Sweet Hatred
Chapter 129: memories ix (return)

Chapter 129: memories ix (return)

I lunged forward, fists clenched. "What did you do?!"

"Nothing," he said with a smug grin. "This time, I did absolutely nothing."

"You’re lying."

He tilted his head, mock-offended. "Me? I wouldn’t dream of it."

"You’re lying!" I snarled.

"Go find out for yourself," he said, waving a hand. "And while you’re at it, ask him why he volunteered. Maybe you’re not the only one capable of making sacrifices."

I stood there, breathing hard, the world spinning under my feet.

I couldn’t tell if it was rage... or fear.

But I knew one thing.

I had to get back to Ivan. Now.

The jet couldn’t fly fast enough.

Every second in the air felt like a crime scene waiting to happen. I stared out the window, but all I saw was Ivan’s face. Blood on his temple. His lips parted like he was trying to speak. His body cold.

I shook it off. No. Fucking. No.

He was alive. He had to be.

I grabbed my phone again. Called the secure military line I wasn’t even supposed to have. Perks of being a Roman, I guess. Or maybe just the curse.

The man who picked up sounded bored. "Command Unit 5, line monitored, who’s speaking?"

"Kael Roman."

A beat.

Then the voice changed real fast. "Mr. Roman. Sir. What—uh—how can we assist?"

"I need Ivan Grayson. Now."

There was a pause. Papers shuffled in the background.

"He’s been deployed, sir. That unit’s in a black zone. We’re not—"

"I don’t care. Find him."

"Sir, I—"

"I will burn your entire facility to the fucking ground if you don’t get him on the line."

Silence.

Then a shaky, "Yes, sir. Hold please."

The hold music was some god-awful military march. I paced the aisle like a madman, heart pounding against my ribs.

One minute passed. Then two. Then five.

"Sir, I apologize. He’s not responding."

My throat tightened. "Try again."

"Sir—"

"Try again!"

Another few minutes. Another cycle of rage swallowing fear, and fear eating through my chest like acid.

Then—finally. A crackle. A shift in the line.

"...Kael?"

His voice. Rough. Breathy. Alive. My knees almost gave out.

"Kael?"

His voice filtered through the speaker again, softer now. Like he knew.

Like he knew what I’d found out.

"Where the hell are you?" My voice came out harsher than I intended. My hand was gripping the phone so tightly my knuckles hurt. "What the fuck are you doing out there, Ivan?"

He chuckled, and I wanted to punch a wall. "Relax. It’s nothing crazy. Just another sweep. Heat’s been rising in the east sector, so they wanted someone experienced at the front."

"You think I’m an idiot?"

That shut him up for half a second.

"Ivan. Don’t do this with me." My voice lowered, cut sharp. "Don’t pretend you just happened to get sent to the warfront the day after I leave."

He sighed, soft like smoke. "Kael—"

"Tell me the truth."

A pause.

Then that stupid little laugh again, brittle this time.

"I asked for it," he said quietly. "It’s not some conspiracy. I made the call. It’s... what I’m good at. You know that."

"You asked to be sent into the most dangerous sector? Why the fuck would you do that?!"

"Because I’m a captain," he snapped. "Because that’s my job. I’m not some glass doll you can wrap in silk and hide away, Kael."

I stood completely still.

The jet was humming beneath my boots, high above the clouds, but all I could feel was the weight of him slipping out of my grasp.

"You’re not thinking," I said tightly. "This is different. This mission—"

"Every mission is dangerous."

"Ivan."

"What?" he barked. "You don’t get to panic now. You left, remember? Said you’d be back in a week and left me waiting in your damn bed."

"I left to protect you."

"I didn’t ask you to."

"You didn’t have to."

The silence crackled so loud it almost hurt.

Then I said it. Cold and sharp and low.

"As your superior officer, I’m giving you an order." My voice dropped to a command. "Fall back. Now. Return to base. That’s not a request."

Ivan didn’t respond.

Then—

Click.

The call dropped.

By nightfall, I was there.

The jungle was a humid nightmare, every shadow twitching with movement. I moved quiet, fast, a blur through trees and fog. The first patrol spotted me just past the riverbed checkpoint.

Wrong move.

Two seconds. Three bodies down.

They never saw me coming.

I didn’t stop. Not until I reached the outpost.

A cluster of worn tents and steel containers—lit by cold blue lamps and the metallic scent of blood in the dirt. This was war. His war.

And I was walking straight into it.

I stepped through the gates, past the guards who immediately stiffened when they saw my insignia.

"Colonel Roman," one of them stammered, saluting. "Sir—we didn’t know Command was sending backup—"

"Stand down," I said, voice like glass. "Where’s Captain Grayson?"

The soldier blinked, swallowed. "He’s—he’s stationed down at the ridge bunker, sir. Third southeast line. He’s—uh—leading the recon scouts right now but he should be due back-"

I didn’t wait.

I was already moving.

Through the flickering lights, past soldiers still scrambling from the news that I was here. Some of them knew me by name. The rest? They knew the weight of my title.

Colonel Kael Roman didn’t show up unless shit was about to burn.

But I didn’t care about the whispers or the salutes or the trail of stunned faces behind me.

There was only one thing on my mind.

And he was down there. Somewhere. In the dark.

I spotted him before he saw me.

Down by a supply crate, crouched with three other soldiers, grinning like this wasn’t hell on earth. Laughing. The fucker was actually laughing. Something about the way his shoulders relaxed, his mouth parted just a little too wide—he looked alive in a way that made my chest hurt.

Then he turned.

His eyes found mine across the base and just like that, his smile dropped.

The soldiers with him went still.

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