Sweet Hatred
Chapter 259: I’m sorry

Chapter 259: I’m sorry

There was a silence on the line. A long, slow breath exhaled on the other end. And then...

"If you get the money and deliver it in time," he said calmly again, "nobody gets hurt. You have my word."

Like that meant anything.

Like his word ever protected anyone.

I was about to curse him again, rip him to shreds through the receiver, but then...

Faint.

Barely audible.

Just as he was hanging up.

A whisper, so soft I could almost believe I imagined it.

"...I’m sorry."

Click.

The line died.

I stared down at the phone in my hand like it had turned to stone.

A second later, a message popped up on the screen.

Unknown Number

_ 99 Wiltshire Ave, off Millerton Highway. Come alone._

_Two hours. No cops. Or you lose them all._

I didn’t think. Didn’t stop.

I grabbed the heavy duffel bag filled with cash, slung it over my shoulder and stormed out of the bank like a woman possessed.

I could feel the stare but I didn’t care. Even as the guards shouted questions after me. None of it mattered.

Nothing mattered now except that address.

And getting there before that bastard decided time was up.

...

The closer I got, the more it felt like my skin was trying to crawl off my bones.

Every breath was short. Shaky. Like my lungs were protesting, like they knew I was walking into something I couldn’t come back from.

My hand gripped the strap of the duffel bag tighter.

God. It was so heavy now.

Heavy like guilt. Like blood money. Like fear with a zipper.

The taxi dropped me off at the edge of a gravel road barely wide enough for a car. The address led me to a neighborhood that looked like it had been forgotten by time and mercy alike. Faded, crooked fences. Weeds taller than children. The kind of place you didn’t get lost in, you disappeared.

My phone vibrated in my hand.

Sylas.

I hesitated for a second.

But I answered.

"Aria- where are you? Please, just wait. Two minutes. I’m almost there."

I could hear his engine growling in the background. He was speeding.

But,

"I can’t wait," I said, voice shaking. "My family is in there."

Click.

I ended the call before he could argue. I didn’t have the time.

The house looked like it belonged in a nightmare. Its paint was chipped, windows smeared with grime, the front porch creaking beneath my boots like it was holding its breath.

The kind of place where bad things stayed even after the people left.

I knocked once. Twice.

No answer.

So I gripped the doorknob, pushed it open, and stepped inside.

The air was thick. Still. It didn’t smell like death or rot. It smelled like desperation. Like someone had tried to clean the place up recently, lemon-scented disinfectant clinging to the peeling wallpaper, masking something older and sadder beneath it.

Old curtains hung like ghosts from rusted rods.

Mismatched furniture sat half-covered in white sheets, like they’d been forgotten mid-move.

It looked like someone’s last attempt at making something unlivable into a home.

I walked forward.

"Olivia?" My voice cracked. "Kaleb?"

Nothing.

Just the creak of the floor under my steps, the low hum of something electric, maybe an old fridge and the thudding of my own heartbeat in my ears.

I moved deeper into the house. Fingers gripping the bag like it was a weapon. Like it could save someone. But then I heard it.

A sound.

Muffled. Choked.

I froze.

It was faint, but it was there, coming from down the hall. Behind the last door on the right.

I followed it. Legs trembling, body numb.

And when I pushed the door open,

She was there.

Olivia.

Tied to a chair. Gagged. Sobbing.

Her eyes locked onto mine and widened like the world just returned to her.

"Olivia!" My voice cracked as I ran forward.

She thrashed in the chair, desperate, panicked.

And I didn’t see anyone else.

No Kaleb.

No Lily.

Not even Michael.

It was just her.

Tied up like an animal in a place that felt like a graveyard.

The bag hit the floor with a dull thud, the sound barely registering as I scrambled toward Olivia, my knees hitting the floor as I fumbled with the knot digging into her wrists.

"Liv—Liv, it’s me—I’m here," I gasped, my fingers trembling, breath catching at the sight of her. Her hair was wild, tangled around her tear-streaked face, eyes red and glassy. She was shaking so hard the chair beneath her creaked with every sob.

The second I yanked the gag down from her lips, her voice broke free like a dam.

"I’m sorry... I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—" she choked out, voice hoarse and cracking as her body sagged like she hadn’t breathed properly in hours. "You were right, Aria. You were right and I—I didn’t listen—"

"Stop," I whispered, throat burning. "It doesn’t matter. Where are the kids, Liv? Where’s Kaleb? Where’s Lily—Michael?"

I looked around the room like they’d magically appear if I turned fast enough. But it was just us. Just the sound of Olivia’s sobs and the heavy weight of something about to go very, very wrong.

"I—I don’t know—" she stammered, every word like it was being dragged from a wound. "He—he took them—I begged him, Aria, I begged—he said—he said he wouldn’t hurt them—"

Her voice cracked into a high-pitched sob, and she crumpled against me, trembling like a child.

"I should’ve believed you—I should’ve—oh my God, I didn’t think—I thought maybe he changed—"

"I know. I know. But it’s okay now," I whispered, even though nothing was okay. My eyes scanned the room, searching for something, anything, to cut through the rope binding her ankles and wrists. "Help’s on the way. Just hang in there—"

I cursed myself for not bringing my pocket knife. I should’ve thought. I should’ve planned better. I...

"You came."

The voice cut through the air like a blade, smooth but weighted with something awful.

I froze.

My head snapped toward the doorway, and there he was.

The man who used to call himself our father.