Rehab for SuperVillains (18+)
Chapter 206: No answer

Chapter 206: No answer

The hospital suite’s door loomed before Kael, its reinforced steel unyielding under the corridor’s sterile lights.

His knocks had gone unanswered, the silence from within growing heavier with each passing second.

Freya and Rhea flanked him, their faces taut—Freya’s blue eyes sharp behind her shades, Rhea’s amber gaze burning with barely contained heat.

Kael’s chest tightened, a primal dread clawing at his gut.

Something was wrong.

"Enough waiting," Freya said, her voice low, icy.

She stepped forward, her hand glowing with frost, the air around it crackling as the temperature plunged. "Move."

Kael stepped aside, his breath fogging in the sudden chill.

Freya pressed her palm to the lock, ice spreading like veins across the metal panel.

A sharp crack split the silence as the mechanism froze solid, then shattered under her grip.

She shoved the door open, the hinges groaning, shards of ice clinking to the floor.

The suite blazed with light, overhead lamps glaring, a jarring contrast to the dimly lit corridor.

A cartoon screeched on the TV, its bright colors and manic voices clashing with the room’s eerie stillness.

Bedsheets and pillows littered the floor, one mattress half-slipped, as if yanked in a rush, or left in a rush.

The window gaped open, curtains fluttering in the night breeze, carrying the city’s distant hum.

Kael’s chest tightened, his boots crunching on a fallen pillow as he stepped inside.

"They’re gone," he said, his voice low, hollow.

Rhea crossed to the window, her flames flickering faintly, casting dancing shadows on the walls.

She leaned out, scanning the fire escape, her crimson hair glinting in the moonlight.

"The fire escape is untouched," she said, her tone taut, her fingers twitching as if itching to burn something. "They didn’t climb down."

Freya knelt by the bed, her fingers brushing a crumpled sheet, still warm.

"No blood, no signs of struggle, no shadow marks," she muttered, her voice analytical but cracking with unease.

Her blue eyes darted to the nightstand, where a half-empty glass of water sat, its surface rippling in the breeze, a single black hair—Lila’s or Tila’s—curled beside it.

"They left fast. Or were taken."

Kael’s gaze locked on the open window, his mind racing, his hands itching to touch something, anything, to ground himself.

He scanned the room, searching for clues in the chaos—a dropped item, a scuff mark, anything to trace the twins.

The cartoon’s laughter looped, grating, a mockery of their urgency.

He crossed to the nightstand, his fingers hovering over the black hair, but he didn’t touch it, wary of smudging a potential lead.

"This wasn’t their choice," he said, a quiet certainty settling in his bones. "Someone got to them."

Rhea turned, her flames flaring, heat rippling in the air. "The Reaper?"

"Probably her, or someone else. We don’t know." Kael cut in, his voice firm but strained, his bruised hand gripping the bedframe to steady himself. "But we need to find them. Now."

The TV’s cartoon blared on, a shrill distraction.

Kael’s eyes flicked to the screen, a fleeting hope for a hidden message, but it was just noise—left behind to taunt them.

The open window loomed, the night beyond it a void swallowing any trace of Lila and Tila.

_______________

Somewhere Outside the City

A sleek, matte-black car glided down an unlit highway, its headlights dim, its engine a soft purr lost in the night’s expanse.

Dark fields and skeletal trees flanked the road, the city’s glow a faint smear on the horizon.

In the back seat, Lila and Tila sat rigid, their silence heavy with unspoken tension.

Lila’s black gown shimmered faintly, her curly hair a veil hiding her face, her hands knotted in her lap, knuckles pale.

Tila’s lean frame was coiled, her black eyes glinting under the moonlight, her fingers twitching restlessly.

The power suppressing collars around their necks pulsed faintly.

The Reaper drove, her gloved hands steady, obsidian nails catching the dashboard’s glow.

Her ink-dark hair framed her pale face, her red eyes flicking to the rearview mirror, studying the twins with a predator’s patience.

Her presence filled the car, a seductive menace that made the air feel tighter, her every gesture laced with dark allure, a promise of power and danger.

An hour earlier, after she ran away after the arrival of Lightning Lass, she went to get the Haunter twins.

She’d materialized from the shadows, the air thickening as her silhouette took form, a wraith in black.

Lila had reacted instantly assuming a fighting stance. Tila’s eyes narrowed as she held a fork, her body poised like a blade.

"Relax," the Reaper had purred, her voice velvet-smooth. "We’re not enemies."

Tila had scoffed, her tone sharp, defiant. "You’re the Reaper. I know you. You kill and play with A-Class heroes for fun."

The Reaper’s lips had curved, her red eyes glinting with amusement, a spark that invited challenge.

"And you two? The world still calls you villains. Don’t play innocent."

The words had struck deep, splintering their resolve.

Tila relaxed, her posture easing, though her black eyes stayed sharp, wary, drawn to the Reaper’s magnetic pull.

"I can help you," the Reaper had said, stepping closer, her boots silent, shadows trailing her like a lover’s caress.

Her gloved hand had brushed the air near Tila’s cheek, a teasing gesture that sent a shiver through the twin. "If you want freedom."

The twins had shared a glance—Lila’s face a mask, Tila’s calculating, her lips parting slightly, caught in the Reaper’s spell.

Lila stayed silent, but Tila broke, her voice low, raw, spilling their truth.

The collars chaining their powers, Kael’s "rehabilitation" that felt like a gilded cage, the Haven’s walls suffocating them like a tomb.

The Reaper had tilted her head, her gaze sharpening with intrigue, her smile a blade sheathed in silk. "Then come with me."

They had followed, leaving the suite’s chaos behind, without turning off the tv.

Now, the car hummed along the highway, the city a fading memory.

Tila toyed with the radio, static buzzing before settling on a moody synthwave track, its pulsing beat a restless undercurrent to the tension.

The Reaper glanced at Tila in the rearview, her voice low, teasing, a hint of seduction in her tone. "Show me yours, darling."

Tila tilted her head, pulling her hair aside to bare the collar’s ridged metal, its faint glow a taunt against her pale skin.

The Reaper swerved off the road, stopping under a grove of gnarled trees, their branches clawing the sky like skeletal hands.

She stepped out, shadows coiling at her feet like living smoke, and leaned into the back seat, her gloved hand brushing Tila’s neck, a touch that lingered, sparking a flush across Tila’s cheeks.

A surge of darkness—slick, silent—flowed over the collar.

Crack.

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