52. Adrian
Chapter Fifty-Two
Adrian
Ihear the car before I see it. The low purr of an engine. Expensive. Familiar.
My father's Mercedes glides into the driveway, smooth and controlled. Relief comes first—a small, desperate release. Then it fades, replaced by something heavier. Something I refuse to name.
He steps out of the car. Tall. Impeccably dressed in a charcoal suit, no tie. His silver hair is impeccably styled, not a hair out of place, and his expression is calm. Unreadable. But I know that look. It’s the look he wears when he's about to completely dismantle someone.
Kaia's father notices the threat immediately. His posture turns rigid, his back straightening automatically, his nostrils flaring. "Who the hell is this?" he demands.
My father doesn't answer right away. He walks up the driveway slowly, deliberately, like he has all the time in the world. When he reaches the porch, he stops. Looks at Kaia's father. Then her mother. Then the guards. "Richard Hale," he says, his voice smooth and controlled. "Attorney."
Kaia's father's jaw tightens. "We don't need a lawyer. This is a family matter."
"Is it?" My father's tone doesn't change. "Because from where I'm standing, this looks like harassment. Assault, even. If we want to get into it."
Kaia's mother steps forward, her voice shrill and panicked. "You don't understand what you're dealing with. She's unstable. She ran away from her own family!"
"Your daughter," my father interrupts smoothly, "is twenty-five years old. A legal adult. She has the right to make her own decisions about where she lives and who she associates herself with."
"She's an Omega," Kaia's father snaps. "She needs guidance. Structure. She can't just…"
"She can," my father says. "And she has."
I stay where I am, between them and the people I love. I fight the primal urge to turn around and run back to Kaia, to check on her, to make sure she's okay. Because I can't. Not yet. Because if I move, they'll see it as weakness.
Kaia's father takes a step forward, his voice dropping, low and dangerous. "You don't know what you're dealing with. She's not stable. She needs help…"
"Medical help?" my father asks, his tone still calm but with a cutting edge now. "Are you suggesting she needs psychiatric intervention?"
Kaia's mother nods quickly. "Yes, exactly. She's not thinking clearly…"
"Then you'll need documentation," my father says. "Medical records. A diagnosis. A court order." He lets the silence stretch. "Do you have any of those things?"
Silence. Kaia's father's expression hardens. "We don't need…"
"You do," my father says. "If you want to force an adult woman into medical care against her will, you need legal grounds. And from what I understand, you don't have any."
"She's our daughter…"
"She's an adult."
I watch the shift happen. The moment Kaia's father realizes he's outmatched. How his hands clench, his jaw tightens. But he still doesn't move from my porch.
My father steps closer, not threatening, just present.
"Let me be very clear," he says. "If you continue to harass my son's pack, if you attempt to remove Kaia from this property without her consent, if you make any threats, legal or otherwise, I will not hesitate to file a restraining order.
And I will make sure every pack in this country knows exactly what you tried to do. "
Kaia's mother gasps. "You can't…"
"I can," my father says. "And I will."
Kaia's father's expression shifts from anger to calculation. "You don't know what she's running from," he says quietly. "She's aligned herself with strangers. She's broken pack bonds. She's abandoned her family. Her responsibilities. Everything we built for her.”
"I know she's safe here," I say, my voice steady and controlled. "I know she chose us. And I know you don't get to take that away from her."
Kaia's father looks at me. Really looks at me. "You think you can protect her?" he asks. "You think you know what's best for her?"
"I think she knows what's best for herself," I say. "And we're going to support whatever she decides."
My father glances at me briefly. There's something in his expression, something that looks like approval, maybe even respect.
Then he blinks and the look is gone before he turns back to Kaia's parents.
"You have two options," he says. "You can leave now, voluntarily.
Or I can call my security team and have you removed.
Trust me, they're far less concerned with legality than the police are. "
"We're her parents…"
"You're on private property," my father says. "Without permission. That's trespassing."
Manny steps forward. "You need to leave," he says quietly. His tone is professional but firm.
Officer Reyes moves to stand beside him, her hand resting on her belt.
"Ms. Kaia is an adult," she says, her voice clear and measured.
"She's made it clear she doesn't want contact with you.
We have no legal basis to remove her from this property, and we have no authority to force her to go anywhere against her will. "
Kaia's father looks at her. Then back to my father. Then at me. His expression is cold. Furious. "This isn't over," he says.
"Yes," my father says. "It is."
