Chapter 6
Kael
The next two days, Bria was worse than I’d seen her before.
She was deteriorating faster than I’d prepared for. Last night she’d clawed at her own arms until she drew blood, sobbing and begging me for anything that would make the pain stop. I held her through it, rocking her like a child while she cursed my name.
But this morning she was burning with fever, barely conscious between violent bouts of vomiting and tremors. I knew I was reaching the edge of what I could handle alone.
I made the call.
Zia arrived at the estate three hours later, her face already twisted in disgust before she even stepped fully out of the car. Medical bag slung over her shoulder, she looked at me like I was something filthy she’d stepped in.
“You kidnapped a girl, and now you want me to help you keep her prisoner?” she snapped. “Are you fucking insane?”
I didn’t flinch. “She’s in bad shape. Withdrawal. I need to know what to watch for.”
Zia laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “Take her to a hospital like a normal person. Or better yet—let her go and let her make her own decisions. This isn’t how you help someone, Kael.”
I kept my voice even. “You ran an underground clinic for years, patching up the worst criminals in this city. People who couldn’t go to real hospitals because they’d get arrested or killed. You treated murderers, dealers, and gangsters without asking questions. But now you want to lecture me?”
Zia’s eyes flashed with anger. “That was different. Those people came to me willingly. They weren’t chained up in someone’s house against their will.”
I pulled out my phone, dialed Bria’s mother, and put it on speaker between us.
Mrs. Ellis answered quickly. “Kael? Is she okay?”
“She’s struggling,” I said. “But alive. I have a nurse here who’s hesitant because of how she got here. Can you explain the situation to her?”
Zia’s expression shifted as Mrs. Ellis spoke, her voice tired but firm.
“We know she’s there. We agreed to this. We’ve tried everything else—rehab, interventions, locking her out. Nothing worked. If you can help Kael keep her clean… we’re begging you. Please.”
When the call ended, Zia rubbed her face, clearly conflicted, but the self-righteous fire didn’t leave her eyes.
“Even if her parents are desperate,” she said, her tone sharp, “this is still wrong. She should be in a proper medical facility with trained professionals and medication-assisted treatment if needed. What you’re doing is dangerous.
She could seize, go into cardiac arrest, or suffer permanent damage.
You’re not a doctor, Kael. You’re just a man playing God with someone else’s life. ”
I crossed my arms. “Then tell me what I need to do. I’m not letting her leave.”
Zia stared at me for a long moment, her jaw tight.
“I have a friend,” she finally said. “A good nurse who’s dealt with heavy addiction cases.
I can call her, get real protocols, and bring back supplies.
But you need to understand—this isn’t sustainable.
She’s going to need real help after the physical part.
Therapy. Support. Not just you locking her in a room until she stops shaking. ”
She glanced toward the stairs.
“And if she asks me for help getting out of here… I’m not going to lie to her.”
I met her eyes coldly. “Do you really want to put me at odds with Caine?”
Zia’s jaw tightened, but the hypocrisy burned in her expression.
“I’ll help her through the worst of it,” she said stiffly. “But only because her mother begged me to. Not for you. And not because I agree with any of this.”