Page 248 of The Rules
This wasn’t persuasion.
It was precision.
And it was working.
Kath leans forward, her heart hammering against her ribs. This wasn't about anger anymore. This was about something worse. Something raw and bleeding that she couldn't hide even if she tried.
"My sister was almost taken," she said, the words catching at the back of her throat like barbed wire.
Nicholas froze. His eyes widened, breath visibly hitching in his chest. He hadn't expected that. Good. He shouldn't be prepared for this. None of them were.
"She was targeted," she continued, her voice finding strength in the horror of the memory. "Followed. Stalked. You think that justhappened? You think Crawford doesn't still play with people's lives like they're nothing?"
Her hands trembled at her sides, but she didn't try to hide it. Let him see. Let him understand what was at stake. This wasn't about winning a case anymore. This was about survival.
Nicholas stared at her, and for the first time, he was truly seeing her. Not planning his exit. Not scanning for escape.
Just seeing.
And for a moment—just a flicker—Katherine caught it.
Guilt. It moved across his face like a shadow—quick, subtle, almost deniable.
But she'd seen it. That sliver of awareness breaking through the fear. The recognition that silence wasn’t neutral. That it came with a body count. Katherine felt something dark and desperate claw its way up her throat. She couldn't let him walk away.
Not when they were this close.
"You were there," she said, stepping closer still. "You saw what he did. What they all did. And you knew."
Her pulse thundered in her ears as she leaned in. Now she was near enough to see the tension in him, the pulse ticking in his neck. Every tiny tell of a man caught between fear and conscience.
"If someone like you had spoken up sooner," she said, voice lowering, tightening, "maybe that wouldn't have happened.Maybe Lisa wouldn't be afraid to leave her own fucking apartment. Maybe she wouldn't flinch when the phone rings."
Nicholas swallowed hard, but the hesitation was brief. Whatever flicker had sparked behind his eyes was gone in an instant. He looked away—walls slamming back into place, expression flattening, spine stiffening.
"I'm not ending up like you," he said flatly.
And just like that—it was over.
Katherine felt it—like something falling out of her chest.
Not just failure. Loss.
Because for a second, she had him. For a second, she thought maybe—
But it was gone. Ben said nothing beside her. His face was stone. Unmoving.
Then—
"So," Julian drawled, eyes glinting with something that made her stomach tighten. "You gonna talk? Or do we have to make this interesting?"
The man flinched. Only slightly. But she caught it—the subtle tell of someone who recognized a threat when he heard one. She watched his fingers tighten around the edge of the table, shoulders locking as if he were physically holding in a scream.
Ben leaned in then, his voice calm, controlled, deadly soft in a way that made Katherine shiver despite herself. She caught the slight turn of his head, the way his eyes flicked to Julian—still leaned against her chair, infuriatingly casual. Ben exhaled slowly, the breath controlled, almost weary, before his gaze slid back to the witness.
"This is your last chance," he said, each word measured and precise.
Silence fell over the room. The man didn’t speak, didn’t shift, but beneath the table, his fingers pinched the back of his opposite hand—hard. Over and over. Katherine saw the redness blooming across his knuckles, the desperate need to ground himself in something physical. He was teetering on the edge ofa decision, and she could feel it—the crack just beneath the surface of his composure.
