The Rules
1038 Words
The next morning, Lia awoke to silence so deep it felt unnatural. The bed was soft beneath her. Too soft. The kind of softness that came from money. Real money. But her body was stiff, her mind still racing with everything that had happened.
For a moment, she didn't remember where she was.
Then it hit her.
The murder. The chase. The chapel. The man in black with the voice of a judge and the eyes of a wolf.
She sat up quickly. The clothes she had slept in still smelled faintly of cedarwood. Not hers. His. The memory made her skin crawl. She shoved it aside.
Lia got out of bed, walked to the bathroom, and splashed water on her face. It didn’t help. The mirror showed her a different version of herself. One that had seen blood. One that had tasted fear and hadn’t broken.
When she stepped out into the hallway, she half-expected alarms to go off. But there were none. Just silence and the cold modern elegance of the house wrapping around her like a cage made of glass.
She found the kitchen by instinct. Black marble counters. Stainless steel appliances. A fruit bowl so perfect it looked fake. She was afraid to touch anything.
"Eat."
His voice sliced through the air like a blade.
Damon Knight stood by the window, coffee in hand. No suit today. Just a plain black shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow, and dark jeans. He looked more dangerous dressed down.
Lia didn’t reply. She pulled a chair out and sat down slowly.
A plate was already waiting. Eggs, toast, avocado slices arranged like a painting. She stared at it.
"It's not poisoned."
She picked up the fork and began eating. Slowly.
Damon watched her for a few minutes, then turned away, walking toward the far end of the open kitchen.
"We need to talk."
She didn’t stop eating. That was her power now — pretending not to be afraid.
He pulled out a chair across from her and sat down.
"You are not a prisoner," he said. "But you are not free either."
Lia kept chewing.
"If you leave this house," he continued, "you die. Not because of me. Because the people your stepfather worked for don’t leave witnesses."
She swallowed. "Why did they kill him?"
Damon looked her in the eye. "Because he betrayed them. And because he knew something. Something they want to stay buried."
"And I saw it."
"You saw me. That makes you a problem."
"Then why am I still alive?"
A pause. Then:
"Because I make the rules."
She hated how calm he was. How sure of himself.
"So what happens now?"
"You stay here. You follow my rules. You live."
"And if I don’t?"
He leaned forward slightly. "You won’t like the alternatives."
She stared at him, letting silence speak what her words couldn’t. She didn’t trust him. She didn’t like him. But she understood him. That scared her more.
He stood.
"I’ll be gone during the day. Don’t leave the house. Don’t answer the door. Don’t use the landline. The only place you’re allowed outside of this floor is the gym. Basement level. You’ll need the code."
He walked to a drawer and pulled out a small device. A fingerprint scanner.
"Come here."
She hesitated.
"Now."
Lia got up and walked over.
He pressed her thumb to the scanner. It beeped and lit green.
"That gives you access to the areas I’ve approved. Try anything else and the system locks you down."
She stared at the device.
"What if someone breaks in?"
"They won’t."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because anyone who knows this address is already dead."
Lia’s breath hitched.
Damon walked away without waiting for a reply.
She stood in the kitchen alone, feeling less like a guest and more like a variable in a very dangerous equation.
Later that afternoon, she explored the house within the limits she’d been given. The gym was huge. Treadmills, weights, boxing equipment. She walked past all of it and found herself staring at the wall-length mirror.
Her reflection didn’t lie.
This wasn’t some movie where the scared girl turned into a warrior overnight. She was still shaken. Still unsure. But alive.
For now.
She spent the next hour on the treadmill. Not running. Walking. Thinking. What had her stepfather done? Why did Damon — a killer — let her live? And why was she starting to feel safer here than she ever had in that apartment?
That night, she found a note on her door.
Dinner. 8PM. Don’t be late.
She stared at the handwriting. Sharp. Cold. Like him.
At exactly eight, she stepped into the dining room. He was already there. Black button-down. Collar open. No tie. He didn’t look up.
The table was set for two. Steak, vegetables, red wine. She sat without being told.
He poured her water. She didn’t thank him.
"Did you find everything you needed today?"
"You mean my cage?"
He looked up at her then. There was a flicker of something in his eyes. Not anger. Not amusement. Something else.
"You’re bolder than I expected."
"Maybe I just don’t care anymore."
"Good. Caring gets people killed."
They ate in silence for a while.
Then she asked, "What happens when they come for me?"
"They won’t get close."
"And if they do?"
He didn’t blink. "Then I’ll kill them."
It should’ve chilled her. But it didn’t.
For the first time, Lia wondered what kind of man Damon Knight really was before all this. Before the killing. The blood. The silence.
And why he had chosen her to be the only person he didn’t destroy.
When dinner ended, he stood first.
"Go to your room. Sleep."
She hesitated. "And tomorrow?"
"You’ll still be here. Still under my protection. Still under my rules."
She nodded. But as she turned to leave, she heard him say one last thing.
"Lia."
She turned.
"If you try to run again…"
His voice was soft, but lethal.
"I won’t come looking next time. They will. And you’ll wish it was me."
Lia didn’t reply.
She just walked away, knowing she was now living with the devil.
And the devil had rules.
- Writer
