CHAPTER 260: CHAPTER-260.

He rushed to it, snatched it open—and froze.

Inside sat the soup he had made before leaving. Cold. Unmoved. Untouched.

The realization struck like a blade. Kaya hadn’t even sipped it. She hadn’t eaten. She hadn’t drunk anything.

His vision darkened, eyes burning with fury as he straightened, fists curling so tightly his nails bit into his palms.

She was gone. Not since the night. Since the morning.

Veer burst out of his house, his breath ragged, eyes wild. His gaze swept across the village. Some vultures were just returning from their hunts, weary and dragging their feet. Others were still curled inside their huts, heavy with sleep.

"Kaya!" Veer’s voice tore through the air, a roar that rattled the quiet dawn. The sound sent a shiver down the spines of those sleeping; startled children whimpered, and grown men stiffened in fear.

The doors of the huts creaked open one by one. Faces appeared—uneasy, pale. Even Veer’s father hurried out, his expression tightening as he saw his son standing in the open with his chest heaving, his eyes bloodshot, veins bulging like they might burst.

"Son," his father asked cautiously, "what happened?"

Veer swung his gaze to him, fury burning hot and sharp. His voice cracked like a whip:

"Whose turn was it to give Kaya food last night?"

The crowd shifted uneasily. Heads turned, eyes darted. No one spoke.

Veer’s jaw twitched. His voice deepened, even more dangerous, each word a growl.

"I asked—whose turn was it to feed her yesterday?"

Silence. The air itself felt heavy, like the whole tribe was holding its breath, afraid of what would follow.

Veer’s gaze swept over the vultures who stood frozen, trembling but silent. Then, without warning, he stepped forward, his hand shooting out like a blade. He seized one vulture by the throat and lifted him halfway off the ground.

The man clawed at Veer’s grip, his legs kicking uselessly as the sound of strangled gasps filled the air. Veer’s voice cut through the silence, cold and venomous.

"I asked you something. None of you answered. Very fine... then I’ll rip the answer out of you one by one."

The vulture’s eyes bulged, his face darkening to a dangerous red. He coughed, tried to speak, but only a rasp scraped out of his throat.

"My... master..." he wheezed, but his voice was nothing more than broken air.

Just as his body began to go limp, Veer’s father’s voice rang out.

"It was me."

Veer froze. His hand slackened, and the choking vulture collapsed to the ground, hacking for air. Veer turned, his bloodshot eyes burning into his father.

"...Dad. What did you just say?"

His father’s face was grim, lined with the weight of his decision. "It was I who stopped them. I ordered no one to give her food."

The words seemed to tear through Veer’s chest. He strode up to his father, fists trembling, his rage barely restrained.

"Wait... why?" His voice cracked with fury and disbelief.

But his father remained silent, holding his son’s gaze without flinching.

Veer’s knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists. His voice shook the air, low but deadly.

"Dad, I am holding back everything inside me right now. This—" his chest rose and fell violently, "—is the last time I will ask before I kill everyone here."

The vultures around them didn’t dare breathe. The choking man still writhed on the ground, coughing and wheezing, but no one moved to help him. All eyes were fixed on Veer and his father.

His father’s lips pressed into a thin line. For a moment, it seemed he would remain silent, but finally, he spoke in a voice that carried both weight and cruelty.

"Because she is not one of us. She is an outsider, Veer. A weakness."

The words were like oil on a fire. Veer’s chest heaved, his blood roaring in his ears.

"A weakness?" His voice thundered, echoing off the stone walls of the tribe’s houses. "She is my wife!"

"She will never be one of us," his father shot back, his tone firm, as if carved from stone. "The more you feed her, the more you chain yourself. The tribe is already whispering—saying you’ve gone soft, saying you care more for her than your blood."

"Let them whisper!" Veer roared, his eyes burning scarlet. "Let them rot in their fear!" He stepped closer, their foreheads nearly colliding, his voice dropping into a growl that scraped like metal. "You dared let her starve. You dared touch what is mine. Do you understand what you’ve done?"

For the first time, a flicker of unease crossed his father’s face. Still, he stood his ground.

"I did it for you. For us. For the tribe’s survival."

Veer’s laugh was broken, sharp, almost feral. He clenched his father’s collar in one fist, lifting him an inch off the ground.

"For me? Really, Dad?" His lips twisted into a bitter smile, his eyes burning red. "You did not give her food. None of you even went to see if she was alive or not. And now—" his chest heaved as if his ribs might snap, "—she left me."

The basket of fruits still lay spilled across the dirt, crushed under careless feet. Veer pointed at it with a trembling hand.

"You think this," he spat, "is all for me? You think starving her, breaking her, was for my sake? Wow... wow!"

He laughed, but it was not laughter. It was the sound of something tearing apart inside him. His gaze snapped back to his father, sharp as a blade.

"No, Father. You didn’t do it for me. You did it because you never wanted her here in the first place. You couldn’t stand that she was mine."

The vultures around them bowed their heads, their feathers ruffling in fear. None dared to speak.

Veer’s father stood there, his face hardening, though a flicker of shock still lingered in his eyes—how could she have vanished so suddenly? But instead of showing it, he straightened his back and forced his voice into something calmer, almost steady, though the cracks were there.