Ch. 100 – By Tomorrow

Stepping outside the front door provided no relief from the mounting dread. Rhys spent the remainder of the afternoon pounding the pavement, frantically trying to spread the word for an event that was set to take place in less than twenty-four hours.

He systematically knocked on doors down his street, making a very deliberate, tactical effort to steer completely clear of the residences belonging to Ariadne, Dione, and Rhea. The mere thought of one of those women yanking him inside by his collar to jump his bones the second the door swung open sent a frigid, nauseating chill straight down his spine.

By the fourth and fifth house, however, Rhys began to notice a bizarre, unsettling pattern. The awkward neighborhood interactions kept repeating themselves with terrifying uniformity:

Rhys: "Hi, neighbor I’ve literally never spoken to before! I’d love to invite you to a last-minute community event that you are definitely not prepared for—it’s tomorrow, by the way."

Random Neighbor: "Oh, wow! Thanks for the heads up again, Rhys! I was already planning on going anyway!"

Rhys: "...You said what now?"

By the time he reached the sixth house, the horrifying reality finally clicked into place. Word of his grand opening had been spreading through the residential district like wildfire, heavily fueled by Vespera and the secretive network of neighborhood wives he had been tangled up with.

At first, Rhys assumed Vespera was the primary mastermind broadcasting the invitation to everyone, especially when neighbors casually mentioned how she was "sponsoring" the whole affair. But as he pressed the owner of the sixth house for details, the truth came crashing down: it was Ariadne who had personally spread the word to the entire community.

The ruthless former villainess—currently disguised as a sweet, harmless suburban housewife—had deliberately thrown a massive weight onto Rhys's shoulders. She was championing the news of the brand-new catering business she had supposedly co-founded with Rhys, effectively expanding the thin cover-up for their past affairs into a behemoth of an inescapable public lie. Worst of all, the trap was set so tightly that Rhys now had to make absolute sure the grand opening went off without a single hitch. He couldn't afford a single mistake.

He couldn't hide the pensive scowl hardening his features by the time he reached the seventh house, a block over in the next neighborhood. Even people two streets away had already heard the news.

Standing on a stranger's manicured lawn, Rhys’s mind flashed back to his blood-soaked days fighting on the frontlines as Omen. He remembered a pitch-black night years ago—surrounded by lethal enemies on all sides, a fresh knife wound bleeding through his tactical suit, yet still standing his ground against the odds. Standing at the absolute forefront of that villainous siege had been Ariadne back in her prime.

So this is what I was trying to warn myself about, Rhys thought coldly, his eyes narrowing. I have a feeling she has something brewing in that evil witch pot of hers.

Oddly enough, Rhys felt a microscopic flicker of relief. At least Vespera wasn't the absolute primary force driving this specific disaster right now. The simple fact that he hadn't spent much time thinking about Vespera since that chaotic night with Rhea showed just how deeply he had repressed his memories of her. He was genuinely terrified of the scorching, suffocating heat she could sear into his chest if she caught him off guard.

This is going to be the final stretch, Rhys told himself, clinging to a desperate shred of hope. If I could scrape my way out of that fatal night all those years ago, I can definitely make it out of this.

By the time he turned the corner to walk up his driveway, the sun was setting. He paused, looking up to see Lira descending gracefully through the twilight clouds. Even reduced to a tiny silhouette against the evening sky, his wife moved with an breathtaking, divine elegance that made his heart swell with affection.

A split second later, another speck zoomed through the sky right behind her at high velocity. Rhys’s nerves tensed instantly, his muscles locking up until he recognized the familiar flight pattern of Marcus, his best friend, escorting her home.

Rhys stood on the front porch and put on a warm, genuine smile. After the agonizing, paranoid day he had endured, he was genuinely relieved to see them both. But as the two heroes touched down on the grass and walked up the porch steps, Rhys’s internal radar spiked. Something was subtly, dangerously off.

The mask of Omen reflexively clicked back over his mind.

