Sweet Hatred
Chapter 130: memories x (tension)

Chapter 130: memories x (tension)

One of them scrambled upright, saluting. The others followed. But Ivan just stared at me, eyes flickering like he wasn’t sure whether to brace or run.

"Captain Grayson," I said flatly. "With me."

The others didn’t need to be told twice. They scattered like birds from gunfire, leaving us alone with the hum of distant gunships and the crackling tension between us.

Ivan fell in beside me without a word.

We didn’t speak as I led him across the compound, past the rows of tents and the curious eyes of other soldiers trying to pretend they weren’t watching. I didn’t stop until we reached a canvas tent tucked toward the back, shielded from view.

I pulled the flap open and let him in first. Then I followed, letting it fall shut behind us.

Silence.

Then, finally, my voice, sharp and low broke out.

"Why the fuck are you so damn stubborn?"

Ivan smirked like I’d just complimented him. "Missed me already?"

I stared at him. Not amused. Not charmed. Just barely holding myself together.

He shrugged. "Come on, Colonel. You think I haven’t handled worse?"

"You weren’t supposed to handle worse!" My voice cracked out of me before I could stop it. "You were supposed to stay put."

"I’m not some rookie, Kael," he shot back, his smile gone now. "I know what I’m doing."

"I don’t give a damn what you think you know," I snapped, stepping toward him. "You went to the most dangerous front like you had a f***ing death wish!"

"Because it’s my job!" Ivan snapped. "Because this is what I signed up for! You think I’m just gonna sit in the back and wait for someone else to bleed for me?"

"I ordered you to stand down."

"And I’m not your soldier anymore, remember?"

Silence.

The words hit harder than I expected. He saw it, too—how I flinched. How I clenched my fists so tight I could feel my own pulse pounding in my skull.

"You’re unbelievable," I said quietly, stepping back. "I came here for you. I killed to get here."

Ivan’s jaw tightened. "You think I asked for that?"

"You sure as hell didn’t try to stop it," I hissed. "You left. You lied. And now you act like you’re doing me a favor by staying alive."

"I didn’t ask you to come after me."

"You didn’t have to!" I exploded, closing the distance again. "You think I had a choice?!"

We were chest to chest now. Breathing hard. Angry. Desperate.

"You want to talk about choice?" Ivan sneered. "You don’t get to come in here and pull rank because you’re scared of losing control."

"I’m not scared of losing control," I said through gritted teeth. "I’m scared of losing you."

That shut him up. For a second.

Then he looked away, bitter. "Well, get used to it."

And fuck, that hurt.

Ivan’s jaw was still tight, his eyes locked on mine, when I gave the final order.

"You’re coming back with me. Tonight. That’s not a request."

His eyes narrowed. "No."

He turned—again—like he could just walk away from me. From everything. But I grabbed his wrist, my grip firm, sharp, unrelenting.

"You will listen to me," I growled. "Because I’m your superior."

He stilled. That silence wasn’t surrender—it was the calm before the slaughter.

And then he yanked his hand away from me like my touch burned him. "Yeah," he scoffed. "That’s all I ever was to you, right? Just another soldier under command."

"Ivan—"

But we never got to finish. A soldier burst into the tent—muddy, out of breath, bruised.

"Captain Grayson—Sir—"

Ivan was already halfway to him. "What happened?"

"Scouting team. Ambushed outside the western perimeter—one of ours came back barely breathing. Said... said the others were—" His voice cracked. "They didn’t even stand a chance."

Ivan didn’t wait. He was already moving.

"No," I said, stepping in front of him again. "You’re not going anywhere."

"Kael, move."

"No." I grabbed his arm again, firmer this time. "You are not going to die trying to prove something. You obey me—do you understand? I don’t give a damn what you want. You’re coming back."

And that’s when it happened.

Ivan looked up at me.

And I’ve never seen hate like that in his eyes before.

"I thought," he said quietly, "I thought maybe you weren’t like your father."

The breath left my lungs.

"I thought you were different." He laughed, but there was no joy in it—just disbelief and devastation. "But you’re just like him. Obsessed with control. With power. With making everyone bend until they break—because you think that’s love."

"Ivan—"

"You don’t trust me. You never did." His voice trembled now. "Not enough to let me make my own choices. Not enough to believe I could survive without you puppeteering my every goddamn step."

He took a step back, shaking.

"I looked at you and saw the only thing in my life I’d ever wanted. The only man I’d ever loved."

My heart was a wound. A gaping, tearing, godless wound.

"And you looked at me and saw something you could own."

He walked past me.

And I didn’t stop him this time.

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

My hands shook. My body stayed upright out of muscle memory alone.

And my mind—my mind was crumbling under the weight of truth.

I was becoming him.

And I was losing Ivan.

Not in battle.

Not to war.

But to me.

I didn’t know how long I stood there, heart thundering like a war drum inside a hollow chest. Ivan’s words played on loop, each one an iron fist to my ribs. You don’t trust me. You never did.

He was wrong.

He was so right, it hurt to breathe.

I stepped forward, hand brushing the tent flap. I had to go after him. I couldn’t let that be the last thing we said. Not when I hadn’t told him—not really told him—what he meant to me. Not when he thought I saw him as something I could control.

I reached for the exit.

And then—

Boom.