Sweet Hatred-Chapter 462: Just Us

It was nearly midnight when Kael’s car finally pulled into The Grandeur’s underground parking.

I’d been parked across the street after them.

My phone was already out.

"Targets entering parking garage. Estimate 10 minutes until they’re in suite."

I took a deep breath, steadying myself.

This was it.

I got out of the car and walked toward the hotel’s service entrance, a plain door tucked in an alley beside the building.

There was a keypad beside it.

I punched in the code Chase had given me.

4782.

The lock clicked.

I pulled the door open and stepped inside.

The service corridors were exactly as I’d seen in the floor plans. Narrow. Utilitarian. Fluorescent lights humming overhead.

I found the stairs and climbed to the second floor, my footsteps echoing softly.

Room 2B.

I pushed the door open.

Chase was waiting inside, standing beside a utility cart. The room was small... filled with cleaning supplies and stacked linens.

And on the floor, partially hidden behind a shelf, was a body. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

A woman in her thirties. Hotel uniform. Eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. Blood pooled beneath her from a wound in her abdomen.

I looked at Chase.

He shrugged. "She was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Her uniform?"

He gestured to a bag on the cart. "Cleaned the blood off. It’ll fit you."

I pulled the uniform out and examined it. Black pants. White shirt. Black vest with The Grandeur’s logo embroidered on the chest.

Perfect.

I stripped off my jacket and jeans quickly, pulling on the uniform.

Chase turned away, giving me privacy... professional, not respectful.

When I was dressed, I tucked my hair under the cap the dead woman had been wearing.

Checked my reflection in a small mirror on the wall.

Unremarkable. Anonymous.

Exactly what I needed.

"Knife?" Chase asked.

I pulled the switchblade from my jacket pocket.

He handed me something else, a small cloth, sealed in a plastic bag.

"Chloroform. Soak the cloth, press it over her nose and mouth for thirty seconds minimum. She’ll go out."

I took it carefully.

"The guard?" I asked.

"Still stationed outside the suite. I’ve been monitoring from the stairwell. He hasn’t moved."

"Radio?"

"On his belt. You need to take him down fast and quiet. Before he can call it in."

I nodded.

Chase pulled a room service cart from the corner, complete with covered dishes and a white tablecloth.

"Use this to approach. Keep your head down. Act natural. When you’re close enough, strike fast."

"And you?"

"I’ll be in the stairwell. The second I see him go down, I move in. Drag the body, take his comms, then position myself with the transport cart. You knock on the door, handle the woman, I help you move her."

"And if something goes wrong?"

His expression was flat. "Then we abort and you’re on your own."

Fair enough.

I took the handle of the room service cart, testing its weight.

"Ready?" Chase asked.

I looked at him. At the dead woman on the floor. At the uniform I was wearing.

At everything I’d done to get to this moment.

"Ready."

The floor hallway was plush and quiet.

Thick carpet muffling my footsteps. Elegant sconces casting soft light.

And at the end of the hall... suite 4217.

With Niko standing outside.

Kael’s personal bodyguard. Ex-military. Dangerous.

But not expecting me.

I pushed the room service cart slowly, keeping my head down, my body language relaxed.

Just another hotel employee doing my job.

Thirty feet.

Twenty feet.

Niko’s attention snapped to me immediately. His hand moved subtly toward his jacket—where I knew he kept a gun.

"Room service," I said quietly, not looking up.

"Nobody ordered room service."

"Complimentary. From management. For Mr. Roman and his guest."

Ten feet.

Five feet.

I looked up.

And his eyes widened in recognition.

"You—"

I dropped the cart handle and lunged.

The knife was in my hand, driving toward his throat before he could finish the word.

He was fast, military training kicking in, his hand coming up to block.

But I was faster.

Driven by rage and desperation and two days of planning every detail.

The blade sank into his throat, cutting off his shout.

His hands came up, grabbing my wrists, trying to pull the knife out.

But I twisted it viciously and yanked it free, then drove it into his chest.

Once. Twice. Three times.

He stumbled back against the wall, blood pouring from his wounds, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly.

His hand fumbled for the radio on his belt.

I stabbed him again, this time in the stomach.

He slid down the wall, leaving a red smear, his eyes going glassy.

Not dead yet.

But close.

Chase appeared from the stairwell, moving fast and silent.

