Page 235 of The Rules
Ben, meanwhile, said nothing. But the look in his eyes spoke loud enough. Approval.
Not soft. Not gentle. But solid. Fierce. Earned.
Katherine exhaled slowly, air leaving her lungs in a controlled stream. Her shoulders remained tense, the muscles along her spine still coiled tight enough to snap. The weight of everything—the threats, the revelations, the impossible choices—hadn't lifted.
The tension lingered in her, in the way her fingers curled slightly inward, nails pressing half-moons into her palms.
Fear still pulsed beneath her ribs, a cold, writhing thing syncing with her heartbeat. It sat heavy in her stomach, spreading tendrils of ice through her veins. She could taste it—metallic and sharp—at the back of her throat.
But itdidn’t own her. She owned it. Contained it. Acknowledged its presence without surrendering to its grip.
"They’ll be safe," she said, voice quiet but certain. The words dropped into the room like stones into still water, sending ripples outward.
She didn’t look at either man—not at Ben’s intense green stare, nor Julian’s calculating gray one. Her focus remained locked on some invisible point in the distance, as if she could see through walls to where Lisa waited, unaware of the storm building around them.
She wasn’t trying to convince them. Their belief or doubt meant nothing in that moment.
She was convincing herself. Building a foundation of certainty beneath her feet when everything else felt like quicksand. Each word a brick laid with precision, with purpose.
And maybe—
Maybe it was working.
The cold knot in her chest loosened, just slightly. The tremor that had threatened her voice all evening stilled. Her breath came easier, deeper.
Because in that moment, with silence pressing around her like a second skin, she believed it. The conviction settled into her bones, steadying her. Grounding her.
Even if it was just for now. Even if tomorrow brought new terrors, new impossibilities. For this single, fragile moment, Katherine stood unbroken in her certainty.
???
The next day passed in a blur of forced stillness. Katherine hadn’t slept. Not really. She’d paced the apartment in the dark hours of morning, sat by the window as the city woke beneath her, and now, as twilight crept back over the skyline, her vigil hadn’t broken.
She hadn’t moved from her spot near the window in over an hour. The city glowed outside—cold, distant—but her gaze didn't really register it. She stared through the glass, seeing nothing but her own thoughts reflected back at her.
Her body begged for rest, eyelids heavy, muscles aching from the tension. But she couldn't move. Couldn't even consider the thought of sleep. Not yet.
Her phone remained clutched in her hand like a lifeline. She checked it every few minutes—refreshing, watching the signal bars as if they might suddenly give her a different answer.
No news. No call. Just endless waiting that stretched her nerves tighter with each passing minute.
Ben checked in quietly from time to time, his footsteps soft against the hardwood as he approached. His voice was low, measured, deliberately reassuring.
"The plane hasn't landed yet," he'd say, offering the information like a small comfort.
But it didn't help. Because "not landed" still meant "not safe." Not confirmed. Not certain. And uncertainty was the enemy now.
Julian was across the room, unusually silent. He perched on the edge of a chair like a panther in a tailored suit. Still. Watchful. Present—but removed. Katherine could feel his gaze occasionally flicking toward her, assessing, calculating, but she didn't acknowledge it.
And then—her phone rang.
Her heart lurched, slamming against her ribs. The screen lit up:Unknown Number.
But she knew.
Fingers fumbling, she nearly dropped the phone as she swiped to answer.
"Hello?" Her voice cracked, barely above a whisper.
