Chapter Thirty-Two – Bradford
It’s strange, being out of the house for the first time in a while. Even stranger knowing the reason why—my father has her. Somehow, someway, he got to her, right underneath my nose. I’ll be damned if I sit back and let it happen.
I won’t. Even if it means I’ll go to prison, I won’t let him hurt her like he hurt me.
I didn’t even hesitate. The moment he said he had her, I got going, even before I ended the call.
I jumped in the car and sped out of the garage as fast as I could, leaving the damn garage door open and breaking all the speeding laws known to mankind on the way.
I called Hayden, informed him of what was happening.
If this doesn’t end well for me or for Kayla, someone needs to know, and that someone also needs to know the reason why.
Cars honk, I narrowly avoid getting into accidents at certain intersections, and I drive like a maniac. I white-knuckle it the entire way there as my ankle monitor beeps and reminds me that I am not where I am legally allowed to be.
Whatever the cost of this trip will be, assuming I survive, I’ll pay it.
I don’t care. I thought I’d given up on everything, thought that I had stopped giving a shit when it comes to everything in life, but as it turns out, fate had to give me the one thing that would jolt me from what had become my normal life.
A girl. An omega. Someone whose life has been just as awful as mine. Someone who didn’t deserve the things she’d gone through.
And now? I don’t want to think about everything she could be experiencing alone with my father.
He could be hurting her, making her bleed, breaking bones, raping her.
He could do whatever he wants to her, even make her enjoy it.
He held all the power, and for the first time in a long, long while, I could not stand back and let it be.
Consequences be damned, I’m going to save that girl even if it costs me everything.
I’ve never felt this way before. So angry. So filled with rage. I’m practically seeing red. My thoughts are anything but logical; the only sane thought in my head is about Kayla and needing to get to her. Beyond that, I am bursting with the innate need to do something I’ve never done before.
Fight back. Hurt my father in ways he couldn’t imagine.
I’m hot all over. My breathing is hard, stilted. I feel like I’m losing my mind, as if my grip on sanity, as precarious as it was, is slowly slipping away, bit by bit until I’m nothing more than an animal with a singular goal.
My father doesn’t live far, and speeding and cutting through stop signs like it’s going out of style means I reach his house in record time.
I plow past the gates in the driveway, the car’s wheels skidding to a halt before the marble stairs to the front door.
I barely put the car in park before I fly out of it; I don’t waste a single second turning the vehicle off.
The front door is unlocked—probably because he didn’t expect me to actually come.
Regardless, even if it had been locked, I would’ve broken the damn thing down to get inside.
As thick as that wooden door may be, my veins are full of adrenaline and fury.
Even a steel door wouldn’t have been enough to keep me out.
I’ve never felt this way before. Never been so furious, so angry, never felt so goddamn strong. Like I could lift a damn semi-truck full of concrete.
It’s been years since I’ve been to this house, but I remember it well. I know where to go, even in my anger-fueled state. Never in my life have I moved as quickly as I do right then; I dash through the house, coming upon my father’s office, and when I do?
When I step inside that office and see what I see? I lose what’s left of my goddamned mind.
My father has Kayla pinned on his desk. His right hand is around her throat, and his other is working on tearing off her clothes. Kayla doesn’t look at him, nor is she crying or pleading with him to stop. She’s simply… not there, like she’s dissociating, mentally somewhere else.
My father is so enraptured in his terrible deed that he doesn’t even hear me.
I don’t give him time to react, either. I sprint over to them, grab my father by the back of his neck and rip him off her.
I manage to catch him so off-guard that he’s momentarily stunned, even as I throw him back, away from Kayla.
He lands on the leather chair facing his desk, knocking it to the floor before he rights himself and meets my gaze with a crazed look of his own.
I move fast still, barreling towards him as I growl out, “You will not touch her again.” über dominance oozes from my voice, and I hardly sound like myself.
Every word is a knife, razor-sharp, thrown in his direction, and my father doesn’t have any time to react before I land a hard punch on his jaw.
The crack of that bone as it shatters is nothing but music to my ears, and the way he stumbles back is icing on the cake.
“Never again,” I hiss out through bared teeth, and then I punch him one more time—this time right in the throat, with every ounce of my unchained strength behind it. Something I hit pops, and I breathe hard as I watch my father stumble back and reach up to his neck while he gasps for breath.
A few seconds later, he sways on his feet, soon collapsing onto the ground, rolling onto his back. He stares at the ceiling, wide-eyed, as he gasps and gasps in what sounds like a fruitless attempt to fill his lungs.
Everything is hazy after that, until I hear a soft voice say my name: “Bradford?” Through the beeping of my monitor, through the fog of the rage, I hear that voice, turn to face its owner, and then I do the only thing I can. Truly, the only thing I want to do.
I run to her, pull her off that desk and into my arms, where she’ll be safe.
Where nothing can hurt her again. I wrap one arm around her back while my other goes to grip the back of her head, holding her against my chest. Before long we’re falling to the ground together, but I don’t let go of her.
I can’t. Nothing and no one in this world could take her away from me.
Breathing hard, I angle my face down and bury my nose in her hair.
I breathe her in through my nose, letting her almond-twinged rose scent fill me in a way it’s never filled me before.
It’s not as strong as it should be, telling me she tried to hide her scent from my father.
Still, as diluted as it is, her scent goes right through me.
That rage is still inside of me, but she’s the light at the end of the tunnel. She’s it.
Though my arms are tight around her, she manages to lift her head from my chest. Her nose grazes mine.
She’s so close to me the details on her face are hard to focus on, but at the same time, she’s all that’s clear to me in the room.
Her hands rest against my chest, her body snug between my legs as we sit on the ground together.
The way those green eyes stare up at me make me forget everything.
Why I’m here. Why I feel so much rage in my heart. Why I haven’t held her like this before.
All that time… wasted.
The hand that holds the back of her head moves to her face, and I run the backs of my fingers along her cheek and her jaw.
Skin so smooth, so perfect, so damn soft.
I open my mouth to tell her that I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner, that I’m sorry I didn’t realize when she was taken, but no words come out.
I simply can’t speak. Everything in my head is jumbled up, a puzzle undone and missing a few pieces.
I am a broken alpha. I’m not worth anything, but the way she looks at me with those big eyes makes me think that I’m not beyond repair. She can be those pieces of me that are missing and make me whole.
I lean my forehead against hers, content with holding her, with breathing her in. I still feel like I’m out of my mind when it comes to the reason I’m here, and I worry I’m not stable enough to be who I want to be for her.
What if I hurt her? What if I turn into my father? What if, after all these years, my pessimistic thoughts are only proven right?
Kayla must not have that thought, because after another moment passes, her lips press against mine. A soft kiss, one that startles me at first, and then… then it swallows me. Through the blinding rage and the blood pumping quickly in my veins, she finds me, my light in the darkness.
As she kisses me, as I start to kiss her back, I can only think of her. My Kayla. My omega. Mine.
Kissing her is like coming home—or rather, what coming home should feel like. Home shouldn’t be a trapped feeling, it shouldn’t weigh on you and make you miserable. Home is where you should be comfortable, happy, content. Hopeful.
She is my home, and no one will ever take her from me. No one will hurt her again.
Kayla Prim is mine.