He grabbed Niko under the arms and dragged him away, around the corner, out of sight.

Thirty seconds. Maybe less.

I was already at the door, my hand raised to knock.

Three sharp knocks.

My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might burst from my chest.

Blood on my hands. On my uniform. But I didn’t care.

Footsteps on the other side of the door.

The lock clicking.

The door opening.

And there she was.

Aria.

My Aria.

Looking comfortable and happy in oversized pajamas, her hair damp, her face flushed.

Everything I’d lost.

Everything she’d stolen.

"Sorry for taking so long, I was—"

Her words died.

Her eyes met mine.

And I watched her entire world shatter.

The color drained from her face. Her smile dropped. Her body went rigid.

First came fear... raw and immediate.

Then disgust, her lip curling slightly as recognition fully set in.

Then fear again, stronger this time, her eyes darting past me like she was looking for help but then dropping to the blood stain on my cloth.

"Hi, Aria," I said softly, smiling. "Happy birthday."

She opened her mouth... to scream, probably.

I didn’t give her the chance.

I shoved the door open fully and lunged forward, my hand clamping over her mouth as I kicked the door shut behind me.

She struggled immediately, her hands coming up to claw at my face, her muffled screams desperate.

"Shh," I hissed. "Shh, it’s okay."

But she fought harder, her nails raking across my arm, drawing blood.

Panic gave her strength.

I pulled the chloroform-soaked cloth from my pocket with my free hand and pressed it hard against her nose and mouth.

She thrashed, trying to turn her head away, her eyes wide with terror.

"Just breathe," I whispered. "Just breathe, Aria. It’ll be over soon."

Her struggles weakened.

Her eyes started to roll back.

"That’s it. That’s it."

Her body went limp in my arms.

I held her for a moment, looking down at her unconscious face.

So peaceful now.

So vulnerable.

Mine.

A soft knock at the door—Chase’s signal.

I dragged Aria toward the entrance and opened it.

Chase was there with the cleaning cart, his expression coldly professional.

Together, we lifted her and shoved her inside, covering her with linens until she disappeared beneath white fabric.

"Move," Chase said quietly.

We pushed the cart into the hallway.

Niko was gone—Chase must have hidden the body in the stairwell.

The hallway was still empty.

We moved quickly toward the service elevator.

Pressed the button.

The doors opened immediately.

We stepped inside.

Chase pressed the button for the loading dock.

The elevator descended.

And then, from somewhere above, an alarm began to blare.

"Fuck," Chase breathed.

"Keep moving," I said.

The elevator doors opened onto the loading dock.

Chase’s car was there, a beat-up sedan tucked in the corner.

We transferred Aria quickly, shoving her into the trunk.

She was still unconscious, breathing shallowly.

Perfect.

I climbed into the passenger seat.

Chase got behind the wheel and started the engine.

From inside the building, I could hear shouting. Running footsteps.

"Drive," I said. "Now."

He peeled out of the loading dock, tires screeching.

We made it to the street just as security guards came pouring out of the building.

But we were already gone.

Merging into traffic.

Just another car in a city full of them.

I looked back through the rear window.

The Grandeur was lit up like a Christmas tree, security everywhere, chaos unfolding.

And we were disappearing into the night.

With Aria in the trunk.

I smiled.

"Head north," I told Chase. "I’ll tell you where to turn."

He nodded, his hands tight on the wheel.

We drove in silence for twenty minutes.

Far enough from the hotel. Deep enough into the industrial district.

"Pull over here," I said.

"What?"

"Pull over. Now."

He did, stopping in an empty lot beside an abandoned warehouse.

"What the fuck—"

I pulled the gun from under my seat... the one I’d taken from Andrew.

And I shot him.

Once in the head.

His body slumped against the door, blood and brain matter spraying across the window.

I climbed over him, shoving his body aside, and slid behind the wheel.

Reached into his pockets and pulled out my debit card, plus whatever cash he had.

Eight hundred dollars.

Better than nothing.

I got out, opened his door, and pushed his body out onto the pavement.

Then I got back in the driver’s seat and drove away.

Leaving him there.

Just another body in a city full of them.

No witnesses.

No loose ends.

Just me and Aria.

Finally.

I glanced in the rearview mirror, toward the trunk where she lay unconscious.

"It’s just us now," I whispered. "Just like it should have been all along."