The Haven was a skeleton of concrete and dreams that night.
Freya, still raw from her capture, had been dropped off by Liss in the morning hours, her icy powers leashed by a collar, her defiance barely tempered by Kael's quiet resolve.
He also went to shopping with Rhea and bought some clothes, and sexy clothes, hoping he would see them on Freya's curvy figure soon.
It was past midnight now.
The city's soft buzz drifting through the cracked window of Kael's sparse room.
He sat on the edge of his cot, his phone rested in his hand, the screen glowing faintly, her name—Lightning Lass—highlighted under his thumb.
He hesitated, his jaw tight, then tapped the contact.
The line clicked after two rings.
"Kael?" Liss's voice came through, clear, alert, a familiar anchor in the dark. "Hey."
"Hey," he said, his voice rough, softer than he meant.
"…You okay?" Her tone shifted, concern threading through the lightness.
