The corridor remained wrapped in a heavy silence after his words, but it was no longer empty—it carried weight, tension, and something dangerously close to inevitability.
Zein Shoin didn't answer immediately, and that itself said more than words ever could, because she was not someone who stayed quiet unless she was thinking, calculating, measuring the consequences of every possible choice in front of her.
Her body still ached from the fight, her lip still stained with dried blood, yet her posture remained straight, her gaze locked on Ace Craige as if she refused to let even pain make her look weak in front of him.
"Say something," Ace said after a moment, his tone calm but edged with quiet authority.
Zein let out a slow breath, her voice steady when she finally spoke.
"And if I refuse?"
A faint pause.
Not hesitation—calculation.
Ace stepped closer, his presence closing the distance between them until it felt suffocating, not physically, but mentally, like standing too close to something you couldn't fully understand but knew was dangerous.
"You won't," he said simply.
Her eyes sharpened instantly. "You seem very sure."
"I don't deal in uncertainty."
Another silence stretched between them, but this one was sharper, heavier, like a thin line pulled too tight, ready to snap at any second.
Zein studied him carefully, not intimidated, not impressed—but aware. This wasn't just power. This was control. The kind of control that didn't need to be proven because it already existed.
"Fine," she said finally, her tone flat but deliberate.
"I'll work for you."
Ace didn't smile.
Didn't react much at all.
But something in his eyes shifted—like he had expected nothing less.