Chapter Eighteen
Rule Number Five
Silas
I freeze as I'm reaching inside the refrigerator to grab a beer.
"Charlotte!" I yell for her while I stare into the refrigerator with the overwhelming urge to correct the disorder inside.
It takes every ounce of restraint I have in me to keep from moving the mustard bottle back to where it should be in the door.
Even worse, the eggs have been moved around inside their plastic container.
"Why are you yelling?" I hear her soft footsteps padding across the kitchen tile as she approaches. The subtle scent of her shampoo wafts toward me as she moves closer.
"Why would you move the mustard bottle in the refrigerator and switch the eggs around inside the container?
" I ask as calmly as I can manage. My eyes stay fixed on the refrigerator's contents, scanning for any other disturbances to the meticulously organized shelves.
When I hear a stifled giggle behind me, my patience frays further.
"What's so damn funny, Char?" I demand, crossing my arms over my chest as I watch her struggle to maintain her composure.
"Are you sure you didn't accidentally hit it with that vein that's ticking on your forehead?" Charlotte says, pointing to my temple .
"No, smartass, I didn't," I snap back, feeling that exact vein throb harder in response.
"Silas, you were the last one in the fridge before we left. You grabbed the limes and the bottles of alcohol. Maybe you did it then and didn't notice." She leans against the counter, arms folded across her chest.
"Do you know how unlikely it is that I would do something and not pay attention?" I challenge, though even as the words leave my mouth, a flicker of doubt creeps in.
"Yeah, you're right about that," Charlotte concedes, but her expression remains unconvinced. "You know you were the last one in there though." She tilts her head, waiting for the realization to sink in.
I exhale slowly through my nose, carefully reaching in to move the mustard back to its rightful place in the door. I move the eggs back into their designated positions and the tension in my shoulders eases slightly.
She's right, I was in here before we left. Looking around the kitchen, I don't notice anything else out of place. Not a single mug turned the wrong way or knife misaligned in the block. I grab a beer before closing the refrigerator, careful not to slam the door despite my irritation.
Out of habit, I begin searching every room, my eyes sweeping corners, scanning shelves, checking drawers for the slightest indication that something has been disturbed.
I catalog everything: the precise angle of my books, the exact spacing between decorative items, the particular fold of throw blankets.
I hear Charlotte following behind me, "Is everything okay?" She sounds nervous, or scared maybe, I can't tell. There's a slight tremor in her voice that makes me pause.
"Yeah, everything is fine. Don't worry about it.
" I try to reassure her, forcing my voice to soften around the edges, but I'm not so sure it's the truth.
My instincts are screaming, yet nothing else seems off or out of place.
No forced locks, no smudged windowpanes, nothing that would indicate an intruder.
Has Charlotte's presence in my life really thrown me this far off my game?
A disruption to my routines, to my control, is exactly what could get me caught, but I don't see any other explanation for it.
It's a dangerous situation to be in, for both of us.
Charlotte's hand slips into mine, "Come on, let's go to bed. It's been a long day. You're just being paranoid." Charlotte tugs on my arm, pulling me towards my bedroom.
I follow Charlotte into my bedroom, but my mind is still racing. Something doesn't feel right, but I can't put my finger on what. Maybe I am just overthinking and paranoid.
Charlotte heads into the bathroom to take a shower.
I showered first then when we returned home.
I couldn't wait to wash the filth of Sabrina's house off of me.
When Charlotte emerges from the bathroom in one of my t-shirts that hangs past her thighs, I don't even know how long I've been in bed lost in my thoughts.
"It's all yours," she says with a sleepy smile.
I take my time in the bathroom, following my nightly routine. Brush teeth for exactly two minutes. Wash face. Apply moisturizer. The familiar routine calms me.
When I return to the bedroom, Charlotte is already under the covers, her dark hair fanned out across my pillow. I slide in beside her, settling into the mattress to find a comfortable position.
"Silas?" Her voice is soft in the darkness.
"Hmm?"
"Did I pass?" There's an uncertainty in her question, a vulnerability that's always there.
I turn to face her, able to make out her features in the dim light filtering through the blinds. "Pass? "
"You know, you said it was a test." She props herself up on one elbow. "Are you going to teach me?"