"Hey! My two absolute favorite people!" Rhys called out warmly, forcing a cheerful bounce into his voice.

Despite his greeting, an icy cube of dread began forming in the pit of his stomach. Lira offered him a loving smile, but the warmth completely failed to reach her eyes. She murmured that she was happy to see him too, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow after a long, grueling day.

Marcus let out a weary laugh in agreement, rubbing his shoulder as he explained their delay. A sudden, massive natural disaster had struck on the other side of the globe earlier that morning, and the hero network had deployed them both to extract as many survivors as possible. From what Rhys gathered, the rescue operation was a resounding success—there had only been a handful of casualties before the elite response team could establish a perimeter.

Rhys felt a deep, familiar wave of empathy for them. Hell, if his body wasn't broken and bound to this cover identity, he would have been right up there in the sky alongside them, throwing himself into the fray to save lives.

As the thought crossed his mind, a sudden, violent wrench twisted inside his chest, feeling exactly like a heavy, phantom fist punching him from the inside out.

Not fuckin' cool, man, Rhys snapped bitterly at his shadowy alter-ego lingering in his mind.

"Are you alright, honey?" Lira asked, her eyes snapping to his torso, truly looking at him for the first time since landing.

Rhys blinked, suddenly realizing his hand was pressed tightly over his heart. "Yeah... yeah, honey. I'm fine," he lied smoothly, relaxing his posture. "Just... thinking about how those massive catastrophes go. When you're fighting against a pure force of nature, you just do your absolute best to spare whatever lives you can."

Despite brushing it off, the oppressive weight in the air refused to clear. Rhys could feel an unspoken, razor-sharp tension hanging right between himself, Lira, and Marcus. Wanting to shatter the uncomfortable atmosphere, he quickly shifted the topic.

"Did you come over to rest up and grab a bite with us, Marcus?" Rhys asked, gesturing toward the front door. "You're more than welcome to come inside, man."

Marcus looked down at the porch floorboards, a small, awkward smirk touching his lips as he reached up to scratch the back of his neck.

He's got something he wants to say, Rhys recognized instantly, having known Marcus long enough to read his body language like an open book. Just spit it out, man.

"It's all good, brother," Rhys said with a mild, supportive smile. "I get it. You must be heading out to go see your girl."

The words left his mouth naturally, but the biting, sarcastic cadence behind them belonged entirely to Omen.

Marcus was caught completely off guard by the unexpected mention of Vespera. He chuckled nervously, shifting his weight. "Oh... no, actually, I'm not. She's... busy tonight," Marcus stammered out. He paused, casting a brief, heavy look toward Lira before adding, "You did a fantastic job out there today, Lira. As always."

Without another word, Marcus pushed off the porch, his thrusters igniting as he launched himself back into the night sky.

Rhys turned back to face Lira, who was still standing at the base of the porch steps. For the first time in their entire marriage, an excruciating silence settled between them—a heavy, suffocating void where neither of them seemed to know what to say.

"I'll... I'll go head inside and start working on dinner for us, honey," Rhys offered softly, breaking the quiet.

Lira reached out, her fingers gently touching his forearm to stop him. She suggested softly that they just order takeout instead, mentioning that she didn't want him stressing over cooking tonight.

Rhys froze for a fraction of a second, thrown off by the suggestion, before the logic clicked: his grand opening for the catering business was tomorrow morning. The moment he woke up, he would be locked in the kitchen cooking all day long.

"Yeah... yeah, let's just do that," Rhys said, his voice sounding hollow and numb even to his own ears.

He gently covered her hand with his own, and together, the husband and wife turned and walked through the front door of their house. But as the heavy door clicked shut behind them, Rhys looked around the quiet foyer with a heavy heart. It didn't feel like home anymore.

He set his jaw, the cold mask of Omen gleaming beneath the hallway lights. He was going to change that by tomorrow. He was going to make his home safe for both of them again—no matter what it took.