Chapter 50
Katherine
The phone buzzed once.
Katherine glanced down. Lisa.
A flicker of relief. Then—unease. Her sister never called during work hours. Not unless something was wrong.
She answered quickly. “Hey—”
But the voice that met her wasn’t calm. It wasn’t even whole.
"Kath—someone—someone followed me. He grabbed me. I—I ran, but he—"
Everything stopped.
The hum of Sinclair & Associates faded. The murmur of voices. The glow of glass and screens. All of it gone—ripped away, replaced by Lisa’s trembling voice, raw and panicked.
Her grip tightened around the phone. Her throat constricted. Her knees weakened, barely holding her weight. The fear hit like a physical force, hollowing her out from the inside. She couldn’t tell if she was breathing. Couldn't tell if the room was spinning or if she was.
“W-where are you? Are you hurt? Are you s-safe?” she stammered, each word crashing into the next, her voice high and thin, fraying at the edges. Cold sweat slid down her spine, chilling her even in the climate-controlled air.
On the other end, Lisa’s breath hitched. “I—I locked myself in a store. But he—he was right there, Kath. He almost—”
The rest broke off.
And so did she.
Her lungs locked. Her brain refused to process. The world narrowed to a tunnel, dark at the edges, Lisa’s voice the only thing anchoring her to consciousness. The desk in front of her blurred—legal briefs, notes, screens—all irrelevant now.
Her stomach twisted, nausea coiling like a snake in her gut.
Her fingers trembled. The phone slipped, slick with sweat. She caught it just before it fell. Tried to speak. Tried to be strong. But her tongue wouldn’t move, her lips barely parting. She tasted blood—she’d bitten the inside of her cheek without realizing.
“I—I don’t—Lisa, I—” The words crumbled mid-breath, collapsing in her mouth before they could form anything real. Her chest clenched, breaths sharp and shallow, each one cutting harder than the last.
Then— A hand. Steady. Warm. Real.
Ben.
He didn’t say a word. Just reached out and took the phone from her trembling fingers, brushing her palm with a featherlight touch that felt like it came from miles away. With his other hand, he eased her down into the nearest chair—gentle, firm. Grounding.
Kath didn’t even realize she was sitting until her knees gave way under her. She folded into the seat, hands gripping the edge like it might hold her together. Her legs wouldn’t stop shaking.
Ben raised the phone to his ear, his voice already cutting through the fog in sharp, commanding tones.
"Lisa. You need to breathe. Tell me where you are. Exact location."
Kath stared ahead, but the office blurred around her—warped by the ringing in her ears, the pressure building behind her eyes. The light seemed too bright. The floor too far away. Her skin itched like it didn’t belong to her. Every breath felt like dragging air through wet cement.
She couldn't find her voice.
Couldn’t move.
Couldn’t feel anything but the pounding of her own heartbeat, everywhere—her throat, her skull, the tips of her fingers. Her body vibrated with it, sick with it.
Ben’s voice cut through again, low and deadly calm.
“You stay inside. Don’t open the door for anyone but the man I send. If anything feels off—even a little—you call me. Immediately. Understood?”
But Katherine was somewhere else entirely.
Her hands twitched. Her mouth opened—no sound. Her chest heaved like her lungs were folding in on themselves. A gasp caught in her throat and stayed there, frozen. Her fingers dug into the chair so tightly her knuckles whitened. She couldn’t blink. Couldn’t think.
She was cold. Burning. Drenched in sweat.
Then—another hand.
Not warm.
Not steady.
Cold. Precise. Calculated.
Fingers curled under her chin and tilted her face up with slow, deliberate pressure.
Julian.
He sat across from her, perfectly at ease, like they were discussing lunch plans. Like she wasn’t mid-panic, barely holding herself together. The distance between their chairs should've offered safety, but it didn't. Not when his presence filled the entire room.
"You're panicking, sweetheart," he murmured, voice low, coaxing. "That’s not like you."
His tone was silk stretched over razors. Intimate. Dangerous.
Katherine's hands gripped the arms of the chair like lifelines. Her chest heaved, every breath a battle. But her eyes refused to drop. She couldn’t.
Not with those pale grey eyes pinning her in place, steady and unblinking.
It felt like being trapped behind glass—like if she looked away, she might shatter.
Julian's gaze swept over her face, calm and methodical.
No cruelty. Just assessment—a surgeon studying exposed nerves.
She flinched when his thumb brushed her chin.
He tilted his head.
"You don't have to hide it from me."
The words slid into her like smoke.
She wanted to recoil, but her body wouldn't move. Muscles locked. Skin prickling. She felt trapped inside herself, frozen.
