then understood. Her smile became enormous. “Oh.” “No.” “Madame.” “No.” “How many cargo runs?” “Fuck you.” Suzie laughed. Birgitta leaned against Panam, helpless. Panam drank the morning whiskey. Twenty-five million eddies remained. After giving half away. She looked around Lizzie’s. At Suzie. At Birgitta. At the leash in her hand. Then down at the holo containing several years' worth of increasingly insulting financial evidence. Panam closed her eyes. “I deliver fucking cargo.” Birgitta wheezed. Panam opened one eye. “Banned.” That only made it worse. --- ## CHAPTER 26 — MADAME IS EXPENSIVE By evening, Night City had learned the wrong lesson. Of course it had. Panam knew something was wrong before she reached Lizzie’s. Birgitta walked beside her. Not leashed yet. The leash was folded in Birgitta's hand. They had barely reached the entrance when a man Panam had never seen before looked directly at her and smiled. Not unusual. Then he looked at Birgitta's collar. Then at the leash. Then back at Panam. More unusual. Panam kept walking. Inside, two more people looked. Then three. Panam stopped. Birgitta stopped beside her. “What?” Panam slowly scanned the room. “Something happened.” Birgitta followed her gaze. “Something is always happening.” “No.” Panam pointed subtly. “That.” A woman near the bar looked away too late. Birgitta smiled. “Oh.” Panam looked at her. “Oh?” “You're famous again.” “I was already famous.” “More famous.” “Fuck.” Suzie saw them. Immediately smiled. That confirmed it. Panam walked toward the bar. Birgitta followed. Suzie put a whiskey down before Panam arrived. Panam stopped. “That bad?” Suzie smiled. “Depends.” “On?” “How much you enjoy capitalism.” Panam closed her eyes. “Fuck.” Birgitta laughed. Panam looked at Suzie. “What happened?” “Rumor.” “What rumor?” “That Madame finally said yes.” Panam stared. “That was going to happen.” “Yes.” “Anything else?” Suzie smiled. Panam narrowed her eyes. “Suzie.” “Nobody knows the number.” Panam relaxed slightly. “Good.” Suzie lifted one finger. “But.” “No.” “They know it was big.” “How?” Suzie looked around Lizzie’s. Panam followed. Dalia had screamed. Mandi had screamed. Half the room had probably watched the transfer verification from fifty meters away using optical zoom. Panam sighed. “Right.” Suzie nodded. “Night City has settled on a broad consensus.” Panam did not like that sentence. “What consensus?” Suzie leaned forward. “Madame is expensive.” Birgitta laughed. Panam stared. “That's it?” “Mostly.” “Mostly?” “There are numbers.” “Of course there are.” “None correct.” “Good.” “Some aren't even close.” “Better.” “One guy thinks it was two million.” Panam snorted. “Cute.” Suzie smiled. Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam froze. Suzie froze. Birgitta's smile became enormous. Panam pointed. “No.” Birgitta laughed. “You called two million cute.” “Context.” Suzie covered her mouth. “Fuck both of you.” Birgitta held out her leash. Panam stared. “Now?” “Yes, owner.” “You're doing this to change the subject.” “Yes.” Panam laughed. Took the leash. Birgitta turned. Presented the ring. Click. One. Panam gathered the leash. Familiar. Good. Mandi arrived. Leash in hand. “Owner.” Panam took it. Click. Two. Nova. Click. Three. Vega. Click. Four. Sera arrived last. White couture, collar visible, silver-white hair carrying the faintest static lift of anticipation. She looked around. Then at Panam. “Busy tonight.” Panam sighed. “Apparently I'm expensive.” Sera smiled. “You were always expensive.” “I wasn't for sale.” “You still aren't.” Panam looked at her. Sera held out the leash. Panam took it. Click. Five. “Good answer.” “I know.” --- The first offer arrived eleven minutes later. Face-to-face. Correctly. A man approached Panam. Stopped at a respectful distance. Looked at her. “Working?” Five pets became silent. Panam looked at him. “No.” He nodded. “All right.” Panam waited. He did not leave. Then: “Can I make an offer?” Panam considered him. Attractive enough. Not to her. That was enough. “No.” He nodded. “Understood.” And left. Panam took a drink. Sera smiled. “What?” “Nothing.” “Banned.” Mandi leaned toward Nova. “Madame's market remains selective.” Panam looked at her. “Water.” “I haven't worked.” “Preventive hydration.” Mandi laughed. “Yes, owner.” --- The second arrived twenty minutes later. Woman. Very attractive. Panam noticed. Unfortunately, so did everyone else. Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam ignored her. The woman approached. “Working?” Panam looked at her. There was attraction. Some. Enough to notice. Not enough to answer yet. “Maybe.” Five leashes shifted almost imperceptibly. The woman smiled. “Can I make an offer?” Panam studied her. “What are you looking for?” “Tonight.” “How long?” “Two hours.” “Here?” “Hotel.” “Which?” She named one. Good. “Anything unusual?” “No.” Panam looked at her. “Offer?” The woman named it. Panam blinked. Silence. Mandi looked down. Nova bit her lip. Vega suddenly became fascinated by Suzie's bottles. Birgitta's shoulders moved once. Sera closed her eyes. Panam stared at the woman. “That is a lot.” “Yes.” “Why?” The woman smiled. “I heard Madame is expensive.” Panam looked at Suzie. Suzie turned away. Traitor. Panam looked back. The number was— absurd. Not fifty million absurd. Not even close. Still absurd. For two hours. And Panam did find her attractive. That was inconvenient. Panam considered. Then felt for the actual answer beneath the money. No. Not tonight. Panam smiled. “No.” The woman nodded. “Fair.” No counteroffer. No disappointment weaponized into pressure. Good. She left. Panam watched her go. Then looked at the five pets. Five innocent expressions. “Don't.” Birgitta: “I said nothing.” “Your face did.” “What did my face say?” “Money.” Birgitta laughed. Sera looked at Panam. “How much?” Panam told them quietly. Mandi choked. Nova stared. Vega whispered: “For two hours?” “Yes.” Birgitta smiled. “Cute.” Panam stared at her. Sera lost it. --- By the third offer, Panam understood the problem. The market had no number. So the market was inventing one. A corpo offered enough for a luxury apartment. No. A woman offered a ridiculous amount for dinner and one hour afterward. No. A very attractive merc asked Working? Panam considered. Then: “No.” No offer allowed. That one hurt slightly. Sera noticed. “Why?” Panam looked at her. “Not tonight.” Sera nodded. Done. No analysis. Good. Panam took a drink. Then someone approached Mandi. “Working?” Mandi looked at Panam. Interested. Panam shifted attention immediately. Madame disappeared from the equation. Pet first. “What are you looking for?” “One hour.” “Here?” “Yes.” “Anything unusual?” “No.” “Offer?” “Thirty-two.” Panam looked at Mandi. Mandi smiled. “Yes.” Panam unclipped her. Click. Four. Mandi took her own leash. “Check in.” “Yes, owner.” Then left with the client. Panam watched her go. Normal. Thirty-two thousand. The contrast was so absurd Panam started laughing. Suzie looked over. “What?” Panam gestured toward the direction Mandi had gone. “Thirty-two.” “Yes.” Panam pointed at herself. Suzie smiled. “Yes.” “This is fucking stupid.” “Yes.” Birgitta leaned closer. “Market segmentation.” Panam stared. “Where did you learn that phrase?” Birgitta smiled. “I contain multitudes.” “Banned.” --- Mandi returned exactly when expected. Happy. Good. She approached Panam. Leash in hand. Panam looked at her. “Water.” “Yes.” “Food.” “Yes.” “Break.” Mandi smiled. “Yes, owner.” She did not offer the leash yet. Good. She went to take care of herself. Panam watched. Suzie leaned against the bar. “So.” Panam looked at her. “No.” “I haven't said anything.” “You have the face.” “What face?” “The one I apparently have when I'm about to do something stupid.” Suzie smiled. “Actually, I was thinking about the stable.” Panam looked toward her pets. Four currently nearby. Mandi recovering. “What about them?” Suzie looked thoughtfully at the ceiling. “You know…” Panam waited. Suzie continued. “With twenty-five million from Madame sitting in Mox funds…” Panam's eyes narrowed. Birgitta started smiling. Suzie looked back at Panam. “…I suppose your stable probably never has to worry about the house cut again.” Silence. Panam stared. Birgitta made a noise. Nova covered her mouth. Vega turned away. Sera slowly looked at Suzie. Suzie maintained a perfectly neutral expression. Panam pointed at her. “No.” Suzie blinked. “What?” “You do not get to use my own money to subsidize my pets.” “Why not?” “Because that is economically fucking circular.” Birgitta lost it. Suzie smiled. “Think of it as vertical integration.” Panam stared. Sera folded against the bar laughing. Nova gave up. Vega followed. Panam looked around at them. “You are all banned.” Suzie shrugged. “Mox thanks you for your generous contribution.” “Fuck you.” “House cut waived.” “No.” “Preferred stable program.” “No.” “Madame loyalty benefits.” “SUZIE.” Mandi returned carrying water. “What did I miss?” Birgitta was laughing too hard to answer. Suzie looked at Mandi. “Your owner prepaid the house for the foreseeable future.” Mandi stopped. Looked at Panam. Then at her water. Then at Panam. “Owner?” “No.” “Thank you?” “No.” Mandi smiled. “Very generous.” Panam closed her eyes. “I hate this place.” “No, you don't,” five voices said. Panam opened her eyes. Mandi had joined them. Five. She drank her water. Good. Then food. Good. Break. Good. Panam waited. Eventually Mandi returned. Rested. Happy. Leash in hand. She offered it. Panam took it. Mandi turned. Click. Five again. Panam looked down. Five leashes. Then at Suzie. Suzie smiled. “House cut?” Panam pointed. “I will take my twenty-five million back.” “No refunds.” Panam froze. Suzie froze. Sera inhaled sharply. Birgitta whispered: “Oh, no.” Panam slowly smiled. “You fucking used my rule.” Suzie's smile became enormous. “Yes.” Panam started laughing. There was no defense. None. She had built the fucking weapon herself. “Fine.” Suzie raised her glass. “To Madame.” Five pets joined. Panam stared at them. Then lifted her whiskey. “Fuck all of you.” Glasses touched. --- The rumors did not slow down. They became worse. Not because anyone knew the real number. Because nobody did. Madame had no rate. Madame had said yes once. That was enough. The mystery became part of the value. Panam watched people calculate. Guess. Approach. Ask. Most heard no before they reached an offer. Some heard no after. One heard maybe. Then ruined it by becoming arrogant. Panam smiled. “No.” Immediate. Clean. Gone. Sera watched. “Fun?” Panam looked at her. “No.” Sera waited. Panam smiled. “A little.” Birgitta laughed. Panam looked down at the five leashes. This was different now. Not fundamentally. That mattered. Her pets still worked. Normal baselines. Normal bookings. Normal choice. Thirty-two thousand still existed as an ordinary reference point. Not a ceiling. Not an automatic quote. Nobody became cheaper because Madame had become absurdly expensive. Nobody became more available because rumors were moving. And Panam— Panam still wasn't available. Except sometimes. Maybe. If she wanted someone. If the offer amused her. If the circumstances were right. If the answer underneath everything else was already yes. Panam smiled. Suzie saw it. “Madame?” Panam looked at her. “What?” “You're enjoying capitalism.” Panam stared. Then laughed. “Fuck you.” Suzie smiled. “Twenty-five million says otherwise.” Panam looked at the five leashes in her hand. At the room. At people still trying not to stare. At one prospective client apparently gathering courage across the bar. Then at Suzie. “I'm going back to cargo.” Suzie nodded solemnly. “Of course.” Birgitta leaned closer. “Owner?” “What?” “Do you want me to calculate how many house cuts twenty-five million covers?” Panam looked at her. Birgitta smiled. Panam raised one finger. “Home.” Birgitta's eyes widened. Sera screamed laughing. Panam lasted three seconds. Then broke too. --- ## CHAPTER 27 — MY PETS The next person lasted seven seconds. Panam saw him coming. Expensive suit. Expensive shoes. Expensive confidence. He stopped in front of her. “Working?” Panam looked at him. “No.” “I can offer—” “No.” He stopped. Panam waited. He looked at the five leashes. Then back at her. “I heard—” “No.” Something in her voice finally reached him. He nodded. “Understood.” And left. Panam took a drink. Sera looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” “Good.” Birgitta smiled. Panam pointed without looking. “You too.” “I didn't say anything, owner.” “Your face did.” “My face is innocent.” “Your face is Scandinavian fraud.” Birgitta laughed. Mandi nearly inhaled her drink. Nova looked at Panam. “Scandinavian fraud?” “Yes.” Birgitta leaned toward Nova. “Owner is becoming xenophobic.” Panam stared at her. Sera made a choking noise. Panam slowly turned toward her. Sera looked away. “No.” Nobody said anything. Panam narrowed her eyes. Five leashes rested in her hand. Everything was fine. Probably. --- The next approach was not for Panam. Good. A woman stopped in front of Vega. “Working?” Vega looked interested. Panam looked at the woman. Late thirties. Calm. Sober. No obvious problem. “What are you looking for?” “Company.” “How long?” “Two hours.” “Here?” “First hour. Maybe somewhere private after, if she wants.” Better. “Anything unusual?” “No.” Panam glanced at Vega. Still interested. “Offer?” The woman gave one. Good. Not ridiculous. Above baseline. Panam looked at Vega. “Worth hearing.” Vega smiled. “Yes.” Panam unclipped her. Click. Four. Vega took the leash from Panam's hand. The woman waited. Good. Vega folded the leash into her bag. Panam looked at her. “Check in if you leave.” “Yes, owner.” “Plans change, you tell me.” “Yes.” “Have fun.” Vega smiled. “I intend to.” They walked away together. Panam watched. Then relaxed. Four leashes. Sera looked at her. Panam looked back. “What?” “That.” “What?” “You relaxed.” “Vega is working.” “Yes.” “I know where.” “Yes.” “Client looked fine.” “Yes.” “So?” Sera smiled. “Nothing.” Panam stared. “I hate when you do that.” “I know.” --- Nova went next. One hour. A man she had worked with before. Easy. Known. Panam barely needed to ask anything. “Same as last time?” “Yes.” Nova nodded. “Yes.” Click. Three. Nova took her leash. Gone. Mandi remained. Sera. Birgitta. Three leashes. Panam looked down. Three felt strange now. That realization annoyed her. She had held one for Birgitta. Then two. Then four. Then five. Now three felt— incomplete. Not wrong. Just temporary. Panam frowned. Birgitta saw it. “Owner?” “What?” “You're counting.” “No.” “Yes.” “I know how many leashes I'm holding.” “That is counting.” “Fuck you.” Birgitta smiled. “Yes, owner.” Panam drank. --- The next client approached Sera. That changed the room. Not completely. It always changed enough. Woman. Forties. Beautiful. Very expensive. She knew exactly who she was approaching. She stopped in front of Sera. “Working?” Sera looked at her. Interest. Panam saw it immediately. So did Birgitta. Mandi became still. Panam shifted attention fully. “What are you looking for?” “Dinner.” Panam waited. “And?” The woman smiled. “If dinner goes well, whatever she wants after.” Good answer. “Duration?” “I've kept the night open.” Panam looked at Sera. Sera was definitely interested now. “Location?” The woman named a restaurant. Excellent. “After?” “Hotel if she wants. Mine or one she chooses.” “Guests?” “No.” “Recording?” “No.” “Anything unusual?” “No.” Panam looked at her. “Offer?” The woman gave it quietly. Panam did not react. Publicly. Internally— Oh. That was serious. Not absurd. Not Madame absurd. But serious enough that nobody was wasting anyone's time. Panam looked at Sera. “Worth hearing.” The woman stepped back slightly. Giving them room without being asked. Good. Panam leaned toward Sera. Quietly gave her the number and terms. Sera's eyebrows rose. Then she looked at the woman. Panam waited. Sera smiled. “Yes.” Panam smiled too. “Then yes.” Sera turned slightly. Presented the ring. Panam unclipped