Rehab for SuperVillains (18+)
Chapter 205: pulling strings

Chapter 205: pulling strings

The hospital elevator hummed softly, its sterile light casting sharp shadows across Kael’s bruised face as he leaned against the wall, his coat torn and bloodied.

Freya stood to his left, her platinum-cyan hair tucked under a hood, her blue eyes fixed on the floor, her fists clenched.

Rhea was on his right, her crimson hair spilling from her cap, her arms crossed tightly, heat radiating faintly from her skin.

The air was thick with unspoken tension, the Reaper’s name still lingering like a ghost between them.

Kael broke the silence, his voice low but steady, recounting the night’s chaos.

The Haven raid—raiders storming in for loot, expecting an easy score. How Lila and Tila had turned the tables, their shadow powers tearing through the attackers like specters in a slaughterhouse, leaving no trace but wreckage.

How he’d expected to regroup on Basement 4, only to be lured two floors deeper to Basement 6, a trap set for him, the elevator rigged to deliver him to the Reaper’s claws.

Rhea’s jaw tightened with each detail, her amber eyes flashing with barely contained fury.

Freya stayed silent, her face a mask of ice, but her knuckles whitened, frost creeping along her fingertips.

When Kael finished, the elevator’s hum seemed louder, oppressive.

"Why us?" Freya asked finally, her voice low, almost a whisper.

"The Haven’s a dump. We haven’t renovated, haven’t drawn attention. Why loot us at all?"

Kael glanced at her, hesitating.

He’d held back the real trigger, knowing it would hit her hard.

But they deserved the truth.

Also because she called the Haven a dump.

"It wasn’t the Haven," he said flatly. "They saw the Zephyr-X9 and got curious. Thought it was worth the risk to loot a place where such an expensive car is parked daily."

Freya’s eyes widened, a rare crack in her composure.

"What? No. That’s—" She shook her head, her voice rising. "That’s ridiculous. You’re lying."

"I think he’s right," Rhea said, her tone calm but firm, her arms still crossed.

Freya spun on her, her shades slipping slightly, revealing the storm in her blue eyes. "You own half that car, too, remember?"

"So?" Rhea shrugged, unfazed. "It was a mistake to buy something that flashy. You know it."

"Oh, really?" Freya snapped, stepping closer, frost crackling faintly around her hands.

"What should Kael drive, then? A rusted minivan? A bicycle?"

"A sedan," Rhea countered, her voice steady, heat shimmering in the air around her "Something discreet. Not a prototype that screams ’rob me’ three cities over."

Freya’s mouth opened, but no retort came.

Her shoulders slumped.

Because it had been her idea—her gift to Kael, a sleek, obsidian beast she’d bought to spoil him, to give him the luxury she thought he deserved.

And now, it had painted a target on his back, nearly cost him his life.

"...Fine," she muttered, turning away, her voice barely audible. "If it’s such a problem, I’ll sell it."

"No," Kael said, his voice firm but warm, cutting through her guilt.

He stepped closer, his hand brushing her arm, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver through her despite the tension.

"Don’t. This would’ve happened eventually, car or no car. Better we know their game now."

Freya didn’t look at him, her lips pressed tight, but she didn’t pull away.

Rhea’s eyes flicked between them, her smirk faint but knowing, the air charged with something unspoken.

Kael exhaled, shifting gears. "There’s more. I’m planning to stay at Liss’s place. She offered—for a price. Said I could bring you all, cover everyone’s stay."

Freya’s head snapped up, her voice cold and flat. "No."

Rhea echoed her, stepping forward, her eyes narrowing. "Not happening."

Kael stopped, his brows furrowing. "It’s too risky to be alone. After tonight, I can’t take chances."

"We’re quitting," Freya said abruptly, her tone unyielding.

Kael blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"Quitting REAPER," Rhea clarified, her voice low, fierce. "We’re going freelance. Independent. Whatever. We’ll guard you 24/7 from now on."

"You can’t just—" Kael started, his voice rising.

"We already did," Freya cut in, her blue eyes piercing through her shades, daring him to argue.

Kael’s jaw tightened. "You’re both A-Class. The Reaper’s S-Class. You’re not thinking straight."

Freya scoffed, a sharp, bitter sound. "So what? I’ve got Rhea. That’s enough."

Rhea’s hands glowed faintly, heat rippling around her fists. "If that bitch shows her face again, I’ll burn her to ash."

"No, Rhea," Kael said, his voice hard, grounding. "You don’t get it. She’s not just strong—she’s got a network. People above her, pulling strings."

The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open to the top floor, but none of them moved.

Freya’s fists clenched, frost spreading to her wrists.

Rhea’s flames flickered, her eyes blazing, but neither spoke.

The truth hung heavy—Kael was right, and they hated it.

"We need an S-Class shield," Kael continued, his voice softer now, urgent.

"At least until we can convince Lila to back us fully. She’s got the power and we need her."

Freya’s lips twitched, a bitter smile. "Lila? She’s loyal to her sister more than you. Good luck with that."

Rhea nodded, her smirk grim. "I think she will just vanish after she is done with you."

Kael didn’t argue.

They might not be wrong, but Lila was their best shot.

He stepped into the corridor, the sterile lights buzzing overhead, casting long shadows.

Freya and Rhea followed, their boots silent on the polished floor, the tension between them crackling like a live wire.

They reached the private suite where Lila and Tila were waiting, the door a slab of reinforced steel under soft hospital lighting.

Kael raised a hand and knocked, the sound sharp in the quiet hall.

Knock knock.

"It’s me," he called, his voice steady but laced with fatigue.

Silence.

He frowned, knocking again, harder. "Lila? Tila? It’s Kael."

Nothing.

Not a creak, not a whisper—just the faint hum of the hospital’s air system.

Freya and Rhea exchanged a glance, their hands twitching, ready to act.

"That’s weird," Rhea muttered, her voice low, her flames flickering faintly at her fingertips. "Is this the correct room?"

"Maybe they’re asleep?" Freya offered, but her tone lacked conviction, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the doorframe for signs of tampering.

Kael leaned closer, his ear brushing the cold metal.

"Lila? Tila?" His voice was softer now, urgent, a knot of dread tightening in his chest.

Only his echo answered, hollow and mocking.

He tried the handle—locked, unyielding.

His pulse spiked, a chill crawling up his spine.

For the second time that night, Kael felt something wrong—not the adrenaline of a fight, not the ache of bruises, but a deeper, primal instinct screaming danger.

"Something’s off," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, his hand still on the handle.

Rhea stepped closer, her heat warming the air around him, her eyes sharp.

"Break it down?"

Freya’s hand glowed, frost spreading across her palm. "Or I can freeze the lock."

Kael shook his head.

The corridor’s lights flickered, a brief pulse that made the shadows dance.

Kael’s heart pounded, the Reaper’s whisper echoing in his mind.

I’ll be back for you.

Had she already struck?

Or was this something else, something worse?

He turned to Freya and Rhea, his voice low, urgent.

"Get ready. We’re going in."

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