Page 11 of Kael

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.”

Chapter 7

Kael

“I’m not coming myself,” Zia said over the phone before I could barely get a hello out.

“What do you mean you’re not coming?”

“I don’t like what you’re doing, and I don’t want to be involved. But I’m sending someone I trust. Her name is Lena. She’s worked at a clinic in Miami with heavy detox cases. She’ll be there in an hour.”

She hung up without waiting for a reply.

I sneered at the blank screen and tried to drown out the sound of Bunny crying from upstairs. She’d been up all night, begging and bargaining, offering me her body, her soul, anything if I would just make the pain stop. I felt like the devil when she cried like that. At this point, I was starting to wonder if I had underestimated exactly what I’d taken on.

I scrubbed my hands down my face and headed to the kitchen to prepare some soup. She hadn’t eaten in at least eight hours.

Exactly fifty-three minutes later, I heard a car pull into the driveway. I stopped what I was doing and met the woman at the door myself.

The woman who stepped out was tall and confident, with pale skin, sharp, cat-like eyes, and dark hair pulled into a sleek ponytail. She carried a large medical bag like it weighed nothing. Her fitted scrubs hugged her curves as she walked toward me,and the moment her gaze landed on me, her full lips curved into an appreciative smile.

“Well, hello,” she purred, looking me up and down openly.

She extended her hand. When I shook it, her grip lingered, her thumb brushing over my knuckles.

I narrowed my eyes. I’d had this reaction from many women before; it was easy to ignore. As long as she helped Bria, I didn't care.

“Kael,” I said curtly, already turning toward the stairs. “She’s upstairs. Let’s go.”

Lena followed, her heels clicking confidently on the hardwood. “You know, most men who call for private care like this are usually the ones who caused the problem. But you… you don’t seem like the type.”

I ignored the flirtation.

We reached the secure room. I unlocked the door and stepped inside first. Bria was curled on her side in the bed, trembling under the blanket, her skin slick with sweat. Her breathing was shallow and ragged.

Lena stepped in behind me, her playful demeanor shifting instantly into professional focus as she took in the scene.

“Jesus,” she murmured. “How long has she been like this?”

“Third day,” I said. “It’s getting worse.”