her. Click. Two. Sera took the leash. Folded it. Placed it into her bag. The collar stayed. Of course. Panam touched the leash once before letting go. “Check in.” “I will.” “Plans change—” “I tell you.” “Good.” Sera looked at Panam. Then kissed her cheek. “Thank you, owner.” Panam frowned. “For what?” Sera smiled. Then walked toward the woman. The room watched. Of course it did. Sera touched her collar once near the door. Looked back. Panam raised her glass. Sera smiled. Gone. Two leashes. Mandi. Birgitta. Panam stared at the door for a moment. Birgitta leaned closer. “Proud?” Panam looked at her. “Yeah.” Simple. No denial. Birgitta smiled. “Good.” --- ## CHAPTER 28 — MAYBE A man approached Panam twelve minutes later. Attractive. Very. Panam noticed before he reached her. Fuck. Birgitta noticed Panam noticing. Double fuck. He stopped. “Working?” Panam looked at him. Maybe. There it was again. Not spoken yet. But there. She looked him over. Well dressed. Relaxed. No visible entourage. No obvious intoxication. Good eye contact without staring. Panam found him— interesting. “Maybe.” Mandi's head snapped toward her. Birgitta went perfectly still. Panam ignored both. The man smiled. “Can I make an offer?” Panam considered. “What are you looking for?” “Dinner.” “Only?” “If that's all you want.” Panam's interest increased slightly. “How long?” “I kept the evening open.” “Location?” He named one. Good. “After?” “Up to you.” Panam studied him. “Offer?” He gave it. Panam blinked once. Interesting. Very interesting. Not fifty million. Nowhere near. Still enough to make the evening objectively ridiculous by almost any sane standard. Panam looked at him. Then beneath the number. Attraction? Yes. Curiosity? Yes. Want? Maybe. Tonight? She checked herself. Then smiled. “No.” He nodded immediately. “All right.” No counter. No increase. No disappointment. He smiled once. “Thank you, Madame.” Then left. Panam watched him go. Mandi waited. Birgitta waited. Panam took a drink. Silence. Longer silence. Panam looked at them. “What?” Mandi's eyes were enormous. “You said maybe.” “Yes.” “And then no.” “Yes.” Birgitta smiled. “Owner.” “No.” “You liked him.” “Yes.” Mandi made a noise. Panam looked at her. “What?” “You admitted it.” “I have eyes.” “You said yes.” “I said I liked him.” “Yes.” “That's not yes.” Birgitta lifted her glass. “Apparently maybe isn't yes either.” Panam pointed at her. “Exactly.” Birgitta smiled. “But it isn't no.” Panam stared. Birgitta drank. Panam looked toward the door where the man had disappeared. Then smiled. “No.” Mandi laughed. “That sounded less convincing.” “Banned.” --- Nova returned first. Happy. Panam saw it before she reached them. Good. Nova held her own leash. Panam pointed toward the bar. “Water.” Nova smiled. “Yes, owner.” “Food.” “Yes.” “Break.” “Yes.” “Then me.” Nova looked at the leash. Then at Panam. “Okay.” She went. Panam watched. Birgitta smiled. “What?” “You're good at this.” Panam sighed. “We established that.” “You finally established that.” “Fuck you.” “Yes, owner.” Mandi laughed. --- Vega returned twenty minutes later. Also good. Also carrying her own leash. Panam gave her exactly the same sequence. “Water.” “Yes.” “Food.” “Yes.” “Break.” Vega smiled. “Yes, owner.” No argument. No rush to restore the leash count. Good. Panam watched both returning pets taking care of themselves. That mattered more. The leashes could wait. --- Mandi got approached while Nova and Vega were still on break. Young corpo. Woman. Nervous. That was unusual. She stopped. Looked at Mandi. “Working?” Mandi smiled. “Maybe.” Panam slowly looked at her. Mandi did not look back. Birgitta covered her mouth. Panam almost laughed. Almost. The woman looked at Panam. Panam recovered. “What are you looking for?” “One hour.” “Here?” “Yes.” “Anything unusual?” “No.” “Offer?” The woman named it. Normal. Mandi looked at her. Then smiled. “Yes.” Panam unclipped her. Click. One. Birgitta. Only Birgitta. Mandi took her leash. Before leaving, she leaned toward Panam. “Maybe.” Panam stared. Mandi ran. The client followed, confused but smiling. Birgitta broke. Panam looked down. One leash. Then at Birgitta. “Say nothing.” Birgitta was laughing. “I can't.” “Try.” “I really can't.” Panam started laughing too. Fuck. --- For the first time that evening, it was just them. Not alone. Lizzie’s was full. But the stable around Panam had emptied outward. Sera working. Mandi working. Nova and Vega on aftercare break. Birgitta still beside her. One leash. The first leash. Panam looked down at it. Birgitta noticed. Neither said anything for a while. Then Birgitta asked: “Different?” Panam knew what she meant. “Yeah.” “Bad?” “No.” Panam gathered the leash slightly. “Just different.” Birgitta moved half a step closer. Panam looked at her. The smoked copper-grey hair. The very light brown eyes. The collar. The face Panam knew as Birgitta. Her pet. The woman who had somehow accumulated clothes across Panam's apartment and stolen another shirt that morning. Panam smiled. “You were first.” Birgitta smiled back. “Yes.” “That still matters.” “I know.” Panam frowned. “Good.” Birgitta's smile softened. “It doesn't have to mean more than that.” Panam looked at her. “Exactly.” “First.” “First.” “Not best.” “No.” “Not favorite.” “No.” “Not more owned.” Panam laughed. “No.” “Just first.” “Yeah.” Birgitta leaned gently against Panam's shoulder. Panam let her. One leash rested between them. Simple. --- Nova returned from break. She had her leash. Walked directly to Panam. Held it out. Panam took it. Nova turned. Click. Two. Vega followed a few minutes later. Leash offered. Taken. Click. Three. No ceremony. No ranking. No competition. Just pets returning when they wanted to. Panam liked that. A lot. Mandi eventually returned. Glowing. Panam pointed before she could speak. “Water.” Mandi laughed. “Yes.” “Food.” “Yes.” “Break.” “Yes.” Mandi saluted with her leash. “Then owner.” “Exactly.” She disappeared toward the bar. Three leashes remained. Sera still out. Good. Mandi eventually came back. Rested. Leash offered. Click. Four. Panam looked down. Four. Temporary. Fine. --- Her holo pinged. Sera. **Dinner excellent. Staying. Hotel later. Everything good.** Panam smiled. Typed: **GOOD. CHECK IN WHEN LOCATION CHANGES.** Sera: **YES, OWNER. ❤️** Panam locked the holo. Birgitta saw her smile. “Good?” “Yes.” Panam looked around. Mandi. Nova. Vega. Birgitta. Four leashes. One absent because Sera was exactly where she wanted to be. Panam felt— good. Not because she had five. Not because she had four. Not because anyone belonged in her hand. Because every absence had a reason. Every return was voluntary. Every leash reached her because someone put it there. Her pets. Panam smiled. That phrase worked now. No panic. No internal argument. No immediate correction. My pets. Yeah. Fine. Fuck it. Suzie appeared across the bar. Saw Panam's expression. “Oh, no.” Panam looked at her. “What?” “You're thinking.” “Fuck you.” “Expensive habit.” Panam laughed. Suzie poured another whiskey. Then nodded toward the leashes. “Stable good?” Panam looked at them. Then toward the door. Sera out. Happy. Working. Exactly by choice. “Yeah.” Suzie smiled. “Good.” Panam took the whiskey. “Yeah.” A pause. Then Suzie glanced toward a man across the room who had been staring at Panam for several minutes. “He's building courage.” Panam looked. Attractive. Maybe. Panam smiled. Suzie saw it. “Oh, fuck.” Panam took a drink. The man started walking toward them. Birgitta noticed. Mandi noticed. Nova noticed. Vega noticed. Four pets became interested. Panam watched him approach. He stopped. Respectful distance. Looked directly at her. “Working?” Panam considered him. Then smiled. “Maybe.” Four pets inhaled at once. Suzie closed her eyes. Panam's smile widened. This— this was going to be fun. --- ## CHAPTER 29 — MARKET INTELLIGENCE Lizzie’s fucking detonated. Again. The woman standing in front of Panam looked around. Conversations had stopped. Several people were staring. Someone near the bar whispered: “Maybe.” Panam closed her eyes. The woman looked back at her. “Did I miss something?” “Yes.” Panam took a drink. “Ignore them.” The woman smiled. “Gladly.” Good answer. Panam looked at her again. Very attractive. Confident. Not arrogant. Excellent suit. No obvious intoxication. Panam was interested. Definitely. “What are you looking for?” “Dinner.” Panam almost laughed. Of course. “And?” “Whatever we both want after dinner.” Better. “Duration?” “I cleared the night.” “Location?” The woman named a restaurant. Good. “After?” “My apartment, hotel, here, nowhere. Your choice.” “Guests?” “No.” “Recording?” “No.” “Anything unusual?” “No.” Panam looked at her. “Offer?” The woman gave it. Panam became very still. Fuck. Not fifty million. But— fuck. Behind her, somebody inhaled. Panam turned. Mandi looked away. Nova looked away. Vega looked away. Birgitta looked directly at Panam and smiled. Panam turned back. The woman waited. No pressure. Panam checked herself. Attraction? Yes. Want? Maybe. Dinner? Yes. Tonight? Panam looked at the four leashes in her hand. Sera still working. Stable good. Everything handled. She could. She wanted to. Then something inside her answered. Not tonight. Interesting. Panam smiled. “No.” The woman nodded. “All right.” No disappointment. No counteroffer. No attempt to add another zero. She smiled. “Thank you, Madame.” Then left. Panam watched her go. Birgitta waited exactly four seconds. “Owner?” “No.” “You really liked her.” “Yes.” Mandi made a tiny celebratory noise. Panam turned. “What the fuck are you celebrating?” “You admitted it again.” “I have eyes.” Nova leaned toward Vega. “Maybe followed by no.” Vega nodded solemnly. “Additional data.” Panam pointed. “There is no data.” Birgitta smiled. “There is now less certainty.” “GOOD.” Panam drank. Suzie laughed. --- The first suspicious booking happened thirty minutes later. Nobody noticed it was suspicious. Not initially. A man approached Nova. “Working?” Nova looked at him. Then at Panam. Interested enough. Panam screened. One hour. Here. Nothing unusual. Offer good. Nova said yes. Panam unclipped her. Nova took her leash. Click. Three. Normal. Easy. Nova left with him toward one of Lizzie’s private spaces. Panam forgot about it. Because Mandi got approached. Then Vega. Then someone approached Panam. “Working?” “No.” “Can I—” “No.” “Understood.” Good. Normal. Mostly. --- Nova returned an hour later. She was smiling. Panam looked at her. “Good?” “Yes.” “Water.” Nova lifted the bottle already in her hand. Panam nodded. “Food.” “Ordered.” “Break.” “Yes, owner.” Good. Nova sat. Panam went back to her drink. Five minutes passed. Nova started laughing. Panam looked over. “What?” Nova shook her head. “Nothing.” Panam stared. Nova laughed harder. “Nova.” “It's nothing.” “Your face says otherwise.” Birgitta looked interested. Mandi looked interested. Vega looked interested. Suzie looked resigned. Nova finally said: “He asked about you.” Panam frowned. “Who?” “My client.” “What about me?” Nova smiled. “Nothing.” Panam's eyes narrowed. “Nova.” “He was subtle.” “Oh, fuck.” Birgitta started laughing already. Panam pointed at Nova. “What did he ask?” Nova tried to compose herself. “He asked whether you always say no.” Panam stared. Mandi covered her mouth. Nova continued. “I said no.” Panam relaxed. “Good.” “Then he asked whether maybe was common.” Panam stopped. Suzie put her forehead against the bar. “No.” Nova smiled. “I told him he'd apparently been listening to rumors.” “What else?” “He asked what kind of people you like.” Panam stared. “What did you say?” Nova looked innocent. “That you like people you like.” Birgitta broke. Panam stared at Nova. “That is fucking useless.” “Yes.” “Good.” Nova smiled. “Then he asked whether there was a minimum offer.” “What did you say?” “That Madame doesn't have a rate.” “Good.” “Then he asked whether fifty million was enough.” Panam closed her eyes. “Fuck.” Mandi whispered: “They know fifty?” “No,” Nova said. “He was guessing.” Panam opened her eyes. “How do you know?” “He guessed twenty first.” Silence. Nova smiled. “Then thirty.” Suzie started laughing. “Then fifty.” Panam stared. “And you?” “I told him he was paying me for my company, not market intelligence.” Panam's expression softened immediately. “Good.” Nova smiled. “He apologized.” “Better.” “Then we had a very nice hour.” Panam nodded. “Excellent.” Nova took a bite of food. Aftercare. Good. Panam looked around. “That was one idiot.” Suzie looked at her. “You said that out loud.” Panam froze. “Oh, fuck.” --- The second happened to Vega. Different client. Different approach. Completely legitimate booking. Two hours. Good offer. Vega interested. Panam approved. Click. Two. Vega returned later. Water. Food. Break. Then— “Owner?” Panam looked at her. “No.” Vega laughed. “I haven't said anything.” “You have Nova's face.” Nova looked offended. “I have a lovely face.” “Yes.” Vega smiled. “My client asked whether you prefer men or women.” Panam stared. Dalia, who had arrived twenty minutes earlier with Deja, immediately leaned closer. Panam noticed. “No.” Dalia sat back. Vega continued. “I said yes.” Panam paused. Then laughed. “Good.” “He didn't understand.” “Even better.” “He asked whether you prefer corpos.” “No.” “Nomads.” “No.” “Mercs.” “No.” “Older.” “No.” “Younger.” “No.” Panam stared. “What did you tell him?” “That he was trying to solve the wrong problem.” Panam smiled. “Good.” Vega took another drink of water. “He asked what the right problem was.” “And?” “I told him if I knew that, I'd charge more than thirty-two thousand.” Suzie burst out laughing. Panam stared. Then pointed at Vega. “That.” Vega smiled. “What?” “That is the correct answer.” “Thank you, owner.” Dalia leaned toward Deja. “We should update the spreadsheet.” “NO.” --- The third tried Mandi. That was a mistake. Mandi returned from a perfectly ordinary one-hour booking carrying her leash. Panam pointed. “Water.” Mandi drank. “Food.” Mandi held up something wrapped. “Break.” Mandi sat. Panam nodded. Ten minutes later Mandi was still smiling. Panam noticed. “No.” Mandi looked up. “What?” “No.” “I haven't—” “No.” Birgitta laughed. Mandi waited another thirty seconds. Then: “He offered me ten thousand extra.” Panam slowly turned. “For what?” Mandi smiled. “Information.” Panam's face went blank. Dalia made a delighted noise. Panam ignored her. “What information?” “How to get Madame to say maybe.” Lizzie’s went silent around their immediate group. Panam stared. “How much?” “Ten thousand.” Panam looked offended. “That's insulting.” Everyone froze. Panam froze. Suzie slowly turned. Birgitta's smile became catastrophic. Panam pointed at all of them. “No.” Dalia collapsed against Deja. Mandi was shaking. Suzie managed: “So there is a market rate for Madame intelligence.” “No.” “Apparently ten thousand is below it.” “NO.” Birgitta wiped her eyes. “Owner, what would be a reasonable—” “Home.” That made it worse. Panam looked at Mandi. “What did you tell him?” Mandi recovered. “I told him to keep his money.” “Good.” “And that maybe means maybe.” “Excellent.” “And if he wants Madame to say it, he should try being someone Madame might say maybe to.” Panam stared. Mandi smiled. Panam considered. “That is annoyingly accurate.” “Thank you.” “Still useless.” “Also accurate.” Panam laughed. “Good.” --- Then Sera checked in. **Coming back. Excellent night. Everything good.** Panam smiled. **GOOD.