NOVPUB
Chapter 40: a man stepped inside
The next morning,
The Haven’s main door creaked open, its hinges groaning faintly, a man stepped inside.
He moved with the quiet confidence of someone who belonged—broad-shouldered, his presence commanding without effort. Streaks of gray threaded through the dark hair at his temples, a sign of experience rather than age. His suit was impeccable, the crisp lines unmarred by travel, every detail speaking of precision and control.
Harris—Kael’s old supervisor.
His gaze swept the room, taking in the worn furnishings, the faint metallic tang of dried blood still lingering in the air. Then, his sharp eyes landed on Kael.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Harris’s lips. Kael stepped forward, meeting him with a quick, firm clasp of hands—a gesture that spoke of respect.
The moment was brief.
Harris’s gaze flickered, assessing, and the smile faded as his sharp eyes traced the bruises and cuts marring Kael’s face. A map of recent battles.
His expression barely shifted, but the scrutiny in his gaze was unmistakable—calculating, questioning.
"Rough night?" Harris asked, his voice smooth but edged with something Kael couldn’t quite place.
Kael smirked faintly, the ghost of a chuckle buried beneath his exhaustion. "Something like that."
"How do you always end up so beat to hell?" Harris asked, his voice gruff, a deep crease forming between his brows. "Thought you quit this life."
Kael chuckled, the sound low and rough, as he rubbed the back of his neck with a wince. "Dealing with supervillains is tougher than I figured." Their shared laughter broke the tension briefly, a fleeting ease settling over them, before Kael’s tone softened, gratitude threading through his words. "Thanks for giving Rhea a shot, Harris—means a lot."
Harris shrugged, hands sliding into his pockets, his voice casual but carrying a subtle edge.
"Heroes are stretched thin—new blood’s welcome, especially strong ones. If Flame-Warden can fight for us like you said last night, she’s a damn good add."
His eyes darkened, his tone shifting to something sterner, a warning coiled beneath the surface. "But if she steps out of line—tries anything funny—I won’t hesitate to end her. Can’t take risks like you do."
Kael nodded, his expression calm and steady, his voice firm with quiet conviction. "She won’t. I’ve got her." Harris raised a skeptical brow, his lips pressing into a thin line, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he reached into a sleek black bag slung over his shoulder.
"Here, I got her costume." He pulled out a neatly folded costume—vibrant orange and black, a full-body suit—and a mask, sleek and solid, designed to conceal everything.
Kael took the bundle, his fingers brushing over the smooth, resilient fabric, tracing the seams with a faint frown tugging at his mouth.
"This big thing necessary?" he asked, holding up the mask, its weight unfamiliar in his hands. Harris nodded, his voice flat and matter-of-fact.
"Won’t mess with her sight—just hides her face." Kael sighed, a slow exhale of reluctant acceptance, then cast a glance toward Rhea’s room across the hall.
"Be a minute," he said, crossing the space with measured steps, the costume tucked under his arm. He knocked—sharp and quick—and the door cracked open just enough for Rhea’s amber eyes to peer through the narrow slit, glinting with suspicion.
He slid the bundle through the gap, her fingers snagging it with a swift, almost impatient grab, and the door slammed shut with a resounding thud that echoed through the quiet Haven.
Harris watched the exchange, his brow arching in faint surprise, a flicker of doubt crossing his stern features. "You sure you worked on her? Doesn’t look tame."
Kael forced a faint smile, his voice steady despite the unease churning in his gut. "She’s good, despite the attitude. I’m not worried." Inside, though, his confidence wavered, a tight knot of doubt twisting beneath his ribs.
He turned back to Harris, busying himself with setting up a simple breakfast for him. The clatter of plates and the soft hiss of the coffee maker filled the air as he prepared toast, its edges crisping to a golden brown, and scrambled eggs with quick, practiced motions.
Steam curled from the mugs as he poured the coffee, the rich aroma mingling with the buttery scent of the food.
They sat across from each other, plates clinking softly as they settled in, trading bits of superhero gossip—news of a villain bust downtown, a hero sidelined with severe burns.
Harris sipped his coffee, his voice dropping low and thoughtful. They discussed about the latest happening’s "Team’s scrambling with more villains appearing—need every edge."
Kael nodded, his fork pausing mid-bite, his mind only half on the conversation. His thoughts kept drifting to the closed door, to the woman behind it, and the gamble he’d staked so much on.
Minutes ticked by, each one stretching longer than the last, until the door finally swung open. A heavy pause hung in the air, thick with anticipation, before Rhea stepped out.
The costume clung to her frame like a second skin, orange and black fabric hugging her curves with unrelenting precision.
It stretched taut over her hips, dipped sharply at her waist, and framed her broad, fierce shoulders, accentuating every line of her powerful build. The mask dangled loosely in her hand, ignored for now, as her crimson hair spilled wild and untamed down her back.
Her scowl was immediate, her voice sharp and biting as she stalked forward. "I hate this thing—looks stupid, feels worse."
Kael grinned, leaning casually against the table, his tone light and coaxing. "It’s just a few hours—you’ll be back soon."
Harris, still seated, watched her approach, his eyes widening slightly, surprise etching itself into the hard lines of his face. If someone had told him yesterday that a supervillain could switch sides, he’d have laughed—stop joking—and dismissed it outright.
But Kael’s call last night had been unwavering: Flame-Warden’s an asset, put the bias aside, see the potential.
Harris had doubted, certain it was a con, expecting Rhea to play Kael for a fool and bury a knife in his back the first chance she got.
Yet here she stood, her scowl fierce but her presence steady, and the easy way Kael bantered with her hinted at something real.
Years of experience whispered to Harris that she had a soft spot for Kael, a flicker of trust buried beneath the fire, and he clung to that fragile hope, praying this dream of reform wasn’t just a mirage.
He rose to his feet, towering over the room, his suit still pristine despite the Haven’s grit, and faced Rhea head-on. His voice boomed, authoritative and bossy, cutting through the tension.
"I’m Harris—your overseer now. Your hero name’s Flame Lantern and you start from B rank."
Rhea’s glare snapped to him, her amber eyes scorching with disdain, her lips twisting into a sneer. "Flame Lantern? I hate it—sounds like a damn candle."
Harris didn’t flinch, his voice hardening like steel. "It’s what you’re called—like it or lump it. Cross me, and you’ll face consequences you won’t walk away from."
She rolled her eyes, planting her hands on her hips, the costume creaking faintly under the motion. "Okay, okay—enough with the threats already. I get it."
Harris’s stare lingered, assessing her with a cold, calculating intensity, then he nodded curtly to Kael and stepped back, giving them space. 𝔫𝖔𝖛𝖕𝖚𝔟.𝖈𝖔𝔪
Kael moved closer, his fingers brushing the collar around Rhea’s neck—a thin, tech-laden band that had kept her powers in check.
His breath caught in his throat, a silent prayer that his fears would stay buried as he clicked it open with a soft ’click’.
The moment it released, flames erupted in her hands, orange and fierce, licking the air with a sudden, wild intensity..
