Sweet Hatred Chapter 127: memories vii (Threat)

Whispers followed like ghosts.

Footsteps. Eyes. Questions no one dared ask out loud.

My knuckles were still blood-wet. My breathing unsteady. And Ivan... He wouldn’t look at . Not once.

I didn’t call his na. I didn’t beg him to.

What would I even say? I’m sorry you saw what I really am?

I’m sorry I almost beca my father right in front of you?

Soone grabbed my arm. A superior. I didn’t even register what he said.

Only one na echoed in my skull when he ntioned who was waiting in the office.

Ewan Roman.

By the ti they opened the door and shoved inside, the air was already suffocating.

My father sat in a chair like he owned the whole damn building, one leg crossed, arms spread on either side like this was his throne.

He didn’t even glance up at first.

Only when the door shut did he finally look at .

His eyes flicked to my bloodstained hand.

And he smiled.That fucking smile. Like I was doing exactly what he’d raised for.

"Well," he said casually, "you never fail to prove right."

I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, voice dropping. "Tick-tock, Kael. Make your decision soon. Ti’s running out."

Then his eyes glittered. "Next ti... might not be an accident."

My heart stuttered in my chest. He was threatening Ivan again. Directly.

I took a step forward, fists clenching. "Why?" I croaked. My throat was raw. "Why the fuck won’t you leave alone? Just... pretend I’m dead. Pretend I never existed."

He laughed.

Actually laughed. Like I’d told him a joke.

"Leave you?" he said, rising to his feet slowly. "Leave my perfect specin of a son to waste away in so filthy barracks, chasing around so... pitiful plaything?"

The venom In his voice wrapped around every word like barbed wire.

My nails bit into my palm.

But he was already moving, circling like a vulture.

"You shouldn’t have let yourself fall, Kael," he murmured at my back, like he was slipping a knife between my ribs. "That made you soft. Vulnerable."

A pause.

"And Romans aren’t built for that kind of weakness."

I wanted to rip him apart.

But I was frozen.

He passed on the way to the door, stopping just behind .

"Oh. And it’s your mother’s death anniversary soon, isn’t it?"

His voice dipped into sothing colder. "You should go visit her grave. Tell her what a disappointnt you’ve beco."

Then he was gone.

And I stood there. Alone. Frozen in place, blood crusting on my knuckles, my chest splintered wide open.

All I could see was Ivan’s eyes. The way he looked at like I was a stranger. A monster.

And maybe I was. Maybe I always had been.

The room was too quiet.

Too still.

I sat there, elbows on my knees, head buried in my hands, my fingers dragging across my scalp like I could claw out the rage and sha and helplessness that curled inside my chest like smoke.

I kept hearing his voice.

"Romans aren’t built for that kind of softness."

I could feel the truth in it—and I hated it.

Hated that he was right.

That one look from Ivan—terrified and distant—had broken sothing in .

And I didn’t know how to fix it.

How the fuck was I supposed to protect him...

When all I’d ever been trained to do was destroy?

The door creaked.

I didn’t move at first. My entire body tensed.

But then—

Soft footsteps.

Familiar. asured.

Ivan.

I didn’t look up. I didn’t know if I could.

He didn’t say a word as he approached, just sat beside —close, but not touching.

The silence between us was heavy, thick with what had just happened.

I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

I opened my mouth to say sothing. Maybe "I’m sorry," maybe "I’m broken," maybe "Run before I ruin you too."

But before a word could fall from my lips, his voice slipped in—gentle, quiet.

"I know," he said.

I blinked, turning my face just slightly toward him.

"I know you’re struggling," he continued. "And I know it kills you that you can’t control what’s happening around us."

He gave a small, sad smile. "Sotis... it kills too. That I can’t help lift that weight off your shoulders."

I closed my eyes. That smile—it didn’t belong in this dark place with .

But he reached out, his hand curling around my jaw, thumb brushing along the rough stubble of my cheek.

"Don’t carry it all alone, Kael."

His thumb moved to my cheekbone, a feather-light stroke. "I’m not so fragile that I can’t look after myself."

He huffed a soft laugh. "It’s funny, isn’t it? A long ti ago... I used to wish soone would help end my own life."

He looked down, then back at . "Now here I am, trying to make sure I live."

I stared at him.

"I’m not scared of your father," he said. "I’m not even scared of dying."

His eyes sparkled with sothing painfully real. "Sohow I always make it out. Lucky bastard, right?"

That’s when I realized I was crying.

Quiet, unannounced tears streaking down my face, soaking the edge of my collar.

My chest was tight, my ribs aching.

Ivan wiped them away with the pad of his thumb, so gentle it broke .

I couldn’t speak.

I leaned forward and buried my face into the warm, familiar curve of his neck, breathing him in like salvation.

His arms wrapped around without hesitation.

My hands gripped his back, trembling.

And then I pulled back, just enough to look at him—eyes swollen, heart hamring.

I kissed him.

Not softly. Not carefully.

I kissed him like I was begging him not to disappear. Like I was drowning and he was the only breath I’d ever need.

Our mouths moved hungrily, wet, open, real, and I groaned into him, my hands cradling his face like I’d break if I let go.

He kissed back just as desperately, tongue stroking mine, and the world blurred around us.

Only him. Only this. Only now. And maybe for a mont... that was enough.

A week later,

I couldn’t sleep.

The ceiling above blurred, pale and distant, and all I could think about was how quiet it was.

Too quiet.