** Twenty minutes later Sera entered Lizzie’s. Collar visible. Leash folded in her hand. Happy. Very happy. Panam saw it. Good. Sera reached them. Panam looked at her. “Water.” Sera smiled. “Already started.” “Food.” “Coming.” “Break.” “Yes, owner.” No leash yet. Correct. Sera sat. Then noticed everyone looking strangely at her. “What?” Panam pointed at them. “No.” Sera looked at Birgitta. Birgitta smiled. “Clients are trying to buy market intelligence about owner.” Sera stopped. Then slowly looked at Panam. Panam closed her eyes. Sera laughed. “No.” “Yes.” “How much?” “Mandi got offered ten thousand.” Sera looked genuinely offended. “That low?” Panam opened her eyes. “THANK YOU.” Everyone exploded. Panam pointed at Sera. “You are supposed to be helping.” “I am.” “You just validated me.” “Yes.” “Good.” Sera smiled. Panam frowned. “Wait.” Sera's smile became innocent. Panam narrowed her eyes. “What?” “Nothing.” “Sera.” Sera took another drink of water. “My client asked too.” Panam stared. “Your client?” “Yes.” “The woman who just paid—” Panam stopped herself before saying the amount. Sera smiled. “Yes.” “For you.” “Yes.” “Asked about me.” “Yes.” Panam looked personally betrayed by economics. “What did she ask?” “Whether I thought you'd say maybe to her.” Silence. Dalia whispered: “Oh, that's good.” Panam looked at Sera. “And?” “I said I had no idea.” Panam relaxed. “Because I don't.” “Good.” “She asked whether I could find out.” Panam stared. “What did you say?” “No.” “Good.” Sera smiled. “Then she asked whether I'd be willing to introduce her properly sometime.” Panam frowned. “Properly?” “As herself. Not as a booking pitch.” Panam thought. That was— different. Not necessarily good. Not necessarily bad. Just different. “What did you say?” “That if it ever happened, it would not be because she paid me.” Panam smiled. “Good.” “And that she still has to ask Working? herself.” Panam laughed. “Excellent.” Sera returned to her food. --- By midnight, the stable had identified a pattern. Not Madame's pattern. The clients'. People booking pets had started asking questions. Carefully. Casually. Usually after the actual booking had already become comfortable. Nobody wanted to look like they had booked a joytoy solely to interrogate her about Madame. Mostly because that would be incredibly fucking rude. Also because Panam might hear about it. And Panam was developing a reputation. Not for violence. Worse. For saying no. --- Dalia sat beside Panam. Deja on her other side. Four leashes had returned. Sera still on break. Dalia looked thoughtful. Panam noticed. “No.” “I haven't said anything.” “You're thinking.” “So are you.” “Mine is allowed.” “Owner privilege?” Panam looked at her. Dalia smiled. “Sorry. Madame privilege.” “Fuck you.” Dalia laughed. Then: “They're going to keep asking.” Panam knew. “Yeah.” “You can't stop gossip.” “I know.” “You can't stop people trying to understand what you like.” “I know.” “And the pets are obvious sources.” Panam looked toward Mandi. Nova. Vega. Birgitta. Sera eating nearby. “My pets aren't fucking information brokers.” “No.” Dalia paused. “Although—” “No.” “I could design a consultancy package.” “NO.” Deja laughed. Dalia raised both hands. “Fine.” Panam drank. Then looked at the stable. “Simple rule.” Everyone looked at her. Panam waited until Sera was listening too. “If somebody books you, they booked you.” Five women listened. “They get your time. Your company. Whatever you agree to.” Nods. “They did not buy information about me.” More nods. “You don't owe them answers.” Birgitta smiled. “We know.” “I know you know.” Panam looked at Mandi. “Don't take bribes.” Mandi looked offended. “I rejected it.” “I know.” “Ten thousand was insulting.” Panam pointed. “Do not start.” Mandi smiled. Panam continued. “If you want to answer something harmless, your choice.” Sera nodded. “If you don't, don't.” Nova: “Good.” “If they make the booking about me instead of you—” Vega smiled. “We can leave.” “Yes.” “Even if they paid.” “Yes.” Dalia leaned toward Deja. “Good owner.” Panam heard. “Banned.” --- Sera finished her break. Eventually she stood. Her leash in hand. Walked to Panam. Held it out. Panam took it. Sera turned. Click. Five. The stable was whole again. For approximately thirty seconds. Then a woman approached Birgitta. “Working?” Birgitta looked at her. Interested. Panam looked too. Good. Calm. Stylish. Very pretty. Birgitta definitely liked her. Panam smiled. “What are you looking for?” “One hour.” “Here?” “Yes.” “Anything unusual?” “No.” “Offer?” The woman named it. Good. Panam looked at Birgitta. Birgitta smiled. “Yes.” Panam unclipped her. Click. Four. Birgitta took her leash. The woman smiled. Then, trying very hard to sound casual: “One question.” Panam's eyes narrowed. The woman looked at Birgitta. “If it's not inappropriate.” Birgitta smiled. “Ask.” The woman hesitated. Then: “What does Madame like?” The entire stable froze. Panam closed her eyes. Suzie ducked behind the bar. Dalia bit her hand. Birgitta looked at the woman. Then at Panam. Then back at the woman. Her smile became warm. Friendly. Utterly useless. “Cars.” Panam's eyes opened. Silence. The woman blinked. “Cars?” “Yes.” “What kind?” Birgitta picked up her drink. “All kinds.” Panam stared at her. Birgitta smiled at the woman. “Ready?” The woman, clearly aware she had received information while learning absolutely nothing useful, laughed. “Yes.” They walked away. Panam watched Birgitta go. Dalia lasted two seconds. “CARS?” Panam pointed after Birgitta. “That was a perfectly accurate answer.” Suzie emerged from behind the bar. “Oh, this is going to be catastrophic.” Panam looked at her. “Why?” Suzie stared. “You really have to ask?” Panam thought. Then— “Oh, fuck.” --- The rumor mutated in less than an hour. Madame liked cars. True. Cars were the way to get Madame's attention. False. Madame preferred clients with expensive cars. False. Madame inspected clients' cars. Once. Technically true. A rare vehicle improved your chances of getting maybe. Unsupported. A rare vehicle plus a high offer— Absolutely unsupported. Someone claimed the fifty-million man owned a private collection. Nobody knew. Someone else claimed the second successful client had arrived in an antique sports car. Completely false. By the time Suzie heard someone confidently explain that Madame's secret criteria were attractiveness, money, and automotive taste, she walked directly to Panam. “You did this.” Panam stared. “I did nothing.” “Your pet said cars.” “Which is true.” “That is the problem.” Panam looked across Lizzie’s. Someone was showing someone else a vehicle image on a holo. Panam closed her eyes. “No.” Suzie smiled. “Oh, yes.” “This will die.” “No.” “Tomorrow.” “No.” “Next week.” Suzie laughed. “Panam.” “What?” “You're Madame.” Panam stared. “So?” “Nothing about Madame dies.” Panam looked around the room. Whispers. Offers. Rumors. People trying to reverse-engineer a decision that existed only inside her own head. And somewhere in Night City, apparently, people were now reconsidering their fucking cars. Panam started laughing. She couldn't help it. Dalia walked over. “What?” Panam pointed vaguely at the room. “They're idiots.” “Yes.” “They think cars matter.” Dalia smiled. “Cars do matter.” “Not like that.” “I know.” Panam laughed harder. Then Dalia looked at her. “How much have you made so far?” Panam stopped. “No.” Dalia smiled. “Personally.” “No.” “After the Mox half.” “No.” Suzie looked interested. Panam looked at Suzie. “Don't.” Suzie smiled. Dalia started counting mentally. Panam saw it. “No.” Dalia's eyes widened. “Oh.” “No.” “Panam.” “No.” “Thirty?” Panam drank. Dalia stared. “More?” Panam said nothing. Suzie's eyebrows rose. Dalia leaned closer. “Thirty-five?” Panam looked away. Silence. Dalia's mouth fell open. “Oh my God.” Panam pointed. “Minimum.” Suzie choked. Dalia stared. “Minimum?” “Some offers were more than—” Panam stopped. Too late. Dalia slowly smiled. Panam closed her eyes. “Fuck.” Suzie leaned on the bar. “So Madame has made at least thirty-five million eddies for herself.” Panam looked at the ceiling. “Apparently.” “And gave twenty-five million to the Mox.” “Yes.” Dalia looked at Deja. Deja looked at Dalia. Then both looked at Panam. Panam pointed. “No.” Dalia whispered: “I deliver fucking cargo.” Panam threw a napkin at her. Lizzie’s exploded. Again. --- ## CHAPTER 30 — ASK HER The car rumor survived the night. Of course it did. Worse— it evolved. By the time Panam walked into Lizzie’s the following evening, someone had parked a Mizutani Shion directly outside the entrance. Not unusual. It was Night City. The fact that it was immaculate was slightly more unusual. The fact that the owner was standing beside it pretending not to wait for someone was suspicious. Panam slowed. Birgitta slowed beside her. Neither said anything. The man looked at Panam. Panam looked at the car. The man smiled. Panam looked at Birgitta. Birgitta immediately said: “I am not responsible.” “You said cars.” “You do like cars.” “You said cars.” “Yes.” “Now there's a fucking Shion outside Lizzie’s.” Birgitta looked at it. “Nice one.” Panam stopped. “Do not encourage them.” “I was evaluating the car.” “That's how this started.” They walked past. The man gathered courage. “Madame?” Panam stopped. Turned. “Yes?” His confidence visibly improved just because she had answered. Interesting. He gestured toward the Shion. Panam stared. Then at him. Then at the car again. “What?” He hesitated. “I heard you appreciate cars.” Panam closed her eyes. Birgitta made a suspicious noise beside her. Panam looked at the man. “I do.” His smile returned. “This is mine.” “Congratulations.” Birgitta coughed. Panam ignored her. The man tried again. “Would you like to see it?” Panam considered. Actually— yes. Fuck. “Sure.” Birgitta's shoulders started shaking. Panam pointed at her. “Not a word.” “I said nothing.” Panam walked around the Shion. Good condition. Very good. Tasteful modifications. Nothing absurd. She crouched slightly near one wheel. Looked. Straightened. The man waited. Good. No sales pitch. Panam walked around the back. “Suspension?” He told her. Good choice. “Stock powertrain?” “No.” That got her attention. He explained. Panam asked two questions. He answered both intelligently. Fuck. Birgitta stood near Lizzie’s entrance, smiling like an asshole. Panam looked at the man. “Nice.” His expression brightened. “Thank you.” Panam nodded toward Lizzie’s. Then started walking. The man blinked. “That’s it?” Panam stopped. “What else?” He hesitated. Then laughed at himself. “Nothing.” “Good.” Panam continued. Birgitta joined her. They made it through the door. Then Birgitta whispered: “He thought the car was foreplay.” Panam nearly walked into the wall. --- Suzie was waiting. That was obvious from her face. “No.” Panam hadn't even reached the bar. Suzie pointed toward the entrance. “Did you inspect his car?” “He asked.” Suzie closed her eyes. “He asked.” “Yes.” “And you did.” “I like cars.” “I know.” Panam stopped. Suzie stared. Panam stared back. “Oh, fuck you.” Suzie laughed. Birgitta held up her leash. Panam looked at it. “You're enjoying this.” “Immensely.” “Good.” Panam took the leash. Birgitta turned. Click. One. The others arrived over the next twenty minutes. Mandi. Click. Two. Nova. Three. Vega. Four. Sera last. Collar already visible. Leash offered. Panam took it. Click. Five. Sera looked toward the entrance. “Was that Shion for you?” “No.” Panam paused. “Probably.” Mandi immediately looked interested. “No.” “I didn't say anything.” “No spreadsheet.” “We deleted it.” Panam stared. Mandi smiled. “Renamed.” “Mandi.” “Joke.” Panam narrowed her eyes. Probably a joke. Probably. --- The first pet booking was Sera. Man. Late forties. Confident. Polite. “Working?” Sera looked. Maybe. Panam screened. Dinner. Two hours. Here first. Possible hotel afterward only if Sera wanted. No guests. Nothing unusual. Then: “Offer?” Serious. Panam looked at Sera. “Worth hearing.” Sera listened. Considered. “Yes.” Panam smiled. “Then yes.” Click. Four. Sera took her own leash. Before they left, the man looked at Panam. Then at Sera. Then back at Panam. Panam saw it. “No.” He blinked. “I haven't asked anything.” “You were going to.” Sera started smiling. The man laughed. “Fair.” Panam waited. He considered. Then looked at Sera. “Later?” Sera's smile became dangerous. “Maybe.” Panam stared. The man stared. Sera walked away. Panam pointed after her. “HEY.” Sera did not turn. Mandi collapsed against Nova. --- It took the client forty minutes. Sera messaged Panam. **HE ASKED.** Panam stared at the holo. Birgitta noticed. “What?” Panam showed her. Birgitta laughed. A second message arrived. **WHAT DOES MADAME LIKE?** Panam typed: **YOU ARE NOT ANSWERING CARS.** Sera: **I WASN'T GOING TO.** Pause. Then: **I SAID PEOPLE WHO LISTEN WHEN SHE SAYS NO.** Panam stopped. Read it again. Her expression changed. Birgitta watched. “What?” Panam showed her. Birgitta smiled. “That one's actually useful.” “Yeah.” Panam thought. Then typed: **GOOD ANSWER.** Sera: **I KNOW, OWNER. ❤️** Panam locked the holo. Something about that answer stayed with her. People who listened when she said no. Not money. Not cars. Not gender. Not age. Not profession. Not clothes. Not some imaginary secret rate. It wasn't enough to get a yes. Nothing was. But— yeah. That one mattered. --- Nova's client asked too. Not immediately. An hour into a booking. Nova told them: “Be someone she'd want.” The client apparently asked: “How?” Nova replied: “If you have to ask me how to become someone another person wants, I can't help you.” Panam heard this afterward. She stared at Nova. Nova drank water. “What?” “That was brutal.” “Was it wrong?” “No.” Nova smiled. “Then good.” “Food.” “Coming.” “Break.” “Yes, owner.” Good. --- Vega's client tried another approach. “What should I offer?” Vega's answer: “Something you're comfortable losing.” Panam nearly spit out her drink. “WHAT?” Vega smiled. “Accurate.” “That sounds like gambling advice.” “Madame bookings are not gambling.” “Exactly.” “Because gambling has probabilities.” Suzie turned around. Dalia screamed. Panam stared at Vega. Vega smiled sweetly. “Owner?” “No.” “Would you prefer I told them a number?” “No.” “Then my answer was excellent.” Panam opened her mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “Fuck.” Vega took her water. “Thank you.” --- Mandi's client was smarter. Or perhaps simply more direct. After their booking, while Mandi was drinking water and waiting for food, she told Panam: “He asked me one question.” Panam sighed. “What?” “Whether there's anything he can do to make you say maybe.” Panam looked at her. “And?” “I told him no.” Panam blinked. Mandi smiled. “He can do things that make you say no.” Panam started smiling. “But he can't make you say maybe.” Panam's smile widened. “Good.” “Maybe belongs to you.” Panam stared at her for a second. Then nodded. “Yeah.” Mandi smiled. “That's what I told him.” Panam looked at the pets around her. Interesting. They were all giving different answers. But the answers weren't contradictory. Listen to no. Be someone she wants. Make an offer you're comfortable losing. You can't make her say maybe. Panam laughed quietly. Suzie looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” “That looked like thinking.” “Banned.” --- Birgitta got the worst one. Her client was a woman. Attractive. Funny. Birgitta had liked her immediately. One hour became two after another offer and another clear yes. Fine. Panam approved. Birgitta returned happy. Water. Food. Break. Then came back carrying her leash. She offered it. Panam took it. Birgitta turned. Click. Five. Panam looked at her. “Well?” “Excellent.” “Good.” Birgitta smiled. Panam saw it. “No.” “Owner.” “What did she ask?” Birgitta laughed. “She asked whether sleeping with your first pet would improve her chances.” Silence. Absolute fucking silence. Panam stared. Dalia slowly put down her drink. Suzie stopped polishing a glass. Mandi's mouth opened. Nova covered her face. Vega turned away. Sera had returned fifteen minutes earlier and was still on break. She nearly fell out of her chair. Panam looked at Birgitta. “What did you say?” “That she'd already slept with your first pet.” Panam stared. Birgitta smiled. “And?” “And I asked whether she felt luckier.” Panam made a sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh. Birgitta continued: “She said yes.” Dalia died. Not literally. Probably. Panam put both hands over her face. One still held five leashes. “Oh my fucking God.” Birgitta leaned closer. “I told