Sweet Hatred Chapter 71: Alone

Kael’s POV

She walked out without looking back.

The sound of the door clicking shut behind her was louder than it had any right to be. I stayed still, jaw tight, hands in my pockets—trying to ignore the familiar ache that started building in my chest. That kind of ache didn’t belong here. Not in this office. Not in my body.

I hated it.

The discussion we just had lingered like smoke in the air, thick and suffocating. Her words... they shouldn’t have ant anything. But they did. They ant too fucking much.

That look she gave before she left—it wasn’t fire. It wasn’t that sharp, explosive defiance I’d grown used to. It was empty. And for so reason, that hollowness unsettled more than her hatred or anger ever could.

It felt like she’d already left in every way that mattered.

And I hated that it bothered .

She was close. Still within reach. But it felt like she was slipping further and further away from , and for the first ti, I didn’t know how to pull her back.

The ache in my chest was familiar. I knew it too well. It was the sa one I’d been running from for years. The one that whispered in the silence of my house. The one that clawed at when I wasn’t working, when I wasn’t fucking or winning or ruining soone else’s life.

I thought I’d successfully buried that part of myself. It seed not.

I sat back down behind my desk, fingers pressed to my temple. I should’ve just let her go without saying anything, but I’d opened my mouth like an idiot.

"We can end the contract if you want."

The mont the words left , I regretted them. They didn’t even sound real. They weren’t real. Because the thought of not seeing her again?

Of her walking away and never looking back?

It didn’t sit right with . It made everything feel colder.

God, I was tired. Not the kind of tired a night of sleep could fix—but the kind that settled in your bones and stayed there.

I needed to go ho.

I was halfway to grabbing my coat when the door opened, and Niko stepped in, phone in hand like always.

"Sir—"

I cut him off. "Aria told sothing. About her sister’s husband, Michael. He’s gotten himself into so debt."

Niko’s brow furrowed, his stance instantly alert.

"Loan sharks," I added. "Get everything you can find on them. Nas, numbers, who they report to. I want a full profile. And I want it by tonight."

"Understood," he said, already typing.

"You don’t need to follow ho. Prioritize this."

Niko gave a short nod and stepped back. I left him there and headed down to the car, another guard already waiting behind the wheel. The ride was quiet, long. My reflection in the steel doors looked just as tired as I felt.

The driver didn’t say a word as he took ho. Good. I wasn’t in the mood for anyone’s voice—not even my own.

When I stepped into the penthouse, the silence hit like a brick wall. Cold. Expansive. Hollow.

The usual.

I shrugged out of my coat and tossed it on the nearest chair. The city lights spilled in through the windows, but even that didn’t help. The place felt bigger than it should’ve. Too big.

I walked into the kitchen—not the bar, not tonight—and reached for a tall bottle of Louis XIII cognac from the cabinet. Poured a glass and lit a cigarette, leaning against the counter as the burn slid down my throat.

Aria had sat right here once, talking shit while she drank. Wearing nothing but one of my shirts. Glaring as usual like she knew I wouldn’t be able to look away from her legs. And even the night before I had also taken my ti to feast on her right while she couldn’t help but dig her nails into my flesh out of pleasure.

I exhaled smoke and grabbed my laptop.

She wasn’t here now. And I wasn’t about to call her in like she was so sort of service on demand.

I wasn’t that pathetic.

Not yet.

I worked. Drank. Smoked. Ti passed. I don’t know how long.

By the ti Niko returned, it was well past midnight.

He walked in like he had sothing worth telling.

"Report."

He nodded. "The loan sharks. I tracked the main three. Found where they operate from. Real nasty business. I’ve got addresses, connections, even a few records."

"Good."

I stood, rubbing my jaw. "You’ll go with so of our boys. Offer them two fifty. Try to settle it clean. If they’re not interested in clean—" I looked up at him, my tone flat, "—get dirty. Fast."

Niko’s lips quirked. "Understood."

I nodded once. "Go."

He left. I stayed right where I was. Didn’t sleep. Attempted once but couldn’t so I gave up.

By morning, my body felt like a bag of bricks. Heavy. Slow. Like sothing had been draining the life out of drop by drop through the night. My throat burned like I’d swallowed glass, my limbs ached, and my skin had that raw, tight feeling that ca just before fever hit full force. But I ignored it. I’d gotten through worse. Pain was familiar. And inconvenient.

I’d barely slept—if at all. A blur of whiskey’s smoother cousin, Dalmore 62, still clung to my lips, its taste expensive and sharp. I’d downed half the bottle last night after Niko left, the smoke from my cigarette curling toward the ceiling like a ghost I couldn’t shake. I didn’t like how quiet the house felt without Aria in it. I didn’t like that it bothered .

Work kept sane. I reached for my laptop, eyes burning as I skimd through files I didn’t even register. The numbers didn’t an shit right now, but I kept clicking through them anyway. Anything to drown out the silence. Anything to stop myself from wondering how she was doing.

My phone buzzed, slicing through the haze.

Niko.

I picked up. "Talk."

"We handled it."

I leaned back in my chair, rubbing at my temples. "How bad was it?"

There was a pause, then a sigh. "They were stubborn. We had to apply pressure. A few of them are in the hospital."

I let out a humorless chuckle. "Of course they are."

He waited like he expected a lecture. I didn’t have the energy.

"Alright. Clean it up," I said, already pulling up a new docunt. "Keep the money transfer quiet. I don’t want Michael’s na on anything."

"Got it. You sure you’re okay?" Niko asked, voice sharper now.

I didn’t answer.

I hung up.

And just like that, I was alone again. The ache in my bones had spread to my chest. Not physical. Not really. But it sat there. A pressure. A weight.

And I hated it.