Chapter 20
Bria
The mall was overstimulating. I was already overstimulated and horny, trying not to relive the night before and Kael's mouth on me.
My heart was beating like crazy, and I felt like everybody there knew me and would remember the times I was there—high, trying to steal perfume from Macy's to sell for my next fix on Facebook.
I got arrested and spent the weekend in jail.
I got caught three or four more times after that.
The thought of anybody recognizing me made my stomach churn.
But I looked a lot different now.
I smoothed my hand over the two-piece short set Kael had bought me.
He said he liked seeing my legs. Kael was dressed down in jeans and a polo.
He looked like a tatted-up J.Crew model.
We looked very "hood girl meets preppy bad boy.
" His hand rested on my lower back, steering me through the crowd.
I wished we'd come later, just before it closed, so there weren't so many people.
"We really don't have to go shopping," I said for the third time. "I can wear something from my closet."
"You don't have a closet. You have a wardrobe I built for you."
"That's not—"
"You're going home to visit your parents tonight," he cut me off. "You need clothes and a few gifts."
I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out, because he was right.
My parents hadn't seen me since before Kael took me. They'd spoken to me on the phone—brief, tearful conversations where I promised I was okay and they pretended to believe me. But they hadn't seen me.
"Okay," I whispered.
We walked into the first store, and Kael immediately stepped away from my side.
I blinked at him. My first thought was that he didn't want to be seen with me.
"What are you doing?"
He gestured toward the racks. "Go. Pick out your clothes." He crossed his arms. "I want you to look like you, not a doll I dressed when you see your parents."
I stared at him.
"Go, Bunny. We got more than one store to go to."
I hesitated, then walked toward the racks. I could feel his eyes on me, watching, but he didn't follow. He just waited.
I ran my fingers over the fabric.
I grabbed a few things: a pair of jeans, a simple blouse, and a dress that made me feel pretty.
I walked back to him, holding them up. "This okay?"
He looked at them, then at me. "Get more."
"Kael—"
"Get. More."
I rolled my eyes, but I was smiling.
We hit every store in International Mall.
I picked out dresses, jeans, and tops, along with a pair of heels that made me feel like I was walking on clouds. Kael just kept encouraging me to buy more. He followed me, carried my bags, and paid.
By the time we were finished, I had three new dresses, two pairs of jeans, four tops, and a pair of heels. Then he dragged me into a jewelry store. Holding a diamond tennis bracelet, he asked me, "You like it?"
I stared at the seven-thousand-dollar price tag. Drug-addict me thought, I could buy so much dope with that. But I swallowed the thought and said, "Kael, this is too much."
He looked at me like I'd just said something stupid. "It's not enough."
"It's—"
"Get the necklace, too," he told the sales associate.
I stared at him as he checked out, paying over twenty thousand dollars.
He looked at me. "Don't argue with me again today, Bunny."
I shut my mouth.
We stopped at the food court. There were only twenty to thirty people left; the mall would be closing soon. Kael handed me his black card. A black card to a drug addict? What was he thinking?
"Go get us Chinese chicken. I'll wait in line for the smoothie place."
I stared at the card in my hand. "Kael—"
I could see in his eyes he understood why I was hesitating.
"Go. I'll be right here."
I hesitated, then nodded. He trusted me. He trusted me with his card, with his money. I wasn't going to let him down.
I walked toward the Chinese place, my heart pounding a little. I was doing something normal. Something human. I was buying food like a regular person. I felt proud of myself.
And then I saw him.
Darius. Everybody called him Cedrick in the streets.
He was standing near the Chinese place, his arm around some girl with a long braid down her back.
And then I saw who was with him.
Brook.
She was older than us, in her mid-thirties.
Started fucking with him when he was in his teens.
She was always there, always interfering in our relationship, always whispering in Darius's ear—telling him I wasn't good enough, wasn't loyal enough, wasn't worth his time.
She was fucking him. She'd been the one who introduced him to other girls, the one who covered for him when he cheated, the one who made sure I always felt like I was the problem.
She co-signed his abuse. She was the reason I stayed so long, because she made me believe I deserved everything he did to me.
My blood turned to ice.
I turned to walk away, but it was too late. He saw me.
"Bria?"
His voice cut through the noise of the food court like a knife.
I froze.
A few people nearby turned to look. A woman with a stroller slowed down, her eyes flickering between us. A teenager at the smoothie place glanced over, curious. The energy shifted, like people could feel something about to happen.
He let go of Brook and started walking toward me, a slow grin spreading across his face. He looked the same, even though he had gained weight. He was still handsome, though I wasn't attracted to him anymore. He beat that out of me.
"Well, well, well," he said. "Look what the cat dragged in. I heard you got clean. I didn't believe it."
"Leave me alone, Darius."
"Leave you alone?" He laughed. "I just got out of prison. I've been thinking about you the whole time, and you're going to tell me to leave you alone?" His face started to shift.
A family at a nearby table stopped eating, the mother pulling her children closer. An older man in a security uniform started walking in our direction. People were watching now, judging.
Brook appeared beside him, her eyes narrowing as she looked me up and down. She was tall—5'9", 150 pounds—with skin light enough to pass, but she wasn't white. She was wearing a bodycon dress and heels like it was time for the club.
"She's still a junkie," Brook sneered. "Once you sucked dick for a hit, ain't no coming back from that."