her it doesn't work that way.” “GOOD.” “She knew.” “GOOD.” “She was joking.” “GOOD.” Panam looked at her. Birgitta was radiant. Panam started laughing. Fine. Fuck it. That one was funny. --- The real problem appeared later. Not a client. A fixer. Panam knew him by reputation. Nothing special. Competent. He approached carefully. Not Working? Interesting. “Madame.” Panam looked at him. “Yes?” “I have a client who would like an introduction.” “No.” He paused. “Can I tell you who?” “No.” “Can I tell you the offer?” Panam considered. Then: “No.” The fixer blinked. Interesting. “You don't want to know?” “No.” “Why?” Panam looked at him. “Because your client isn't here.” The fixer understood. Slowly. “Face-to-face.” “Yes.” “He asked me to arrange it.” “He can arrange his feet.” Suzie laughed from behind the bar. The fixer smiled despite himself. “All right.” Panam took a drink. He remained. “What?” “One question.” “No.” “Not about the client.” Panam waited. The fixer looked toward the pets. Then back. “People are booking them for information.” Panam's expression cooled. “Some are asking.” “Yes.” “Not the same thing.” The fixer nodded. “Fair.” Panam waited. “Does that bother you?” Panam looked at him. “If they're booking my pets because they want my pets, and they ask something harmless?” She shrugged. “The pet decides whether to answer.” “And if they're booking them just to get access to information about you?” Panam's voice became flat. “Then they booked the wrong person for the wrong reason.” The fixer nodded. “Understood.” Panam looked at him. “Tell your client something.” He waited. “If he wants to ask Madame something—” Panam pointed at the floor in front of herself. “—he asks Madame.” The fixer smiled. “That I can deliver.” “Good.” He left. Suzie looked at Panam. “That is going to make things worse.” Panam smiled. “Probably.” --- It did. The next night, the first person approached Panam eleven minutes after she arrived. “Working?” “No.” “Thank you.” And left. Panam blinked. Mandi looked confused. “What just happened?” “No idea.” Twenty minutes later: “Working?” “No.” “Thank you, Madame.” Gone. Birgitta smiled. “Efficient.” Then: “Working?” Panam looked at the woman. Attractive. “Maybe.” The woman visibly forgot how lungs worked. Panam waited. Behind her, five pets became absolutely motionless. The woman recovered. “Can I make an offer?” “Yes.” “What are you looking for?” Panam asked. “Dinner. Two hours. No expectations after.” “Location?” Given. Good. “Offer?” Given. Very good. Panam considered. Attraction? Yes. Interest? Yes. Tonight? No. “No.” The woman nodded. “Thank you.” Then left. Panam watched her go. Mandi whispered: “She survived.” Panam looked at her. “What?” “Maybe.” Nova nodded. “Then no.” Vega added: “And survived.” Panam stared. “Of course she fucking survived.” Sera smiled. “Rumors may have overstated the danger.” Panam pointed. “No.” Birgitta leaned against her shoulder. “Owner?” “What?” “I think they're learning.” Panam looked around Lizzie’s. Maybe. People were still staring. Still whispering. Still calculating. But something had changed. They were beginning to understand that there was no trick. No code. No amount guaranteed access. No pet could hand them a key. Maybe wasn't something you earned. Yes wasn't something you purchased. The offer mattered. Attraction mattered. Behavior mattered. Timing mattered. And after all of those— Panam still decided. Good. That was exactly how she wanted it. --- Then Suzie walked over. Smiling. Panam immediately became suspicious. “What?” “I heard a new rumor.” “No.” “This one's good.” “No.” “Apparently—” “Suzie.” “—if you want Madame to say maybe—” Panam closed her eyes. “—you shouldn't ask her pets.” Panam opened one eye. Suzie smiled. “You should ask her.” Panam considered. Then smiled. “Finally.” Suzie lifted her glass. “Progress.” Panam touched her glass against it. Then Suzie added: “They still think the car helps.” Panam stared. Suzie broke. Panam laughed. “Fuck.” A voice behind her: “Madame?” Panam turned. Man. Attractive. Very. Panam noticed. He smiled. “Working?” Panam looked him over. No entourage. Calm. Good eye contact. No visible performance. Then she glanced toward Lizzie’s entrance. Through the glass she could see— a Quadra. A very nice Quadra. Panam slowly looked back at him. He followed her gaze. Then immediately said: “The car is not for you.” Panam stopped. Five pets froze. Suzie froze. The man smiled. “I heard the rumor.” Panam stared. “And?” “I already owned the car.” Panam's mouth twitched. Good. Very good. “Working?” he repeated. Panam smiled. “Maybe.” Somewhere behind her, Mandi whispered: “Holy shit.” The man nodded. No celebration. No visible victory. “Can I make an offer?” Panam looked at him. “Yes.” And Lizzie’s leaned closer. --- ## CHAPTER 31 — TWO MORE DAYS The evening eventually ended. Not dramatically. Nobody offered Panam another fifty million. Nobody produced another spreadsheet. Nobody attempted to purchase market intelligence from one of her pets. Nobody parked another car outside as bait. By recent standards, it was practically peaceful. Sera left first. Artist work in the morning. Her leash returned to her before she left. Then Mandi. Nova. Vega. One by one. Collars remained. Leashes went with them. Dalia and Deja disappeared sometime later. Suzie finally looked at Panam and Birgitta. “Go home.” Panam looked offended. “Why?” “Because I want to close eventually.” “You're open all night.” “Details.” Birgitta laughed. Panam looked at her. “Ready?” “Yes, owner.” Panam stood. Birgitta's leash remained in her hand. They walked out together. Home. --- Morning came with coffee. Of course. Panam woke to the smell before she opened her eyes. She lay still for several seconds. Then remembered. Birgitta. Apartment. Coffee. Again. Panam smiled into the pillow. Fuck. She got up. Birgitta was in the kitchen. Barefoot. Smoked copper-grey hair still disordered from sleep. One of Panam's shirts. Again. Panam leaned against the doorway. “You have clothes.” Birgitta looked over. “Yes.” “In this apartment.” “Yes.” “A lot of them.” “Yes.” “And yet.” Birgitta looked down at the shirt. Then back up. “I like this one.” “That's mine.” “Yes.” Panam stared. Birgitta smiled. Panam walked over and took the coffee Birgitta had already prepared for her. “Thief.” “Owner.” “That doesn't make theft legal.” “I think you'll find possession law becomes complicated.” “Do not start legal analysis before coffee.” “Good rule.” Panam drank. Better. They stood together quietly. No rush. No stable. No Lizzie’s. No clients. Just morning. Eventually Birgitta checked the time. “I need to go into the city.” Panam looked at her. “For what?” “Things.” Panam raised an eyebrow. Birgitta smiled. “Boring things.” “Want me to come?” The question was immediate. Natural. Birgitta's expression softened. “No.” Panam looked at her. “No?” “I won't be long.” “You sure?” “Yes.” Panam considered. Then nodded. “Okay.” No interrogation. No suspicion. Birgitta had a life. Things to do. Places to be. Panam did not need to know all of them. “Need the truck?” “No.” “Ride?” “No.” “Gun?” Birgitta laughed. “I have one.” “Good.” Panam drank more coffee. “Message if plans change.” “Yes, owner.” Birgitta leaned closer. Kissed Panam. Warm. Easy. Then disappeared toward the shower. Panam looked down at her coffee. Yeah. Fine. Normal. --- Birgitta left forty minutes later. Panam watched her go. Then went about her own morning. She had things to do too. None of them involved wondering where Birgitta was. Mostly. --- Victor looked up when Birgitta walked into the clinic. Then looked at the time. Then back at Birgitta. His expression changed. Slowly. Dangerously. “No.” Birgitta closed the door. “I haven't said anything.” “You didn't need to.” Victor leaned back. “No.” Birgitta smiled. “Two days.” Victor stared at her. “Seven.” “Yes.” “Seven days.” “I know.” “That was the number.” “Yes.” “A whole number.” “Yes.” “Easy to remember.” “Victor.” He pointed at her. “You came here dressed as Birgitta.” Birgitta looked down at herself. “Yes.” Victor stared. “You didn't even dismantle the cover.” “No.” “You just came directly here.” “Yes.” “For two more days.” “Yes.” Victor folded his arms. Birgitta waited. His eyes narrowed. “Panam?” Birgitta said nothing. Victor smiled. There it was. “Ah.” “Don't.” “You practically live there now, don't you?” “Victor.” “I'm asking medically relevant questions.” “No, you're not.” “Patient lifestyle affects treatment.” “My voice does not care where my underwear is.” Victor laughed. “That was very specific.” Birgitta closed her eyes. “Two days.” Victor stood. “Why?” “Because I need two days.” “That is not an answer.” “It is the answer you're getting.” Victor walked closer. Looked at her. Not the joke now. Professional. “Voice stable?” “Yes.” “Any pain?” “No.” “Strain?” “No.” “Swallowing?” “Normal.” “Fatigue?” “No.” He nodded. Good. Then the smile returned. “Owner happy?” Birgitta stared. “Victor.” “What?” “You are enjoying this too much.” “Immensely.” Birgitta sighed. Victor started preparing what he needed. “Two days.” “Yes.” “Not seven.” “Yes.” “Not another week.” “Yes.” “Two.” “Yes.” “And after that?” Birgitta smiled. “After that I stop being your problem.” Victor snorted. “You have never stopped being my problem.” “Fair.” He worked. Birgitta sat still. The adjustment was familiar. Nothing dramatic. Nothing worth turning into a crisis. A technical extension. Two days. Victor checked her voice afterward. “Talk.” Birgitta switched naturally into the bright, lively register that belonged completely to the woman sitting in the chair. “Victor is an intrusive old bastard who desperately needs a hobby.” Victor nodded. “Perfect.” Birgitta smiled. “Thank you.” He checked again. Then leaned back. “Two days.” “Two days.” Victor looked at her. “Does Panam know?” “No.” “Of course not.” “And she doesn't need to.” “No.” Victor's teasing disappeared completely for a moment. “Your cover. Your call.” Birgitta nodded. “Exactly.” Then Victor smiled again. “Still wearing her shirt?” Birgitta looked down. She wasn't. Different clothes. “Fuck you.” Victor laughed. “Tell Madame I said hello.” “No.” “Why?” “Because then I have to explain why.” “Shame.” Birgitta stood. “Goodbye, Victor.” “Two days!” Birgitta raised one hand without turning. “Yes, dad.” “Fuck you too.” The door closed behind her. --- Birgitta handled two actual errands afterward. Partly because she had them. Partly because returning immediately would have been ridiculous. Then she went back to Panam's apartment. Nothing unusual had happened. Nothing unusual needed to be explained. She opened the door. Panam was there. Looked over. “You're back.” “Yes.” “That was quick.” “I said it wouldn't take long.” Panam nodded. “Everything good?” Birgitta smiled. “Yes.” “Good.” That was it. Panam returned to what she was doing. Birgitta put down her bag. Two more days. Simple. --- That evening, Sera messaged. Artist work. She would not be at Lizzie’s. Panam read the message while Birgitta finished getting ready. **HAVE FUN, OWNER. TRY NOT TO DESTROY THE MARKET WITHOUT ME. ❤️** Panam typed: **FUCK YOU.** Sera replied immediately: **❤️** Panam locked the holo. Birgitta walked out. Full outfit. Smoked copper-grey hair perfect again. Clothes selected with the kind of effortless precision Panam had learned was not effortless at all. Collar. Leash in hand. She stopped in front of Panam. Held it out. Panam looked at her. Then took it. Birgitta turned. Click. One. Only one tonight. For now. Panam smiled. “Ready?” “Yes, owner.” They left. --- The street outside Lizzie’s was alive. Neon. People. Traffic. Music leaking through walls. The usual Night City collision of expensive and broken. Panam and Birgitta walked toward the entrance. Birgitta was talking. Something about a client from several nights earlier. Panam was listening. Mostly. Then— an engine note reached her. Panam stopped. Not slowed. Stopped. Birgitta took another step before the leash gently told her Panam was no longer moving. She turned. “Owner?” Panam wasn't listening. A car moved through the street. Slowly. Calmly. No showing off. No pointless revving. No attempt to make anyone look. It didn't need to. Panam stared. Nissan Skyline GT-R. R32. Clean. Not restored into lifeless perfection. Used. Loved. Maintained. The kind of car that existed because somebody actually understood why it mattered. It glided past. Panam's head followed it. Birgitta followed Panam's eyes. Then smiled. “Oh.” “Shut up.” “I didn't say anything.” “Your voice said something.” “I said oh.” “Exactly.” The Skyline moved through a wash of neon. Panam watched the stance. The wheels. The body. Fuck. Beautiful. Then she saw the driver. And— oh. Fuck. Woman. Panam only caught her properly for a few seconds. Dark hair. Strong profile. One hand relaxed on the wheel. Calm. No desperate performance. No checking whether anyone had noticed the car. She was simply driving it. And she was— very fucking attractive. Panam's attention shifted. Car. Driver. Car. Driver. Birgitta watched the entire process. Her smile widened. “Owner.” “No.” “I genuinely haven't said anything yet.” “Don't.” The Skyline slowed with traffic. The driver glanced toward Lizzie’s. Then toward Panam. Their eyes met. Briefly. Not enough for certainty. Enough. The driver's gaze remained a fraction longer than necessary. Then traffic moved. The R32 continued down the street. Panam watched it disappear. Silence. Birgitta looked at Panam. Panam looked at Birgitta. “No.” Birgitta's smile became radiant. “I still haven't said anything.” “Good.” They walked toward the door. Three steps. Birgitta: “Which one?” Panam stopped. “What?” “The car or the driver?” Panam stared at her. Birgitta waited. Panam looked back toward the street. The Skyline was gone. Then at Birgitta. “Yes.” Birgitta laughed so hard she had to catch Panam's arm. --- Suzie saw them enter. One leash. No Sera. No Mandi yet. No Nova. No Vega. Just Panam and Birgitta. Suzie looked relieved. Panam noticed. “Why do you look like that?” “Like what?” “Relieved.” Suzie put down a glass. “Because every time you walk through that door lately, my night becomes economically stupid.” “Fuck you.” “See?” Birgitta smiled. Panam guided her toward their usual place. Suzie looked at Birgitta. “Good day?” “Yes.” Panam sat. Birgitta beside her. Suzie poured. “Where's Sera?” “Artist work.” “Good for her.” Panam nodded. Birgitta looked toward the entrance. Then at Panam. Panam noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” “Good.” Mandi arrived twelve minutes later. Nova and Vega not long after. Dalia and Deja were elsewhere. Fine. One leash became two. Then three. Then four. No fifth tonight. It felt different. Not incomplete. Just different. Sera had her own life. Good. The evening began. --- The first hour was almost disappointingly normal. Mandi got booked. Good client. Good offer. Yes. Click. Three. Nova declined one. No problem. Vega accepted another. Click. Two. Birgitta stayed. Panam received three Working?s. No. No. And— maybe. Which became no. The rumor machine survived. Suzie complained. Everything was normal. Then the door opened. Panam did not notice immediately. Birgitta did. She was halfway through a drink when her eyes shifted. Then stopped. Her expression changed. Panam saw that. “What?” Birgitta looked toward the entrance. Panam followed. And forgot the question. Dark hair. Strong profile. Same calm posture. Different light. No windshield now. No car around her. The woman from the R32. Fuck. She was even better looking standing still. She entered Lizzie’s without hesitation. Looked around. Not searching nervously. Not overwhelmed. Her gaze moved across the room. Then found Panam. Stopped. Panam felt the recognition from across the bar. Birgitta slowly turned toward her owner. Panam did not look away from the woman. Birgitta whispered: “Oh.” “Shut up.” The woman smiled. Not broadly. Enough. Then she walked toward the bar. Not directly toward