Rehab for SuperVillains (18+)
Chapter 197: Subtle

Chapter 197: Subtle

"Freya look here" Rhea’s voice rang out from the next aisle, brimming with glee.

Freya turned to see her emerge, holding—well, that was something else.

A schoolgirl uniform, but one that made actual school uniforms blush and look away.

The plaid micro-skirt was a whisper of fabric, barely covering anything.

The white shirt, half-transparent, no buttons, tied in a knot just below the chest to flaunt underboob and sharp collarbones.

A lacy black bra peeked through, paired with white panties that Rhea dangled proudly from one finger.

Emblazoned across the back in bold, shameless letters.

SPANK ME

DADDY.

Freya blinked once, her expression flat. "Very subtle Rhea."

Rhea’s grin was pure chaos, her amber eyes glinting through her mask as she twirled the panties. "Oh, I’m just getting started. I’m thinking twintails — cute, tight, high. If I’m gonna sin, I might as well look adorable doing it."

"You’re a walking felony."

"Thank you," Rhea said, bowing theatrically.

Freya folded the nurse outfit over her arm, her movements precise.

Rhea glanced over, her grin widening. "Ooh, what’s that?"

"Nurse," Freya said simply. "Classic. Clean. Strategic exposure. Tactical cleavage."

"Boring," Rhea teased, tossing her hair—or where her hair would’ve been without the mask.

"Needs more spice."

"You’re the spice," Freya shot back, her voice dry but laced with amusement.

Rhea raised an eyebrow, leaning closer. "What, no matching schoolgirl vibe for you? Come on, you and me in these? Kael wouldn’t know what hit him."

Freya’s eyes narrowed, her mask hiding the faint flush creeping up her cheeks.

"I’m taller than Kael. In that, I’d look like I’m tutoring him in... private biology lessons."

Rhea’s laugh was sharp, delighted. "Hot."

"I’m not doing that," Freya said, her tone firm but betrayed by a flicker of a smile.

A beat passed.

Then Freya’s gaze slid to a shelf she’d clocked earlier, her lips twitching with a dangerous idea.

"Wait here."

She returned moments later, a bundle of black silk and violet lace in her hands, her smirk sharp enough to cut glass.

The new outfit was full-on erotic mommy mode.

A sheer house robe, sliding silk with a plunging neckline and a loose tie at the waist that promised to slip at the slightest tug.

Beneath it, a black-laced bra with gold cursive stitching: Come to Mama.

The robe’s back was bare except for a heart-shaped cutout just above the ass, paired with panties that whispered Naughty Step-Mom in smaller, chaotic letters.

Rhea’s jaw dropped, her eyes wide behind her mask.

"You... absolute pervert," she whispered, voice thick with awe. "I love it."

Freya’s smirk deepened, her blue eyes glinting. "Told you I’m not boring."

Rhea gave her a firm thumbs-up, her grin practically glowing.

"Respect."

They hauled their treasures to the counter, where the lanky man rang them up with the enthusiasm of someone scanning groceries.

The nurse outfit, the schoolgirl set, and the mommy-mode ensemble slid across the counter like contraband.

Freya swiped her card and soon, bags in hand, they stepped back into the neon-soaked night, the city’s glow painting the Zephyr X-9’s hood in shades of pink and electric blue.

"Kael’s gonna die," Rhea said, tossing her bag into the backseat with a flourish.

"Only if we let him finish too early," Freya replied, her voice dyed in mischief.

They both laughed, the sound sharp and free, echoing in the empty lot.

_____________

The Zephyr X-9 rolled to a stop outside the Haven, its sleek, obsidian frame glowing faintly under the bruised orange of the setting sun.

The air was thick, unnaturally still, pressing against Freya’s skin like a held breath.

The street stretched empty—no stray dogs barking, no distant hum of traffic, just a silence that clawed at her nerves.

Freya’s hand lingered on the door handle, her blue eyes narrowing behind her half-mask.

"Something’s wrong."

Rhea’s head snapped up, her amber eyes glinting beneath her full-face mask. "Yeah. I feel it too."

They stepped out, boots hitting the pavement with a soft thud that echoed in the quiet.

The Haven’s front door—a slab of reinforced wood—was a splintered ruin, sagging on its hinges like a broken jaw.

The surrounding wall bore a jagged, crater-like crack, as if something—or someone—had been slammed into it with bone-shattering force.

"Kael!" Rhea’s shout tore through the silence, her voice raw as she sprinted toward the wreckage.

