Chapter 25: Freya 2
The kitchen still rang with the clatter of breakfast plates as Kael and Rhea shoved back from the table, bellies full but joints creaking like old hinges.
Kael stretched first, rolling his shoulders until the bruises along his jaw pulsed a dull ache—souvenirs from yesterday's dust-ups. He cracked his knuckles with a satisfying pop, shaking out the stiffness.
Rhea mirrored him, yawning loud enough to wake the dead, her spine twisting as her t-shirt shifted over baggy pajama pants. Crimson hair swung wild, a chaotic halo around her smirking face.
The workers were done, cleaning up the mess and had patched the doors and walls neatly. The Haven looked alive and weming again.
Their eyes met—his hazel sparking with purpose, hers amber and narrowed in grudging agreement. No words needed. They headed for Freya's room, boots and bare feet scuffing the Haven's cracked tiles in a messy rhythm.
Kael's mind snagged on the door ahead—solid wood, no peephole. Idiot, he cursed himself. Should've carved a slot to peek through, check if Freya was crouched by the hinges, ready to spring like ailed trap.
Too late now. He squared his shoulders, hand gripping the knob tight. If she pounced, he'd meet her head-on—same as always. He had Rhea on his side for insurance.
The lock twisted with a sharp click, slicing through the Haven's low hum. Kael nudged the door open slow, muscles tensed for a blur of platinum-cyan hair and icy fists.
Nothing.