Sweet Hatred-Chapter 219: Too Stubborn For Your Own Good

That was all I needed.

I was already moving.

The hallway was electric. Staff whispered, hovered. Some were filming. Most just looked stunned. And in the center of it all,

Aria.

Fists clenched. Eyes wild. Hair disheveled from whatever scuffle she’d gotten into. Her heel was off. She must’ve taken it off to strike better.

And the man in front of her?

A bloated executive with blood at the corner of his mouth, screaming something incoherent and threatening.

I should’ve stopped her immediately.

But fuck, I missed that fire.

Missed her rage.

She raised her hand to land another punch—

And I stepped in, grabbing her wrist.

"That’s enough," I said, quiet.

Her chest was heaving. She blinked up at me, amber eyes wide and dazed, caught between fury and relief.

That’s when Ashlyn arrived, sweeping in like a storm in heels.

Behind her, a staff member hovered, breathless. "I went to get her, sir—"

"Good," I muttered, still not looking away from Aria.

She was a fucking mess. A beautiful, furious, dangerous mess.

And she was mine.

Even if she kept trying to forget it.

She was still thrashing.

Not like she had the strength to do any real damage, she was trembling against me, like all her fury had caught up with her heart. But it didn’t stop her from trying to wriggle free, from chasing after that last punch like her life depended on it.

"Aria," I growled low, my grip tightening around her waist as I pulled her flush against me. "Enough."

She stiffened. That voice of mine—deathly calm, razor-slick, was always her cue. The man she was attacking froze too.

Good.

He was a tall fucker, balding at the top and bloated with money and wine and entitlement. His lips were bleeding. A beautiful contrast. His mouth opened again, ready to play victim now that the crowd was gathering. Until he saw me.

The second our eyes locked, his expression snapped. Recognition slammed into him like a freight train. And fear.

Good.

I stepped forward, keeping Aria pressed to my side. "If I ever see you breathe in her direction again," I said, my voice a whisper of violence, "I will personally peel off every inch of your skin and gift wrap your organs to your family."

The man went pale.

"I don’t care who you are," I added, smiling as Niko stepped up behind me. "Or how much money you’ve pissed into this event. You won’t leave this island."

I didn’t have to say more. Niko already understood. He nodded once and gestured sharply to the two guards flanking him. The man tried to sputter something but they had him by the arms before he could finish a syllable.

As they dragged him off, Aria had finally stopped fighting me. Still heaving. Still trembling.

"Is there a reason," I asked, coldly now, turning to Ashlyn who had just stormed onto the scene in heels and fury, "that rodents are free-roaming in your pretty little Eden?"

Ash’s eyes cut to me. "Isn’t filth the main theme of the elite? You should feel right at home."

I smirked. "That’s rich, coming from the daughter of another old white billionaire with a God complex."

Ash folded her arms, cocking her head. "And yet, I’m not the one needing a leash on my pet."

"Don’t tempt me."

She laughed softly, but her eyes flicked to Aria. And for once, they actually held concern. I couldn’t read her expression, was it guilt? Curiosity? Amusement?

Before I could dwell on it, Aria’s voice cut through.

"I’m fine," she said tightly, eyes darting anywhere but mine. "You can let go now."

No. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Her voice was clipped. Her skin was burning under my touch, but she still wouldn’t look at me. That stung more than I expected.

"Are you okay?" I asked anyway, voice quieter this time.

"I said I’m fine."

But I wasn’t listening. I had caught the faint scrape of red over her knuckles. My jaw tensed.

Ashlyn was already trying to control the crowd, ordering the guests back into their rooms with her sharp tongue and clipped sarcasm. She was good at deflection. But all I could focus on was Aria pulling away from me again.

"You’re too stubborn for your own good," I muttered.

And before she could respond, before she could tell me to fuck off or slap me for dragging her around again, I pulled her down the hall, back toward my room. My pace was steady. My grip didn’t falter.

"Kael—"

"Don’t argue," I snapped. "I’m not in the mood."

Niko followed without a word. Once inside the suite, I nodded for him to leave after placing the first-aid kit on the table.

Now it was just me and her.

And the silence.

And the storm between us.

"I swear," Aria sighed, brushing past me, "you’re so dramatic. It’s barely a scratch. I didn’t need rescuing."

"You always say that," I replied, moving behind her slowly. "Until I’m not there."

I could still feel her pulse under my fingers. Still smell the blood, faint but metallic, in the air between us. My chest ached and twisted and pulled in ways I hated.

Aria finally stopped pacing and turned to face me. Her cheeks flushed from adrenaline. Her eyes still sparking with fury.

She looked like fire.

And all I wanted to do was burn with her.

I was losing my mind.

She stood in front of me, bruised knuckles, flushed cheeks, shirt rumpled from violence and still managed to look like something carved out of my ribs. I could barely hear anything over the sound of my own heartbeat clawing up my throat.

It had been weeks. Weeks of starvation. Of dreaming about her in rooms I didn’t want to be in, while pretending like her absence didn’t crawl under my skin and rot me from the inside out. And now, there she was. Right fucking there.

Wrecked.

Glorious.

Mine.

"Can I go now?" she snapped, voice sharp enough to pierce me out of my spiral.

"No."

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