CHAPTER 13: The First Rule—Don’t Run
1048 Words
“Good,” he said.
Just that.
One word.
Like I had signed something invisible.
I didn’t like it.
“I didn’t agree to everything,” I added quickly.
“You agreed to enough.”
I crossed my arms.
“I said temporarily.”
“You can call it whatever makes you feel better.”
God.
“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“No.”
“Liar.”
His brow lifted slightly.
“That’s my line.”
“Then now you know how it feels.”
A pause.
Then—just for a second—
Something almost like a smirk touched his expression.
Gone before I could be sure it was there.
Annoying.
“What happens now?” I asked again, quieter this time.
He didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he moved toward a sleek console near the wall, tapped something—
And suddenly, the space shifted.
Glass panels dimmed slightly.
Screens lit up.
Information. Movement. Security feeds.
My eyes widened.
“You weren’t kidding,” I murmured.
“No.”
Of course not.
“Come here.”
I hesitated.
“Why?”
“Because you need to see this.”
I walked over slowly.
Carefully.
Like every step pulled me deeper into something I didn’t understand.
He stepped aside slightly, giving me space.
But not much.
Never much.
The screens showed different angles.
Outside.
Inside.
Elevators. Lobby. Street.
“Is this all… yours?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To control what happens.”
That word again.
Control.
“It’s a lot,” I muttered.
“It’s necessary.”
“For who?”
“For me.”
I glanced at him.
“And now… for you.”
My chest tightened.
“I don’t like depending on this.”
“You don’t have to like it.”
“Then what?”
“You have to understand it.”
Silence.
Because slowly…
I was.
And that was the problem.
“This isn’t normal,” I said.
“No.”
“This isn’t safe.”
“It is here.”
“But not out there,” I whispered.
His gaze shifted to me.
“No.”
That honesty again.
Brutal.
Real.
“What exactly am I dealing with?” I asked.
A pause.
Then—
“People who don’t like losing.”
“That’s vague.”
“It’s enough.”
“No, it’s not,” I snapped. “This is my life now, remember? I deserve to know!”
Silence.
Long.
Then—
“They want leverage.”
My stomach dropped.
“And I’m… what? Leverage?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
No softening.
Just truth.
“That’s messed up,” I whispered.
“It’s reality.”
“Your reality,” I said again.
“Ours.”
The word hit differently this time.
Not just his.
Ours.
I looked back at the screens.
People walking.
Cars moving.
Normal life.
So far away from this.
“So what?” I asked. “I just stay here forever?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the plan?”
“You live.”
I let out a short, humorless laugh.
“That’s not a plan.”
“It is.”
“How?”
“You adapt.”
Again with that word.
“I’m starting to hate that word.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“I don’t want to.”
“You will.”
God.
Everything with him felt inevitable.
Like the outcome was already decided.
And I was just catching up.
“I need air,” I said suddenly.
“You can’t go out alone.”
“I didn’t say I was going alone.”
A pause.
Then—
“I’ll come with you.”
I blinked.
“…seriously?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds like a terrible idea.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re… you.”
“And?”
“And you attract problems.”
A flicker of something crossed his eyes.
“Problems are already here.”
He wasn’t wrong.
“Still,” I muttered.
“You said you needed air.”
“I did.”
“Then let’s go.”
Just like that.
Simple.
Decided.
“Wait,” I said quickly. “Now?”
“Yes.”
“I’m not dressed to go anywhere.”
“Then change.”
I stared at him.
“You really don’t waste time, do you?”
“No.”
Of course not.
“Fine,” I said. “Give me a minute.”
I turned and walked back toward my room.
But halfway there—
I felt it again.
That awareness.
Like his eyes were still on me.
Watching.
Not in a way that felt unsafe.
But not… neutral either.
I stopped.
Turned slightly.
He hadn’t moved.
Still standing by the screens.
But his gaze—
Still on me.
“Stop doing that,” I said.
“Doing what?”
“Looking at me like that.”
A pause.
Then—
“Like what?”
I hesitated.
I didn’t have the right word.
Because it wasn’t simple.
It wasn’t just observation.
It wasn’t just curiosity.
It was something else.
Something deeper.
Something I didn’t fully understand yet.
“Like you’re figuring something out,” I said finally.
A beat.
Then—
“Maybe I am.”
My heart skipped.
“That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s honest.”
Of course it was.
I shook my head slightly and turned away.
“Just… give me a minute.”
“Take your time.”
I walked into my room and closed the door.
Leaning against it again.
Breathing slowly.
“Get it together,” I whispered.
But my heart wasn’t listening.
Because something was changing.
Not just outside.
Not just the situation.
But inside me too.
And that was the most dangerous part.
Because I wasn’t just adapting to his world anymore—
I was starting to respond to him.
To his presence.
To the way he looked at me.
And I didn’t know what to do with that.
I pushed off the door and walked toward the closet.
Time to get ready.
Time to step outside.
Time to face whatever this had become.
Because one thing was clear now—
Running wasn’t an option anymore.
And staying?
That was becoming something I didn’t fully understand.
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