Page 217 of The Rules
"Tell me it's not what I think," she said, voice low, controlled. The words came out steadier than they should have, given how her insides trembled.
Ben lifted his gaze to meet hers. His eyes were dark, unreadable. He didn't flinch. Didn't look away.
"I did what I had to, Katherine," he said, calm. Final. Like he was telling her about a business meeting, not whatever had left him covered in another man's blood.
Her tone spiked, slicing through the stillness between them.
"What? You tortured a man!"
Ben didn't blink. His expression remained unmoved, as though her horror was simply an inconvenience to be weathered.
"I got information," he replied, cool and detached.
Kath's stomach lurched. She'd known Ben was capable of darkness—had seen glimpses of it in the courtroom, in the way he dismantled opponents with surgical precision. But this was different. This wasn't legal maneuvering or verbal sparring.
This was violence. Real, physical, brutal.
Katherine's hand gestured toward his ruined shirt, the crimson stains stark against the white fabric. "You're covered in blood. That doesn't look like just 'getting information.'
It's almost look like you killed someone."
Ben huffed, almost amused. Dismissive. "You'd be surprised how much someone bleeds from the smallest cut."
The ease in his tone chilled her more than the words. It wasn’t just what he said—it was how lightly he said it. Like violence was a tool, not a consequence. And if there was this much blood… it hadn’t been one cut. It had been many.
Katherine’s pulse kicked. Her stomach twisted as her gaze dropped again to the crimson stains spreading through his shirt. There was nothing precise about this. Nothing contained. No courtroom polish—just something raw, feral.
She stepped closer before she could stop herself, voice sharp and rising. "You can't just cross every line."
Ben exhaled, shoulders shifting back, like he was brushing off the entire conversation. Like her concerns were trivial, unworthy of real consideration.
"Then tell me how else to win," he said—flat, unyielding.
She glared at him, fury rising in her chest, hot and sharp.
"By not becoming them."
His mouth twitched—just barely—a corner pulling tight.
The only sign her words had landed.
"We're already past that," he snapped. “We passed fair a long time ago.”
Katherine shook her head, stepping back as if distance might help her process what she was hearing. Her breath came shallow, her chest tight with disbelief.
"You think this is justice?" she asked, her voice rising—cracking at the edges.
Ben’s reply came low and cold. "I think this is war, Katherine."
She froze.
The word hit her like a slap—ugly, absolute. War. Not a case. Not a legal battle. Something far darker. More personal.
Ben took another step closer, his voice sharpening like a blade unsheathed. "You want to talk about being just as bad? Crawford sent someone to hurt you. You think he would've stopped at bruises? If I hadn’t walked in, he would’ve raped you. Maybe worse. Maybe he’d have made sure you didn’t get up again."
Katherine’s breath caught. Her spine pressed tight against the wall behind her, but it still didn’t feel like enough distance.
Ben didn’t flinch. "That wasn’t a scare tactic. That was the first move. I could've let him run. Turned my back. But I didn't. I did what was necessary. Even if I hate it.."
