Page 246 of The Rules
Nicholas’s gaze swept across the room now—not just toward the door, but to each of them in turn. Katherine. Ben. Julian.
As if assessing which one posed the greatest threat. His fingers flexed at his sides.
"You don’t understand what they’ll do," he rasped. "What they’re capable of."
"I understand perfectly," Katherine said, her voice quiet but pointed. Images flared behind her eyes—Lisa’s shaking voice, her father’s cell door slamming shut. She leaned forward, just slightly.
"That’s why we need you."
She watched his face, reading the fear etched into every line. His shoulders hunched, like he could make himself smaller, less noticeable.
"You're here now," she said, softening her voice again.
"That means something."
He shook his head slowly. "It doesn't. I made a mistake."
Katherine stood. Not aggressive. But firm. Grounded.
"You were there. You saw everything. If you talk, we can end this."
"I know what I saw," he snapped, voice cracking. Then softer, like it cost him: "You think I haven’t gone over it a thousand times in my head?"
Panic crept in around his eyes. He wasn’t just scared. He was calculating the fallout. Trying to survive.
"I have a family now," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "A son. A wife. I can’t risk it. I won’t."
The silence that followed said more than the words ever could.
He wasn’t afraid of speaking the truth. He was afraid of who might hear it.
Katherine felt the shift in the air before she saw Julian move. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as his presence emerged from the shadowed corner where he'd been silently observing.
"He's not saying no because he doesn't believe in justice," he said, his voice sliding through the room—mild, almost bored, yet laced with something that coiled like smoke. A quiet menace wrapped in silk.
She watched Nicholas tense, his shoulders curling inward as Julian stepped out of the shadows. His movements were slow, deliberate—a predator who didn’t need to chase because he already owned the space. Katherine had seen that particular brand of cruelty in him before, but this time, it was sharpened to a purpose she couldn’t ignore.
"He's saying no because someone already found him,"
he continued, his tone dispassionate, but his eyes sharp enough to draw blood.
Beside her, Katherine sensed rather than saw Ben move.
Not a twitch or a start—but a shift, subtle and deliberate, like pressure gathering in a sealed chamber.
Her gaze never left Nicholas, watching how each of Julian’s words chipped at his composure. He seemed to fold inward, shoulders hunched, chin lowered. Guilt had a shape, and it looked like this.
"Is that true?" she asked, voice steady, almost soft—but it held a steel edge beneath. "Did they get to you?"
Nicholas didn’t answer.
He didn’t have to.
The silence between them thickened, heavy as wet cement. He didn’t lift his eyes. Didn’t move. And in that stillness, Katherine saw the answer.
Her hands curled into fists at her sides, but not from impulse. No, her rage was disciplined, honed—like a blade held just beneath the skin. She felt it pulse in her fingertips, simmer in herbreath. Anger that wasn’t loud or wild, but cold. Focused.
A furnace sealed tight.
