Sweet Hatred
Chapter 47: Echoes Of The Battlefield

Chapter 47: Echoes Of The Battlefield

KAEL

The venue was drowning in polite laughter and the clinking of expensive glassware. The charity event was just as I expected—filled with people desperate to prove their generosity while secretly waiting for a moment to remind everyone of their wealth. I moved through the crowd with measured steps, acknowledging a few nods and murmured greetings.

They all knew who I was or at least my father made sure.

Some respected me for my time in the military. Others whispered behind their glasses about my return to my father’s empire after leaving the army. Either way, no one dared approach me unless I allowed it. That suited me just fine.

"Kael Roman," a voice called out, breaking through the sea of conversation.

I turned, already knowing who it was before I laid eyes on him. General Simmons, retired. A man who had spent decades barking orders, now reduced to small talk at events like these.

"General." I inclined my head slightly.

His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held something deeper. A memory. A hesitation.

"It’s good to see you still showing support for the cause," he said, his voice rough with age but still holding authority.

"Some things don’t change," I replied smoothly, slipping my hands into my pockets.

"Shame about Ivan," he added after a pause, his gaze flickering to my face like he was gauging my reaction. "He loved these kinds of things."

Ivan...

No! I didn’t want to remember—

I felt the name coil around my ribs like a vice, pressing down. But I didn’t flinch. Didn’t let it show. Instead, I took a slow breath, let the name settle into the cold part of my mind where I kept things I didn’t have time to deal with.

"Yeah," I said, my tone as unreadable as my expression. "He did."

Simmons studied me for a second longer, but he knew better than to push. I took a sip of the champagne in my flute, letting the taste distract me from the familiar ache crawling up my spine.

No matter how much I tried to, I could escape him—but I continued to try anyway.

Before the conversation could continue, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, glancing at the screen. My father’s name flashed across it like a bad omen.

I exhaled through my nose before answering. "What is it this time?"

"I need you to secure the deal with the Shimizu group overseas," his voice came through, businesslike and clipped, like he wasn’t the same man who had driven my mother to her death. "Their expansion into Europe is moving faster than expected, and they’ve had offers from competitors. If we don’t move now, we lose our advantage."

A pause. Then, colder. "I want you on a flight within the next twenty four hours. No room for failure."

Failure. He always had a way of choosing his words carefully, like lacing a dagger in silk.

"Fine." I hung up before he could say anything else.

The moment the call with my father ended, a familiar sense of detachment settled over me. The Shimizu deal was important—he’d made that clear enough. It wasn’t just another business transaction; it was a foothold in the Asian market, a strategic move to expand our reach and influence.

Failure wasn’t an option. It never was.

I exhaled sharply, rolling my shoulders to shake off the tension that always came with his voice. No matter how much time passed, the weight of his expectations never lessened. A lifetime of conditioning ensured that.

Instinctively, my fingers moved to my phone, scrolling through recent calls until I found her name. I hesitated for a second—just a second—before tapping the screen. The dial tone droned in my ear as I leaned back in my seat, eyes flicking over the ballroom.

Laughter. Clinking glasses. A string quartet playing something classical in the background. The charity event carried on around me, detached from my own headspace.

A couple of more familiar faces glanced my way, some nodding in acknowledgment, others too wary to do more than observe. I wasn’t here to make conversation, and they knew it.

The ringing cut off.

"What?"

I could hear the irritation in Aria’s voice, but there was something else—something off. I frowned slightly, letting the silence stretch just enough to make her shift uncomfortably on the other end.

"Busy?" I asked, my tone smooth, deliberate.

A beat of hesitation. "No. Just—why are you calling?"

I smirked. "Checking in."

"Checking in?" she echoed, like the idea was absurd.

I imagined her scowling, arms crossed, probably pacing in her office. The image was too clear, too easy to conjure, and it irritated me more than it should have.

"You’re coming with me on another business trip," I said, cutting through whatever comeback she was about to throw at me.

There was a sharp inhale. Then, predictably—"No."

"Yes."

"You can’t just—"

"I can," I interrupted, keeping my voice infuriatingly calm. "And I have. We leave in twenty four hours so go home now if you want to."

