Chapter 14 #3
And Ian didn’t do it alone. Two of his security men peeled off from the shadows, wordless and ready, like they'd been summoned before the bastard even touched Katherine. The door slammed behind them, and the thud of fists meeting flesh soon followed—dull, efficient, and merciless.
No one would hear him scream. Not over the bass. Not over the music. Not in Ian’s house.
And when it was over?
He wouldn’t come back.
Ever.
Then it was just Ben and Katherine, enveloped in silence. She exhaled, the breath shaky and catching in her trembling chest. He didn't let go, his hands still anchored on her arms—not possessive, just grounding. Steady. Silent reassurance.
Tension clung to him like heat off a furnace. She could see it in the taut lines around his mouth, feel it in the barely perceptible tremble of the fingers that refused to release her.
"You're hurt," he said, his voice quiet but razor-sharp.
Kath swallowed hard, trying to mask the tremor in her knees with a veneer of bravado. She pulled back half a step, struggling to breathe through the lingering shock. "I'll live."
Her voice cracked—a little. Thin. Cloaked in sarcasm, because anything else would unravel her completely.
She didn’t blink. Didn’t breathe too deep. Didn’t dare.
Because if she did—if she let even one crack show—she knew it would all come pouring out.
Her breath caught sharply as his fingers traced the angry welts marking her arm. A tremor coursed through her body, impossible to contain. Her flesh betrayed her, warming beneath his touch in ways that filled her with both longing and self-loathing.
His gaze snapped upward, capturing hers with intensity. His expression had transformed—harder, more penetrating than before, as though peeling away layers she'd carefully constructed around herself.
"You need ice," he murmured, his voice a controlled rumble, like thunder restrained behind a dam.
Kath expelled a short breath, retreating behind practiced nonchalance. "Didn't peg you for the nurturing type, Mr. S."
His lips barely moved—just the faintest shadow of what might have been amusement, or something darker. "I'm not."
She waited—silently challenging him to be the first to break contact.
And when he finally released her, the emptiness burned—more devastating than the bruises, more exquisite than pain.
The ice pack bit into her skin and she flinched. But Ben didn't relent, his hand steady as he cradled her forearm, the other pressing the compress lightly against the darkening marks.
His touch was careful. Like she might break if he pushed any harder. Like he hadn’t expected to see her cracked open like this.
"You should press charges," he said, his voice low and precise, leaving no room for argument.
A short, strained laugh escaped Kath's lips. "That's very lawyerly of you."
But he didn't smile, not even a twitch of amusement crossing his features. "This isn't a joke Blondie."
No, it wasn't. The tension hummed between them, thick and charged, making it clear this went beyond club protocol or legal obligations. This was personal now.
He leaned back, eyes locked on hers—intense. Unwavering. "I can make sure he never touches another woman again."
Her breath hitched. The words should have offered comfort—but instead, they bristled with danger dressed as concern. Like something she could want too badly if she allowed herself.
Drawing in a long, slow breath, she forced her voice to remain steady, controlled. "You know that's not how this works."
There it was again—a flicker beneath the skin, tight and dangerous. "Enlighten me."
Katherine lifted her chin, locking eyes with him in quiet defiance. "It would require... details."
She didn't need to specify what kind. Names. Her name. His. The one she couldn't afford to give him.
Her smirk was soft, careful as she met his intense gaze.
"And I like our little mystery, Mr. S."
Ben went still, his eyes sharpening with focus. "Do you?"
There was just the smallest hesitation, a fraction of a second delay before she responded. Not long enough for him to call her on it, but long enough for him to know something was off.
He shifted his hand slightly, the brush of his thumb over the inside of her wrist sending her pulse jumping. "If I wanted to know..."
Her voice came out thinner than she intended. "Then that would be breaking the rules."
Ben exhaled through his nose, the sound carrying a hint of frustration. "You and your fucking rules."
She smiled—tight, humorless. "They exist for a reason."
His gaze narrowed, studying her intently. "And what reason is that?"
Silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken truths. Then, quiet and matter-of-fact, she answered, "Because if I break them, I'm the one who gets sued."
Ben flinched - just slightly, but enough to show her he understood. Enough to reveal that he hated the reality of her situation, that maybe he hadn't fully grasped how trapped she was within her own system until that moment.
Eventually, he let go. "Fine."
Kath exhaled, the weight between her shoulder blades dissolving as the tension between them began to recede. Something dark and mischievous unfurled at the corner of her mouth, a provocative half-smile she couldn't quite contain.
"Good boy."
The taunt escaped her before wisdom could intervene—a reckless attempt to lighten the atmosphere. The instant the syllables left her lips, she recognized her error.
Benjamin went motionless. Not rigid with anger, but utterly still—the primal stillness of something ancient and lethal awakening from slumber. When he spoke, his voice carried a blade's edge she'd never heard him wield before.
"Don't ever fucking say that again."
Katherine faltered, momentarily stunned by the raw intensity coiling beneath his words.
Then, defying all better judgment, laughter bubbled up from her chest—not mockery, but genuine surprise at how swiftly the climate between them had transformed, and at the deadly seriousness etched into his features.
His expression shifted subtly, the hardness in his eyes softening into something more complex. Not quite anger anymore, but something that resembled reluctant appreciation. Dangerous still, yet tinged with grudging respect for her audacity.
She lifted both hands in theatrical surrender. "Okay, okay."
Just like that, the jagged precipice between them smoothed. The ice in his hand transformed—not vanishing, but changing state. For one fleeting, precious moment, the world surrounding Katherine felt less brittle. Less merciless.