Rehab for SuperVillains (18+)-Chapter 291: distant

Lital nodded, her black eyes distant for a moment, lost in memory.

Kael felt something tighten in his chest.

This wasn’t just some hideout or lair, a temporary bolt-hole.

This was personal—roots buried deep in the soil of her past.

"Come," she said, tugging him gently forward, her black fingernails grazing his skin in a light, possessive touch.

She gave him a quiet tour, room by room, her steps light and reverent, as if walking through a museum of her own life.

Each one small, functional, but clean now under her power’s touch—lived-in echoes of simpler times, beds with faded quilts, shelves lined with dusty knick-knacks that she brushed clean with a wave of shadow.

In the corner of a modest bedroom, she pulled out a small bookshelf tucked between a dresser and a curtain-draped window, the wood groaning faintly as she reached for a volume.

From it, she took a worn book, handling it with care, her black fingernails tracing the spine like a lover’s caress.

The cover was faded, the pages yellowed with age, but it was intact, the title embossed in gold that had dulled but not vanished.

The Princess and the Hidden Prince.

Lital ran her fingers across the cover reverently, her black lips parting in a soft sigh.

"This is the only thing I took with me from the orphanage," she said, her voice quiet, almost fragile. "This book... was everything to me. A escape when the walls closed in."

Kael watched her sit on the bed, the book resting in her lap like a sacred relic, her long black hair falling over one shoulder as she opened it carefully.

"I used to read it every night," she said, her eyes tracing the faded illustrations. "Even when I could barely understand the words, sounding them out in the dark. There was something about the prince—how he saw the real girl behind the cursed form, the monster she became under the moon. How he stayed with her even when she turned monstrous, claws and all."

Kael remained quiet, standing in the doorway, letting her words wash over him.

Lital looked at him, her black eyes shimmering faintly. "He was the one I dreamed about. Not the boy from the stories, but the man. The one who wouldn’t run, who saw the curse and loved anyway."

She stood then, closing the book with a soft snap, and beckoned him to follow, her affectionate smile returning as she looped her arm through his once more.

They stepped onto the back porch, the wood groaning faintly beneath their feet, the air cooler here, scented with pine and earth.

"I used to sit here with Lila," she said, her voice softer now, gazing out at the trees. "Just the two of us, under the stars or in the rain. We’d talk about the prince. And what would happen when we grew up. Would we still live together? Would someone love us? Could someone love... us? The fractured pieces, the shadows that wouldn’t fade."

Kael’s chest grew tighter with every word, the vulnerability in her tone cutting through his defenses. These weren’t threats, weren’t lines meant to seduce or manipulate.

They were memories—lost pieces of a girl who never really had a childhood, pieced together in this quiet place.

And then, they returned inside, the tour winding down as the weight of the past settled over them.

The living room was cozy, with an old fabric couch parked in front of a dusty TV set, the fabric worn but inviting, like it remembered every late night and quiet afternoon.

Lital sat first, sinking into the cushions like she’d never left, her dress pooling around her like spilled ink.

She patted the space beside her, her black lips curving in a gentle invitation.

Kael joined reluctantly, the couch dipping under his weight as he sat, the closeness feeling both comforting and confining.

"This couch," she said, her head tilting slightly, her long black hair brushing his arm, "is where I spent the most time. I’d read here. Cry here. Heal here, stitching myself back together after the bad days."

Kael looked at her, the shadows in the room gentler now—still present, curling lazily around the edges, but calm, like tired animals resting at her feet.

"My dream," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath, "was that if I ever found him... the prince... we’d sit here."

She leaned her head against his shoulder, gently, her black fingernails tracing idle patterns on his knee in an affectionate touch.

"Not a palace. Not a tower. Just here. Watching something stupid on TV. Maybe pudding in hand. Safe from the world outside."

Kael didn’t speak, didn’t pull away.

He didn’t know what to say, the intimacy of the moment wrapping around him like her shadows.

