Page 219 of The Rules
Katherine's chest tightened. There was no performance in his voice, no manipulation. Just truth. Ugly and unvarnished.
Her gaze dropped. To his shirt. The blood. Some of it had dried. Some of it hadn't.
And then, slowly, deliberately, she reached out.
Her fingers found the edge of the crimson stain near his ribs—a spot where it still glistened faintly in the low light. She pressed her hand to it, letting the warmth soak into her skin. The gesture was quiet. Wordless. A choice.
If you're willing to stain yourself for this, she thought, then so am I.
Ben didn’t flinch. Didn’t move. Just looked at her, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.
The space between them felt different now. He hadn’t stepped back. She hadn’t either.
The anger was still there. But now, layered beneath it, was something quieter.
A fragile kind of understanding. A recognition of the cost. Neither of them spoke.
Chapter 48
Katherine
The silence between them hummed with everything unsaid. Katherine stood perfectly still, watching Ben across the dimly lit penthouse. The fight still lingered—sharp in the air, bitter at the edges—but softened now by something else.
They were both spent. Worn down. The energy it would take to keep the battle going had drained out of them somewhere between accusation and admission.
Ben hadn't moved. His bloodied shirt clung to him, streaked with dried crimson that belonged to someone else. He looked different in this light. More shadow than man.
The ache in her body from the alley still pulsed beneath her skin, but what clenched in her chest was something else entirely. Not fear. Not pain. But a kind of sorrow she hadn't expected to feel for someone like him.
She'd seen Ben furious. Ruthless. Icy.
But never this.
Never quiet.
Never this close to breaking.
"Let me help you," she said.
The words came low. Steady. Not a plea. Not a demand.
An offering.
Ben didn’t answer right away. He just exhaled—slow, measured—rubbing his jawline like he needed the motion to keep the words from escaping. She could see it in his eyes, the flicker of instinct to push her away. To pull back behind whatever armor he had left.
But it never came.
Instead, he nodded.
Just once.
A gesture so small it could've been missed. But not by her.
Katherine stepped forward. Reached for his hand.
His fingers enveloped hers—tentative at first, calloused and still tense from violence. The contact sent warmth spiraling through her veins, an anchor in the storm they both inhabited.
Without breaking the silence between them, Katherine guided him down the shadowed hallway.
