Rehab for SuperVillains (18+)-Chapter 274: Earlier that day 3

Kael didn’t move, his arms steady around her, the warmth of his embrace a quiet fortress against the vulnerability blooming between them.

Lila didn’t either, her body pressed against his, her curls tickling his neck as they just stood there, arms around each other, breathing in quiet tandem. The silence stretched—thick and fragile, like a web of glass threads, ready to shatter at the slightest breath.

"I was right to come to you for help," Lila said finally, her voice so soft it trembled at the edges, carrying the weight of years unspoken.

Kael let out a faint breath, his hazel eyes distant for a moment, reflecting the sunlight that slanted through the window. "I guess you were."

"That was the first time," she murmured, her words muffled against his shirt, laced with a raw honesty that made his chest ache. "The first time I ever asked anyone for help."

His throat tightened, a knot forming that he couldn’t swallow down easily, the gravity of her confession sinking in like stones in still water. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

"I’m honored," he said simply, his voice low and sincere, no flourish needed in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Lila’s arms curled tighter around his back, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as if anchoring herself to him. "Tila... she’s been through so much."

"I know," Kael said, his tone gentle but firm, his hand moving in slow, soothing circles along her spine. "I’ve seen it in her scars. The ones on her body—faded lines from battles long past. The ones she never lets anyone see—the shadows in her eyes, the flinches at unexpected sounds."

"Please," Lila said, her voice cracking slightly, a plea that echoed with desperation. "Don’t abandon her."

Kael didn’t hesitate, his hazel eyes steady even as he held her. "I won’t."

He shifted his grip just slightly, pressing her closer—less to comfort her now and more to anchor her, to remind her that she wasn’t alone in this unraveling.

"I’ll look after her, Lila," he said, firm, his words a vow etched in the air between them. "As long as she lets me. As long as she needs me."

Lila didn’t respond at first, her breath warm against his chest, the silence heavy with unspoken fears.

Then, quietly: "What... will happen to me?"

Kael closed his eyes for a moment, the question hanging like a blade, his own uncertainties mirroring hers.

"I don’t know," he admitted, his voice raw, honest in its helplessness.

She nodded against his chest, a small movement, accepting the unknown with a quiet grace.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry, and said, "I hope... your memories stay."

Lila looked up, confused for a heartbeat, her black eyes searching his—and then she saw the emotion in his hazel gaze. It wasn’t about the truth of who she was, the fractured identity born from trauma. It wasn’t about labels or shadows.

It was about her.

The Lila who smiled at him over breakfast, her laughter light and teasing as she passed him a plate. The one curled up on the couch with a book, lost in pages while the world faded away. The Lila who made his tea with too much sugar, knowing it made him smile despite his protests. The one who left sticky notes by his door with soft reminders—simple things like "Don’t forget to rest" or a doodled heart.

He was thinking about her.

The version of her that wasn’t born in blood or shadow—but in quiet mornings and shared silence and pudding cups left in the fridge with his name on them, small acts of care that wove them together.

"...I hope so too," she whispered, her black eyes shimmering, a soft vulnerability breaking through.

There was a pause.

A long one, filled with the subtle sounds of the villa—the distant hum of wind through the trees, the faint creak of settling wood.

Then Lila said, "It’s weird."

Kael tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing. "What is?"

She didn’t lift her eyes, her gaze fixed on his collar, tracing the threads as if they held answers.

"For the first time," she said, her voice barely audible, "I feel scared."

Kael didn’t reply right away, letting the admission settle, understanding the depth of what it meant for someone like her—someone who had always been the shield.

He didn’t need to rush words into the space.

"I can make it go away," he said gently, his hand cupping the back of her head. "If you want."

But Lila shook her head, her curls brushing his skin. "No. I want it to stay."

Her voice was small, barely above breath, fragile in its honesty.

"If it goes away... then what we had would feel like a lie."

Kael said nothing, his hazel eyes softening as he absorbed her words, the truth of them resonating deep within him.

Her arms tightened around him—desperate, clinging, not with fear, but with something even more raw.

Something human—connection, longing, the quiet ache of letting go while holding on.

And Kael held her as long as she needed, the sunlight shifting across the room, time suspending in their shared embrace.

________

NOW

"AAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

The scream tore through the villa like a blade.

Freya’s head snapped up instantly from her seat in the living room.

Rhea, who had just exited the kitchen with a glass of water, dropped it—glass shattering, water pooling at her feet.

They didn’t speak.

They ran.

Down the hall. Past the sunlit windows.

The scream came from Lila’s room.

Freya reached the door first.

She didn’t knock. She pushed it open.

Rhea was right behind her.

What they saw froze them both.

Lila was in the center of the room—on the bed, writhing, struggling—her breath ragged, cheeks wet, pupils wild with fear.

Her wrists were shackled.

Twice.

Thick iron cuffs wrapped her wrists and ankles.

As if one set wasn’t enough to hold her.

Her legs were pulled tight together, bound at the thighs, the cuffs linked with short chain lengths that barely allowed movement.

And on her neck—two power suppressing collars.