"Brook, shut—"
"She stole from you, Darius. She stole thousands from you before you went in. And now she's walking around in designer clothes like she's somebody."
I felt my face burn.
"I didn't steal from him," I said, my voice shaking.
"Bullshit." Brook stepped closer. "You were a junkie. That's what junkies do. They steal. They lie. They suck dick."
Darius reached out and grabbed my arm. "It was a little bit of money. I'm not tripping over it. Not if you make it up to me. Come on, Bria. Let's talk. Just you and me."
I yanked my arm back. "Don't touch me."
"Bria—" It was a warning.
I shoved him hard.
He stumbled back, his eyes widening in surprise. He wasn't used to me standing up for myself.
The sound of Brook's hand connecting with my cheek cracked through the air like a gunshot. A woman nearby gasped. The teenager with the phone started recording. My head snapped to the side, my cheek burning.
"You stupid bitch," Brook hissed. "He's trying to give you a chance, and you—"
She grabbed my hair.
I screamed.
Suddenly, a hand shot out and grabbed Brook by the wrist. She let go of my hair immediately, her eyes going wide.
"Let go of me—"
Kael came into view. He backhanded her.
It wasn't a slap. It was a strike—controlled special forces work that sent her stumbling back into Darius's arms, blood dripping from her split lip, her entire face turning red in seconds.
I wanted to cheer. You don't know how many times that big bitch had hit me.
We'd fought too many times to count. I wasn't a punk, but she was big.
Darius caught her, his face twisting with rage. She started crying like the bitch she tried to pretend she wasn't.
"What the fuck—"
Kael stepped in front of me, his body blocking theirs. His voice was calm, and I knew him well enough to know that kind of calm preceded bodies dropping.
"Touch her ever again," he said quietly, "and they won't identify your body by the time I get through with you."
Darius laughed—a real one. He wasn't scared. "Who the fuck do you think you are? That's my girl. She's been my girl for years. She belongs to me."
Kael tilted his head. "First, I'm the man that knows your grandmother lives at 1901 19th Street South in St. Pete."
I watched from beside Kael as Darius's face dropped. Kael continued before he could respond to the threat.
"She doesn't belong to anyone. But if she did, she wouldn't belong to a man who let his girlfriend slap her in a food court."
"She stole from me," Darius snarled. "She owes me money. She owes me—"
"A minute ago you said you weren't tripping over that little bit of money."
I had actually stolen from him. I couldn't remember the exact number, but it bought a lot of molly and crack.
"She owes you nothing," Kael said.
Darius lowered his voice. "I'll fucking kill you right motherfucking now, nigga."
Kael smiled. It was the scariest thing I've ever seen. "You can try."
A crowd had gathered now. People were whispering, phones out, some recording.
The security guard had stopped a few feet away, uncertain.
A group of teenagers looked like they were livestreaming the whole thing.
The energy in the food court was electric—everyone watching, waiting to see what happened next.
Kael wrapped his arm around me and walked me toward the exit. Darius didn't follow. I think he understood that he wasn't dealing with a corner boy.
Kael didn't look back. He just kept walking, his arm tight around me, his body a shield against the world.
We were almost out the door when the police stopped us: two officers, one older, one younger, both white. The younger one had his hand on his gun.
"Sir, we received a report of an assault in the food court."
Kael didn't stop walking.
"Sir, I need you to stop."
Kael kept walking.
The younger officer stepped in front of us. The older one followed.
"Sir, I'm going to need you to—"
The older officer looked at Kael. His eyes widened in recognition, and he grabbed his partner's arm. "Stand down, Davis."
"But—"
"Stand down."
The younger officer looked confused. "Sergeant, he assaulted a woman—"
The sergeant looked at Kael. "Mr. Voss," he said quietly. "I didn't realize it was you."
Kael stopped. "Sergeant." Just that one word from Kael felt authoritative.
The sergeant nodded. "I apologize for the disturbance. My partner is new. He doesn't know—"
"It's fine." Kael's voice was flat. "We were just leaving."
I stared in awe. How would it feel to have that type of power?
The younger officer opened his mouth to argue, but the sergeant silenced him with a look. "Of course, Mr. Voss. Have a good evening."
Kael nodded once and walked me out of the mall.
The car ride was silent.
I sat in the passenger seat, my hands shaking, my cheek still burning. Kael drove with one hand on the wheel, his jaw tight, his eyes fixed on the road.
"Kael," I whispered.
"I'm fine."
"That's not—"
"I'm fine, Bria."
I reached over and put my hand on his arm. He flinched, then pulled over to the side of the road, killed the engine, and turned to me.
His eyes were dark—furious, but not at me. He reached out and gently touched my face, his thumb brushing over the spot where Brook had hit me.
"She hit you," he said quietly. "She put her hands on you. I can’t swallow that anger. I will kill her."
"I'm okay. Don’t do anything to make it worse."
"You shouldn't have been in that situation. I shouldn't have let you go alone."
"Kael, you didn't know—"
"I should have been watching. I should have—"
"Kael." I grabbed his hand and held it against my cheek. "Look at me."
He looked at me.
"I'm okay," I said again. "You came. You stopped them. You protected me. I'm okay."
He stared at me for a long moment, then pulled me into his arms.
"Bria," he whispered into my hair. "If anything ever happens to you—"
"Nothing's going to happen to me." I hugged him back. "Because you won't let it."
If I didn't have faith in anything else, I had faith in that.