Page 177 of The Rules
There was fury, yes—but beneath it, a quiet, unshakable resolve. His expression hardened, every line of his face carved with purpose. He wasn’t just angry—he was ready. Ready to protect, to defy, to challenge anyone who dared come for her.
Lethal. Uncompromising. Burning.
"Watch me."
The words weren't a promise. They were a declaration of war.
Kath watched as Ben stood in the center of the wreckage, his shoulders taut beneath his suit jacket. Something coiled low in her gut as his gaze swept her violated home—methodical, detached. There was no fear in him. Just calculation. Precision. Something colder than control.
He wasn't shaken. Wasn't hesitating. Just... done.
"You're not staying here," said quietly, the words firm despite their softness.
Kath turned from the bedroom doorway, frowning.
"What?" She heard him. Every word. But hearing it and believing it were two different things.
Ben didn't look at her. He was already scanning corners, testing locks, eyes sharp with a kind of muscle memory that had nothing to do with law and everything to do with threat.
“They didn’t break in, Katherine. They walked in.” A pause. Then—“Like they owned the place.”
Kath stepped forward, folding her arms across her chest.
The stance was instinctive— defensive. She hated feeling cornered in her own home, hated the violation of it all.
"I'll change the locks—"
Ben cut her off with a short, humorless laugh. The sound sent a shiver through her—it wasn't amusement. It was the sound of someone who was past the point of pretending.
"Locks?" His voice sliced through the room, edged with a bitterness that coiled in Katherine's stomach like cold wire. "Katherine, they walked in here like they had a key. You think a deadbolt's going to stop them?"
She bristled at his tone, at the shadow of doubt that crept beneath his words—the implication that she couldn't handle this. Fear she could tolerate, could swallow down like bitter medicine. But helplessness? That sensation crawled beneath her skin like poison. The thought of running, of surrendering to nameless men who violated her sanctuary, made her jaw clench until she tasted metal. She wouldn't gift them her retreat, wouldn't sacrifice the last fragile threads of control still wrapped around her white-knuckled grip.
"So what's your solution?" she challenged, chin lifting slightly.
Ben finally looked at her then. His eyes were cold, his expression unreadable. When he spoke, his tone was grave—measured and absolute, the kind of voice that didn’t allow space for argument.
"You're coming with me."
Kath's spine stiffened, her body going still as Ben’s words settled between them. Not out of fear—though maybe she should’ve been—but because theymeantsomething.
This wasn’t about strategy or practicality. This was Ben Sinclair—who had spent weeks building walls—now pulling her into his world. His home.
“Toyour place?” she asked, voice steadier than she felt.
Ben gave a single nod. Sharp. Final. “Until this is over. Yes.”
She hesitated. Fingers curling into her palms. And for once, the pause wasn’t about defiance. Wasn’t about testing limits. It was about howeasyit would be to want this—to go with him.
To slip into the gravity of whatever this was, whatever it had always been.
“Ben, I—” she started, but the words caught. There was nothing to say that wasn’t a lie. That she didn’t need his help? She did. That she could handle this alone? Not anymore.
“Get what you need,” he said, cutting through the silence. “You’ve got ten minutes.”
The air cracked between them. Electric. Charged. A line being crossed and neither of them pretending it wasn’t.
Kath should’ve pushed back. Should’ve reminded him of the boundariesheset. But she didn’t.