Taking Charlotte under my wing is risky, dangerous even. But seeing how she handled herself today, she kept it together better than I did.
"You did well," I admit, watching her face light up with pride. "Better than I expected."
"So you'll teach me?"
"It's not that simple, Charlotte." I run a hand through my hair. "What I do... There are rules. Strict ones. If you don't learn them and follow them exactly, the only outcomes are death or prison."
"I can do it, I'll follow the rules." She moves closer, her eyes intense and pleading. "I want to learn everything and help you."
I lie back, staring at the ceiling. "You have to promise me something," I say after a moment. "If you don't agree, I don't teach you."
"What is it?"
"If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to leave me behind, you leave, without question."
"But—"
"No," I cut her off firmly. "This is non-negotiable."
She's silent for so long I think she might refuse, but finally, she whispers, "I promise."
The weight of what I've just agreed to settles over me. I've spent years perfecting my methods, working alone, trusting no one. Now I'm bringing this girl, this damaged, beautiful, determined girl, into my world of monsters and darkness.
"The monsters I hunt, not all, but many of them are fucking dangerous people, Char," I explain. "We're talking about predators, manipulators, people who've spent lifetimes perfecting their own evil crafts. People who wouldn't hesitate to destroy someone like you if they had the chance."
"I'm not afraid of them," she replies with that stubborn determination that both impresses and terrifies me. Her chin lifts slightly, a defiant gesture I'm starting to recognize as pure Charlotte.
"Maybe you should be," I counter. "Fear is what keeps you alive in this game. Underestimating what someone is capable of is the fastest way to end up dead. These aren't petty criminals or neighborhood bullies. Some have resources, connections. Others have nothing to lose."
Her lips curve into that strange half-smile that somehow makes her look both innocent and dangerous all at once.
"Why would I be afraid of them when I have the biggest monster of them all?
" There's no fear in her voice. Only a disturbing confidence, a reverent trust that I haven't earned and don't deserve.
"You're the one they should fear. And you're mine. "
I'm taken aback by her words. Not because they're insulting, but because the way she says them sounds almost like a compliment. Like she's proud to align herself with me.
I stare at Charlotte, her words hanging between us in the darkness. You're mine . The words should bother me. It should set off every alarm bell, every self-preservation instinct I have. And yet, it doesn't.
"You should be careful what you stake a claim to, Charlotte. Some things are better left unclaimed."
"Too late," she shrugs, then moves to climb on top of me, straddling my waist. "I've already licked it so it's mine."
"I'm serious." My hands find Charlotte's thighs, holding her steady on top of me. She leans down until her lips brush my ear .
"You're always serious." She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes with the barest smirk on her face. She rolls her hips against mine, just once—testing, teasing.
I exhale sharply through my nose. The girl doesn’t just toe the line, she fucking pole-vaults over it.
I grip Charlotte's hips, stilling her movement
"When you were doing the cam work, what did you do?" I ask, my voice casual despite the deliberate nature of my question.
Charlotte freezes completely. Her body tenses under my hands as I watch her face suddenly change.
The playful confidence vanishes, replaced by something rigid and cold.
Her weight shifts as she tries to move off me, but I hold her in place, not roughly, but firmly enough to make it clear I want an answer.
"It wasn't…" She looks away, her jaw tight. "I didn't want to do any of it."
"I'm not judging you. I just need to know what I'm dealing with."
She stares at a spot on the wall, still avoiding my eyes. I run my hands up her arms, feeling goosebumps rise under my touch. "You're not responsible for what she forced you to do."
She finally looks at me, her eyes searching mine. "Why are you asking now?"
"It's part of being in a physical relationship with someone, Char," I explain. "Getting to know them. Understanding their experience, their likes, dislikes."
Her eyebrows pull together slightly. "We're in a relationship?"
"I think we're in something," I answer honestly.
"It's hard not to be when we are living in the same house, sharing the same bed, and now we are sleeping together.
Whatever this is we are doing, I need to know where your boundaries are.
What might trigger you. What you've actually done by choice versus what you were forced to do. "