A muttered curse. A click of her tongue. "I hate you."

I chuckled, low and amused. "Then this will be fun for both of us."

Silence stretched between us for a moment, thick with unspoken tension. I could practically feel her trying to come up with another argument, some way to regain control of a situation she’d already lost. But there was no point. She knew that as well as I did.

"I’ll expand on the details later," I said, ending the call before she could respond. "Just make sure you’re ready. I’ll be at HQ soon."

I lowered my phone, rubbing my thumb along the edge. The moment should have ended there, the call forgotten as quickly as it happened.

But my mind refused to comply. The memory of last night crept in—Aria beneath me, her body taut with resistance and surrender all at once, her glare filled with loathing even as she came undone around me.

I should have felt satisfied. Instead, I felt restless.

And I fucking hated it. I wanted more.

The event had begun to drag. Conversations blurred into one another, the same pleasantries, the same forced laughter. I was used to it—navigating a crowd like this required little effort.

Then a voice, steady and familiar, cut through the noise.

"Kael."

I turned, my gaze locking onto an older man, weathered but composed. Colonel Elias Moreau. A man of principle. A man who had been thrown to the wolves for a mistake that wasn’t his own although he took the responsibility on himself.

The army had discarded him, a convenient scapegoat for a mission gone wrong. I had been younger then, but even I had known the injustice of it.

He inclined his head slightly, his sharp eyes assessing me as if measuring how much I’d changed. "It’s been a while."

"Colonel Moreau." I nodded in acknowledgment. "I didn’t expect to see you here."

"Nor did I expect to see you standing in a room full of men who sell integrity for profit."

A dry smirk tugged at my lips. "We all find ways to survive."

He hummed, unimpressed, but let it slide. "You seem well."

"And you seem exactly the same."

The briefest flicker of amusement crossed his face. Then it was gone. "I heard what happened. You still in touch with the old unit?"

"No." I didn’t elaborate. He didn’t press.

A brief silence stretched between us, not uncomfortable but weighted with things unsaid. I had respected him more than most, but time had carved its own distance.

"So where are you headed?" I asked finally.

"Home. It’s a long ride. I came here for an old friend."

"I’ll give you a lift."

His brows lifted slightly, but he nodded. "I’ll take you up on that."

We left the event without much fanfare. Niko was already waiting by the car when we stepped outside, his gaze flicking toward Moreau but staying silent.

"HQ first," I instructed, sliding into the backseat.

The drive was uneventful. Moreau didn’t fill the silence with idle talk, and I appreciated that. My mind was already elsewhere, lingering on the upcoming deal, the damn phone call with my father, and the irritation buzzing beneath my skin at the thought of Aria.

When we pulled into the HQ parking lot, she was already outside, heading somewhere. Her arms were crossed, her foot clicking against the pavement in impatience. Even from a distance, I could see the spark of defiance in her eyes.

Niko stepped out first, opening my door. As I emerged, Aria halted and her gaze flicked past me, landing briefly on Moreau. A flash of curiosity crossed her features before she snapped her attention back to me.

"Why do I have to follow you everywhere like a fucking toddler?" she demanded, irritation clear in her voice. "Have you forgotten how to conduct your affairs without me or what?"

I took my time answering, watching the way frustration tightened her jaw. She was already wound up—pushing her further was second nature.

"Does it matter? You already agreed."

Her glare sharpened. "I—" She exhaled sharply, clicking her tongue in irritation. "You’re impossible."

A smirk ghosted over my lips. "You always say that, but you can’t get enough can you?"

She turned on her heel, muttering something under her breath as she stalked off. I let my gaze trail after her, amusement curling in my chest.

Moreau, still sitting inside the car, watched the exchange with mild interest. I turned to him, resting on the car window

"Friend of yours?" He asked, amusement peaking in his voice.

"Something like that."

"You both seem to get along well." He chuckled.

I smiled at his comment and he stopped there.

He didn’t pry. He never did.

I nodded to Niko. "Take him where he needs to go."

Niko inclined his head in acknowledgment before stepping back into the car with Moreau.

I turned and followed Aria, already anticipating the next battle she’d try to wage.

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