Sweet Hatred-Chapter 214: End of Contract

KAEL

Her words hit me like a fucking bullet.

The kind you see coming straight at you but still don’t move, because some twisted part of you wants to know how much it’ll hurt.

"I want the contract to end."

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t speak.

But something inside me snapped.

Not loud.

No.

Quiet.

Like fabric tearing in a dark room.

I sat there, frozen in place, while the woman I’d been spiraling over for weeks, the same woman who made me feel like I was finally clawing out of the black hole I’d lived in since birth, looked at me with that numb, distant calm.

Like we were just two strangers who had outgrown a deal.

I tugged at my tie.

The pressure around my neck was unbearable all of a sudden, like her words had sucked the air out of the fucking car. My fingers loosened the knot, and before I could stop myself, I laughed.

A low, bitter sound that barely escaped my throat.

God.

Of course.

I’d been losing her for a while now, hadn’t I?

She was pulling away in quiet little increments, each one small enough for me to pretend it wasn’t happening. Her eyes didn’t soften when they looked at me the way they used to. Her voice didn’t catch the same way when she said my name.

And I’d done what I always did.

I waited.

I watched.

I told myself giving her space would fix it. That I’d done too much. That pulling back would make her come back on her own.

But she didn’t.

And now?

Now she wanted to walk away.

End everything.

Like it was some cheap contract that’d run its course.

Like I was disposable.

I gripped the steering wheel so tight my knuckles cracked.

I shouldn’t be shocked.

I knew this was coming the second Niko called me—said my father’s men had taken her somewhere. I didn’t wait to think. I didn’t wait to plan.

I just moved.

Because I knew what my father was capable of. And I knew exactly how he played his games.

Seeing her safe should’ve calmed me.

But then she gave me that look.

Not fear.

Not gratitude.

Not even confusion.

Just... emptiness.

Like she was already somewhere else, and I’d shown up too late.

And now?

Now she wanted out.

To end it. To erase everything.

The nights she trembled under me. The way she looked at me when I was sick and broken. The way her voice broke the last time I kissed her.

She wanted to call it just sex. Just control. Just convenience.

But that wasn’t what it was for me.

She was mine.

And I didn’t mean that in some poetic, pretty way.

I meant it in the only way that had ever made sense in my fucked-up world. She was mine the way blood belongs in veins. The way air belongs in lungs.

I couldn’t even picture another man brushing his hand over her hip, hearing her laugh, seeing her the way I did, naked and raw and full of that beautiful, stubborn fire.

No one else could have that. No one else was allowed to have that. Not while I was still breathing.

If she was done with me, then she didn’t understand what she was walking away from.

Because I wasn’t done. Not even close.

Her voice cut through the haze, sharp and soft like a blade against my ribs.

"You haven’t answered me."

I turned to her. Slowly. Eyes burning. Heart thrashing behind my ribs like it was trying to escape what I was about to say.

Her eyes were on me, wide, quiet, waiting.

And I hated it.

I hated how she looked at me like I had a choice in this. Like I could agree to let her go. Like she didn’t know what she meant to me. Like she hadn’t already infected every inch of my goddamn mind.

I turned fully toward her, let the weight of everything I’d been holding back press into my voice.

"The contract’s not ending."

Her brows lifted—barely—but enough to show I’d hit something.

I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the wheel, letting the weight of my stare bear down on her like a curse.

"Because it ends when I say it ends. And I’m not ready to let you go."

My voice didn’t crack.

It didn’t scream.

But it cut like frostbite.

And something in her flinched.

Good.

Let her feel it.

Let her finally feel a fraction of the chaos she’s left me drowning in every time she pulls away.

I saw her open her mouth to say something—but I didn’t let her.

I leaned back, slower now, the rage simmering beneath my ribs replaced by something more primal. More dangerous. My lips curled into a smirk. One she’d seen before, the one that came out when I was about to ruin her in every way.

"But if it’s just sex, right?" I said it low, like it was nothing. "Then this arrangement shouldn’t be a problem. Not for you."

Her expression shattered.

That emptiness in her eyes flickered, sharpened.

God. There she was.

Not the ghost that’s been haunting me lately, walking through the office like she’s already gone.

This... this was the Aria I knew.

The one who glared like her pride had claws.

The one who never let me win without a fight.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. A flare of heat and betrayal mixed in that perfect shade of her soul. And I wanted to bask in it. I wanted to drown in it.

But instead, I leaned back with a calm breath, voice back to cold, clean edges.

"You must be tired. Go rest."

She stared at me like she was trying to decide whether to slap me or cry.

Then she smiled.

A dry, humorless chuckle slipped from her lips. "I almost forgot the kind of person you are."

That made my stomach twist.

What the fuck does that mean?

But before I could ask, before I could even open my mouth, she’d already popped the lock, stepped out, and closed the door behind her with a finality that sliced right down my spine.

She didn’t look back.

And I sat there.

Silent.

The echo of her words coiling around my ribs like a noose.

"I almost forgot the kind of person you are."

I fucking hated how bad I wanted her to remember every good part too.

Because if she really walks away this time...

There won’t be a single part of me left that knows how to stop her.

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