The pen clattered against the table, rolling until it tapped the edge and stilled.
Jin Zhou's eyes dropped to it, then rose slowly to meet Shen Xiao's. The faint curl of a smile tugged at his mouth, not one of amusement, but of warning.
"You think you still have choices," he said, voice quiet, almost conversational. "You don't."
One of the guards shifted behind him, stepping closer to where Bai Zhi sat, her wrists raw against the restraints, her breathing ragged. The faint metallic scent of blood clung to the air.
Shen Xiao's gaze flicked to her, the jagged cut along her cheekbone still oozed in thin, uneven lines. She was trembling, but her eyes were locked on him, pleading without words.
Jin Zhou reached for the pen himself, setting it neatly back in front of Shen Xiao, his gloved fingertips lingering just long enough to make the point.
"Sign it," he murmured, "or she walks out of here with nothing left of the face you once kissed."