Kaia's mother is crying now, quiet, desperate sobs. "Please," she says. "She's our daughter. We just want to help her…"
"Then respect her choices," my father says, his tone softening a little. "If she wants to contact you, she will. But you can't force her."
"She doesn't know what she wants…"
"You keep saying that, but you don't know her. You don't know what she wants. She does. And she's made it very clear."
Kaia's father takes his wife's arm, firm and controlled. But then he stops. His jaw tightens, working like he's grinding his teeth. His shoulders drop—just slightly, but enough to notice. The rigid posture he's held this entire time finally cracks.
He turns his head. Looks back toward the car where Kaia sits. His daughter. The one he raised. The one he trained. The one he lost.
His face changes. The anger doesn't disappear, but something else surfaces beneath it—something raw and almost vulnerable. Realization. The understanding that she's not coming back. That she chose us. That he failed.
His hand tightens on his wife's arm, knuckles white.
"Let's go," he says, his voice rougher now. Strained.
She resists. "But…"
"Now." The word breaks slightly. Just enough to hear the fracture underneath.
They turn and walk back toward the Escalades, the guards following.
I watch them go, every muscle in my body tense.
Waiting. Because I don't trust this. I don't trust them.
The car doors slam. The engines start. And then three cars pull out of the driveway, slowly, deliberately, like they're making some kind of point.
But something about the way he looked back at me makes my skin crawl, like this isn't an ending—it's a pause.
I don't move until they're out of sight, until the sound of the engines fades completely. Then I exhale, long and shaky. My father steps beside me, his hand settling on my shoulder.
"You did well," he says quietly.
I shake my head. "I didn't do anything. You—"
"You stood your ground," he says. "You protected her. That's what matters."
My father's expression settles back into control—composed, certain, the lawyer returning.
But there's something in his eyes that's even colder than anger.
It's calculation. It's the look of a man who's just decided something, and who has the power to make it stick.
He's not threatening them casually. He's promising them a problem they can't solve.
"Thank you," I say.
He nods. "She's important to you." It's not a question.
"Yes," I say. "She is." I turn toward the car, toward Kaia. "I need to…"
"Go," my father says. "I'll handle the rest."
I hesitate. "What rest?"
"Paperwork," he says. "Documentation. Making sure they can't come back."
"Can they?"
"Not legally," he says. "Not without cause. And they don't have any."
I nod. Then I turn and walk back to the car, my hands shaking, my chest tight. Because I just handed control to someone else. And I hate it. I hate not being the one in charge. I hate not being able to fix this myself.
But I did what I had to do. For her. And that's what matters. I open the car door. Kaia is still in Lachlan's arms, still pale, still shaking. But her eyes are open. And when she sees me, something shifts in her expression—relief, fear, hope, all at once.
"They're gone," I say quietly.
She blinks. "Gone?"
"For now," I say. "My father and I handled it."
"Your father?"
I nod. "He's a lawyer. He made it very clear they don't have any legal grounds to take you."
Her breath hitches. "But what if they come back?"
"They won't," I say. "Not without a court order. And they won't get one."
"How do you know?"
"Because you're an adult," I say. "And you made your choice. That's all that matters."
She stares at me, her eyes wet. "I'm sorry," she whispers.
"Stop," I say, my voice firm. "You didn't bring this to us. They did. And we're not letting them take you."
Lachlan's arms tighten around her. Jonas reaches back from the front seat, his hand settling on her knee. Finn is beside her, his hand in hers. And I'm here, standing in the open door, watching her. Protecting her. "You're safe," I say. "I promise."
I close the door gently. Then I turn back toward the house. My father is still on the porch, talking to Manny. I walk over slowly, my legs heavy, my jaw tight.
"Is she okay?" my father asks.
"She will be," I say.
He nods. "Good."
Manny clears his throat. "I'll file a report. Document everything.”
"Thank you," I say. He nods, then walks back to his patrol car.
My father looks at me, his expression serious. "They'll try again," he says quietly. "Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But they’ll be back."
"I know."
"When they do, you call me."
"I will."
He studies me for a moment, then nods. "She's lucky to have you," he says.
I shake my head. "I'm lucky to have her."
He smiles slightly. "Then don't let her go."
"I won't," I say. "Ever."
He claps me on the shoulder once, firm. Then he turns and walks back to his car. I watch him drive away, and then I face our car. Toward Kaia. Toward my pack. This isn't over—I know that. But for now? She's safe, and that's enough.