Page 210 of The Rules
He didn't know.
And right now, that terrified him more than the question itself.
So he said nothing. His jaw tightened, his expression carefully blank as he turned away from her, gathering the files from the table with methodical precision.
Because silence was easier than truth. Easier than admitting that maybe—just maybe—he was becoming the very thing he’d sworn to destroy.
As he turned away, the question didn’t fade. It stayed. Not just in the air between them, but somewhere deeper.
Settled in his bones. Waiting to be answered.
Chapter 46
Katherine
Katherine’s heels struck the pavement with a crisp, rhythmic cadence that echoed through the narrow street. The night pressed close—still and watching. Her breath fogged in the cold air, curling like smoke before vanishing into the dark.
She should’ve called a car. That much was clear now.
The street stretched empty ahead of her, shadows pooling like ink in the corners. Every footstep sounded too loud. Every echo too... wrong.
A shiver traced her spine.
Her fingers drifted to the inside of her coat pocket, brushing the hard edge of steel. Ben’s knife. Cold. Grounding. A promise disguised as a threat.
And then—
A voice behind her. Slick, cruel. Far too familiar.
"Miss me, Blondie?"
The voice curled out of the dark like smoke. Low. Mocking.
Katherine froze.
Her heart slammed once, hard. She turned slowly, every instinct screaming at her to run. But she already knew what she’d see.
He stepped into the halo of a flickering streetlamp. Same sneer. Same eyes. The man from the Bloom—the one who’d tried to force himself on her. The one Ian had dragged out and warned never to come back.
He’d come back.
She stayed silent. Calculating. Her eyes scanned the street—empty. No exits close enough.
"Didn’t think I’d find you again," he said, voice slick.
"But that sweet little friend of yours? The black-haired one?
She gave you up like it meant nothing."
Aria. Her name hit like a punch to the gut.
Katherine kept her face blank, though her stomach roiled. She couldn’t afford to show anything. Not here. Not now.
"You’ve got the wrong person," she said, voice flat.
He laughed. A slow, deliberate sound.
"They said you’d try that. That you’d pretend. But I know that look. You reek of guilt."
