Rehab for SuperVillains (18+)-Chapter 288: silent

They both stood silent for a beat, the weight of the realization settling over them like a storm cloud.

Then Rhea repeated, "Where’s Liss?"

Freya dialed Liss’s number and called her.

"Nothing?"

"She’s not picking up."

Rhea crossed her arms, her posture stiffening. "That’s not like her either. Liss doesn’t go silent, not when it’s about Kael."

Freya’s gaze narrowed, her mind racing through possibilities, none of them good.

"This whole thing feels wrong, keep calling her," she said, her voice low, a thread of worry weaving through the anger.

Rhea used her phone to call Kael but his phone was in not reachable.

What the fuck!

Elsewhere...

Liss stood alone on a rooftop, the wind ruffling her jacket, tugging at the loose strands of her hair.

Her arms were crossed, one hand sparking idly with faint arcs of electricity as she stared out over the city, the skyline a jagged silhouette against the fading light.

Another call buzzed on her phone, vibrating against the metal ledge where it rested.

Freya.

She ignored it, her jaw tight, her blue eyes scanning the horizon for any sign, any flicker of shadow or movement.

It buzzed again.

Rhea.

She turned the phone face-down against the ledge, the vibration muffled, and closed her eyes, letting out a slow breath.

Her body was tense—alert, every muscle coiled like a spring.

She could still feel the shadows lingering in the air like fingerprints on glass, faint traces of Lital’s power that hadn’t fully dissipated.

Lital had moved Kael off the grid, that much was clear—snatched him from under her nose, leaving no trace but a shattered cube and a sinking feeling in her gut.

And Liss wasn’t about to let him vanish without a trace, not when she’d sworn to keep him safe.

The phone buzzed again, a long, vibrating pulse that grated on her nerves.

Another call.

This time, she picked it up without looking, her fingers closing around the device with a grip that crackled faintly with static.

She brought it to her ear, her voice low, controlled, but edged with barely restrained fury.

"...Hello."

________

Kael sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck, the lingering warmth of Lital’s embrace still tingling on his skin.

The shadows had receded for now, retreating like obedient pets, and the bed released its subtle grip, the sheets no longer clinging to him with their faint pulse of her power.

Lital—calm, composed—slid off the mattress in one fluid motion, her bare feet silent against the black-wood floor.

Her sleeveless dress shimmered with soft movement, the ink-like fabric catching the dim light like liquid night.

"Come," she said, her voice low and inviting, already walking ahead with a grace that felt both natural and commanding.

Kael hesitated, his hazel eyes scanning the unfamiliar room, but he followed, his boots heavy against the polished floor.

The hallway was unfamiliar, all sleek lines and soft curves, the walls exuding an ambient glow with no clear source—no bulbs, no fixtures, just a warm, indirect light that seemed to emanate from the structure itself.

It was beautiful, a kind of elegance that felt crafted rather than built.

And unsettling, like stepping into a dream that wasn’t his.

The kitchen was sleek and sharp—black counters gleaming under the glow, matte cabinets blending seamlessly into the dark marble floor, polished to a mirror-like sheen.

It was a space that felt both modern and timeless, as if it belonged to her in a way that defied explanation.

Kael leaned awkwardly against the counter, his hands shoved into his pockets, watching as Lital moved with strange elegance.

She didn’t need to look at what she was doing—ingredients drifted to her hands as if summoned, guided by thin tendrils of shadow that cracked eggs with precision, stirred batter with a gentle swirl, heated pans with a faint hum of her power.

It was effortless, almost casual, like an extension of her breath.

He watched, silent, as she prepared a full spread—toast, eggs scrambled to a perfect golden fluff, sautéed greens vibrant against the dark plates.

And then, with deliberate care, she began preparing something else.

Chocolate pudding.

Kael blinked, the sight pulling a memory from the depths of his mind.

"You remembered," he muttered, his voice soft, almost reluctant to acknowledge the gesture.

Lital didn’t look at him as she worked, her hands steady as she stirred the pudding, but her lips curved upward just slightly, a quiet acknowledgment. "Of course, this is my recipe."

A few minutes later, they sat on a long couch by a wide window, the tray balanced on her lap.

Kael still couldn’t figure out where this place was.

Every time he looked outside, the scenery seemed unfamiliar, with no clues to his location.

He leaned slightly to the right, trying to peer through the nearest window, squinting to make sense of the distorted view.

Instantly, thick shadow tendrils rose and closed it off, the curtains snapping shut like jaws, sealing the outside world away.

All the windows followed suit—smothered in shadow, the glow in the room dimming as if the house itself obeyed her will.

Kael froze, his breath catching.

Lital, seated beside him, didn’t raise her voice, didn’t even look up from the tray. But her black eyes glowed faintly as she said, "Stop trying to figure it out."

"...Sorry," Kael said, his voice tight, settling back against the couch.

She dipped the spoon into the pudding and offered it to him.

He opened his mouth without arguing, the rich, slightly bitter chocolate melting on his tongue, the texture smooth and perfect, just as he remembered from those moments with Lila.

Then she took a spoonful herself, using the same spoon.

Her black lips closed delicately around the edge, her black-painted fingernails wrapping around the handle with silent grace, the motion slow and intimate, her eyes never leaving his.

The tendrils hadn’t left him alone—not for a second.

They snaked across his shoulders, brushed his thighs with a feather-light touch, looped gently around his wrist—not binding, not aggressive, just there, a constant reminder of her presence.

Lital didn’t seem to notice—or perhaps she did, and wanted him to feel it, to know she was everywhere.