Ch. 39 – Safe At Home

Darius sat beside his wife, looking mortified, his face deeply flushed red with embarrassing discomfort. He stared down at his napkin, fully unable to control or stop his ancient Ifrit wife.

Rhys’s blood ran cold, then instantly spiked with a sharp, protective anger. The line had been crossed, spat on, and trampled underfoot. This wasn’t harmless dinner banter—this was an outright invasion of his marriage, masked as high-society curiosity.

Deciding he was done playing polite suburban host, Rhys dropped his friendly demeanor entirely. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the mahogany table, his eyes sharply narrowing into the unyielding, dangerous glare of Omen.

“Shula,” Rhys cut straight to the chase, his voice dropping low and gravelly. A register that commanded real authority. “What, exactly, are you asking this for?”

Shula’s breath caught slightly. Seeing the sudden lethal edge of Omen flash in his eyes didn’t intimidate her—it made the amber embers in her dark eyes flare wildly with a sudden  heat. Her lips parted, ready to deliver a response that would have shattered the dinner entirely.

CLICK.

The kitchen door swung open.

Lira walked back into the dining room, carrying a tray with four beautiful slices of berry tart and fresh coffee. Her arrival cutting the dangerous conversation short.

“Alright, everyone! Dessert is served!” Lira announced cheerily. She was oblivious to the razor-thin, explosive tension hanging in the air.

The dark atmosphere in the room evaporated in a second, as if it had never existed. Shula smoothly leaned back in her chair, putting on the perfect socialite smile. “Oh, Astraea, that looks absolutely divine!”

For the remainder of the evening, the conversation miraculously reverted to a tame and normal script. They ate the berry tart, drank coffee, and made polite small talk about upcoming League events and latest vacation plans. Darius slowly regained his composure, joining back in. Lira laughed and chatted happily.

By eleven o’clock, the night finally came to an end. Rhys and Lira walked their guests to the front door to say their goodbyes.

Darius gave Rhys a firm handshake and a brotherly hug. “Thanks for the incredible meal, Rhys. We really need to do this again soon.”

“Anytime, man,” Rhys said softly, offering a genuine nod.

Then came Shula.

She stepped up to say goodbye to Lira, hugging her warmly. “Thank you for hosting us, sweetie. It was a wonderful night.”

Finally, Shula turned to Rhys. She stepped in close, taking his hand in hers. Her ifrit skin was radiating soflty with an unnatural heat that seeped straight into his palm. She leaned up, pressing a light kiss to the side of his cheek. Lingering for a little too long.

As she pulled back, her face was mere inches from his. She didn’t say a single word out loud. But she looked directly into his eyes—giving him a concerning, deeply intense glance that shouted dangerous intent at full volume. It was the gaze of an immortal creature that had just discovered a priceless hidden treasure... and had every intention of claiming it.

“Goodnight, Rhys,” Shula whispered softly, her fingers slowly sliding out of his grip.

She turned and walked down the porch steps alongside Darius, her hips swaying gracefully in her crimson dress under the moonlight.

Rhys stood in the open doorway, holding Lira close to his side as they watched the couple walk to their luxury car. As they pulled away into the quiet suburban night, Rhys stood frozen on the doorstep, a heavy pit of dread settling deep in his stomach.

The trap was far from over. In fact, a whole new fire had just been ignited.

Yet another restless night.

The crisp morning sun washed away the oppressive memory of the night before. Yesterday’s bizarre, line-crossing dinner with Shula and Darius felt like a bad dream. It was dissolved by the peaceful light of a brand-new day. For the first time in weeks, Rhys woke up genuinly feeling a soaring sense of relief: Lira actually had a rare, unscheduled day off from her high-tier League duties.

When Rhys stirred awake, he found Lira resting her head on his shoulder, her arm wrapped loosely around his waist. They spent the early morning basking in the quiet intimacy of their bedroom, speaking in soft, affectionate whispers. When Rhys finally offered to slide out of bed and whip up his signature breakfast spread, Lira pressed a warm kiss to his collarbone and beamed. She volunteered to cook instead. "You should just lay back and rest", She insisted, "My retired-hero-husband deserves a morning of unbothered rest for once." 

Rhys happily sank back into the soft pillows. He lay there in bliss, listening to the gentle clinking of pans and smelling the rich, mouth-watering aroma of thick-cut bacon and fresh coffee drifting from the kitchen. This is exactly what I've been needing!, he thought. Just hima and Lira

When he finally got up, he pulled on a comfortable pair of sweatpants and a soft cotton shirt. He strolled into the sunlit kitchen to find the most pure domestic sight. Lira was standing by the stove, tied into a soft linen apron, her cosmic blue hair tied up in a loose bun as she hummed a sweet melody.

Rhys walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. He pressed a long, tender kiss against her cheek. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to finally get a whole day with you,” he murmured softly.

Lira giggled, leaning back against his chest. “I missed you too, hero. Breakfast is almost ready! Go take a seat at the dining table and I’ll bring your plate out to you.”

“You’re amazing,” Rhys smiled, giving her waist a gentle squeeze before turning toward the dining room.

He was just about to pull out his chair when the sharp, chiming ring of the front doorbell echoed through the house.

Lira paused at the stove, looking over her shoulder with a puzzled expression. “Are we expecting anyone today, sweetie?”

In a single terrifying second, Rhys’s blood turned to ice water. The blissful warmth of the morning evaporated into thin air. A sickening wave of ill crashed over him as his mind instantly jumped to the worst possible scenario: Vespera. The dark, manipulative mastermind was finally coming back to ruin his peaceful suburban sanctuary once again.

Forcing his breathing to remain steady, Rhys collected himself and called back softly, “I’m not sure, honey. I’ll go check.”

Rhys approached the front door with an excruciating, heavy slowness. Every nerve ending in his body screaming at him to turn back. He reached for the brass doorknob, took a deep breath, and pulled the  wooden door open.

Standing on the front porch was not Vespera.

It was Ariadne.