Chapter 6 · The Ten-Meter Rule

"Step back. Now."

Rhys’s voice was a low grate, like gravel under a boot. He didn't move, but his presence filled the small, cramped space of the safehouse, pinning me against the peeling wallpaper.

I didn't move. I couldn't. My lungs felt like they were being squeezed by a cold, invisible hand. Every breath was a battle, a jagged rip in my chest that told me one thing: I was too far from him.

"I'm not... moving... anywhere," I gasped, clutching the edge of the wooden table. The wood groaned under my grip.

Rhys took a half-step forward, and suddenly the pressure vanished. Air flooded back into my lungs, sweet and sharp. I slumped forward, my forehead hitting the cool surface of the table with a dull thud.

"That's the rule, Mara," he said, his voice closer now. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the scent of ozone and expensive tobacco. "Ten meters. You go past that, and your heart decides it doesn't feel like beating anymore. My heart does the same. We're on a leash. A very short, very deadly leash."

I lifted my head, glaring at him. "You're enjoying this.