Rehab for SuperVillains (18+)
Chapter 228: peaceful?

Chapter 228: peaceful?

Kael stirred in Liss’s bed, the sheets rustling, soft daylight sneaking through the curtains, casting pale orange across his bruised face.

He blinked, squinting, his dark eyes heavy with fatigue, the warmth of the bed a rare comfort.

The silence wasn’t threatening—it was warm, peaceful, a fleeting haven.

He was alone, Liss’s absence a surprise, her usual presence a constant he’d grown to rely on.

He stretched, his muscles aching, and sank back into the mattress, savoring the calm, his mind quiet for the first time in days.

Freya and Rhea were probably here by now, their questions looming.

The twins were resting, their trauma a fragile thread.

Liss was likely out there, bullying someone with that smirk of hers, a thought that brought a faint smile to his lips.

He turned on his side, snuggling into the blanket, its softness a shield against the world.

Just five more minutes, he told himself, his eyes fluttering shut, the villa’s warmth wrapping around him.

He could pretend, just for a moment, that everything was okay, that the dawn held no threats.

Unaware, just below his floor, the air shimmered in the kitchen—a quiet presence entering unnoticed, a ripple in the stillness, a shadow cast by no light.

But that was tomorrow’s problem.

For now, the chaos paused, and Kael slept on.

________

Hours later.

Kael stirred, a yawn tearing through him as he blinked slowly, his hazel eyes fighting the pull of sleep.

The bed in Liss’s villa was a cocoon of warmth, the sheets soft and crinkling beneath him, the room bathed in dusky orange light filtering through the curtains.

Sunset already—the sun had traced its full arc across the sky, and he’d slept through it all.

His body, sore but rested, ached with the bittersweet relief of too much sleep, a rare luxury in his chaotic life.

No alarms, no crashing walls, no twin yells, no lustful midnight ambushes—just silence, warm and surreal.

It felt... wrong.

But also fucking amazing.

He rolled over, stretching his arms overhead, the sheets rustling, a faint pressure in his lower belly nagging at him.

"...Ugh. Bathroom," he muttered, dragging himself out of bed, his feet hitting the polished wooden floor with a soft thud.

Half-asleep, Kael shuffled to the ensuite bathroom, relieved himself, splashed cold water on his face, the shock pulling him slightly more awake, and stumbled back to the bed, collapsing with the grace of a groggy ghost.

Silence enveloped him again.

He blinked at the ceiling, a nagging unease creeping in.

Too quiet.

With Tila, Rhea, Freya, and Liss all under one roof?

That kind of peace was practically impossible.

His hazel eyes flicked to the wall, then the sealed door.

"Right..." he muttered, realization dawning. "Soundproof room."

He exhaled, melting back into the mattress, the tension easing from his shoulders.

The truth was, he didn’t want to know what was happening beyond that door.

For once, he wasn’t dodging ex-villains with dangerous affection, wrangling Tila’s tantrums, or saving himself from villains. This silence, this dead calm, was a gift, a fleeting bubble of peace he intended to savor.

He buried his face in the pillow, trying to squeeze out a few more minutes of this sacred quiet, knowing full well that beyond the door lay a storm he wasn’t ready for.

The Reaper’s death, the twins’ transformation, the faceless threat hunting him—it loomed, but here, now, he could pretend it didn’t exist.

"...Maybe I’ll just lie here a bit longer," he murmured, his voice muffled, his hazel eyes fluttering shut.

But curiosity gnawed, a persistent itch at the edge of his mind.

He rolled out of bed again, his muscles protesting, and shuffled to the door, his hand hovering over the knob.

"Maybe they’re all dead," he snorted to himself, a grim chuckle.

He turned the knob.

Click.

The door cracked open an inch, and the house erupted in chaos, a tidal wave of noise crashing over him.

"GIVE IT BACK, YOU BLOODY PYRO-MANIAC!" Tila’s voice screeched, sharp and furious, her black eyes probably blazing somewhere in the living room.

"IT’S MY TURN! CARTOONS!" Rhea shrieked back, her amber eyes likely flashing with equal fire.

"IT’S BEEN TWO HOURS OF YOUR SHITTY RAINBOW UNICORN SHOWS!"

"AND I’M TIRED OF YOUR STUPID BLACK-AND-WHITE GHOST GARBAGE!"

The living room was a warzone of sound—rapid channel flipping, remote buttons mashed with violent clicks, and the unmistakable thud of someone diving over the couch, probably wrestling for control.

Tila and Rhea, two elemental disasters, were at each other’s throats over the TV, their voices a cacophony of rage and defiance.

Kael’s lips twitched.

But the chaos didn’t stop there.

From the kitchen, another battle raged.

"I SAID, LET ME DO IT!" Liss’s voice sliced through, sharp and defiant.

"You’re overcooking it!" Freya’s voice countered, calm but relentless.

"THIS IS MY HOUSE. MY RULES. IF I WANNA BURN THE DAMN CHICKEN, I’LL BURN IT!"

"You’re putting the onions in before the garlic again," Freya said, her tone dripping with judgment.

"SO?!"

"That’s culinary blasphemy."

"You’re a guest here Freya, and Kael wants you, else I will zap you to death with a fucking spoon!"

Kael leaned against the doorway, rubbing his temples, his hazel eyes squinting against the noise.

The villa’s sleek interior—polished floors, high-tech security, a fortress disguised as luxury—was a battlefield of egos.

The smell of burning chicken and sizzling onions wafted from the kitchen, a faint hint of something about to explode.

Liss, ever the territorial S-Class, was fighting for control, while Freya, older and unflappable, backseat-cheffed with holy precision, her calm a stark contrast to Liss’s fire.

Kael sighed, deep and weary.

Sunset.

He’d slept the entire day, no wonder he felt rested, no wonder they’d left him alone.

Maybe they’d been considerate, letting him recover from the chaos.

He rubbed his eyes, leaning back into the doorway, the ache in his bones a reminder of the gift of rest.

The chaos was outside, not his problem yet.

He could slip back into the silence, steal a few more moments of peace.

He quietly closed the door.

Click

"...That was probably louder than I thought," he whispered to himself, frozen by the door.

He waited.

Held his breath.

Maybe—just maybe—they didn’t hear it.

"No one heard it right?," he murmured.

But he had no idea—they had heard.

They were already staring at the hallway.

Behind the door, Kael could feel it more than hear it.

That one word, spoken in perfect timing.

Faint. Subtle.

But definitely there.

"Kael?" The house said in unison.

His eye twitched.

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