Panam. Interesting. She ordered a drink. Talked briefly with Suzie. Suzie looked at her. Then, because Suzie Q was a fucking traitor, looked immediately at Panam. Panam stared back. Suzie's eyebrows rose. Panam gave her a warning look. Suzie smiled. Fuck. The woman took her drink. Turned. Looked at Panam again. This time there was no ambiguity. She had noticed Panam outside. She remembered. And she was interested. Birgitta leaned closer. “Owner.” “What?” “I think the driver noticed you too.” Panam took a drink. “Maybe.” Birgitta went very still. Panam realized what she had said. Slowly turned. Birgitta's eyes were shining. “No.” Birgitta smiled. “You said it.” “Different context.” “Of course.” “Birgitta.” “Yes, owner.” “Don't.” Birgitta lifted her glass. Panam looked back toward the woman. She was still watching. Then— she started walking toward them. Not toward Birgitta. Not toward the bar. Toward Panam. Panam set down her drink. Birgitta straightened beside her. The woman stopped at a respectful distance. Up close— fuck. Panam liked her face. Liked her eyes. Liked the quiet confidence. Liked the fact that she had driven an R32 without treating it like a fucking advertisement. The woman looked at Panam. Then briefly at Birgitta. Then back. “You were outside.” Panam smiled. “So were you.” The woman's mouth curved. “You liked my car.” Panam laughed once. “That obvious?” “You stopped walking.” Birgitta made a tiny sound. Panam ignored her. “It's an R32.” “Yes.” “Of course I stopped.” The woman smiled. “I was hoping that was why.” Panam looked at her. “And if it wasn't?” The woman's eyes moved over Panam. Not crude. Not shy either. “Then I was hoping it was me.” Oh. Panam smiled. “Maybe both.” Behind her, Birgitta stopped breathing. The woman heard it. Her eyes flicked toward Birgitta. Birgitta immediately took a drink. Innocent. Completely fucking innocent. The woman looked back at Panam. “Good.” Panam waited. The woman took a small sip. Then: “I heard something else after I came in.” Panam's eyes narrowed slightly. “That sounds dangerous.” “Apparently there's a question I'm supposed to ask.” Panam stared at her. Birgitta's hand slowly covered her mouth. Suzie, several meters away, suddenly became intensely interested in a glass. The woman looked directly into Panam's eyes. “Working?” Panam didn't answer immediately. She looked at the woman. Really looked. Attraction? Fuck yes. Curiosity? Absolutely. The R32? Irrelevant. Mostly. Panam smiled. “Maybe.” Somewhere behind the bar, Suzie whispered: “Of fucking course.” --- ## CHAPTER 32 — CARITA The woman smiled. Not triumphantly. That mattered. No little flash of _I got the answer._ No sudden change in posture. No attempt to capitalize on it before Panam could reconsider. Just— a smile. “Maybe,” she repeated. Panam narrowed her eyes. “Yes.” “I heard that's rare.” “Apparently everybody has.” The woman's smile widened. “Apparently.” Birgitta was sitting very still beside Panam. Too still. Panam knew that stillness. It meant her pet was having entirely too much fun and was trying desperately not to make it obvious. Panam ignored her. Mostly. The woman glanced at the empty seat on Panam's other side. “May I?” Panam considered. “Yes.” She sat. Still no rush. Good. Panam liked that too. The woman set her drink down. Up close, Panam could see more of her. Confidence without the performance. Someone comfortable occupying her own space. Someone who didn't need to prove she belonged in the room. And very, very attractive. Fuck. Panam took a drink. “You have a name?” The woman looked amused. “Carita.” Panam nodded. “Panam.” Carita's eyebrow moved. “I know.” “Of course you do.” “I asked the bartender.” Across the room, Suzie raised one hand without looking over. Traitor. Carita continued. “She told me Madame Panam.” Panam sighed. “Of course she did.” “I wasn't sure whether Madame was a name, title, warning, or marketing.” Birgitta made a tiny choking noise. Panam turned her head. Birgitta had become fascinated by her drink. Panam looked back at Carita. “Depends who you ask.” “What if I ask you?” Panam thought about it. Then shrugged. “Title.” Carita nodded. No joke. No weird reaction. Just accepted information. “Madame Panam, then.” Something warm moved down Panam's spine. Fuck. Carita noticed. Not the reaction itself, perhaps. But something. Her eyes sharpened slightly. Panam smiled. “Careful.” “With what?” “That.” Carita's expression became innocent. “I only used your title.” “I know.” Birgitta whispered: “Oh, this is going to be terrible.” Panam turned. “Do you need something?” “No, owner.” Carita's eyes moved toward Birgitta. Noticed the collar. Then the leash in Panam's hand. She had obviously noticed both before. Now she looked more deliberately. “Owner?” Birgitta smiled. “Yes.” Carita looked at Panam. Panam waited. There it was. The moment where people usually made the dynamic complicated. Carita instead asked: “Do I need to understand that before I make an offer?” Panam paused. Good question. “No.” Carita nodded. “Then I don't.” Birgitta's eyebrows rose. Panam felt her interest increase. Fuck. Again. --- “Okay,” Panam said. “You asked if I'm working.” “Yes.” “I said maybe.” “Yes.” “So what do you want?” Carita considered before answering. “Dinner.” Panam waited. “Tonight?” “If you want.” “Duration?” Carita smiled. “I was warned this part gets surprisingly practical.” “It does.” “Three hours.” Panam nodded. “Dinner where?” Carita named a place. Panam knew it. Good. Expensive without being stupid. Secure enough. Private enough. “After?” Carita shrugged. “Nothing assumed.” “That's not an answer.” “Then the answer is: I would like the possibility of more, if we're both still interested.” Better. “Hotel?” “Could be.” “Your place?” “Could be.” “Mine?” Carita looked at her. “No.” Panam blinked. Interesting. “Why not?” “Because I don't know you.” Birgitta turned her head. Panam stared at Carita. Then smiled. “Good answer.” Carita smiled back. “I thought so.” “No guests?” “No.” “Recording?” “No.” “Braindance?” “No.” “Anything unusual?” “No.” “Anything specific you're expecting?” Carita looked directly at her. “You.” Panam's expression changed. Carita continued before Panam could answer. “Not a performance someone described to me. Not whatever the rumors say Madame does for fifty million. I saw you outside. I liked what I saw.” Panam's eyes narrowed. “The car helped.” Carita laughed. Finally. A real laugh. Warm. “Which car?” Panam stared at her. Carita held the expression for perhaps two seconds. Then lost it. “Sorry.” Birgitta folded over the bar. Panam pointed at Carita. “That was fucking terrible.” “You walked into it.” “I did not.” “You absolutely did.” Birgitta, helpless: “Owner.” “No.” Carita laughed again. Panam tried not to. Failed. Fine. Fuck. Fine. --- When it settled, Panam looked at Carita. “Your R32.” “Yes.” “Actual GT-R?” “Yes.” “Not a conversion?” “No.” “What year?” Carita told her. Panam leaned slightly closer. “Engine?” Carita told her. Panam's attention sharpened instantly. “Stock?” “No.” “How far?” Carita gave her the broad shape of the build. Not a parts catalog. Enough. Panam listened. Then asked about the suspension. Carita answered. Brakes. Answered. Transmission. Answered. Panam smiled. “You actually know your car.” Carita looked mildly offended. “Of course I know my car.” “You'd be surprised.” “I wouldn't.” That stopped Panam. Then she laughed. “Fair.” Carita took another drink. “I noticed you knew what you were looking at.” “You mean when I stopped in the fucking street?” “That was a clue.” Birgitta had recovered enough to sit upright again. “She stopped completely.” “Birgitta.” “She did.” Carita smiled at Panam. “I noticed.” Panam stared at both women. “I hate this conversation.” “No, you don't,” Birgitta said. Carita wisely said nothing. Panam pointed at her pet. “You are currently attached to me.” “Yes, owner.” “That should make you more careful.” “It has historically failed to.” Carita looked at the leash. Then at Panam. Then at Birgitta. Something clicked. Not understanding everything. Enough. “This is voluntary.” Panam answered immediately. “Yes.” Birgitta answered at exactly the same time. “Yes.” Carita nodded. “Okay.” And moved on. Panam liked her more. Fuck. --- “Offer,” Panam said. Carita looked at her. “Now?” “That's generally how this works.” “I was hoping we'd get back to cars.” “Offer first.” Carita gave her a number. Panam did not react visibly. Birgitta did. Only slightly. Carita noticed. Panam noticed Carita noticing. Interesting. It was high. Very high. Not fifty million. Not remotely. But easily serious enough to establish that Carita had not walked over expecting a casual drink to turn into free access. Panam looked at her. “Three hours.” “Yes.” “Dinner.” “Yes.” “Anything after is separate.” “Yes.” “And if dinner is all there is?” “Then dinner is all there is.” “No complaint?” “No.” “No negotiation afterward?” “No.” “No adding money because you don't like my answer?” Carita's expression shifted. Not offended. Almost puzzled. “No.” Good. Panam sat back. Considered. Offer? Good. Terms? Good. Safety? Nothing alarming. Attraction? Fuck yes. Interest? Increasing. Timing? She looked at Birgitta. Her first pet sat beside her. Collared. Leashed. Watching calmly. Birgitta smiled. Not permission. Panam didn't need permission. Not pressure either. Just— _choose._ Panam looked back at Carita. “Maybe.” Carita blinked. “You already said maybe.” “I know.” “Is this a second maybe?” “Yes.” “Does that improve my position?” “No.” Birgitta covered her mouth again. Carita considered. “So there are levels of maybe.” “There are not.” “Apparently there are at least two.” “There fucking aren't.” “Good to know.” Panam stared. Carita took another drink. That fucking smile. --- Mandi returned. She saw Carita. Saw Panam. Saw Birgitta. Saw the expression on Panam's face. Stopped. “Oh.” Panam closed her eyes. “No.” Mandi approached. Her own leash folded in one hand. “Owner.” “Don't.” “I haven't said anything.” “That phrase has become a warning.” Mandi smiled. Then noticed the conversation was active and did not interrupt further. Good. Water. Panam pointed. Mandi obeyed. Food. Already waiting. Break. Mandi took herself away. Carita watched. Again, without staring. “You look after them.” Panam looked at her. “Yes.” Carita nodded. Nothing else. No joke. Panam's fingers shifted around Birgitta's leash. Carita noticed that too. Panam was increasingly certain the woman noticed everything. --- “Why did you come in?” Panam asked. Carita looked at her. “To Lizzie’s?” “Yes.” “You.” Direct. Panam liked direct. “You saw me for about five seconds.” “Long enough.” “You didn't know who I was.” “No.” “You didn't know I worked here.” “I still don't think you work here.” Panam smiled. “Good.” “I parked.” “Where?” Carita told her. Not directly outside. Panam approved for reasons she refused to examine. “Then?” “I came back.” “To find a woman you saw standing on the street.” “Yes.” Birgitta looked delighted. Panam ignored her. “That usually work?” “I've never done it before.” Panam paused. Carita shrugged. “You were worth turning around.” Oh. Fuck. Panam took her drink. Birgitta's eyes moved carefully away. Smart pet. Panam drank. Then: “The R32 made me notice you.” Carita smiled. “I suspected.” “You made me keep looking.” Carita's smile changed. Smaller. Warmer. “Good.” There it was again. No victory. Just pleasure. Panam liked that. A lot. --- Nova returned. Water. Food. Break. No interrogation. Vega returned later. Same. Mandi eventually came back from break and offered her leash. Panam took it. Click. Two. Nova eventually did the same. Three. Vega later. Four. Sera absent. Artist work. Exactly where she wanted to be. Four leashes rested naturally in Panam's hand. Carita looked at them. Then at Panam. “Busy.” Panam sighed. “Don't.” Carita smiled. “I wasn't criticizing.” “I know.” “Or asking to join.” Panam stared. Birgitta made a strangled sound. Mandi immediately turned away. Nova failed completely. Vega buried her face against Nova's shoulder. Carita looked around. “What?” Panam put her face in one hand. “Nothing.” “Did I accidentally say something?” “Yes.” “What?” “No.” Birgitta whispered: “Please don't explain it.” “Thank you.” Carita looked suspicious. Panam recovered. Eventually. “Offer still stands?” Carita looked at her. “Yes.” Panam considered. She wanted dinner. That was suddenly obvious. Not because of the money. The money was excellent. Not because of the car. The car was— fuck, the car was excellent too. But Panam wanted another hour of this conversation. Then another. She wanted to know what Carita thought was wrong with modern steering systems. She wanted to know whether the R32's modifications were Carita's decisions or inherited from a previous owner. She wanted to argue about traction. She wanted to see whether Carita was still this calm when Panam disagreed with her. And— yes. She wanted Carita. Maybe not everything. Maybe not tonight. Maybe dinner. Maybe more. That was enough. Panam looked at her four pets. Then at Carita. “Yes.” Silence. Carita blinked once. Panam smiled. “You heard me.” “Yes.” Carita's smile arrived slowly. “Dinner?” “Dinner.” “Three hours?” “Three.” “And after?” “We'll see.” Carita nodded. “We'll see.” No celebration. No pushing. Good. Panam looked at her pets. “All right.” Mandi immediately offered her hand. Panam stared. “What?” “My leash.” “You already gave it to me.” “Yes. I'm asking for it back.” Oh. Right. Panam unclipped Mandi. Returned it. Nova next. Then Vega. Birgitta waited. Panam looked at her. Birgitta smiled. “Home later?” The question landed differently now. Warm. Familiar. Panam nodded. “Yeah.” Birgitta offered her hand. Panam unclipped the first leash. Folded it once. Placed it into Birgitta's palm. “Message me.” “Yes, owner.” Carita watched. Panam looked at her. “What?” “Nothing.” “Good.” Birgitta stood. Then leaned down. Kissed Panam's cheek. “Have fun.