Page 37 of Kael

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."