Sweet Hatred-Chapter 238: Trapped

My eyes flew up to meet his, and his sheepish grin, the one he always has when he was a little too pleased with himself, was completely gone, completely leaving a bashful look on his face.

"Yeah," he muttered. "That’s why I didn’t want to move."

I stared at him.

Like... really stared at him.

"Are you... seriously turned on right now?" I asked, voice flat, blinking as the faint scent of gunpowder and sweat mingled in the air.

Sylas gave me a sheepish look. "It’s not intentional, alright? Tight space. Gorgeous woman. Adrenaline. Basic male biology. I’m already ashamed of myself as it is."

"I hate men."

"I believe it."

A blood curdling scream tore the air.

"I think someone just got shot."

"And yet... here I am, shielding you... heroically, I guess, with a damn boner," he muttered, dragging a hand down his face, voice thick with mortification. "God, I didn’t mean for it to happen..."

He paused and then continued. "I swear it wasn’t on purpose. You’re just... really close, and kinda hard to ignore."

The guilt in his voice sounded almost too funny. He sounded like I’d threaten to kill him at the spot.

Cute.

I hated to admit but his unhinged situation made it a little less scary that a killer was possibly loose outside and all we could do was wait it out.

I exhaled deeply, planting my face into my palms, just as I shifted my legs... and felt it.

Warm.

Sticky.

Kael’s goddamn cum.

Oh for fuck’s sake!

Suddenly, I didn’t feel qualified to judge Sylas anymore.

My jaw ticked, and I quietly mumbled under my breath, "Unworthy. I am unworthy."

"What?"

"Nothing," I snapped.

He held both hands up. "Sorry. Seriously. I didn’t mean to make this weird."

"Stop apologizing. It was already weird."

He chuckled softly. "Fair."

That’s when a soft click echoed behind him, and the air shifted. Not with heat or tension.

But with danger.

Sylas stilled immediately, shoulders rigid.

I looked past him... and there he was.

Kael.

Mask gone.

Gun in one hand. Fury in the other.

How the fuck did he even find us?

His eyes locked on mine first, dark and molten, scanning every inch of me like he could see the mess he left dripping down my thighs.

And then, his gaze dropped to Sylas.

Kael tilted his head slightly, voice ice-wrapped steel.

"I see I’m not the only one who knows how to find hiding places."

Sylas turned slowly, half-blocking me instinctively. "We weren’t hiding. Just avoiding stray bullets."

Kael stepped forward once, silent. Lethal.

"I’ll ask once. Are you hurt?" he asked, only to me. Sylas didn’t exist anymore.

"I’m fine," I said quickly. My pulse picked up. "Just a little disoriented."

Kael’s eyes narrowed on Sylas again. "Then get away from her."

Sylas blinked. "I was protecting—"

"I said," Kael repeated, the darkness in his tone now volcanic, "get. away. from her."

But Sylas didn’t budge.

His hand was still lightly on my arm, not possessive, protective. Steady. Stubborn.

Not this again.

"And I said," Sylas replied, calmly but firmly, "we weren’t hiding. I was keeping her safe."

Kael took a slow, calculated step forward.

"I didn’t ask why you were touching her. I said to stop."

"Why? You’re gonna shoot me too?" Sylas asked. No malice. No fear. Just a genuine question.

Kael didn’t answer. But the twitch in his jaw spoke volumes.

This was about more than just now.

This was everything. The dance. The glances. The way Sylas looked at me like I wasn’t the most fucked-up person in the room.

And Kael couldn’t stand it.

I had about five seconds before one of them lunged for the other.

So I did what I had to do.

I yanked my arm away from Sylas, shoved Kael back by the chest, and stepped right between them.

"I don’t have the energy for this."

Both froze.

"I am so—fucking—done."

Their faces blurred as I stormed away, heels clicking against marble, my mind barely registering the chaos in the distance.

People coming out of their hiding places.

Guards shouting and sweeping the area.

