CHAPTER 224: CHAPTER-224

She placed a worn, larger bowl over the flames, pouring water in to boil. As the steam began to rise, Kaya cleaned the fish with quick, practiced motions. This was the only meat they had right now—thin, fragile, but enough.

Fish is good for strength, she thought grimly. And right now, he needs all of it.

Kaya fetched cold water into a bowl, then eased Veer down onto the ground. She dipped a small, smooth cloth into the water, wrung it out, and pressed it gently against his burning forehead. The fever was climbing too fast—if she didn’t bring it down, it could turn into something far worse.

She kept at it, replacing the compress whenever it grew warm. On the other side of the cave, the fish simmered in the pot, the broth slowly taking on the scent of herbs and the faint sharpness of spices she had scavenged.

When the soup was finally ready, Kaya faced another problem. Without proper tools, she had to use a cloth to lift the hot bowl. More than once, the heat seared her fingers, but she gritted her teeth, refusing to drop it. At last, she managed to pour some into a smaller bowl.

She brought it to Veer, pulling out a wooden spoon—her spoon. She’d carved it herself once, though in truth it had been the fishmen of Nikala who’d guided her hands. Still, it was hers. She had never let anyone else touch it. Not once.

But now—now she didn’t have a choice.

Sliding an arm under Veer, she lifted him slightly, steadying his weight against her. Holding the spoon near his lips, she spoke in a low, no-nonsense tone.

"Open your mouth."

Veer looked at her, then at the spoonful of soup. A tight smile tugged at his lips.

"Sweetheart, if I had known I’d get the chance to be fed by you, I would have fallen sick much earlier."

Kaya’s eyes narrowed, her expression as cold as stone. She didn’t bother replying—just stared at him in silence until his forced smile faltered. With a sigh, Veer opened his mouth.

Patiently, Kaya fed him, spoon by spoon, her movements steady and deliberate. When the bowl was empty, she took a cloth and wiped the corner of his mouth with the same precision, as if nothing about this was unusual.

Veer’s gaze lingered on her face, unreadable, but Kaya ignored it. She rose to her feet, set the bowl aside, and then lifted her own portion. Her body was running on empty—she couldn’t afford to neglect herself. In two, three gulps, she finished what remained of the cold soup.

Afterward, she returned to Veer, easing him back down against the hides. Her palm pressed lightly against his forehead. The fever hadn’t broken, but there was a faint fluctuation—small, but enough to give her a thread of hope.

As Veer finally drifted into a fitful sleep, Kaya moved to clear the bowls. But suddenly—she froze.

Her body stiffened, every muscle alert. Her gaze snapped toward the cave entrance, and in one fluid motion she pulled out her gun, leveling it at the darkness.

Something’s coming.

Not one. Not two. More.

Her grip tightened as shadows swarmed outside. And then—the mouth of the cave darkened completely.

Kaya’s breath hitched. Vultures.

Not one. Not two. Not three. Dozens. A dozen at least—twelve, maybe thirteen. Some smaller, but five were massive, wings cutting through the air with heavy force. They landed at the cave entrance, claws scraping against stone.

And then, before Kaya’s eyes, their bodies shifted—feathers folding into flesh, talons stretching into hands. They turned into humans.

Her heart skipped. One of them bore a face she didn’t know, but the resemblance was unmistakable—Veer’s father.

Beside him stood two men Kaya did recognize. She had seen them before with Veer: his brother, and his cousin.

Another figure stepped forward, middle-aged, his face strikingly similar to Veer’s father. Two more younger men followed, their movements sharp, their gazes unreadable. They tilted their heads in unison, necks cracking lightly, a gesture that made Kaya’s skin prickle.

Her gun never wavered.

Then, Veer’s elder brother broke the silence. He stepped forward cautiously, raising his hands in a gesture of peace.

"Excuse me... do you recognize me? I’m Veer’s brother. You meet me , remember? We’ve been searching for Veer for a long time. And now... we finally found him here."

But before Kaya could answer, a harsh voice cut through the air.

"Shut your mouth!" Veer’s father snarled, stepping past him. His eyes blazed as he jabbed a finger toward Kaya. "Stay away. Get out of the way. I’ll deal with this woman myself."

His voice thundered in the cave.

"Because of her, my son was hurt. Because of her, he left the house without a word!"

Kaya didn’t move. Her gaze locked on the man before her, her finger already curled around the trigger.

The pressure rolling off him was suffocating—pure, murderous intent. It wasn’t just anger; it was the kind of fury that wanted blood. She felt it crawling against her skin, urging her to pull the trigger first. Her jaw clenched, hatred burning in her chest for this man who dared to treat her like prey.

Then—

A sharp clatter split the silence.

A bowl skidded across the stone floor, spinning before it stopped at the man’s feet. The sound reverberated through the cave, drawing every pair of eyes toward it.

Kaya’s eyes flicked sideways.

Veer.

He was still sprawled on the ground, his body sick and unsteady. She could see the sweat beading on his forehead, the tremor in his arms as he tried to push himself upright. He was pale, fever-ridden, but his eyes—those eyes—burned with fury.

"Veer—" Kaya began, but he ignored her.

He shifted, struggling, his hand gripping the wall to steady himself. Every movement looked agonizing, yet he forced himself up, back curving but defiance straightening his gaze. His breath was ragged, hoarse, but when he spoke, his voice cut like a blade.

"If anyone..." His eyes swept across the group, lingering on each face—his father, his brother, his cousin. "...tries to touch her—"