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “Careful.” Birgitta smiled. Then looked at Carita. “Nice car.” Carita smiled. “Thank you.” Birgitta walked away with the others. Carita watched her go. Then looked at Panam. “First?” Panam's eyes narrowed. “How did you know?” Carita glanced at the direction Birgitta had gone. “The way you looked at her.” Panam stopped. Oh. Carita picked up her drink. “Was I wrong?” Panam looked after Birgitta. Then back. “No.” Carita nodded. Nothing else. Again. No invasive question. No attempt to decode. Panam smiled. “Come on.” “Where?” “You offered dinner.” Carita stood. “I did.” Panam looked toward Suzie. Suzie was already smiling. “No.” “I didn't say anything.” “Everybody keeps fucking saying that.” Suzie laughed. Panam looked at Carita. “Let's go.” They started toward the door. Halfway there, Panam stopped. Carita looked at her. “What?” Panam smiled. “I'm driving.” Carita stared. Then laughed. “No.” Panam's eyebrows rose. “No?” “My car.” “I know.” “My R32.” “I know.” “You are not driving my R32.” Panam stared at her. Carita stared back. A beat. Panam smiled slowly. “Oh, this dinner is going to be fun.” Carita smiled just as slowly. “Yes.” Outside, somewhere around the corner, an R32 waited. And for perhaps the first time all week, Madame Panam had found a negotiation where money was the least interesting part. --- ## CHAPTER 33 — AFTER DINNER Carita drove. Panam objected. “This is bullshit.” Carita kept one hand relaxed on the wheel. “You agreed to dinner.” “I know.” “You did not negotiate driving privileges.” Panam slowly turned toward her. Carita's mouth twitched. “You fucking listened.” “I pay attention.” “That was my line.” “I don't remember purchasing exclusive rights to it.” Panam folded her arms. The R32 moved smoothly through Night City traffic. Carita did not show off. That was the first thing Panam noticed once they were actually moving. No unnecessary throttle. No dramatic lane changes. No attempt to demonstrate what the car could do merely because Panam was sitting beside her. She just drove. Cleanly. Confidently. Like the machine beneath her mattered too much to be turned into a performance. Panam watched her hands. The road. The instruments. Carita. Carita glanced sideways. “You're doing it again.” “What?” “Car.” Panam looked directly at her. “Driver.” Carita smiled. “Better.” “Don't get arrogant.” “I own an R32. That's going to be difficult.” Panam laughed. Fuck. This had been a good idea. --- Dinner was worse. Much worse. Because Panam liked her. A lot. The car had given them somewhere obvious to begin. They didn't stay there. They talked about old cars. New cars. Cars that had been improved. Cars that had been murdered by people with too much money and no taste. Steering. Weight. Suspension. The increasingly offensive belief that every physical control in a vehicle should be replaced with a fucking screen. Panam discovered that Carita disagreed properly. No fake surrender. No nodding because Panam was Madame and Carita had paid for her time. At one point Carita made a comment about suspension geometry. Panam stopped eating. “No.” Carita looked up. “No?” “Absolutely fucking not.” Carita smiled. And argued. Twenty minutes later, the food was getting cold. “You're wrong,” Carita said. Panam stared at her. “You paid me and you're still choosing violence.” “I paid for dinner.” “Exactly.” “I didn't pay to agree with you.” Panam's expression changed. Slowly. “Good.” Carita held her eyes. “Good.” Fuck. --- Three hours arrived too quickly. Carita noticed first. Or at least acknowledged it first. She glanced at the time. Then looked back at Panam. “Our time.” Panam checked. Exactly. No attempt to steal ten minutes. No convenient failure to notice. No assumption that a good evening had purchased anything beyond the agreed evening. Panam liked that. Carita set down her glass. “Thank you.” “For what?” “Saying yes.” Panam leaned back. “You made a good offer.” Carita watched her. “I hoped that wasn't the only reason.” “It wasn't.” A small smile. “Good.” Panam looked at her. Really looked. The attraction had not gone anywhere. Three hours had made it considerably fucking worse. Carita waited. Didn't ask. Didn't lean closer. Didn't make Panam answer a question she hadn't asked. Panam smiled. “You said anything after dinner was separate.” “Yes.” “You still interested?” “Yes.” Immediate. Panam felt that answer low and warm. “I'm not working after dinner.” Carita's eyes changed. Not confusion. Understanding. Panam continued. “If I stay with you, that's me.” A beat. Then Carita nodded. “Okay.” Panam watched her. “No offer?” “No.” “No negotiation?” “You just told me you're not working.” “Yes.” “So I'm not buying anything.” There. Panam's smile appeared before she could stop it. “You make this annoyingly easy.” Carita smiled back. “I can become difficult.” “You already won't let me drive your car.” “Some boundaries are sacred.” “Asshole.” “Madame.” That title. Again. Different now. Panam stood. “Come on.” Carita looked up. “Where?” “You're taking me for a drive.” “I thought you were going to demand the keys.” “I can do both.” “No.” Panam grinned. “See? Difficult.” --- Night City fell away in pieces. Not completely. It never did. But the roads widened. Traffic thinned. Neon became distant rather than immediate. Carita let the R32 breathe. Not recklessly. Enough. Panam felt the engine change beneath them. Felt the chassis settle. Watched Carita become quieter. Focused. At home. And Panam understood something. The R32 wasn't an accessory. It wasn't a conversation piece. It wasn't something Carita owned because it made people look. This was her car. Not in the legal sense. In the way Panam understood better than most. Machine and driver had learned each other. Panam stopped watching the instruments. Started watching Carita. Carita noticed. This time she didn't say anything. Eventually she pulled off the road. A quiet place. Night City burning in the distance. Engine off. Silence. Panam looked through the windshield. Then sideways. Carita was already looking at her. “Still maybe?” Carita asked. Panam smiled. “No.” Carita waited. Panam leaned closer. “Yes.” The first kiss was almost careful. Almost. Carita met her halfway. Panam's hand came up against the side of her neck. Carita's settled at Panam's waist. Warm. Steady. Neither testing whether the other meant it anymore. Panam shifted closer. The second kiss lost the caution. Carita made a soft sound against her mouth. There. Panam felt it. Answered it. Her fingers slipped into Carita's dark hair as Carita drew her closer. The awkwardness of seats and console became briefly hilarious. Panam broke the kiss. “Your fucking car is in the way.” Carita laughed against her cheek. “You wanted the R32.” “I want the driver.” That stopped the laughter. Carita looked at her. Panam saw the reaction. Immediate. Open. Good. She kissed her again. Carita answered harder this time. The kiss deepened. Panam's breath caught when Carita's hand moved slowly along her side, not taking anything for granted, waiting at each change until Panam answered by moving closer. Panam did. Very clearly. For several minutes, Night City stopped mattering. Eventually Panam pulled back just enough to breathe. Carita's forehead rested against hers. Both smiling. Both breathing harder. “This isn't going to work,” Panam murmured. Carita's eyes opened. “The attraction?” “The fucking seats.” Carita laughed. Panam laughed with her. Then kissed her once more. “Hotel.” Carita looked at her. “Yes?” Panam smiled. “Yes.” --- The room was good. Carita had not reserved it. Panam noticed that. No presumption. They arranged it together. Walked in together. The door closed behind them. And for a moment neither moved. Not hesitation. Recognition. The paid evening was over. No clock now. No offer. No Madame transaction. Just two women who had spent several hours discovering that attraction had survived conversation. Improved, actually. Carita stepped closer. Panam let her. Their eyes stayed together. Carita touched Panam's waist. Stopped there. Panam closed the remaining distance herself. Choice answered choice. The kiss began slowly again. It did not stay slow. Panam backed Carita toward the bed. Carita laughed softly into the kiss when the backs of her legs found it. Panam followed her down. Hands explored without hurry. Clothing shifted. Then disappeared gradually, piece by piece, between kisses and laughter and moments where one of them simply stopped to look at the other. Carita looked at Panam for a long second. “What?” Carita smiled. “Driver.” Panam stared. Then laughed. “You asshole.” “You started it.” Panam kissed her quiet. Carita's hand moved over her back. Panam shivered. Not from cold. Carita noticed. Repeated the touch more slowly. Panam's eyes closed for half a second. When they opened again, Carita was watching her. That quiet confidence was still there. But something else now. Warmth. Interest. A question without words. Panam answered by shifting closer. Carita's breath changed when their bodies settled together. So did Panam's. The first shared movement drew a soft sound from Panam before she could decide whether she wanted to make one. Carita smiled. Panam immediately narrowed her eyes. “Don't.” “I didn't say anything.” “Oh, fuck you.” Carita kissed her. Panam's next sound disappeared between them. The rhythm came naturally after that. Not polished. Not performed. Two people learning. Adjusting. Finding what made the other breathe differently. What made a hand tighten. What made an expression change. Panam discovered that Carita liked eye contact. Carita discovered Panam did too. Neither looked away. The room became smaller. Warmer. Conversation reduced to fragments. Names. Short instructions. Questions answered immediately. “Yes.” “There.” “Again.” A laugh when something went wrong. A kiss when it didn't. Panam's control slipped by degrees. Not taken. Given. Carita noticed every piece of it. Stayed with her. When pleasure finally climbed too high to remain conversational, Panam's hand tightened around Carita's. Carita held on. Panam went still for one suspended second— then broke. Breath catching. Eyes closing. Body tightening against Carita before slowly releasing. Carita stayed close through all of it. No rush to move. No joke. Just warmth. Panam opened her eyes. Carita was still there. Watching. Panam smiled. “Hi.” Carita laughed softly. “Hi.” Panam pulled her down and kissed her. Then rolled them. Carita's surprised laugh became something else almost immediately. Panam smiled against her skin. “My turn.” What followed took longer. Panam liked learning. Carita discovered that quickly. Panam paid attention to every reaction. Every change in breathing. Every involuntary movement. Every quiet indication that she'd found something worth repeating. Carita tried once to say something sarcastic. It dissolved halfway through. Panam looked up. Smug. Carita managed: “Don't.” Panam grinned. “I didn't say anything.” “You bitch.” “Fair.” Then Panam stopped giving her enough concentration to talk. Carita's hand found Panam's. Held. Her other hand tightened against the sheets. Her breathing became uneven. Then suddenly stopped. A small stillness. Panam stayed exactly where Carita needed her. Carita's body answered before her voice did. Then the sound came. Low. Uncontrolled. Beautiful. Panam stayed with her until tension became trembling and trembling slowly became stillness. Afterward, Panam moved up beside her. Carita turned immediately. They came together without discussing it. Skin warm. Breathing settling. Carita's head against Panam's shoulder. Panam's fingers moving lazily through dark hair. Silence. Good silence. Eventually: “Still think I'm wrong about suspension geometry?” Carita asked. Panam stared at the ceiling. “You waited until after sex to restart that argument?” “Yes.” Panam started laughing. Carita joined her. Panam rolled toward her. “You're fucking impossible.” “You said you liked difficult.” “I said you were difficult.” “Close enough.” Panam kissed her. Warm. Slow. Nothing left to prove. --- Much later, Panam's holo buzzed. Once. She reached for it. Birgitta. **HOME.** Panam smiled. Typed: **GOOD. LATE. DON'T WAIT UP.** A few seconds. **I WASN'T GOING TO.** Then: **LIAR. ❤️** Panam snorted. Carita looked over. “Everything okay?” “Yeah.” “Your pet?” Panam glanced at her. “Yes.” Carita nodded. No questions. Panam put the holo down. Carita shifted closer. Panam looked at her. “You know, you're handling the whole pet thing surprisingly well.” “I don't understand all of it.” “You don't need to.” “I assumed so.” Panam smiled. Good. Carita rested her hand against Panam's stomach. “Do I get to ask one thing?” “Depends.” “Was she the first?” Panam went still. Not alarmed. Just surprised. “How did you know?” “The way you look at her.” Panam considered. Then nodded. “Yes.” Carita nodded too. Nothing else. No excavation. No demand to understand. Panam liked that. She turned toward Carita. Kissed her again. And some time later, neither of them was particularly interested in sleeping yet. --- It was very late when Carita finally drove Panam home. Panam had again requested the keys. Carita had again refused. “You've literally had sex with me.” “Yes.” “But I can't drive your car.” “Correct.” Panam stared at her. “That is an insane hierarchy of trust.” “No, it's a very specific hierarchy of trust.” Panam laughed. The R32 stopped near her building. Neither woman moved immediately. Carita looked at her. “I'd like to see you again.” Panam smiled. “Then see me again.” “No booking?” “That depends what you want next time.” Carita considered. “Dinner.” “Maybe.” “Drive.” “Maybe.” “My car.” Panam narrowed her eyes. “I hate you.” Carita smiled. “Maybe.” Panam leaned across and kissed her. Long enough to make goodbye slightly inconvenient. Then opened the door. “Good night, Carita.” “Good night, Panam.” Panam stepped out. Closed the door. Then bent slightly toward the open window. “One day I'm driving this.” “No.” “One day.” “No.” Panam grinned. Carita drove away. Panam watched. Car first. Driver second. Then reconsidered. Fine. Driver first. Barely. --- The apartment was dark except for one small light in the kitchen. Panam entered quietly. Birgitta's shoes. Birgitta's jacket. Her bag. The accumulated evidence of how thoroughly one woman could spread herself through an apartment without ever formally moving in. Panam smiled. She found Birgitta asleep. Changed quietly. Slipped into bed. Birgitta moved almost immediately. Half awake. “Owner?” “Yeah.” “Good dinner?” Panam settled beside her. “Very.” A pause. “The driver?” Panam closed her eyes. “Go to sleep.” Birgitta laughed softly. Panam put an arm around her. Birgitta moved closer. Warm. Familiar. Nothing unusual. Nothing ending. Not from where Panam stood. Within minutes Birgitta was asleep again. Panam followed. --- Birgitta woke first. She lay still for a while. Panam asleep beside her. Apartment quiet. Morning light beginning to find the edges of the room. Two days. Victor had given her exactly two. And this was the last one. Birgitta looked at Panam. No sadness. No announcement. No reason to turn a technical fact about Birgitta into something Panam had to carry. Today was simply today. She slipped carefully out of bed. Went to the kitchen. Made coffee. Barefoot. Wearing Panam's shirt. Again. Because some traditions deserved respect. Panam appeared several minutes later. Hair chaotic. Eyes barely functional. She looked at Birgitta. Then at the shirt. “You're doing that deliberately.” Birgitta handed her coffee. “Yes.” Panam drank. Life returned slowly. “How was your night?” Birgitta asked. Panam looked at her. “You already asked.” “I was half asleep.” “You still don't get details.” “I didn't ask for details.” “You were going to.” “I was going to ask whether Carita is still forbidden from letting you drive the R32.” Panam stared. Birgitta smiled. Panam drank more coffee. “Yes.” Birgitta laughed. “Smart woman.” “Fuck you.” “Possibly later.” Panam's eyebrows rose. Birgitta took a drink. “In a non-contractual capacity.” Panam started laughing. And that was morning. Normal. Easy. Birgitta knew what day it was. Panam didn't. That was fine. There was still an entire day ahead of them. Birgitta intended to enjoy it. --- ## CHAPTER 34 — TODAY Panam finished her coffee. Birgitta stole the cup. Panam stared. “You have your own.” “Yes.” “There is coffee in it.” “Yes.” “Then why are you drinking mine?” Birgitta took another sip. “Yours tastes better.” “It is literally the same coffee.” “No.” “Yes.” “No.” Panam reached for the cup. Birgitta moved it away. “Give me my fucking coffee.” “Owner.” “That word does not grant you beverage rights.” “I think established practice says otherwise.” “What established practice?” Birgitta smiled. “This one.” She drank again. Panam stared. Then grabbed Birgitta around the waist. Birgitta yelped. Coffee remained miraculously upright. “Panam!” “Give.” “No.” “Give.” “No.” Panam's fingers found her ribs. Birgitta immediately twisted away. “Don't you fucking dare—” Panam dared. Birgitta laughed. Coffee became secondary. Very quickly. By the time Panam finally recovered her cup, Birgitta was trapped against the kitchen counter, laughing hard enough that she couldn't properly object. Panam held the cup triumphantly. “Mine.” Birgitta caught her shirt and pulled her closer. “Also mine.” Panam looked down at the shirt. “My shirt.” “Yes.” “My apartment.” “Yes.” “My coffee.” “Debatable.” Panam kissed her. Birgitta answered immediately. Warm. Familiar. Easy. When they separated, Panam took a drink. “Coffee isn't debatable.” Birgitta kissed the corner of her mouth. “Apparently it is.” --- The day did not begin with Lizzie’s. Good. Panam had errands. Real ones. Boring ones. Birgitta came with her. Not as pet. No collar. No leash. Just Birgitta. They spent forty minutes finding a replacement component Panam insisted should have taken ten. The first seller tried to overcharge her. Panam explained the error. Loudly. The seller reconsidered. Outside, Birgitta looked at her. “You're very diplomatic.” “Fuck him.” “Excellent diplomacy.” “He knew what he was doing.” “Yes.” “And he knew I knew.” “Yes.” “So why try?” “Optimism?” “Stupidity.” “Those overlap.” Panam looked at her. “Fair.” They kept walking. A passing engine caught Panam's attention. Her head turned automatically. Birgitta noticed. “Not an R32.” Panam kept walking. “I know.” “You looked.” “I look at cars.” “Of course.” Panam glanced at her. “Don't start.” “I said nothing.” “That phrase should be illegal.” --- Lunch happened somewhere neither had planned. Panam saw food. Birgitta agreed. That was the entire decision-making process. They sat outside. Night City moved around them. Panam's holo buzzed. She checked it. Carita. Birgitta noticed the expression before Panam could hide it. “Oh.” Panam looked up. “No.” Birgitta took another bite. “I said nothing.” Panam looked back at the message. **I HAVE RECONSIDERED.