This wasn’t the monster he feared, the force that had torn through enemies with ruthless precision.

It wasn’t even the dominant woman who’d kissed him breathless, claiming him in the heat of her rebirth.

This was a scarred girl wrapped in a goddess’s form—vulnerable, yearning, her affection a balm over old wounds.

And somehow, that made her even more dangerous, her sincerity a chain he wasn’t sure he wanted to break.

_________

Freya shut the closet door with a frustrated thump, the sound echoing in the half-empty room like a final note of defeat.

"Nothing," she muttered, her platinum-cyan hair catching the dim light as she turned, her blue eyes scanning the space with a mix of irritation and determination.

Her tall frame, busty yet toned, loomed with composed authority, but the tension in her jaw betrayed her frustration.

Rhea leaned on the twin-sized bed, her arms crossed tightly over her white tank top, the fabric clinging to her curvy figure, her crimson wavy hair spilling over her shoulders.

Her amber eyes glinted with barely restrained impatience.

"Same here. No maps, no notes, no diagrams. Nothing hidden in the mattress. It’s like they wiped everything clean... assuming there was ever anything here to begin with."

Freya looked around the room again—still the same from when Tila and Lila had last lived there, but hollow now, stripped of personality.

"She’s smart," Freya said, sighing, her voice low and measured. "Lital. She’s not leaving trails—not ones we can follow easily."

Rhea stood, brushing imaginary dust off her black pants, her movements sharp and restless. "Yeah. But we still need to try. Sitting here won’t find Kael."

They walked back down the hall in silence, their footsteps muffled on the hardwood, the villa’s quiet pressing in around them like a held breath.

In the living room, both pulled on their jackets for disguise which Liss gave them—sleek black combat-casual with tactical lining, designed for mobility and protection.

Freya adjusted her collar, her composed demeanor settling into place like armor.

Rhea pulled her crimson hair into a high, tight ponytail, her fingers deft as she slipped a metallic mask attachment over her lower face.

Both moved like muscle memory—well-practiced, efficient, fast, their synergy honed a little too much from days of working together.

They weren’t just searching anymore.

They were hunting, their resolve sharpened to a fine edge.

Outside, the driveway gleamed beneath a gray sky, clouds heavy with the promise of rain. Parked at the edge was their ride.

The Zephyr-X9.

Jet black, with an obsidian sheen that drank in the light.

Curves blended with luxury sport lines, a beast engineered for speed and impact, its low hum a quiet threat even at rest.

Freya was just about to open the passenger door when they both heard it—

Honk.

A short, crisp sound, cutting through the quiet like a warning shot.

They froze, their bodies snapping to attention.

It came from the gates outside, just beyond the villa’s perimeter.

Freya and Rhea exchanged a brief glance.

Rhea’s palm flared with a subtle pulse of energy, amber light flickering briefly before she tamped it down, ready to unleash if needed.

They moved toward the villa’s entrance with measured steps, their boots silent on the stone path, senses alert for any sign of threat.

A sleek white sedan was parked just outside the black iron gates, its pristine surface gleaming under the overcast sky.

Minimalist.

Almost clinical in its cleanliness, the kind of vehicle that stood out by trying not to.

The tinted windows rolled down slowly.

Behind the wheel sat a striking woman with snow-white hair, tied in a loose but high ponytail that spilled over her shoulder.

Her sunglasses were slim, silver-edged, reflecting the villa’s facade like twin mirrors.

A white medical coat hung off her shoulders over a sleek graphite-gray turtleneck and pencil skirt, her attire professional yet sharp, accentuating her busty figure.

Her lips, painted a muted crimson, curved into a faint, unreadable smile.

"Clara?" Rhea said aloud, her amber eyes narrowing as recognition hit, her tone a mix of surprise and suspicion.

The woman’s smile widened slightly, calm and composed. "Hello, girls."

Freya’s blue eyes narrowed, her posture stiffening as she took a step forward. "What are you doing here?"