Cold water ran down Kael’s shoulders in harsh rivulets, biting into his skin, waking up every sore muscle the twins had left him with.
The steam barely clung to the air, evaporating too fast to soften the sting. He stood still in the shower’s dim light, head tilted forward, hands braced on the wet tile.
His hazel eyes were narrowed, thoughts drifting—no, spiraling.
Freya and Rhea.
Were they in love with him—obsessively so? Or was it sothing else?
Jealousy? Competition?
He couldn’t tell anymore.
He used to read them like open books.
Freya, always composed and in control, cold and precise like a scalpel. Rhea, impulsive and wild, a wildfire waiting for a spark.
But now they were... off.
Unpredictable.
Ever since they’d beco close—friends, allies—sothing had shifted.
Rhea followed Freya like a shadow, always a step behind her, always watching.
Like she wasn’t just a teammate now, but sothing more, like a little sister chasing her idol.
And maybe, for the city, that shift was a win.
Two villains, no longer at each other’s throats, now working together. It is a net positive for civilians.
But for him?
It was a trap.
A beautiful, dangerous, sex-drenched trap.
If another hero joined their team—especially soone like Lila—he’d be boxed in.
Outnumbered. Controlled.
Not by orders or brute force, but through heat and psychology.
He could already feel it—the tug of loyalty, the weight of expectation, the slow-burning power shift that happened when people started believing they had you.
He couldn’t let that happen.
Even if it looked like they were in charge—riding him, draining him, owning him—he had to keep the reins.
Let them think they ruled the room, that he was theirs.
Give them the illusion of control, the crown, the throne—even as he pulled the strings behind it all.
Because the truth?
They only acted wild.
They wanted control, sure, but deep down, they still bent to his will. Proof?
Just today, they’d gone after the Gale couple on their own—he gave them no order, no mission briefing. He hadn’t even said the word.
They’d acted on instinct.
His instinct. His plan.
Yesterday, when they ca back empty-handed, they weren’t casual about it.
They didn’t laugh it off like it was a casual ss up at job.
They were pissed. Focused. Frustrated. They wanted a win.
Like heroes.
They were becoming what he needed them to be.
Two fewer threats on the villain registry.
Two new forces in the hero community. And all of it—every bit—because of him.
His lips curled slightly at the thought.
If he could pull Lila in—get her to trust him, follow him—that would seal it.
Her shadow manipulation with Freya’s ice and Rhea’s fire?
That team would be untouchable.
Not just powerful, but balanced. A force that didn’t need the lilight. Didn’t chase endorsents or televised glory.
They’d fight for the fight itself.
Hell, they were all rich enough to ignore the noise. And with him at the center?
The mastermind behind the so-called B-class hero turning A-class villains into loyal weapons?
That idea made his chest tighten, a rush of thrill shooting up his spine.
Forbidden.
Dangerous.
Irresistible.
He stood under the water a mont longer, cold spray hamring his skin, heart pounding like he’d just dodged a villain’s deathblow.
Maybe it was the chill that gave him goosebumps.
Or maybe it was the raw, undeniable high of manipulation done right.
He shut the water off.
Silence crashed in.
Kael stepped out, grabbed a towel, and scrubbed himself dry.
His muscles ached with every movent.
His reflection in the fogged mirror was a blur—just vague outlines and fire behind his eyes.
He pulled on a fresh t-shirt and jeans, the cotton soft against his still-damp skin.
Then he walked down the hallway, floorboards groaning faintly under his steps, until he reached Tila’s door.
He knocked once—quick, casual—and pushed it open without waiting.
It creaked.
And ti froze.
Tila was mid-change—topless, half-bent, her tight black pants halfway pulled up her thighs, her toned fra caught in motion.
Her skin glowed in the warm light of the room, soft but strong, the subtle curve of her waist, the rise of her breasts—all laid bare in an instant.
Her black eyes went wide.
"Kael, what the fuck!?" she shouted, grabbing a nearby shirt and yanking it over her chest.
Her cheeks flad red, hair bouncing as she moved, muscles tightening instinctively.
The air cracked with her energy.
A pillow flew at him—fast, silent, precise.
"Sorry!" he blurted, slamming the door shut just in ti.
Thump.
The pillow smacked against the wood behind him, muffled but firm.
Kael stood in the hallway, heartbeat hamring in his ears.
The image of her—toned, petite, bare—was burned behind his eyes.
Graceful. Unexpected. Real.
He looked down.
Still hard.
Despite Freya and Rhea draining him dry this morning, despite the cold shower, despite everything—his cock was stiff, pushing against the front of his jeans like it hadn’t been touched in days.
He huffed a soft laugh.
"Well," he muttered, glancing down with a half-smirk, "guess you’re not so easy to break after all."
He nodded once in silent respect to his persistent, defiant ’little brother,’ pride flaring for its stubborn fire.
The Haven creaked quietly around him, but Kael didn’t move.
His thoughts flickered—Tila’s reaction, Lila’s distance, the psychic echo between them.
He was tightening the ga, step by step. He could feel it.
The thrill hadn’t faded.
It was just getting started.
____________
A few minutes later, Kael found himself standing outside Tila’s door again, towel-damp hair sticking to his forehead, heartbeat still lightly pounding from earlier.
He raised a knuckle and knocked.
Knock Knock
"Can I co in now?" he asked through the door.
"No!" Tila snapped from inside, voice sharp, full of warning.
He opened the door anyway.
Tila stood near her bed, fully dressed this ti, but glaring daggers at him—eyes black as coal, sharp enough to kill.
If looks could stab, he’d already be on the floor, bleeding out.
Updat𝓮d from freew𝒆bnov𝒆l.co(m)
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