Servers rushing to help their beloved guests.

The ballroom looked like a war had started and never ended.

Tables overturned. Blood on polished floors. Someone crying in a corner.

And in all that madness, I was the eye of the storm.

I could still feel Kael’s cum between my legs, Sylas’s handprint on my wrist, and shame crawling up my spine like ivy.

I didn’t even realize Kael had caught up until he snatched me by the arm and pulled me into his side like I belonged there.

"Don’t touch me," I rasped, but my voice cracked.

"I will if I damn well please," he snapped back, eyes locked ahead.

Before either of us could say another word, Ash came sprinting toward us, dress hiked slightly, hair tousled, and worry etched into every line of her face.

"There you are!" she breathed, grabbing my shoulders. "Aria—are you okay? Kael—"

"We’re fine," Kael answered for me.

Ash turned to him, eyes sharp. "The vice president was shot."

My heart dropped.

Kael’s jaw clenched.

My voice spilled out before I could even stop myself. "Where?"

"Upper right chest," Ash said quickly. "He’s alive but in critical condition. They’ve moved him. EMTs are on it."

Kael went still, then muttered under his breath like he was confirming something to himself.

"It was an inside job."

Ash blinked. "You’re sure?"

"There was a three-second security delay near the north entrance," Kael said, voice like sharpened steel. "Someone wanted this to happen."

Ash looked calm, eyes full blown though. "We’re going to lose everything if the press gets a hold of this."

Kael looked at me again, his hand tightening around mine.

Not asking.

Not explaining.

Just claiming.

And I couldn’t even fight him this time.

Because for once...

I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

....

The moment we made it out of the ballroom and into the executive wing of the resort, Kael barked something into the earpiece clipped to his jacket.

"Shut it all down. I want everyone off this island that isn’t authorized—security, guests, entertainers, vendors, everyone."

The man on the other end said something I couldn’t hear, but Kael snapped right back, "I don’t give a fuck about their passports or their titles. I said lock it down. No flights. No ferries. Not even a fucking canoe leaves unless I say so."

My pulse spiked.

He wasn’t just in charge.

He was the emergency protocol.

He kept walking fast, dragging me with him through corridors lined with gold fixtures and black marble floors. The deeper we went, the quieter it got, away from screams, chaos, blood.

"Where are we going?" I finally asked, pulling at my hand in his.

He didn’t even look back. "My room."

"No. I want to go to mine—I need to change and get my—"

"No."

He said it like a gunshot.

I stopped walking. "Kael—"

He turned around so fast I flinched.

His voice was low, cold, final. "You’re not stepping foot in your suite until I say it’s clear."

"It’s literally two doors away from yours."

"I don’t care if it’s two feet. I’m not letting you out of my sight."

He opened the door to a larger suite with sweeping curtains, shadows dancing under warm amber lights, and a tray of untouched champagne bottles by the window.

Then he slammed it shut behind us.

He didn’t even give me a chance to catch my breath before another call came through. He answered it with that deadly calm again, pacing in front of the window, his free hand fisting and flexing.

"Triple-check the surveillance. Cross-check staff shifts with guest clearance. I want to know who opened that northern gate and when."

His eyes flicked to me, watching me, as I stood awkwardly near the bed, still in the ruined velvet dress, Kael’s suit swallowing me whole, the scent of him invading my lungs with every breath.

I didn’t feel like the woman who’d been teased and kissed by Sylas, or the one who’d been bent over a table and fucked senseless by Kael.

I just felt... trapped.

And maybe, maybe a little bit turned on by how absolute his power was.

I dragged his blazer off and dropped it on a nearby armchair, walking toward the bathroom.

I heard him speaking to someone else, probably security, but I didn’t catch the words.

All I could think about was how fast the party spiraled. The shots. The blood. The vice president. The whispers of betrayal.

And now here I was, sweaty, sticky, and trying to wiggle out of a half-unzipped velvet dress while my brain spun in circles.

What the hell just happened?

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