Sweet Hatred Chapter 12: Firefly

Kael>>>

The predawn hours were my sanctuary—a ti when the world bent to my will, silent and obedient. My morning ritual began as it always did: 4:30 a.m. Cold water sliding over scarred skin, each droplet a reminder of the body's frailty.

I dressed thodically—compression shirt, weighted vest, combat boots. Not for the boardroom but for the fight. My left arm stiffened briefly, the old injury protesting as I shrugged into the vest. Weakness, I sneered, tightening the straps until my ribs creaked.

The city streets were mine alone at this hour. My boots chewed the pavent as I ran, breath fogging the air like gun smoke. Every stride was a warpath—to the injury, to the ghosts, to her.

Aria Thorne.

Her na lodged in my skull like shrapnel. I'd replayed last night's encounter a dozen tis: the heat of her glare, the tremble in her pulse when I'd cornered her. She'd called a carrion bird. A scavenger. As if she weren't circling the sa carcasses, hungrier than most.

I could still feel the sting of her slap, the fire in her eyes when she spat my na like a curse. Hate suited her so well.

It should've annoyed . Should've been forgettable. She was just another ambitious, stubborn little creature trying to fight her way out of the dirt. I'd seen hundreds like her.

But not like her. Not with that rage. Not with that foul mouth.

The rage in her eyes. The way her body tensed under my grip, fighting back even though she had no real power against . That fire. That defiance.

It should have irritated . It should have been nothing more than an inconvenience.

But it was etched into . The fire in her eyes. The way her lips parted when she was furious. The way her body leaned into mine, even when she despised .

My cock twitched at the mory.

By 6:00 a.m., I was in the gym beneath my penthouse, fists slamming into a heavy bag. The impact shuddered up my arms, grounding . Control. Discipline. But my mind drifted—to the way she'd spat my na, to the silver lighter burning a hole in my desk drawer.

Niko found mid-strike, his reflection warped in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors. "The file," he said, tone flat.

I didn't stop. "Out with it."

"Aria Thorne. Twenty-eight. Junior analyst, accounting departnt. Debt: student loans, mother's dical bills. One criminal record, battery and assault against brother in law." A pause. "Well she's almost clean."

Almost Clean. I laughed quietly. I knew she'd have burned soone at least. She just keeps getting better. I landed a final blow, the bag swinging violently. "Predictable?"

"Clubs at KISS every weekend, Black coffee. Used to be a gym rat and learned a little boxing. Once volunteered at a clinic in the Bronx." His jaw twitched. "She's... relentless."

I grabbed a towel, wiping sweat from my neck. Relentless. A polite word for stubborn. For dangerous. "Weaknesses?"

Niko hesitated. "Mother. Her sister. Two nieces. She took them in."

A flicker of interest. Loyalty. The rarest of currencies. "Leverage," I said, tossing the towel aside.

"Sir—"

"Draft a buyout offer for the hospital. Quietly."

Niko's silence was disapproval enough.

8:15 a.m.

The boardroom humd with sycophants. I took my seat at the head of the table, flanked by screens flashing profit margins. Viktor Voss smirked from across the room, his cologne reeking of desperation.

Her laugh from last night still echoed in my skull. That mocking, bitter sound as she sneered at my offer. The way she stood her ground, knowing exactly what I was doing and refusing to yield.

She was going to snap. I just had to be patient.

"Kael," Viktor drawled. "Heard you've been... distracted."

My thumb found the lighter in my pocket, its serpent engraving biting into my skin. Click. A fla sparked, casting shadows over the quarterly reports. "Careful, Viktor. Your inferiority is showing."

The room stiffened.

I let the silence curdle. "Singapore acquisition. Status?"

The junior VP's excuses dissolved into static. My phone vibrated, screen glaring against polished mahogany.

Unknown Number: Your loyal pet is squawking that you're occupied.

A muscle twitched in my jaw. Bold. Brazen. She'd breached my office.

: Don't. Move. I'm coming.

Aria: Or you'll chain to your desk this ti?

A dark laugh huffed through my nostrils.

Aria: Bring my goddamn lighter.

Or I'll burn this place down looking for it

I stood, the chair's scream slicing through the boardroom's canned silence. "Recess. Ten minutes."

Niko materialized like a shadow. "Problem?"

"Aria." I didn't break stride, the elevator doors already parting.

"The vote—"

"It can fucking burn."

---

Her scent ambushed in the hallway—strawberries and sothing dangerous. A warning.

Mia scrambled toward , heels stuttering. "Sir, Aria's in your office. She insists it's not a mis—"

"It's not." I sidestepped her, not sparing a glance at her widening eyes. "Bring whiskey. Neat."

The office door groaned as I shoved it open.

There.

Aria draped across my chair like a conquering warlord, legs slung over the armrest, skirt hiked to reveal a sliver of black lace. The dim light gilded her thighs, her gaze dragging up my fra with palpable disdain.

Her amber eyes narrowed, lips parting as if tasting her next words. And then—

"Where's my lighter, you thief?"

Niko stepped forward, a growl building in his throat. "Watch your mouth."

A wrong ti he picked to do his job.

Aria's laugh was a serrated edge. "Or what, guard dog? You'll fetch your master's slippers?"

"Out." I barked, the word cracking like a whip.

Niko stiffened, his loyalty warring with the order. A beat. Then he vanished.

Alone.

Her voice was a match strike. Heat flooded my veins, my cock hardening at the bite in her tone.

I leaned against the doorfra, deliberate. Let her see look—the way her blouse clung to her collarbones, the flush creeping up her neck. "You'll have to dig through my pockets yourself."

Aria uncrossed her legs, slow, deliberate. The chair creaked as she leaned forward, knuckles whitening on the armrests. "Last chance, Kael."

I prowled closer, my shadow swallowing her. "Or what, firefly? You'll burn ?"

Her nostrils flared. There. The tremor in her breath, the hitch in her pulse.

I grinned.

War.

Finally, a fight worth my blood.