CHAPTER 264: CHAPTER-264.

Kaya’s chest heaved as she snapped back, her voice sharp and trembling, "At least let me speak! You’re just talking and talking—this, that, everything! How am I supposed to answer if you won’t even let me breathe? If you’d let me speak, I would have answered!"

Veer’s face twisted. His jaw ground like someone trying to stop a storm. In one swift movement he closed on her arm—wrist in a grip so tight Kaya tasted iron. Pain flared through her forearm.

"You don’t understand human language, do you?" he hissed, eyes hard as flint. "Then I’ll speak the only way you get."

He yanked, trying to drag her toward the doorway. Kaya twisted, trying to free herself. "Let go. Are you crazy?" she spat.

"Yes," he snapped, voice low and dangerous. "I have gone crazy — and I will do what I want." He pulled harder.

Something in Kaya snapped, too. Exhaustion and fury made her vision narrow; the world reduced to his hand, his pull, the sickening strain on her wrist. Her eyes went red—not with tears, but with a sudden, cold calm.

Her fingers slid to the inside of her sleeve. She felt the metal clasp warm under her touch, thumb finding the trigger. The click of the safety sounded, small and decisive.

Veer froze as if struck. For the first time his mouth opened and shut like a caught thing. His hand faltered on her skin. He swiped a hand across his brow—then saw the muzzle pointed at his temple.

"Let go of my hand. Now." Her voice was a blade—quiet, steady, and final.

For a heartbeat, neither moved. Only the faint rasp of their breathing filled the air. Veer’s grip still clamped around her wrist, but his fingers trembled against her skin.

"Kaya..." His voice cracked, raw with something between rage and fear. "You’re pointing this thing at me?"

Her jaw tightened. "I told you. Let go."

His eyes darted between hers and the barrel inches from his head. The furious fire in him flickered, but it didn’t die—it turned into something else, something darker. With clenched teeth, he slowly loosened his hand, every second dragging like a battle.

The moment her wrist was free, Kaya yanked it back, cradling it against her chest. The red marks of his fingers burned on her skin, angry welts.

Veer’s lips parted, as though to lash out again—but no words came. He staggered half a step back, staring at her like he didn’t recognize the person in front of him. His chest rose and fell too quickly, his voice finally breaking out in a hoarse whisper.

"You... you were really ready to kill me."

Kaya didn’t lower the gun. Her arm shook—not from hesitation, but from the weight of everything pressing on her. "Don’t test me again," she said, her tone cold, but her insides churned. She wasn’t sure if it was anger, fear... or the unbearable sting of betrayal.

Kaya lowered the gun. Veer still stood with his hand half-raised, face carved in pain and disbelief. For a heartbeat they simply stared at each other, the air raw between them.

Without another word, Kaya stepped forward, seized his wrist, and hauled him along by sheer force. "Let’s go," she said, voice flat.

Veer stumbled, still dazed, unsure how to react. He blinked at her and managed, weakly, "Aren’t you—aren’t you not coming with me?"

Kaya stopped, tightened her grip until his fingers whitened, and looked at him dead in the eyes. "Veer—never, ever force me to do something. If you dare to do this again, I will kill you." Her words were quiet, final; there was no bravado in them, only an absolute, lived certainty.

For a few seconds Veer did not move. The color drained from his face as the meaning of her promise sank in. Then something shifted: a slow, incredulous smile crept across him, breaking the ice of tension. He laughed—a sound that began brittle and ended warm—and his eyes softened as he looked back at her.

"Now I understand," he said, voice rough with something between awe and surrender, "why I love you like crazy, sweetheart."

That day, though Kaya never admitted it aloud, those who truly knew her would have recognized the shift. Kaya—the commander who once drew her gun without hesitation, who had killed men for less, who had never spared anyone that dared to force her—had, for the first time, lowered her weapon without bloodshed.

It seemed like nothing, just a fleeting moment. Yet that tiny hesitation carried the weight of a storm waiting to break. A single ripple that would one day swell into waves strong enough to drag her life into chaos.

As they stepped out from the suffocating, narrow path, Kaya squinted at the sudden wash of sunlight. Her heart still thudded from the clash with Veer, though her face remained as composed as stone. She didn’t glance at him, not even when his faint smile lingered on her like a shadow.

At the mouth of the path, Veer’s brother stood, silent as ever. His eyes flicked over them both—first Veer’s grin, then Kaya’s guarded calm. For a moment, it seemed he might speak, but instead, he only gave a slow, weighted nod.

Then, without another word, his body shifted. Muscles rippled, bones cracked and reformed. Feathers burst through skin until the man was gone, replaced by the broad black wings of a vulture. The creature’s eyes glinted cold and knowing as they locked on Kaya, as if he could see more than she wished to reveal.

The vulture launched into the air, its massive wings cutting the sky. Kaya tilted her head back, watching the shadow sweep across her face, and for reasons she couldn’t explain, unease twisted in her chest. That small act—lowering her gun—had not felt like mercy. It had felt like weakness.

And weakness was something she could never afford.

.

.

When Kaya returned to the tribe with Veer, every vulture seemed to stop and stare at her. Their eyes were a mix of fear and anger, and even the younger ones kept their distance. Kaya could feel their tension, like they were unsure what to expect from her now.