It's simple. A vengeful wildfire of a woman. A tyrant who begs to be burned.  

When Aria crashes into Kael’s empire, hellbent on making him pay for taking her job away, she’s met not with defiance—but a dare. “You want revenge?” he taunts, voice dripping with dark invitation. 

“Then ruin me. Take your pound of flesh exactly where it hurts.” His proposition is a trap laced with sin: As expected he calls the shots in his bed, her contempt is his twisted aphrodisiac. 

“Hate me until your hands shake,” he growls. “But do it on top of me, where I can watch you savor every cut.”  

Their arrangement is a collision of dominance and delirium. Aria wields her fury like a blade, determined to break him. Kael? He thrives under her wrath, goading her darker, deeper, hungrier. 

But vengeance turns slippery when every insult she hisses ignites his obsession, and every cold glare melts into bruising kisses. Soon, the bed becomes a battleground—her nails carving victory into his skin, his whispers a serpent’s promise: “Chain me with your rage, darling. I’ll still come back for more."  

The rules are simple: No mercy. No surrender. But as their games spiral into something ravenous, who’s destroying whom? And when hatred burns this hot, what’s left when the ashes cool?

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. 


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. 


Chapter 55 - He looked like sin.