Page 78 of Dissension

The scary thing is, Kara believes that.

Morally vacant, no conscience to be found. He walks, talks, and smiles like a human. He even kisses like one. But underneath, Dieter is something elseentirely.

“I should tell everyone what you are.” Assuming they don’t already know. There’s always been something dark about him, but Kara never thought it wasthisbad. “I should go to the police-”

“You won’t, because I own you. Understand that? Read my lips, chickadee.I own you.” There is no smiling, playful spark in his peridot eyes, no smirk on his mouth. This is the side of Dietrich that Kara has always been uneasy about. The unpredictable side. He gets closer to her on the grass and puts his hand behind her head, pulling her forehead to his own. His smooth voice goes soft as he stares into her eyes. “You belong to me. And if you say a word, believe me when I say you will not be long for this world. I’d prefer we not do that; don’t you agree?”

Mental hooks tear at her mind, pulling in all directions. Waves of hopelessness. Disbelief. There’s nothing she can do against this and she knows it. The amount of power he holds is too great. People like him don’t go down for crimes; they find ways to silence others, either by money or murder.

The way he had X silenced, her lips sewn shut and her head chopped off.

“Isn’t Paxton Brooker your friend?” Kara asks miserably. “How could you set him up like this?”

Emotionless, Dieter shrugs. “He’s useful. But his use is almost up. It’s amazing what you can get done with money, forged signatures, and corrupt real estate officials. Pax isn’t lying when he says he never bought the property, that he never signed for it.” A little pleased grin shapes his lips, the ones that have kissed her. “ButIdid.”

Kara stares at him, unable to comprehend the level of horror. Dieter has so many corrupt people in his pockets that he was able to illegally purchase property under Paxton Brooker’s name with the intent of using him as a future scapegoat. He intended to set Paxton up for the fall from the very beginning, just in case things went sour. “I don’t knowwhatyou are,” Kara utters. “But monster doesn’t cut it.”

He places a soft kiss on her forehead and Kara feels the well inside of her burst, tears falling silently down her face. How could she have been so utterly blind to the soullessthingshe stood behind? Nick was right all along. “I want to leave. I want to leave now-”

“Don’t be silly. You can’t,” he says very reasonably as he guides her reluctant form to the brightly-lit estate. “It’s late. You’ll stay here. I’ll have my physician see you. You’ll feel better in the morning.Mostly.”

She tries to dig her heels into the lawn, but he tightens his grip and hauls her into his home.

Perhaps she should be embarrassed about sitting in her bra and jeans in front of these men, but Kara has found herselfunable to find the emotion required. Sitting on a chaise lounge in Dieter’s office, Kara holds perfectly still as hisprivatephysician sets about cleaning up the mess of her back. There’s a stinging sensation, biting at her flesh. A cotton swap is being brushed against the open cuts on her back. It burns as hot as her anger, claws at her just as deep as betrayalfeels.

Gritting her teeth against the burn, Kara asks, “Not going to ask where I got these, are you?”

The aging, finely dressed gentleman says nothing in response, his eyes briefly glancing at Dieter from behind his spectacles.

“I suppose you’re in on it. You already know. He pays you to keep your mouth shut and look the other way,” Kara says bitterly as the aging man beside her continues cleaning out her various wounds. “Dieter seems to have a knack for that.” Her eyes narrow in thought. “Or is it just the Bittinger family in general that always makes sure to clean up their tracks? Is that how Saoirse-”

“Shhh,” Dieter coos, something icy in his gaze.

A sigh of annoyance emits from the doctor. He sets about stitching up a bad injury. Kara flinches as the needle meets sore flesh.

“Mr. Bittinger, shall I give her something for her nerves?” The physician speaks as though Kara is simply a strange house plant that he’s administering medical care to. The bastard wants to drug her to make her shut up, is that it? Make the unruly lawyer take a chill pill like a good fucking girl.Ha.

Dieter is at his grand desk, face emotionless. “No. Let Kara be angry. It’s best that she gets it all out now, rather than later. She’s hadquitethe adventure these past few days.”

Adventure into Torture Wonderland? She’d like to leap across the room and strangle him, but she fears he might enjoy that.

When the shady doctor finishes his work, he shakes Dieter’s hand and exits the premises, leaving them alone once more. Kara can see the way Dieter stands in front of the grand double doors; she can see him from his office. He turns and stares at her, holding her gaze in the painful silence. Kara wraps her arms over her chest, feeling unsettled by his eyes on her vulnerable form.

Now that she knows what he’s capable of, she no longer feels safe.

“I’m sorry about your clothes. You know you can grab something from my mother’s closet to keep.”

The very thought of sleeping in Saoirse’s clothes is repellant. The idea of staying here? Even worse. “I’m not staying here. I have to leave.”

A scoff. He locks the front doors with a certain finality, maintaining eye contact as he does so. “We both know that’s not happening. It’s late. You’re safe here.”

“Safe?” Kara says hoarsely before she can stop herself. “I’m safe with a man that profits off snuff films and blackmail material? A man that sets his business partners up to take the fall? Tell me more jokes, Dieter.”

“Still some humor in you.” Like a predator, slow and measured, he comes back into his office to collect her. “Don’t exaggerate, chickadee.” His grin is fleeting and cold as he holds out his hand to her. “No one dies on camera.”

Kara eyeballs his hand like it’s a venomous snake with its fangs out.

Dieter’s eyes go half-mast, the green almost black. “I know this is a foreign concept for you, but don’t be difficult. Come on, you need to sleep.” He sounds irritated, like he can’t understand why she’s acting cagey. As if he doesn’t understand why she’s horrified to know the real him. Buthe knows, he’s smart enoughto know what he does is wrong, clever enough to keep it hidden, wicked enough to keep those under his thrall silent.

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