Her crimson eyes flared beneath her mask, her panic bleeding into the air.

"Kael, where are you?!"

Freya followed, her cape whispering against the ground as she crossed the threshold.

Her boots crunched over shards of wood scattered across the Haven’s marble floor, each step sharp in the heavy quiet.

The main hall was a battlefield. The dining table lay in pieces, its legs twisted like snapped bones. The couch was upended, fabric shredded, stuffing spilling out like entrails. Bullet holes sprayed across the plaster wall, a frozen snapshot of violence.

No blood. No bodies. Just the suffocating weight of absence.

"Kael!" Rhea yelled again, spinning in place, her voice cracking with desperation. Her hands clenched, flames flickering faintly at her fingertips, unbidden.

Freya’s lips tightened, her blue eyes sweeping the wreckage with a predator’s focus. "Check the rooms," she snapped, her voice a cold blade cutting through Rhea’s panic.

Rhea nodded, bolting toward the east wing while Freya took the west. The bedrooms were untouched—eerily pristine, like they’d been preserved in amber.

Kael’s room held his scent, his bed unmade, a worn shirt slung over a chair as if he’d stepped out moments ago.

Tila and Lila’s rooms were the same too—blankets tossed aside—but no struggle.

No blood, no burn marks, no lingering shadows, no trace of their powers.

The neatness of it made Freya’s skin prickle, a chill creeping up her spine.

They regrouped in the ruined hall, Rhea’s breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

"Where the hell is he?" Her voice trembled, anger and fear twisting together. "And where are those damn twins? They’ve got something to do with this, I know it."

Freya’s jaw clenched, her mind racing. "No bodies. No blood. The bedrooms are untouched, but this—" she gestured to the shattered hall, "—this was a fight."

"Someone hit this place hard," Rhea growled, her eyes tracing the crater in the wall.

"Look at that. Something slammed into it—someone Kael’s size, maybe. And those bullet holes? That’s not random. That’s a firing squad."

"But it’s too clean," Freya said, her voice low, analytical. "No splatter, no stray bullets, no residue. They cleaned up after. This wasn’t a raid—it was something else, planned?."

Rhea’s fists tightened, flames licking higher around her knuckles.

"Those twins. I swear, if they did something to him—if they set him up—"

"Stop," Freya cut in, her tone sharp but not unkind. "We don’t know that. Tila’s reckless, but Lila is Kael’s friend. They wouldn’t turn on him."

"Wouldn’t they?" Rhea snapped, her voice rising. "Tila’s got a mouth and a temper, and Lila’s too damn quiet—always watching, always planning. You don’t think they could’ve pulled something? Got him ambushed? Dragged him into their mess?"

Freya’s eyes flicked to her, a warning in their icy depths. "Blaming them won’t find him. Focus."

Rhea opened her mouth to argue, then bit it back, her chest heaving. "Fine. But if they hurt him, I’m burning their world down, no forgiveness this time."

Freya didn’t respond, her hand already darting to the thigh pocket in the inside of her suit.

Her phone was buried there, forgotten in the chaos of their mission.

She yanked it out, the screen flaring to life with a single unread message.

From Kael.

Her breath caught as she read,

HAVEN GOT RAIDED. We’re safe. Took the twins to the hospital. Call me ASAP.

Relief hit her like a wave, loosening the vise around her chest.

"He’s okay."

Rhea spun, her eyes wide behind her mask. "What? Show me!"

Freya turned the phone, and Rhea leaned in, scanning the text twice, her shoulders slumping as the panic drained from her.

"Oh, thank fuck," she muttered, dragging a hand over her masked face. "He’s alive. That idiot—he didn’t call sooner? I’m gonna kill him myself."

Freya’s lips twitched, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

She slipped the phone back into her suit, her gaze drifting to the shattered entrance. "This happened during the Gale mission. While we were out."

Rhea’s expression darkened, her flames flickering out. "Someone hit us when we were distracted. They knew we’d be gone."

"They caught him off guard. Him and the twins.," Freya said, her voice low, almost a growl.

Rhea’s eyes narrowed, her earlier suspicion flaring back. "Or the twins set it up. Kael’s too sharp to get blindsided like this unless someone close screwed him over."

Freya shook her head, her platinum-cyan hair catching the dying light. "We don’t know enough. But the cleanup—it’s too neat. No blood, no residue, no dropped weapons. Whoever did this didn’t want us to know what happened."

Rhea stared at the wreckage, her voice a raw whisper.

"What the hell happened here, Freya?"

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