“I make systems like this stop failing,” I say.
A beat passes.
“And if I refuse?” he asks.
“Then you leave with a point proven,” I reply. “But nothing changed.”
“And if I accept?”
I hold his gaze.
“Then you don’t have to deal with this kind of problem again.”
The room goes quiet, and the galaxy itself holds its breath.
CHAPTER 6
TYROK
The balance in the room shifts the moment her words settle, not in anything visible, but in the way everyone stops adjusting, stops speaking, and stops trying to recover control. The silence stretches, but it no longer belongs to Lorens, and it does not belong to me either; it centers on her in a way that forces everything else to reorganize around it.
I study her without rushing, letting the stillness do the work for me as I watch for the fracture that usually follows a move like that. Most people fill silence when it turns on them, reaching for explanation or retreating into apology, but she does neither. She holds exactly where she placed herself, shoulders level, breathing steady, gaze fixed without challenge and without submission, and that level of control is not something that happens by accident.
“Alright,” Vihl mutters beside me, shifting his weight slightly as his eyes move between us. “I didn’t expect that.”
“Neither did he,” I reply, keeping my attention forward while Lorens struggles to maintain what he has already lost.
Lorens is unraveling in increments that would be easy to miss if I weren’t looking for them. His posture remains rigid, but his hands betray him, fingers flexing without purpose, searchingfor something to anchor him that is no longer there. His voice tightens when he speaks, each word carrying more strain than the last as he tries to reassert control that has already slipped.
“She is not authorized to negotiate,” he says, forcing the words out with precision that does not quite hold. “This is not a valid exchange.”
I do not answer him, because he is no longer the one shaping the outcome, and giving him that attention would only reinforce a position he cannot maintain.
I keep my focus on her.
“You offering yourself?” I ask.
Her response comes without delay or hesitation, and that matters more than the words themselves. “I’m offering value.”
I tilt my head slightly, letting the distinction sit long enough to test whether she adjusts it or reinforces it. “That’s not what I asked.”
“I know,” she says.
Vihl exhales through his nose, something like amusement threading through the sound. “She’s careful.”
“She knows her place,” I correct, because there is a difference, and she understands it.
Lorens steps forward again, his composure slipping another fraction as his voice sharpens. “This is irrelevant. She is property under contract. She cannot?—”
“She just did,” Vihl cuts in, his tone light in a way that makes it worse.
“That is not how this works,” Lorens snaps, the edge in his voice breaking through.
I turn my attention to him fully for the first time since she spoke, and the shift is enough to stop him mid-sentence.
“That’s exactly how this works,” I say.
The words land without force, but they settle in a way that leaves no room for interpretation, and whatever argument he had prepared collapses under the weight of it.