** Panam narrowed her eyes. Another arrived. **YOU MAY DRIVE THE R32.** Panam sat straighter. Birgitta watched. Then the third message arrived. **IN YOUR DREAMS.** Panam stared at the holo. Birgitta waited. Panam typed. **FUCK YOU.** The answer appeared almost immediately. **YOU ALREADY DID.** Panam froze. Birgitta saw it. Her eyes widened. “What?” “Nothing.” “That was not a nothing face.” “It was nothing.” “Owner.” “No.” “Show me.” “Absolutely fucking not.” Birgitta reached across the table. Panam pulled the holo away. “No.” Birgitta laughed. “Now I definitely want to know.” “You're not going to.” “Was it Carita?” Panam locked the holo. “No comment.” Birgitta smiled. “That means yes.” “Eat your lunch.” “Yes, owner.” Panam's holo buzzed again. She ignored it. For six seconds. Then checked. **DINNER AGAIN SOMETIME. NO BOOKING.** Panam's expression softened. Birgitta did not tease this time. Panam typed: **YEAH.** A moment. **GOOD.** That was all. Panam put the holo away. No schedule. No promise. No complication. Just— yeah. She liked that. --- They eventually returned to the apartment. Panam had something to repair. Birgitta had things to do on her holo. For nearly an hour they barely spoke. Panam worked. Birgitta sat nearby. Comfortable silence. At one point Panam held out a hand without looking. “Driver.” Birgitta stared at her. “What?” Panam looked at the tool in her other hand. “Screwdriver.” “Oh.” Birgitta handed it over. Panam caught the smile. “Fuck you.” “I didn't say anything.” “I hate Carita.” “No, you don't.” “No.” Birgitta waited. Panam sighed. “No, I fucking don't.” Birgitta returned to her holo. Five minutes later: “Driver.” Birgitta looked up. Panam's hand was extended again. She handed her the screwdriver. Neither said anything. Both started laughing. --- Late afternoon arrived. Birgitta checked the time once. Only once. Panam didn't notice. Good. There was no need for anything to change yet. Tonight was still theirs. Birgitta put away her holo. “Lizzie’s?” Panam looked up from the component she had finally beaten into submission. “Yeah.” “Sera?” “Probably.” “Mandi?” “Definitely.” “Nova and Vega?” “Almost certainly.” “Dalia and Deja?” Panam shrugged. “Maybe.” Birgitta smiled. Panam caught it. “What?” “Nothing.” “Don't use that fucking word.” “I said nothing.” “Not that one.” Birgitta laughed. --- They showered separately. Mostly because Panam went first. Birgitta got ready afterward. Panam watched the transformation from the bed. Not because it was unusual anymore. That was precisely the problem. It had become normal. Smoked copper-grey hair. Very light brown eyes. Clothing selected carefully. The details assembled one after another until Birgitta looked exactly like Birgitta. Panam had watched it enough times that she knew the rhythm. Hair. Face. Clothes. Final check. Then collar. Birgitta picked it up. Looked at Panam. Walked over. Held it out. Panam smiled. “You getting lazy?” “Yes.” “Honest.” “Always.” “Bullshit.” “Frequently.” Panam took the collar. Birgitta turned. Panam closed it around her neck. Click. Birgitta touched it once. Then picked up her leash. Held it toward Panam. Panam took it. Birgitta turned again. Click. One. “My pet.” Birgitta looked over her shoulder. “My owner.” Nothing different. Exactly right. They left. --- Suzie saw them enter. “Fuck.” Panam stopped. “What?” “You.” “What about me?” “You're here.” “This is Lizzie’s.” “I know.” “I'm usually here.” “I know.” “Then why fuck?” Suzie pointed toward an empty section of bar. “Because it has been quiet for twenty-three minutes.” Panam looked around. “Congratulations.” “You ruin things.” Birgitta smiled. Suzie looked at her. “Control your owner.” “No.” “Traitor.” “Pet.” “Worse.” Panam sat. Suzie poured. The night began. --- Sera arrived first. White couture, expensive and sculptural enough to make the collar look even more deliberate rather than decorative. Collar already in place. Leash in hand. Her silver-white hair carried a faint amused static at the edges, the sort that always made composure slightly less convincing than Sera intended. She kissed Panam before offering it. “Hi.” “Hi.” Then she kissed Birgitta. Long enough for Panam to notice. Short enough for nobody else to care. Sera turned. Offered the leash. Panam took it. Click. Two. Mandi arrived. Three. Nova. Four. Vega. Five. The full stable. Dalia and Deja appeared later. Dalia took one look at the five leashes and smiled. “Madame.” “Don't.” “I only said your title.” “That excuse is spreading.” Deja sat beside Dalia. Birgitta smiled at her. Deja smiled back. Normal. Everything normal. --- The first client wanted Vega. Good approach. Good questions. Good offer. Panam looked at Vega. “Yes.” Panam unclipped her. Four. The second wanted Sera. “Working?” Sera looked at Panam. Panam handled the conversation. Duration. What he wanted. Location. Offer. Serious. Very serious. Panam looked at Sera. Sera considered. “No, thank you.” The man nodded. “Understood.” Good. He left. Sera leaned toward Panam. “Nice.” “What?” “He listened.” “Yeah.” Sera smiled. Then rested lightly against Panam's shoulder. Leash still in Panam's hand. --- Birgitta received an approach twenty minutes later. Woman. Confident. Previous client. Panam recognized her. The woman stopped in front of them. “Working?” Panam looked at Birgitta. Then back at the woman. “What are you looking for?” “Two hours.” She described the evening. Simple. Private room. No guests. Nothing unusual. Panam asked two more questions. Then: “Offer?” The woman gave it. High. Birgitta listened. Panam looked at her. Her choice. Birgitta smiled. “Yes.” Panam unclipped the leash. Four. Birgitta took it. The woman smiled. “Thank you.” Birgitta stood. Before leaving, she looked at Panam. “Later, owner.” “Later.” Then she walked away with her client. Panam watched her go. Nothing unusual. Because there wasn't. --- Two hours later, Birgitta returned. Panam saw her immediately. Birgitta walked toward her. Relaxed. Pleased. Good. Panam pointed. “Water.” Birgitta smiled. “Yes, owner.” Water first. Then food. Panam made sure. Then: “Break.” Birgitta sat. “No leash?” “Break.” “Yes, owner.” Panam looked satisfied. Correct order. Always. Birgitta ate. Drank more water. Listened to Mandi tell an increasingly ridiculous story about a client who had spent ten minutes trying to impress her with knowledge he very obviously did not possess. Sera laughed. Nova contributed. Vega returned halfway through. Water. Food. Break. Panam handled it automatically. Care before access. Always. Later— only when Birgitta had finished eating, rested, and decided for herself that the break was over— she stood. Picked up her leash. Walked to Panam. Held it out. Panam took it. Birgitta turned. Click. Five. There. --- The night moved. Mandi left. Returned. Water. Food. Break. Nova worked. Returned. Water. Food. Break. Sera accepted one booking after rejecting two. The offer was absurd. Sera still made Panam ask for clarification twice before she believed she'd heard it correctly. Then Sera smiled. “Yes.” Panam unclipped her. A faint ionized gradient moved through the silver-white strands nearest her temples before settling again. Sera leaned close. “Don't spend it all in one place.” “It's your fucking money.” “I know.” “Then why would I spend it?” “Madame tax?” “There is no Madame tax.” “There should be.” “Go to work.” “Yes, owner.” Sera left laughing. Suzie looked at Panam. “You've created monsters.” “I didn't create any of them.” “You organized them.” “That isn't better, is it?” “No.” “Fuck.” --- Near midnight, Birgitta sat beside Panam. Still leashed. No client in front of them. No negotiation. Just a quiet minute between everything else. Panam looked at her. “Tired?” “No.” “Hungry?” “No.” “Water?” Birgitta lifted her glass. Panam nodded. Good. Birgitta looked at the leashes. Four currently. Sera still working. Mandi on break. Nova and Vega attached. Birgitta attached. She smiled. Panam noticed. “What?” “Nothing.” Panam stared. Birgitta laughed. “I was thinking.” “Dangerous.” “Very.” “About?” Birgitta looked at her. “You're good at this.” Panam frowned. “At what?” “This.” Birgitta indicated nothing and everything. Lizzie’s. Clients. Leashes. The stable. Panam. “Madame.” Panam looked away. Months ago she would have argued. Now— “Yeah.” Birgitta smiled. Panam looked back. “What?” “Nothing.” “Again?” “Yes.” Panam tugged the leash very lightly. Birgitta moved closer without resistance. “Menace.” “Owner.” Panam kissed her. Brief. Warm. Then let her settle against her side. --- Sera returned later. Water. Food. Break. Eventually the fifth leash returned to Panam's hand. Full stable again. Suzie looked at them. “All five.” Panam looked down. “Yes.” “Expensive picture.” “Fuck off.” Suzie laughed. Dalia leaned against the bar. Deja beside her. Mandi was arguing with Vega. Nova was encouraging both sides because Nova was a terrible person. Sera had somehow acquired food she absolutely had not ordered. Birgitta remained beside Panam. Five leashes. Five collars. Five women who could leave whenever they wanted. Five women who kept coming back. Panam looked at them. “My pets.” Mandi heard. Her head turned immediately. Nova smiled. Vega smiled. Sera looked unbearably pleased. Birgitta— Birgitta simply looked at Panam. Warm. Steady. “My owner.” Panam's expression softened. Then Mandi ruined everything. “Group hug?” “No.” Too late. Mandi moved first. Nova joined because of course. Vega followed. Sera threw herself in with absolutely no dignity. Birgitta laughed as the whole thing collapsed inward around Panam. Leashes tangled. Panam disappeared. “GET THE FUCK OFF ME.” “No,” Sera said. “MY DRINK.” Suzie rescued it. “Got it.” “TRAITORS.” “Plural?” Nova asked. “Yes!” “Accurate,” Vega said. Birgitta was laughing against Panam's shoulder. Panam tried to look furious. Failed. Completely. For several ridiculous seconds, Madame Panam Palmer stood in the middle of Lizzie’s surrounded by five collared women, trapped in a voluntary pile of affection while Suzie protected the alcohol. Then everyone finally released her. Panam fixed her clothes. Her hair. Her dignity was beyond repair. “I hate all of you.” Sera smiled. “No, you don't.” Panam looked at the five women. At the leashes still in her hand. At Birgitta. “No.” She sighed. “No, I fucking don't.” --- Much later, the night began to thin. Not end. Not yet. Birgitta checked the time. One glance. Nothing more. There were still hours. Enough. She looked at Panam. Panam was arguing with Suzie about something completely irrelevant. Sera was interfering. Mandi was laughing. Nova and Vega had started another debate. Dalia and Deja remained nearby. Birgitta smiled. Today had been good. Exactly what she had wanted. Not a farewell. Not a countdown. Just— today. She moved closer to Panam. Panam automatically shifted the leashes into one hand and put the other around Birgitta's waist. No question. No thought. Habit. Birgitta rested against her. For a little while longer. That was enough. --- ## CHAPTER 35 — HOME The night eventually softened. Lizzie’s never really became quiet. It simply changed populations. Different people. Different reasons for being awake. Different levels of regret. Mandi left first. Her leash returned to her hand. “Tomorrow?” Panam shrugged. “If you're working.” Mandi smiled. “Probably.” “Then probably.” Mandi kissed Panam's cheek. Then Birgitta's. “Night.” “Night.” Nova and Vega followed twenty minutes later. Sera stayed. Of course she did. Dalia and Deja had disappeared earlier. Panam hadn't asked where. She knew better. Eventually Suzie looked toward the remaining three women. “You planning to become furniture?” Sera considered. “Do I get employee discount?” “You're not an employee.” “Furniture discount?” “No.” “Pet discount?” Panam looked at her. “Don't involve me.” Suzie pointed toward the door. “Out.” Sera laughed. She stood. Her leash was still in Panam's hand. Sera turned toward her. Panam unclipped it. Placed it in Sera's palm. Sera folded it. Then leaned down and kissed Panam. Warm. Unhurried. Then Birgitta. Same. “Good night, owner.” “Night.” Sera looked at Birgitta. Something passed between them. Nothing visible enough to mean anything to Panam. Sera smiled. “Night.” “Good night.” Then she left. Two women remained. One leash. Panam looked at it. Then at Birgitta. “Home?” Birgitta smiled. “Yes, owner.” --- They walked. Panam could have called transport. Didn't. Birgitta didn't suggest it. Night City moved around them. Birgitta stayed close. Not unusually close. Exactly where the leash naturally placed her. Panam's holo buzzed. She checked. Carita. **STILL THINKING ABOUT MY SUSPENSION GEOMETRY?** Panam stopped walking. Birgitta took one extra step. The leash stopped her gently. She turned. “What?” Panam typed. **STILL WRONG.** Immediate reply. **DINNER AGAIN AND I'LL EXPLAIN IT SLOWER.** Panam stared. Birgitta watched her face. “The driver?” “No.” Birgitta smiled. Panam looked at her. “Yes.” Birgitta laughed. Panam started walking again. Another message. **MY CAR MISSES YOU.** Panam's eyebrows rose. Then: **I DON'T.** Panam laughed aloud. Birgitta leaned closer. “She is very good at this.” “She's an asshole.” “Yes.” Panam typed: **YOUR CAR HAS BETTER TASTE.** Carita: **MY CAR HASN'T MET YOU PROPERLY YET.** Panam: **GIVE ME THE KEYS AND WE CAN FIX THAT.** A pause. Then: **NO.