Julian leaned in, closing the space between them with measured grace. His thumb still rested against her jaw—then, slow and deliberate, his fingers slid along the line of her throat. Not rough. Not overtly threatening. But firm. Possessive.
A silent demonstration of control.
His hand stayed there, cradling the column of her neck with a gentleness that only made the dominance more unsettling.
Then—just for a second—his eyes flicked to the far end of the room, to where Ben stood with his back turned, phone pressed to his ear.
Julian looked back at her, and something colder settled behind his eyes. Sharper. Calculated.
"Fear strips away the lies we wear," he said softly.
Then he leaned in.
Closer.
Too close.
His breath ghosted her lips. She froze. Her breath caught.
Then— a flick of his tongue.
He licked his bottom lip slowly. The movement was deliberate, obscene in its restraint. And when he reached the corner of his mouth—he didn’t stop.
His tongue brushed her lips.
Just barely.
So soft, she couldn’t tell if it was real or imagined.
Her eyes widened. Pulse stuttering.
Julian pulled back a fraction, eyes locked on hers.
"There it is," he murmured, low and satisfied. "Now you're paying attention."
He didn’t smile.
He didn’t need to.
"See?" he whispered, voice like heat curling low in her stomach. "Isn’t it beautiful? What fear does to us?"
"I've never seen you like this," he added, voice low, velvet with a razor underneath. "Not really. You've always worn that control like armor. But now..."
He studied her, letting the words settle in the air.
"Now you're stripped bare. And you know what? You're magnificent."
"Fear's not bad," Julian continued. "It keeps you alive.
It hones you. Sharpens the edges."
"But if you let it own you?"
He smiled. Small. Intimate.
"It'll eat you alive."
Then, just as suddenly as he came, he leans back.
The space between them felt like whiplash.
The absence of his touch a fresh kind of violence.
Her lungs burned as air rushed in, filling the void his presence had created. Her throat ached from the phantom pressure of his fingers, skin tingling where he'd touched her.
Her fists clenched at her sides. Her vision swam, mind screamed. Every muscle in her body trembled with the aftershocks of his proximity, nerves firing in confused, chaotic patterns.
But then—
She straightened.
Her spine aligned.
Her eyes found his.
She didn't look away.
Julian watched her. And then, slowly, he smiled.
"There she is," he said.
Not with smugness.
With approval.
With something close to respect.
He stand, walking away like the storm had passed.
Then paused, his voice softer, lower.
"Let it burn, sweetheart. Let me see the fire."
Across the room, Ben watched in silence.
Jaw clenched to the point of pain.
Eyes like storm glass—dark, unreadable.
A twitch beneath his cheekbone betrayed the tension.
Still, he said nothing.
Julian didn't even glance his way. He didn't need to.
He'd already won this moment.
And Kath?
She stood there.
Breathing.
Shaking.
Burning.
Alive.
Ready.
The moment passed—but the fire didn’t.
Katherine watched Julian move with practiced efficiency, phone already pressed to his ear as he strode across the room.
His voice dropped to that dangerous register—the one that promised swift, merciless action.
He was speaking to someone he trusted, someone who operated in shadows deeper than even Ben's world touched.
The trembling in her hands had stopped. The roaring in her ears had quieted to a dull hum. The fear still coursed through her veins like ice water, but it no longer threatened to drown her. Instead, it sharpened her edges, honed her focus to a lethal point.
She took a steadying breath and turned away from both men. Her fingers moved with surprising steadiness as she pulled out her phone and dialed.
One ring.
Two.
"Kath?" Bianca answered quickly, voice tight and sharp.
"Is everything okay?"
"No." Katherine didn't flinch. Her voice was steady. Cool. "There's a problem. Lisa was followed."
The words hit the air like a slap.
"That means this isn't just about me anymore," she continued, already moving across the room. "You and Lisa need to leave. Now."
A heavy pause.
No gasp. No questions.
Just silence.
Then—Bianca's voice, lower, but firmer: "Where are we going?"
That one response was enough to make Katherine's throat tighten.
No panic. No fight. Just trust.
She exhaled. "A man is coming for you. He's a friend.
Lisa will already be in the car by the time you're picked up."
She paused, then added, sharp and clear, "Pack light. Essentials only. He'll give you new phones. Leave yours behind."
Bianca didn't argue.
"How long?" Bianca asked, her voice stripped of emotion, practical to the core.
Katherine swallowed, the reality of what she was asking settling heavy in her chest. Sending her family away—hiding them—felt like failure. Like surrender. But she knew better.
This wasn't surrender. This was strategy.