Rehab for SuperVillains (18+)

Chapter 59: 59

Dinner time rolled around, the Haven’s soft glow casting long shadows as the door creaked open.

Rhea trudged in, her shoulders sagging beneath the weight of exhaustion, her collar stayed put.

Her costume—once a sleek emblem of heroism—was streaked with grime, flecked with something viscous and green, and reeking like a sewer had declared war on her personally.

Kael looked up from the kitchen, a wooden spoon in hand, stirring something that actually smelled edible. He grinned. "Hey, hero. You look like you got mugged by a garbage truck."

She kicked off her boots with a wet squelch, flopping into the nearest chair like a puppet whose strings had been cut. Her amber eyes were rimmed with fatigue, her voice rasped. "Hey. I’m beat. What’s for dinner?"

Kael’s nose wrinkled theatrically as he gave her a once-over. "Depends. Do I want to eat near someone who smells like rotten eggs mushed with expired cheese stuffed in a sock which hasn’t been washed for years?... Shower first, then we’ll talk."

She scrunched her face into a tired, exaggerated pout. "It’s not my fault. We fought this weird-ass monster today. Some sewer-dwelling freak called himself Crocy. Fucking crocodile-man hybrid thing. Kept popping up whenever he got hungry—snatching kids, eating trash, stealing bikes. Caught him chewing on some poor kid’s tricycle like it was jerky."

Kael blinked. "You’re serious?"

"I wish I wasn’t," Rhea groaned, raking a hand through her tangled hair. "Guy smelled like sewage and despair."

He laughed, turning back to stir the bubbling stew—beef, potatoes, carrots, the faint aroma of thyme filling the air like a warm hug.

"Shower. Now. Use soap. Then use more. Maybe set yourself on fire a little for good measure."

Rhea pushed herself upright with a grunt, dragging her feet toward her room. At the door, she paused and glanced back, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Wanna join me? Wash my back?"

Kael snorted, unamused. "That smell killed whatever inappropriate thoughts I might’ve had. Scrub till you’re human again, then maybe I’ll consider it."

Rolling her eyes, she muttered something about ungrateful people and disappeared inside.

A beat later, the sound of the shower hissed to life, mingling with the quiet simmer of stew and the creak of a tired house exhaling into the evening.

Kael plated two servings of stew—thick, hearty, packed with tender chunks of meat, soft carrots, and buttery potatoes—then grabbed a third, balanced it carefully, and made his way to Freya’s room.

He nudged open a door with his elbow.

Freya lay curled up on her bed, swaddled in a blanket like a cocoon.

Her platinum-cyan hair spilled across the pillow in a sleek curtain, catching what little light crept through the blinds.

Maybe she was sulking.

Maybe just ashamed after the disaster that was lunch.

Kael stepped in without comment, the smell of stew drifting with him. He set the plate on the edge of the bed, letting the scent of slow-cooked comfort do some of the talking for him.

"Dinner’s up," he said casually, keeping his tone light. "And hey—no shame in what happened earlier. Honestly, I had fun with the real Freya."

It was a jab, teasing, meant to break the tension.

But she didn’t bite.

No flinch. No groan.

Just silence—heavy, but not quite empty. A kind of waiting.

Kael sighed and shrugged, turning for the door. "Suit yourself."

"Tomorrow," Freya rasped, her voice barely above a whisper—but sharp, unyielding.

He paused, hand on the doorframe. "Tomorrow?"

"We’re having a rematch." She didn’t raise her head, but her voice carried steel.

Not a request. A declaration.

Kael looked back at her, a slow grin spreading across his face.

"Alright then. But prepare yourself." He leaned into the doorway, cocky now. "I’m not going easy on you. Again."

He let the door close with a soft click, the echo sealing her in with her stubbornness, her silence. He couldn’t help but smile for what he had planned for her the next day.

Back in the kitchen, Rhea emerged, fresh from the shower, her damp hair clinging to her neck.

She wore a loose, faded t-shirt that hung just past her hips, nothing below but black panties peeking out whenever she stretched, the fabric riding up to flash smooth skin and a hint of curve.

Kael glanced over, setting bowls on the table, and smirked. "No pants again? I bought you pajamas, you know—actual clothes."

Rhea flopped into a chair, stretching her arms overhead, the t-shirt lifting to bare her toned thighs and the edge of her panties.

"Panties are comfy," she said, shrugging. "And you’ve seen me naked a few times already—what’s the point in hiding now?"

Kael chuckled, ladling stew into her bowl.

"Fair. A few more peeks, and you’ll be roaming around stark naked, huh?"

She grinned, a tired but playful glint in her amber eyes. "Maybe. Keep staring, and we’ll see."

They dug in, the stew warm and hearty, spoons clinking as Rhea launched into her day.

"So, this Crocy thing—big, scaly fucker, like ten feet long, tail thrashing like a whip. We tracked him to this alley—stank worse than me—where he’d dragged some kid’s tricycle, gnawing on it like a chew toy. The spandex guy spotted him first, all ’Flame-Lantern, torch it!’ but I held off, scoping him out. Bastard lunged at me, jaws snapping, slime dripping everywhere—got a good burn on his snout before the hairy lady webbed his legs up. Took three of us to pin him, thrashing and hissing, scales tough as hell. I had my fire ready—full blast, right at his ugly mug—when the lizard guy yelled, ’He’s done! He surrendered!’"

Kael raised an eyebrow, chewing slowly. "Surrendered?"

"Yeah," Rhea scoffed, stabbing her stew with her spoon. "Curled up like a damn puppy, whimpering. Team said no need to kill him—detain him, hand him over to the authorities. Fucking idiots—I was this close to roasting him. He’s a kid-eater, Kael—why let him live?"

Kael leaned back, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips. "Sounds like someone I know. Everyone thought this one villain wouldn’t change—total lost cause. And now look—she’s sitting here, eating my stew, playing hero."

Rhea froze, spoon halfway to her mouth, her amber eyes narrowing as his jab sank in. She huffed, looking away, a faint flush creeping up her neck. "Shut up," she muttered, but her lips twitched, fighting a grin.

He chuckled, hazel eyes glinting with mischief. "Speechless, huh? Rare sight."

They bantered on, the mood lightening—until she reached into her discarded jacket, pulling out a crumpled envelope. "Oh, Harris gave me this for you," she said, sliding it across the table.

Kael picked it up, turning it over, the seal intact. "You didn’t open it?"

"Tempted," she admitted, leaning forward, chin in her hand. "But then I figured—why deal with your whining after? Open it now—I wanna see."

He smirked, tearing the edge with a slow rip, her amber eyes locked on him, curiosity burning through her exhaustion.