Kael tiptoed away from the sofa, the Haven’s soft creaks hushed beneath his cautious steps.
Rhea’s steady breathing trailed him, her blanket-draped form bathed in the TV’s faint glow.
He slipped into his bedroom, easing the door shut with a quiet click, and pulled his phone from his pocket.
The screen’s light pierced the dimness as he dialed Harris’s number, leaning against his cluttered desk—scattered notes, a cold coffee mug, and a crumpled wrapper testament to a long day.
The line buzzed once, twice, then connected. "Drayce?" Harris’s voice rumbled through.
"Thank you, Harris," Kael said, his tone soft but heartfelt, a smile tugging at his lips.
Harris chuckled, a rough, warm sound. "No need. She saved my team out there—Silk Siren’d be a goner without her. Gator Grip and Titan Pulse too, if they’d pulled through."
"You could’ve dropped that robot in a minute," Kael pointed out, pacing a slow circle in the tight space. "But you handed Rhea the reins."
"More like I shoved ’em on her," Harris laughed, the sound crackling over the line. "Also, she whines like it’s her damn calling."
Kael grinned, Rhea’s scowl flashing in his mind. "How’d she mesh with the team?"
"They’re sold—think she’s a hero straight out of a comic after that firestorm. Rhea, though? Pretty sure she doesn’t even remember their names."
"Yeah, that’s Rhea," Kael said, fondness lacing his words, a hint of amusement bubbling up.
"How’s she doing now?" Harris asked, curiosity threading through his fatigue.
Kael glanced toward the door, picturing her sprawled out there. "She was obsessed with her interview footage—rewinding it like a fiend—till she passed out on my shoulder a few minutes ago." His smile softened, tinged with quiet pride.
Harris barked a laugh. "Classic. You keeping it hush that the media was your move?"
"Yeah," Kael said, dropping his voice as if Rhea might overhear through the walls. "Please don’t spill it."
"Hey, my mouth’s shut," Harris assured him. "But I can’t keep cashing favors to drag the press out every time she throws a punch. They barely glance at low-ranks unless it’s dead quiet."
"Every now and then’s fine," Kael replied, raking a hand through his hair. "She just needs a nudge in the spotlight—something positive to build on."
Harris paused, his tone turning serious. "I see potential in her, Drayce. Big potential. A-class, maybe S-class, and quick—if she gets the right steer."
"I think so too," Kael agreed, nodding to the empty room. "She’s strong, I saw her."
"She’s a solid add to the team," Harris said. "She coming back tomorrow?"
Kael hesitated, eyes flicking to the closed door. "Dunno. Depends on her mood tomorrow."
Harris snorted. "Let me know, then."
"Will do. Good night, Harris."
"Night, Drayce."
The line cut with a beep, and Kael set the phone down, the room falling into a stillness broken only by the fridge’s distant hum.
___________
The Haven glowed softly in the morning’s gray light, a faint chill threading through the air as Kael shuffled out of his bedroom, blinking sleep away. He stopped short, mid-stretch, at the sight of Rhea at the dining table, spoon buried in a chocolate pudding.
Her superhero costume clung to her frame, dark fabric still slightly damp at the edges from a shower, her hair hanging wet and tousled around her shoulders.
Her mask sat discarded on the table, a sleek black shape beside the pudding container, leaving her amber eyes unguarded—sharp, warm, and faintly tired.
"Morning," he said, voice rough with sleep. "You’re up weirdly early."
Rhea glanced up, spoon scraping the bowl’s edge. "Morning," she replied, her amber gaze flicking to him briefly before dropping back to her treat. She scooped the last bit of chocolate, popping it into her mouth with a quiet hum.
Kael smirked, crossing to the counter. "Ready for another day as a superhero?"
She snorted, tossing the empty container onto the table with a soft thud, the mask wobbling beside it. "Like I’ve got a choice. You’re dragging me into this mess."
He didn’t argue, just shrugged as he rummaged for breakfast supplies.
"True enough. I’ll whip up some food—Harris’ll come grab you soon." He pulled eggs and bread from the fridge, the clatter of a skillet hitting the stove breaking the quiet.
Rhea nodded, scraping the pudding lid for stray smudges. "Get me more of these," she said, jabbing her spoon toward him,
Kael grinned over his shoulder, cracking an egg with a sizzle. "Only if you kick ass out there today. Earn it, Flame-Lantern."
She rolled her amber eyes, the gesture sharp without the mask’s frame, but didn’t snap back. The Haven settled into a comfortable hum—eggs frying, coffee brewing—until Rhea broke it again, her voice softer. "How’s it going with Freya?"
Kael flipped the eggs, his smile fading into something pensive. "She’s a tough nut to crack. Too much locked up in there—stubborn as hell." He glanced at her, catching the glint in her amber stare. "Reminds me of someone."
Rhea paused, spoon hovering, then smirked faintly. "Good luck with her, then." Her tone carried a rare warmth, quickly buried as she resumed her scraping.
"Thanks," Kael said, plating the eggs with toast and sliding the pan aside. He grabbed his phone from the counter, thumbing a quick message to Harris: Pick Rhea up in an hour or two.
He hit send, the faint whoosh of the text blending with the coffee maker’s gurgle, then pocketed the device and joined her at the table with his mug—black, steaming, a morning ritual.
Rhea poked at her toast, then muttered, "This costume’s weird. Hideous."
Kael took a sip, green eyes glinting over the rim with mischief. "Nah, you looked sexy in it."
Her head snapped up, amber eyes narrowing as a faint blush crept across her unmasked face. "Quit the sarcasm, Kael. It’s a skin-tight nightmare—covers everything."
He set the mug down, leaning forward with a grin that teetered on dangerous. "Wasn’t sarcasm. That thing sticks to your curves like a second skin—sexy as hell. Hell, I’d do you right here on this table in a second if you’d let me." His voice danced between tease and dare, mocking yet edged with something real, testing her.
Rhea’s glare wavered, her amber eyes flickering—surprise, maybe, or a spark of something deeper. She didn’t shove him off, didn’t snap like usual. Her blush deepened, creeping down her neck, and her voice came low, steady, a challenge woven into it. "We have got some time until my breakfast’s ready. Prove it."
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