THIRTY
DAKOTA
The car came to a stop and Kaden turned off the engine.
“I’ll text you when I’m ready,” I loosened my seat belt as we stopped in front of my parents house.
I reached for the door handle but he grabbed my face, forcing me to look at him.
Everything about him screamed that he wanted to tell me something. Talk to me. But, he didn’t.
Instead, he let go of my face, got out of the car and opened the door for me. With a knot in my stomach I got out, thanking him, before heading to the house.
My nerves about Kaden and I immediately disappeared when I reached the front door. It was creaked open. My brows knitted together and I slowly pushed the door open, stepping into the house.
I could hear my mother’s tremulous voice in the distance and my body jolted as the sound of glass shattering bounced off the walls.
With wide eyes, I rushed into the living room.
My heart sank to my feet as I watched my mother cower behind the table with fearful eyes. My father stood across from her—chest heaving and fists clenched.
Tears burned my eyes. “Daddy…?”
My father whipped around, the anger instantly wiped from his face as our eyes locked. “Dakota—princess.”
He approached me but I rushed towards my mother, helping her up. “Did he hurt you?” my voice came out strangled with my heart racing.
“Sweetheart, you need to leave—I’m—I’m fine, baby.”
“Dakota, listen to me,” my father pulled my attention back to him.
My eyes dropped to his bloody hand and a chill shot down my spine. My eyes then darted to the shattered vase behind him, then the broken wine bottle on the floor next to the kitchen island. But what instilled the most fear in me was the sharp knife that had been hurled into the now broken TV.
“We’re leaving,” I said to my mother, firmly wrapping my arms around her as I walked her to the door.
“No, princess,” my father’s voice turned wobbly as he grabbed my arm with apologetic eyes. His eyes were bloodshot and he reeked of alcohol. “Don’t leave—”
“Let go,” I snapped, pulling my arm from him but winced, feeling the shards of glass left in his hand sink into my skin.
My father was yanked away from us and tossed across the room like a fucking rag doll. He crashed into the table, groaning in pain and my head snapped up to see a very pissed off Kaden. Oh my God.
Kaden nodded toward the door and without hesitation, I walked with my mother. “Dakota—”
“You’re not leaving,” my father groaned, rushing toward us but Kaden stepped in front of me, blocking us from my father. “Dakota, baby, please,” he pleaded, his voice coated in honey as he stared at me with panicked eyes.
Kaden slipped his hand into his pocket, pulled out his car keys and handed it to me.
“Dakota, get in the car and lock the doors.”
I took the keys from him, having to force my confused mother out the front door.
“Who is that?” she fearfully asked, looking at me with wide eyes.
“He owns the house, remember?” I softly replied, opening the back door of Kaden’s car. “Mom, did you hit your head,” I reluctantly asked. “Did he hit you over the head?”
In a haze of confusion, she turned back to the house before looking back at me. Her eyes landed on the car, and she shook her head. “No, I—”
“Mom, just trust me, okay?” I cut her off with a plea as I grabbed her trembling hand.
“I can’t,” she whispered with fear ridden eyes as she pulled away from me.
“He’s going to hurt you, just get in the car,” I insisted, pulling her closer but she fought against me. “Mom, don’t do this,” I begged, shaking my head. “Please—” my voice cracked. “You have to leave him, mom, you can’t—”
She immediately shook her head, dismissing me. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t start with that, please.”
My voice grew agitated. “Mom, he’s hurting you!”
“Don’t raise your voice at me,” she snapped, making my body still.
Tears trickled down my cheeks, and her anger morphed into sadness. She reached forward, cupping my face with both hands and I gripped her forearms.
“One day he’s going to hurt you so bad…” I trailed off, feeling a lump of fear expand in my throat. “I just don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t,” she assured me.
“Then come with us—leave him—”
“Dakota, he’s my husband,” she whispered. Her words were like a blade to my chest. She pulled herself out of my hold, stepping back. “I can’t leave him,” she emphasized, twisting the blade and with blurred vision, I stared at her in disbelief.
Nausea stirred in my stomach, my legs going numb.
My words felt like acid coming up my throat. “He’s going to kill you…”
“He won’t. He’s just…” she trailed off, looking back at the house. “I just upset him. It’ll pass.”
I scoffed in disbelief, unable to accept the words leaving her mouth. “You’re defending him?”
She opened her mouth to protest but I wouldn’t hear it. I reached forward, grabbing her arm as I pulled her toward the car.
“Dakota, no,” she protested, putting up a fight.
“He’s going to keep hurting you!” I snapped, tightening my hold on her.
“Dakota.”
My head snapped in Kaden’s direction and my eyes of anger softened. He gave his head a subtle shake and I let go of my mother.
She held her wrist, staring at me with shock and gut wrenching disapproval.
Without hesitation she stepped back, and hurried into the house.
An ache shot through my chest as I stepped to follow her but Kaden moved in front of me, stopping me.