** Panam locked the holo. “Fucking woman.” Birgitta smiled. “You like her.” Panam looked ahead. “Yeah.” Simple. No embarrassment. No denial. Birgitta's smile softened. “Good.” Panam glanced at her. Nothing more. They kept walking. --- At the apartment, Panam closed the door. Birgitta turned. The leash hung between them. Panam looked at it. Birgitta waited. No rush. Panam unclipped it. Click. The familiar little sound. Birgitta turned around. Panam's fingers moved to the collar. Stopped. Birgitta looked at her. “Leave it.” Panam smiled. “Yeah?” “Yes.” Panam's hand moved away. “Okay.” Birgitta put her leash down. Panam took off her jacket. Birgitta kicked off her shoes. Normal. Domestic. A rhythm they'd developed without ever discussing it. Panam headed toward the kitchen. “Water?” “Yes.” Panam got two. Birgitta leaned against the counter. Panam handed one over. “Hungry?” “A little.” Panam opened the refrigerator. Birgitta looked inside over her shoulder. “That is depressing.” “There's food.” “There are ingredients.” “Same thing.” “No.” “Yes.” “No.” Panam looked at her. “You've been living here too long.” Birgitta smiled. “Apparently.” “Make something, then.” “You're ordering your pet to cook?” “I'm inviting my pet to demonstrate competence.” “That was almost convincing.” Panam kissed her. “Food.” “Yes, owner.” --- They ate late. Very late. Nothing elegant. Nothing worth photographing. Panam liked it. Afterward Birgitta showered. Panam went after her. When Panam returned, Birgitta was already in bed. Still wearing the collar. Panam noticed. Of course she did. Birgitta noticed her noticing. “Problem?” “No.” Panam got into bed. Birgitta moved toward her. Panam opened an arm automatically. Birgitta settled there. For a while neither spoke. Then: “Good day?” Panam asked. Birgitta smiled against her shoulder. “Yes.” “Good night?” “Yes.” “Good.” Silence again. Birgitta listened to Panam breathe. This was the dangerous part. Not secrecy. Not the face mesh. Not the contacts. Not the hair. Not even the voice. This. Comfort. Habit. The apartment had become easy. Panam had become easy. Owner had become easy. Birgitta closed her eyes. She did not need to make the moment heavier simply because she understood something Panam didn't. Panam's fingers moved slowly along her back. Birgitta kissed her shoulder. Panam looked down. “What?” “Nothing.” “That answer is banned.” Birgitta smiled. “I'm happy.” Panam studied her. Then smiled too. “Allowed.” Birgitta moved closer. Panam kissed her forehead. Neither woman said anything else for a long time. --- Morning. Coffee. Of course. Panam woke to the smell. Again. She opened her eyes. The space beside her was empty. The collar lay on the pillow. Panam stared at it. Not alarm. Confusion. Then she heard movement in the kitchen. Right. She got up. Birgitta was dressed. Not for Lizzie’s. Not joytoy clothing. Street clothes. Her own. Panam's shirt was folded on the table. Panam looked at it. Then at Birgitta. “You're giving it back?” Birgitta handed her coffee. “Temporarily.” Panam smiled. “Thief.” “Owner.” Panam drank. Then noticed the bags. Not all of them. Enough. Birgitta had packed. Panam's expression changed. “You going somewhere?” “Yes.” There was no point making it strange. Birgitta had planned the answer before she ever extended the voice. She didn't need an elaborate lie. She needed a boundary. “I have things I need to handle.” Panam looked at the bags. “For how long?” “I don't know yet.” Panam's eyes returned to her face. Birgitta held them. No performance. No fake sadness. No invented emergency. Just— “I'll be away for a while.” Panam absorbed that. Then nodded. “Okay.” Birgitta had expected the answer. It still landed harder than expected. Panam took another drink. “You need a ride?” “No.” “Sure?” “Yes.” “Truck?” “No.” “Gun?” Birgitta laughed. “I still have one.” “Good.” The same questions as before. Because Panam cared in practical verbs. Birgitta loved that about her. Panam looked at the folded shirt. “You can keep that.” Birgitta smiled. “I know.” “Then why fold it?” “Because I'm not stealing everything.” “You've stolen half the apartment.” “Exaggeration.” “My charger?” Birgitta paused. Panam stared. Birgitta smiled. “Accident.” “Thief.” “Owner.” Panam laughed. The tension broke. Good. Birgitta picked up the collar from where she had brought it from the bedroom. Held it carefully. Panam looked at it. Then at her. Birgitta extended it. Not like the leash. Different. “This stays with you.” Panam didn't take it immediately. “You sure?” “Yes.” Panam reached out. Took the collar. Her thumb moved once across the material. Birgitta watched. No speech. No ceremony. It belonged here. With the woman who had chosen it. Panam looked up. “When you want it again?” Birgitta smiled. “I'll ask.” Panam nodded. “Good.” Then Birgitta picked up her leash. Panam looked at that too. Birgitta folded it. Put it into her bag. The leash was hers. Always had been. Panam understood the difference. Collar with owner. Leash with pet. For now. --- Birgitta checked the time. She needed to go. The voice was still perfect. Bright. Lively. Birgitta. That would not remain true indefinitely. She had enough time. No reason to rush. Panam walked her to the door. Birgitta picked up her bags. Panam looked at her. “Message me.” “Yes.” “If you need anything.” “I know.” “Anything.” Birgitta smiled. “Yes, owner.” Panam's expression softened. Birgitta stepped closer. They kissed. Not goodbye forever. Not even remotely. But long enough to matter. Panam's hand settled at her waist. Birgitta's against the side of her neck. When they separated, they remained close. Panam looked at her. “Come home when you're done.” There it was. Birgitta felt it. Not suspicion. Not ownership beyond what she'd given. An invitation. Home. Birgitta smiled. “I will.” Not today. Not as Birgitta. But one day. She kissed Panam once more. Then opened the door. “Bye, owner.” “Bye, pet.” Birgitta left. Panam stood in the doorway for a few seconds. Watched her walk away. Then went inside. The apartment felt larger. Panam hated that immediately. She looked at the collar in her hand. Then at the folded shirt on the table. “Fucking thief.” She smiled. --- Birgitta did not go directly to the container. Reyes was careful. Always. She changed direction. Changed transport. Changed again. Used crowds. Reflections. Routine. No one followed. No one cared. Good. Eventually Night City changed around her. Less familiar. Less connected. The storage yard appeared exactly as unremarkable as it was supposed to. Hundreds of steel boxes. Nothing special about one of them. Birgitta entered. Closed the door. Locked it. Silence. She stood there. For the first time in days— alone. The container held Birgitta. It always had. Clothes. Shoes. Cosmetics. Maintenance supplies. Secure storage. Mirror. Bench. Everything waiting exactly where Reyes had designed it to wait. Birgitta put down her bags. One of them contained the accumulated pieces of her life at Panam's apartment. Not all. A charger remained. Deliberately? Reyes considered. Then laughed. Maybe. The leash came out last. Birgitta held it. Looked at it. Then placed it carefully with the rest of her things. Not discarded. Stored. Waiting. The collar was not here. That felt right. Panam had it. --- Clothes first. Carefully. Everything inspected. Everything returned to its place. Nothing hurried. Birgitta was not being destroyed. She was being put away. There was a difference. Shoes. Accessories. Clothing. Cosmetics. Each item returned to the system. Then Birgitta stood in front of the mirror. Smoked copper-grey hair. Very light brown eyes. Scandinavian face. Reyes underneath. She looked at herself for a long moment. “Fuck.” Bright voice. Still Birgitta. She smiled. That would be the last thing to go. Not by her hand. Victor's work would finish on its own. Fine. Face first. Hands washed. Procedure followed. Release initiated. Wait. The second-generation mesh disengaged cleanly. Only because Reyes told it to. Only here. Only now. She removed it. Carefully. Reyes's face returned. Smoked copper-grey hair. Very light brown eyes. Birgitta's voice. Reyes stared at the combination. Then laughed. Bright. Completely wrong. That made it worse. “Jesus fucking Christ.” Birgitta answered from Reyes's face. Reyes laughed harder. Some things apparently remained funny. --- She cleaned the mesh. Inspected it. No damage. Stored it properly. Waiting. Contacts next. One. Then the other. Cleaned. Stored. Reyes looked at herself again. Her own eyes. Better. Hair remained. She stepped into the shower. ChromeLock release first. Hot water. For a while she simply stood there. Then worked her fingers through her hair. Color began to move. Copper-grey. Thin streams at first. Then more. Again. Rinse. Again. The color disappeared down the drain. Underneath— red. Reyes. Familiar. Hers. She kept washing until the water ran clean. Then once more. Because “probably” was not a standard Reyes respected. Finally she stopped. Eyes closed. Hot water against her skin. Birgitta's bright voice still waiting if she opened her mouth. Reyes smiled. Panam had her collar. That thought came unexpectedly. Not the secret. Not the danger. Just the collar. Safe. With owner. Reyes stepped out of the shower. Dried herself. Dressed in her own clothes. Looked at herself in the mirror. Reyes. Mostly. She opened her mouth. “Hello.” Birgitta answered. Reyes closed her eyes. “Fuck.” Still funny. For now. --- Her holo buzzed. Reyes looked down. Panam. Sent to Birgitta. **YOU STOLE THE CHARGER.** Reyes stared. Then smiled. She answered in Birgitta's bright voice only inside her head. Out loud would have been pointless. She typed: **ACCIDENT.** Panam: **BULLSHIT.** Reyes: **PROVE IT.** A pause. Then: **COME HOME AND I WILL.** Reyes stopped. Looked at the message. Warmth moved through her. Then she typed: **LATER, OWNER. ❤️** Panam: **LATER, PET.** Reyes locked the holo. Looked at herself in the mirror. Red hair. Her face. Her eyes. Birgitta's voice still temporarily trapped in her throat. She smiled. Birgitta was gone. For now. Not dead. Not retired. Not exposed. Stored. Waiting. And somewhere across Night City, Panam Palmer had a collar in her apartment belonging to a woman who did not technically exist. Reyes laughed. Brightly. “Yeah.” She picked up her bag. “That's not going to become complicated at all.” --- ## EPILOGUE — NEXT TIME Three days later, Reyes walked into the safehouse as herself. Completely. Red hair. Her own face. Her own eyes. And, finally— her own voice. “I'm back.” Ace looked up from the couch. “Hey.” Mai looked over from behind her. Brenda raised one hand. Iris smiled. Kiro was the first one to actually move. She crossed the room and hugged Reyes. Not dramatically. Just firmly. “Good job?” Reyes hugged her back. “Yeah.” “Complicated?” Reyes considered that. Panam. Birgitta. Madame. The stable. The collar currently sitting somewhere in Panam's apartment. The leash currently sitting in a storage container across Night City. Carita. Fifty million fucking eddies. And Panam Palmer discovering that apparently being a courier had been an economically catastrophic career choice. Reyes smiled. “A little.” Kiro looked at her. That smile was suspicious. But not suspicious in the correct direction. “Anything I need to know?” “Nothing special.” “Good.” And that was it. Exactly as it should be. Reyes dropped her bag beside a chair. Ace watched her. “How long are you back?” “Long enough.” “Useful.” “I'm trying not to make promises.” Mai nodded. “Sensible.” Brenda looked at Reyes. “Food?” “Yes.” Iris pointed toward the kitchen. “Left side.” Reyes went. No debrief. No dramatic return. No questions she couldn't answer. She had been away on a job. Now she was back. Reyes. --- Twenty minutes later, the safehouse had absorbed her completely. Food. Coffee. Arguments. Normality. Reyes sat with Kiro. Brenda and Iris had become involved in some disagreement about logistics. Ace was half lying across Mai on the couch. Mai had one arm around her waist. The other held a holo. Ace's holo rang. She looked at the caller. Then smiled. “Elisa.” Mai looked down. Ace answered. “Hey.” Elisa appeared. “Hey.” She looked cheerful. Dangerously cheerful. Ace immediately became suspicious. “What?” Elisa frowned. “What what?” “You have a face.” “I always have a face.” “That particular face.” Mai looked over Ace's shoulder. “She's right.” “Fuck both of you.” Ace smiled. “Hi, Elisa.” “Hi, Mai.” Then Elisa returned to Ace. “I have a question.” Ace's eyes narrowed. “Okay.” “I've been looking at my schedule.” That did not help. “And?” “I have a free weekend coming.” Ace smiled. “Good.” “A properly free one.” Ace's smile slowed slightly. Mai noticed. Elisa continued. “And I was thinking—” There it was. Ace knew before Elisa said it. “Bea.” “Yes.” Ace became very still. Mai's mouth twitched. Reyes heard the name from across the room. Looked over. Brenda stopped talking. Iris followed her gaze. Kiro noticed everyone noticing. “What?” Nobody answered. Elisa, unaware of the sudden shift in the room, continued. “I thought maybe we could do another Bea weekend.” Ace looked at Mai. Mai looked at Ace. Elisa kept going. “Actually, if we're doing it, maybe a long one this time.” Ace inhaled. Slowly. “That could be…” Mai's mouth twitched harder. Ace felt it against the back of her head. “…interesting.” Elisa frowned. “Interesting?” “Yes.” “That wasn't your normal interesting.” “I have several kinds.” “You have two. Interested and about-to-do-something-stupid.” Brenda made a choking sound. Ace looked toward her. Brenda immediately found the ceiling fascinating. Elisa's eyes narrowed. “What happened?” “Nothing.” Reyes covered her mouth. Ace saw her. “Fuck you.” Elisa blinked. “What?” “Not you.” “Who are you telling to fuck off?” “Reyes.” Elisa brightened. “Reyes is back?” Reyes raised her voice. “Hi.” “Hi!” “Hi.” Elisa looked back at Ace. “Why are you telling Reyes to fuck off?” “She was being Reyes.” “I didn't do anything,” Reyes said. “That is demonstrably false.” Mai's shoulders moved. Ace felt it. She turned her head. “You're enjoying this.” “Immensely.” Elisa stared at them. “Okay. Seriously. What happened?” Ace looked back at the holo. She could explain. Probably. There had been Birgitta. Then Panam. Then Madame Panam. Then the stable. Then Mandi. Then Nova. Then Vega. Then Sera. Then the increasingly absurd economics. Then Panam herself had somehow become selectively bookable. Then fifty million fucking eddies had happened. Then the Mox had received twenty-five million of them. Then Madame's market had developed its own social physics. Then— Ace stopped. There was no sane short version. “Well…” Elisa waited. Ace tried anyway. “Things have developed a little.” Reyes looked away. Brenda made another sound. Elisa's suspicion deepened. “A little.” “Yes.” “In what way?” Ace hesitated. “Structurally?” Elisa stared. Mai laughed quietly. Ace elbowed her. “Helpful.” “I haven't said anything.” “You're radiating commentary.” Elisa leaned closer to her holo. “Ace.” “Yes?” “What happened?” Ace looked thoughtful. “Panam has been… busy.” Elisa blinked. “Panam.” “Yes.” “With what?” Ace paused. “Management.” Mai lost another tiny laugh. Elisa heard it. Her attention shifted. “Mai.” Mai looked at the holo. “Yes?” “What happened?” Ace turned. “Traitor.” Elisa ignored her. “Mai.” Mai looked at Ace. At Reyes across the room, now openly smiling. At Brenda, who had given up pretending not to listen. At Iris. At Kiro, who still did not understand why everybody else found this so funny. Then Mai looked back at Elisa. Calm. Perfectly serious. “You see the disaster yourself next time you're here.” Silence. Elisa stared. Ace closed her eyes. Reyes laughed. Brenda folded. Iris covered her face. Kiro looked around the room. “What fucking disaster?” Elisa slowly smiled. Not worried. Not remotely. Interested. Very interested. “Okay.” Ace opened one eye. “That response worries me.” “It should.” “Elisa.” “So the long weekend?” Ace looked at Mai. Mai smiled. Ace looked back at Elisa. “Oh, fuck it.” Elisa's smile widened. “Yes?” “Yes.” “How long?” Ace considered. Then grinned. “If we're going to do this properly?” Elisa waited. “Long.” “Good.” Ace pointed at the holo. “But I'm explaining absolutely nothing else.” “I didn't ask you to.” “You were going to.” “I don't need to anymore.” That was somehow worse. Elisa smiled sweetly. “I'll see the disaster myself.” Mai kissed the top of Ace's head. Ace sighed. “Great.” Elisa waved. “See you soon.” “Bye.” “Bye, Mai.” “Bye, Elisa.” “Bye, Reyes!” Reyes called back: “Bye.” The connection ended. Silence. Ace slowly lowered the holo. Then looked at Mai. “You could have helped.” “I did.” “No. You fed her curiosity.” “Yes.” “That is the opposite of helping.” Mai smiled. “I disagree.” Across the room, Reyes started laughing again. Ace pointed at her. “And you can shut up.” “I still haven't said anything.” “Your face is loud.” Brenda nodded. “Very loud.” Reyes looked at her. “Fuck you.” Brenda smiled. “Welcome back.” Reyes leaned back. Her own face. Her own hair. Her own voice. “Good to be back.” Ace looked down at her holo. Then at Mai. “A long Bea weekend.” Mai's smile became dangerous. “Yes.” Ace thought about Lizzie’s. Madame Panam. Five collars. Five leashes. Mandi. Dalia. Nova. Vega. Deja. Sera. And everything Elisa had missed. “Oh, she's fucked.” Mai kissed her. “Probably.” Reyes lifted her coffee. “To Bea.” Brenda lifted hers. Iris followed. Kiro stared at all of them. “I still don't know what the fuck happened.” Ace smiled. “You see the disaster yourself next time you're there.” Kiro threw a cushion at her. **END**