Sweet Hatred
Chapter 55: He looked like sin.

Chapter 55: He looked like sin.

I barely had time to react before I saw it.

Kael’s fist slam into Shoji’s jaw with the sound of shattering bone. Shoji fell onto the ground and Kael pounced on him.

The world fell silent.

And then chaos erupted.

Kael wasn’t just hitting him. He was destroying him. Fist after fist, relentless, vicious—his face twisted into something I had never seen before. His usual cold, sharp exterior was gone. This... this was something primal. Wild. Bloodthirsty.

"Kael—Kael, stop!" I called, stunned, feet frozen to the marble floor.

Niko appeared out of nowhere, trying to tug me away, whispering frantically in my ear, "You shouldn’t see this, Aria. Come on—"

But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.

Shoji was barely conscious now, blood splattered across the pale marble, and Kael wasn’t stopping. He kept hitting, harder and harder. His suit was stained, his knuckles dripping red, his breathing ragged. His eyes glowed different. Truly like a mad man.

"Kael!" I screamed, running to him, shoving myself between them.

He froze.

Just like that—mid-swing—he stopped.

He looked up at me. The shade of green I knew swallowed completely.

And something in him shifted.

His chest heaved as he straightened, standing back up. Shoji crumpled on the ground behind him, groaning faintly, his face a grotesque mess of broken skin and bone.

Kael didn’t even glance at him.

Instead, he pulled a handkerchief from his inner pocket—smooth, slow, calculated—and began wiping the blood from his knuckles as if it were just wine he’d spilled at dinner.

When he lifted his gaze to mine, his expression was unreadable. His voice, calm. Too calm.

"Are you alright?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out at first. A chill rushed through me. This wasn’t the Kael I knew. This wasn’t the cruel, arrogant devil who teased me with his gaze and bit me with his words.

This was something darker. Something dangerous.

And it scared me.

I felt it show on my face—just for a second. A flicker of unease. Of fear.

But I caught it. Stuffed it back in. Let anger take its place like armor.

"I could’ve handled him myself," I snapped, stepping back from him. "You didn’t need to play hero."

Kael only chuckled under his breath, like my rage amused him as usual. That same infuriating smirk tugged at his lips, like the blood on his hands was just another pastime hobby.

And then—

The other two business men from earlier came in. They gasped, barking at the servants nearby who rushed toward Shoji’s broken body to help. They stood wide eyes, frozen in terror at the state of their friend.

Kael grabbed my hand.

"Let’s get the hell out of here."

And before I could protest, he was pulling me through the hall, away from the ruckus, away from the blood, away from him.

The cold night air barely bit through the fog inside my chest. Kael didn’t say a word as he dragged me through the side exit, straight toward the sleek black car already waiting with its engine running. The driver nodded silently before stepping aside—Kael was going to drive.

Of course.

I slid into the passenger seat, my body still trembling with leftover adrenaline, the taste of fear and champagne sour on my tongue and my head a little hazy.

The moment the doors closed, silence swallowed us whole.

Kael started the car like nothing had happened. His jaw was tense, profile calm... too calm. Like he hadn’t just beaten a man within an inch of his life. Like his hand wasn’t still stained in blood, now dried and cracked against his skin.

My eyes kept drifting to him. The slight tightness in his jaw. The way his brows furrowed only slightly, as if something in him was calculating. Measuring. Plotting.

The silence was unbearable. I tried to focus on the road, the passing blur of city lights, but my thoughts kept spinning back to that moment. The look in his eyes. The force of his fists. The way he didn’t hesitate.

"Won’t this..." I hesitated. "Affect the Shimizu deal?"

He chuckled. Not the soft kind. It was bitter, sharp.

"They can go fuck themselves," he said simply, one hand lazily draped over the steering wheel. "I don’t do business with men who can’t keep their animals on a leash."

I stared at him. Not because I disagreed—God, no. But because of how easily he said it. How he didn’t seem worried in the slightest.

Like none of this mattered. The whole trip was about to be pointless or worse, the news spreading everywhere.

My gaze dropped to his knuckles—bruised, torn, bloodied. I bit the inside of my cheek. Was he in pain? He didn’t flinch. Didn’t flex his fingers. Didn’t even acknowledge them.

"Don’t," I whispered to myself. "He’s fine. He looks fine."

But that didn’t stop the twist in my chest.

We didn’t say another word until we got back to the hotel.

Once inside the suite, Kael tossed his keys somewhere and walked straight into the bathroom without a glance in my direction. No smug remark. No offhand comment. Just... silence.

It was weird. Too weird. And God I had dreamt of the day Kael would finally keep his damned mouth shut but I never imagined it would be in a situation like this. I didn’t like it.

I peeled off my heels and changed into something softer—loose pajama pants and one of Kael’s discarded t-shirts I found draped over a chair. Then I called downstairs for a first aid kit, pacing the living room while waiting, arms folded tightly across my chest.

He was still in the bathroom.

The sound of running water echoed from behind the door.

When he finally emerged, I froze.

Water dripped from his soaked hair that fell gracefully on every side of his face, trailing down his chest, clinging to every line of his lean, muscled torso. A towel hung low around his hips, and his bruised hand swung loosely at his side.

He looked like sin.

And death.

And something in between.