“Kaden, I have to stop her,” I said, looking past him to see my mother enter the house.
“She’s made her choice—”
“No,” I cut him off, shaking my head in denial. “No, she—I have to help her.”
“You can’t.”
With a breathless scoff I pushed past him but he grabbed my arm, pulling me back to the car. Before I was able to get another word out, he opened the passenger door and forced me inside. He rounded the car and locked the doors before turning to look at me.
“I need you to trust me,” he ordered.
“Now is not the time to ask for trust, Kaden,” I shot back, reaching to open the door but it was locked.
“Dakota.” The low rasp of his voice forced me to freeze. With a deep breath in, I sat back and looked over at him. “He’s a lawyer,” Kaden stated, as though he was reminding me.
My brows drew together in utter confusion until loud sirens rang in front of me.
My head snapped to the windshield and I watched three cop cars pull up to the house—sirens blaring and red and blue lights nearly blinding me. My heart dropped as they hopped out of the car, charging for the front door.
“Let them see it,” he kept his voice low.
“But what if he hurt her when she ran inside?”
“He didn’t,” Kaden confidently reassured me. “I took care of it.”
Kaden’s definition of I took care of it was I used violence and he wouldn’t dare fuck around and find out.
One of the police officers knocked on Kaden’s window and he got out of the car, closing the door behind himself. He conversed with the police officer and in no time I watched my father being escorted—in handcuffs—out of the house with a nasty black eye.
My mother stood in the doorway, trembling as she hugged herself. I hurried out of the car and toward her. She opened her arms and I wrapped mine around her as she balled her eyes out into the crease of my neck.
I comforted her, feeling tears stream down my face as well.
“I’m so sorry I left you with him,” I apologized, squeezing her in my arms. My mother’s sobs were silent, and relentless, as she held me in her arms.
“Mrs King?” a rough voice spoke and we broke the hug. I looked up to see Kaden and the officer in front of us. “We need you to come down to the station with us,” the cop spoke and my mother looked hesitant.
“We’ll be right behind you, Mrs King,” Kaden assured her and she looked over at me. I nodded and although reluctant, she let go of me.
“Nadia,” she corrected Kaden and reached forward to grab his hand. “Thank you,” she broke out in a sad smile of appreciation. He gave her a single nod and I watched her leave with the cop.
Kaden and I slipped back into his car, following behind the cop car and my nerves took over my entire body.
We arrived at the station and after all the procedures were followed, we were finally able to leave. We stopped by the hospital, even though she insisted she was fine, but only after the doctor cleared her did we head to the apartment.
I managed to get my bleeding forearm bandaged up as well.
My mother was adamant on staying at the apartment they had originally gotten for me and it was clear that she wanted—needed—to be alone. I was reluctant to leave her alone, but knowing she was safe eased my mind.
“There’s a reason why he’s one of the best lawyers in the city, you know,” she sat down on the couch next to me, holding her mug in both hands.
“You thought they wouldn’t believe you?” I hesitantly asked.
A sad smile found its way to her lips as she met my gaze. “I knew I wouldn’t win.”
My heart ached knowing that she had to live like this. That she lived in fear and accepted the abuse simply because he was a good lawyer. Well known.
“He’s not winning this case,” Kaden said and my mother let out a sad huff.
“You have to get a divorce, mom,” I insisted, reaching over to grab her hand. “Your safety matters. You can’t be with him anymore.”
“I can’t,” she shook her head. “I can’t afford a good lawyer right now, he’ll win.”
“Nadia,” Kaden began, sitting on the opposite side of my mother. “If you want a divorce, I’ll handle the lawyer.”
My mother immediately shook her head. “I appreciate it, I do, but I can’t let you do that.
” She turned to look at me with wide eyes.
“Lud li e?” she suddenly asked. Well, he might be a teeny bit crazy at times.
“Sweetheart…” she trailed off before going on a rant—in Bulgarian— about how amazing he is for offering, and saving her but she simply could not accept.
“No, Nadia, I’m not crazy…” Kaden trailed off and my mother’s head snapped to him in surprise.
“Shit,” her hand flew to her mouth and I fought back a smile.
“He speaks Bulgarian too,” I leaned over to whisper to my mom. She offered an apologetic smile, not having known he speaks the language as well.
* * *
After hours we had finally convinced my mom to file for divorce and accept Kaden’s lawyer.
Still seeming unsure of it all, she flashed her most believable smile before heading to bed.
When Kaden and I got back home, I found myself in the kitchen, gulping down as much water as possible.
With trembling hands, I tried twisting the bottle cap back on but kept failing.
He took the bottle from me, placing it on the kitchen island, and I shook my head up at him.
“It’s all my fault,” I breathlessly said. “I left her there knowing what kind of man he was—”
“It’s not your fault,” he pulled me into his safe embrace. I buried my face in his chest as I cried, feeling my body overflow with exhaustion.
My head pounded as I stood, feeling weak and, worst of all, guilty.