Page 92 of Rules

“Or you’ll stalk me home again?” I try to joke, but it falls flat.

Max looks at me, his silver eyes growing smoky with intensity. It feels like all the air is pulled out of the space and suddenly it’s hard to breathe.

“I’ll stalk you to the end of the world if it means keeping you safe, Brook.” His voice is low, dangerously so, and even though he doesn’t say it out loud, it somehow feels like a promise.

A shiver runs through my body, and I can feel goosebumps cover my skin. Not knowing what to say to that, I settle for a quick nod before I open the door and hastily slip out.

“I’ll talk to you later.”

“Later.”

Max barely manages to finish before I close the door and run toward my building. My heart is beating wildly in my chest, his words still ringing in my head as I take the steps two at the time.

Why the hell did I do that? Fucking weird, Brook. He’s just a friend, a friend who’s helped you a lot in the last twenty-four hours, and you just dashed out of his car like your ass was on fire. A friend you had sex with because you’re a weak, weak woman.

Still frustrated with myself, I slow down only to stop completely when I get to my front door, which is left wide open.

“What the fuck did you do, Josephine?” My blood turns to ice, and I can’t help but look over my shoulder.

Why didn’t I let Max walk me up?

The question comes out of the blue, but I push it back. He’s long gone now, and besides, he’s helped me plenty. I can’t pull him into this too.

Stepping inside, I look around waiting for the other shoe to drop, but there is nothing. Only utter stillness that freaks me out more than if there were people in here fighting.

Did she invite Mr. Hill in here again to blackmail him? Did she do something that pissed him off and he decided enough was enough?

With my heart stuck in my throat and pounding loudly, I look around, careful not to make noise and draw attention to myself.

The hallway and living room are trashed, and just when I decide to go back and check Josephine’s room, I can hear a loud moan behind me. Turning abruptly, I look around, but when I don’t see anything, my eyes fall to the ground. And there she is, lying between thrown pillows and garbage, covered in her own puke and blood with a shiner on one eye.

I inhale sharply, my hand flying up to cover my mouth. Josephine must have heard me because I can see her body stir.

“B-Brook?”

“I-it’s me,” I say, going around the couch and falling to the ground next to her. I swallow the wince when I see her more clearly. I’ve seen Josephine in a lot of fucked-up states, but this takes the cake. My hand itches to touch her, but I hold back.

You’re not doing this, Brook. You’re not going back down that road. You promised. This is her life; let her deal with it.

Yet, I stay glued to the ground. Not inching closer, but not moving away either.

“What the hell happened?”

“D-dan,” she coughs out.

Abruptly, I get up. I almost stumble over my own feet and fall back down, but somehow manage to regain my balance. I look around as if just the mention of his name will bring him back. My heart, which only seconds ago was beating loudly, slows down until it starts falling to the pit of my stomach, nausea hitting me square in the chest.

“What did you do, Josephine?” I ask warily.

I haven’t personally met Dan, but everybody who lives around here has heard of him. Everybody. Including me. The guy is as shady as they come. He’s an ex-con who got out of jail a few years back and continued with his business like nothing had happened, and if the rumors are true, he’s the big boss around our neighborhood. You don’t mess with him, and if you know what’s best for you, you stay out of his way and avoid him with a wide berth.

“M-money.” One of her eyes flutters open just as mine fall shut.

I swallow hard. “How much?” I ask quietly, trying to hold on to the thread of sanity I have left, but when she doesn’t answer me, I yell, “How much, Josephine?!”

How bad can it be? Maybe it’s just a few hundred, a thousand max…I try to reason, but really. The guy’s been in our house.

“Ten.” I rub my hands over my face, my fingers digging into my scalp, and I pull hard, needing to feel something other than this endless pit of disappointment and fear. “Ten grand.”

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