Sweet Hatred
Chapter 128: memories viii (Bargain)

Chapter 128: memories viii (Bargain)

Ivan was already in bed, turned away, one arm flung over his pillow like he always did. His breathing was slow. Even.

But I knew he wasn’t asleep.

Neither of us could sleep lately.

I turned toward him.

"Ivan," I said softly.

He hummed without moving. "Mm?"

"If I asked you to quit the army... would you?"

There was a pause. Long enough to make my chest squeeze. Ivan turned slightly, enough to glance back at me over his shoulder.

Then that damn crooked smile tugged at his lips. "What—are you planning to elope?"

I didn’t laugh. I didn’t even smile. I just stared at him.

And slowly, the grin faded from his face.

"Kael?" he said carefully.

I looked away. "Never mind. It’s nothing. I’ll... I’ll figure it out."

He sat up then, watching me with furrowed brows.

"You’re worrying me."

I pushed off the blanket and sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, hands clenching.

"I have to leave tomorrow," I said, finally. "Maybe a week."

Ivan was quiet, but I could feel the weight of his gaze on my back.

"Where are you going?"

"Just... somewhere I need to be."

He hesitated. "Should I be worried?"

I turned back enough to see him, my chest burning with every lie I didn’t speak.

"No," I said. "Just keep your head down. Stay sharp."

Ivan nodded slowly, then leaned back on the bed, arms folded behind his head like he wasn’t hiding how unsettled he felt.

"I’ll keep the bed warm for you," he said, and it was supposed to be teasing.

But it didn’t land. Not tonight.

I watched him, committing everything to memory—his messy hair, that sleepy voice, the way his lips twitched just slightly.

And then I turned away before he could see the look on my face. Because if he did... He’d know I was going to see him. And he’d never forgive me.

....

The coordinates led me to the coast of southern France—an estate so hidden, it wasn’t even marked on satellite.

Beyond the wrought-iron gates, it was all marble and silence.

The kind of quiet that came from too much money and too many dead secrets buried under the garden.

I showed my clearance. The guard didn’t blink.

"Name?"

"Kael Roman," I said.

He paused, lifted an eyebrow, then typed something into his tablet.

A moment later, the gates creaked open.

The estate was a mockery of taste—gold trim, fresco ceilings, an open-air lounge carved into a cliffside overlooking the sea. It reeked of cigars, wine, and old sins.

I wasn’t supposed to be here. Not without an invitation. Not without selling my soul.

But I wasn’t here to play nice.

When I tried entering the main hall, two men in suits blocked me. "Private meeting. Members only."

"I am a member," I said coldly. "My blood bought this fucking marble."

They didn’t move.

So I shoved one of them aside and pushed through the heavy doors.

Inside was a circle of demons dressed like men—thirty or forty of them, all laughing, sipping rare whiskey, talking in low voices about the price of war, the rise of AI, and how the droughts in Africa might finally make those regions "useful."

And there, in the center of it all, sat my father.

Cigar between his fingers, suit tailored to perfection, one leg crossed over the other like a king on his throne.

When he saw me, he didn’t look surprised.

He smiled like the fucking devil.

"Ah," he drawled, lifting his glass. "Gentlemen. Allow me to introduce my son. My legacy. The one who will soon take my place."

The room turned to look at me. Impressed. Curious.

I didn’t say a word. Didn’t even look at them.

My eyes locked on his.

"We need to talk," I said.

He glanced at his watch. "Now?"

"Now."

He sighed like I was a child disrupting his dinner party. "Kael, I’m entertaining."

"This isn’t a request."

A pause.

Then he chuckled, setting his drink down. "You’ve always had your mother’s flair for dramatics."

He stood and gestured to the door. "Wait outside."

I clenched my jaw. My fists.

But I walked.

I stood just beyond the doors, the laughter resuming behind me like I hadn’t just barged into the lion’s den.

Minutes passed.

Then the door creaked open, and he stepped out, that same smug calm plastered across his face.

Ewan Roman. The man who taught me how to kill with a handshake and lie with a smile.

And now he was the only thing standing between me and Ivan’s safety.

I wasn’t sure who I hated more—him... or myself.

He led me out into a private garden—a stone path winding between hedges carved like monsters in suits, topiary wolves with fangs of ivy.

The door shut behind us with a quiet click. It sounded like a verdict.

He didn’t speak at first. Just lit another cigar, fingers steady, breathing deep like the world didn’t disgust him.

"I assume you came crawling back with some noble cause," he said finally. "Go ahead. Impress me."

I stood still.

Then I said, "I’ll come back."

That got his attention. His eyes flicked to me, narrowing with interest.

"But on my terms," I added. "I don’t want your games. Or your fucking leash. I want your word. On one thing."

His lips twitched like I’d told a joke. "You still think you get to negotiate. That’s adorable."

"Ivan."

The name sliced the air between us.

He paused, the smile slowly fading.

"I want him safe," I said. "I don’t care what you do to me. I’ll play the part. I’ll sit at your table. I’ll wear the crown, shake their hands, smile at your puppets. I’ll be whatever monster you need me to be. Just leave him out of it."

He didn’t answer.

So I dropped my pride like a knife. Like my mother would’ve hated. Like he would relish.

I dropped to my knees.

"Please."

His cigar froze halfway to his mouth.

"Please," I said again, voice quiet. "Just... let him go."

A long silence.

Then came the sound of his slow exhale, smoke curling from his lips like a dragon delighted by its prey.

"Look at you," he sneered. "On your knees. For him."

He stepped closer, disgust and triumph flashing in his eyes.

"Do you know how pathetic you look? The blood of conquerors running through your veins and you’re here, begging like a dog. For what? Love?" He spit the word like it tasted foul. "You would disgrace your lineage for a man like him?"

I didn’t move. Didn’t flinch.

Just whispered, "Leave him alone."

His silence dragged on long enough that I finally looked up.

He stared down at me like I’d grown horns.

Then he spoke, quiet and cruel.

"Even if you hadn’t come here to make a deal, Kael... you would’ve come back eventually. You can’t escape what you are."

I swallowed hard, rising to my feet. "Just say yes. Just tell me he’s safe."

He glanced out toward the ocean. Then smiled.

"There’s a new mission going on. A joint operation. You may have heard about it—those insurgents in the Balkans. Terrorists using children as decoys, setting fire to border towns. Disguising weapons in supply crates meant for civilians."

I blinked. My body went still.

"The army’s sending out an elite front. It’s practically a death sentence."

My breath lodged in my throat.

"And guess who signed up for it," he added softly. "Your sweet Ivan."

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