Page 213 of The Rules

The man was on the ground.

Ben was onhim.

She watched in horror as his fist connected with the man's face. The impact was brutal, immediate—a sickening crunch of bone against bone that echoed through the alley. The man's head snapped sideways, his body crumpling beneath the force.

But Ben didn't stop.

Another blow followed—harder, faster, vicious. A sickening thud as bone met bone, skin split, and blood painted the pavement. The man gasped, choking on his own breath, his eyes wide with terror.

Katherine's heart hammered against her ribs as Ben continued his assault. This wasn't the controlled, measured man she knew. This was something else entirely—pure, lethal rage unleashed without filter or restraint. His face was a mask of cold fury, eyes dark and empty as he delivered blow after merciless blow.

She stood frozen, unable to move, unable to process the violence unfolding before her. Her throat tightened, breath caught somewhere between her lungs and lips. The world narrowed to just this—Ben's fists, the man's broken face, the rhythmic, terrible sound of punishment being delivered.

"Ben—stop!" she finally cried out, her voice shaking, barely recognizable to her own ears.

He didn't hear her. Didn't even blink. His fist rose and fell with mechanical precision, each strike more brutal than the last.

Katherine lurched forward, ignoring the pain shooting through her own body. She grabbed his arm mid-swing, fingers digging into the tense muscle, trying desperately to pull him back.

"Ben, please!" Her voice cracked—urgent, desperate, breaking on his name. "That's enough!"

But he kept going, shaking her off without even seeming to notice her presence. Blood smeared his knuckles now, but whether it was his or the attacker's, she couldn't tell. Every blow landed with increasing ferocity, the man's face becoming less recognizable with each impact.

Only then did she notice Julian standing nearby, watching the scene unfold with clinical detachment. His posture was relaxed, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable in the dim light.

Then—finally—he spoke.

"Alright, alright, Ben. Maybe don't kill him," Julian said, his tone low and dry, almost bored.

Katherine shivered.

Not because of Ben's violence.

Because Julian wasn’t surprised. He looked at Ben like a man watching the inevitable. And that terrified her more than the blood on the ground.

Katherine stood frozen as Ben hauled the man up by the collar, dragging him off the pavement like dead weight. Blood slicked his knuckles, catching in the dim alley light—fresh, gleaming, violent.

The attacker’s face was barely a face anymore. Swollen. Split open. Ruined beneath Ben’s fury.

"You touched her," he growled—low, guttural, ragged. The sound wasn’t just angry. It wasferal. Pulled from somewhere deep and untamed.

Katherine’s breath snagged.

Ben’s arm pulled back, slow but certain. Ready to end it.

No hesitation. No mercy. The man who usually wielded controllike a scalpel was gone—what remained was something raw. Relentless.

This wasn’t retribution.

It was execution.

And just before the final strike—

A hand caught his wrist.

Julian.

"Benjamin," he said, the name soft, final, and laced with danger. "Enough."