Page 189 of The Rules
She nodded once and slipped it into her pocket.
Not because she was afraid.
Not because she needed to prove anything.
But becausehegave it to her.
And that meant more than she was ready to admit.
???
Katherine jerked awake to the sound of the alarm, her heart slamming against her ribs before her mind could even process what was happening. The shrill, piercing noise cut through the darkness like a knife, an immediate warning that sent adrenaline flooding her system.
She was out of bed in seconds, disoriented but moving on instinct. The guest room door swung open just as Ben emerged from his bedroom, his movements fluid and precise. In his hand—a gun, held with the practiced ease of someone who knew exactly how to use it.
Their eyes met briefly in the dim hallway. No words needed. Ben's expression was stone, his focus absolute as he gestured for her to stay behind him.
Her pulse thundered in her ears as she followed, the knife he'd given her clutched in her palm. The weight of it was reassuring, even as fear crawled up her spine.
Ben swept through the penthouse with military precision, checking every room, every corner, every shadow. Katherine watched him move—the controlled economy of his steps, the way he cleared each space before proceeding to the next. There was something unsettling about seeing him like this, so perfectly adapted to danger.
This wasn't the lawyer. This was something else entirely.
They found nothing. No one. But the blinking red light on the security panel told them everything they needed to know.
Someone had been there. Someone had tried to get in.
"They're watching us," Ben said, his voice low and sharp as he examined the lock panel.
Katherine wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly aware of how exposed she felt in her thin sleep shirt and shorts.
A shiver ran through her that had nothing to do with the temperature.
Because she knew it too. This wasn’t random or coincidence.
This was Crawford. A message.
We know where you are. We can reach you anywhere.
Ben crossed to the windows, fingers grazing each latch, eyes sweeping the skyline with practiced ease. Against the wash of city light, his silhouette carved a vigilant figure—quiet, watchful, unyielding.
She watched in silence, a chill crawling beneath her skin, ancient and instinctive.
He moved through the room with measured intent, drawing invisible lines of order as he went. When he finished his circuit, he turned toward her—no hesitation, no softening.
The low light carved angles into his face, but it was thestillnessthat defined him. Not posture. Not expression. But the coiled control of a man who refused to let go of it.
She matched it. Step for step. Breath for breath.
Then—without commentary—he folded back the covers on the far side of the bed. The motion was clean, quiet. Not request.
Directive.
Kath hesitated, her throat suddenly dry. "You're serious?"
Ben didn't look at her. He simply continued his routine, placing his gun within reach on the nightstand.
"I don't trust this situation," he said—low, grounded, with the kind of calm that came from calculated urgency. "I need you where I can see you."
