Sweet Hatred-Chapter 220: Lose

My answer came out lower than I meant it to. Rougher. Hungrier.

I took a step toward her, and she didn’t flinch. Of course she didn’t. Aria only ever fought back harder.

I studied the way her arms folded, the way her foot tapped impatiently against the floor, and I felt the heat rise inside me again. The worst kind of hunger, the one that had nothing to do with skin and everything to do with her.

"Do you just throw punches at every man who pisses you off?" I asked, grabbing the antiseptic from the first aid and spreading it lightly on knuckles with a dab.

She scoffed, glaring. "I don’t know. You tell me. You probably have a better record of my behavior than I do."

Fuck.

That one hit lower than I expected.

But I didn’t take the bait. I’d learned not to flinch in front of her anymore.

"What happened?" I asked instead, quieter now.

Her gaze dropped slightly, and she hissed as I pressed against her wound before letting out a sigh, just one, but it felt like it echoed through the whole room.

"The bastard’s been harassing the staff since we landed," she muttered. "Not one, not two. Three women. All of them reported him. Nothing happened. Too scared of his money or his connections or whatever the hell. Then I caught him in the hallway with a girl, pressing himself against her like she was furniture."

I clenched my jaw.

"She was trying to get away," she added, softer this time. "And he said—he said he’d kill her if she screamed. So I didn’t think. I just—"

"You launched your fist and heels at him," I finished for her, blowing a light breeze to soothe the sting of the antiseptic that made her fingers twitch.

She didn’t answer.

My blood burned. I should’ve gone with Niko. Should’ve stormed the hallway and slit the fucker’s throat myself. But instead...

"I’ll take care of him," I said, and my voice left no room for doubt. "He won’t ever walk into a room without remembering today."

Aria didn’t thank me. She didn’t need to. That wasn’t why she fought.

Still— "Next time, be careful," I added, running a glance over her again, landing on the bruises she tried to hide while I searched. "You can’t always beat the shit out of everyone."

Her eyes narrowed.

"I don’t care who they are," she hissed. "I’m not going to sit back and watch women get treated like trash just because some pervert has money and thinks that makes him untouchable."

My lips twitched.

There it was. That quiet righteousness. That blazing refusal to shrink or cower or play nice.

Even when it destroyed her.

Even when she asked me to end us.

God, I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to punish her. I wanted to hold her so tight she stopped shaking and tear her apart at the same time just so she’d never leave again.

But I didn’t touch her.

I just stared.

Because in the back of my mind, her voice still echoed...

"I want our contract to end."

And now, I didn’t know where to put my hands.

Her hand was still in mine.

The bruises across her knuckles were angry little marks. Swollen. Split. Her skin told a story I hadn’t been there to witness, and it fucking gutted me.

I held it too gently at first. Like if I applied too much pressure, she’d slip right through me.

Then I heard it.

"Thank you."

One whisper. Fragile. Almost like she didn’t mean to say it.

I didn’t respond. I didn’t trust my mouth to move. Didn’t trust my chest not to shatter. So I just watched her, watched the flicker of exhaustion in her lashes, the slump in her shoulders, the telltale signs of someone who hadn’t slept enough, hadn’t eaten enough, hadn’t felt enough safety in too damn long.

She looked beautiful in that kind of ruin.

"Have you been sleeping at all?" I asked quietly, brushing my thumb along the side of her wrist.

She didn’t answer right away. Just sighed, eyes low.

Then, "How have you been?" her voice spilled out gently.

I almost laughed. How have I been?

"What do you think, Aria?" I replied, and the bitterness curled too easily around her name.

Her throat moved. Guilt, maybe. Or restraint.

We both knew what wasn’t being said. The contract. The fact that the only chain binding her to me was the one she’d already asked to break.

She didn’t have to love me. Hell, maybe she didn’t even like me anymore. But if that contract was gone—

I’d lose her.

I’d lose another person who had ever made this whole fucked up empire I stood on feel less empty for the second time. The only person I ever looked at and thought mine, in a way that felt like something carved into my goddamn soul.

I couldn’t let her go.

Even if she hated me for it.

Even if it made me the villain in the end.

Even if it killed me.

So I didn’t let her go.

I held her fingers tighter, and before she could ask what I was doing, I did it, I bent forward and pressed my lips to her knuckles. Slow. Devout. Almost like I was kissing her wound into my own mouth.

She stilled.

Her breath hitched.

I didn’t stop.

"You shouldn’t throw punches firefly," I murmured, my lips ghosting over the swollen skin again. "Your hands are too precious for that."

Her other hand was still at her side, clenched. Defensive. I reached for that one too.

Took it.

Trapped both her fists between mine and brought them to my mouth, pressing her bruised knuckles against my lips like she belonged there.

She looked at me like she didn’t understand what the hell I was doing. And maybe I didn’t either. All I knew was that if I didn’t touch her now, if I didn’t feel her—*

I’d go insane.*

"Kael..." she breathed.

But I wasn’t done.

I looked at her, eyes locked with hers. I let the unhinged part of me, the one I usually chained back, peek through.

"Do you want to know what I see when I look at you, Aria?"

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