CHAPTER 378: CHAPTER-378.

"Then we move," she said, quieter but sharper. "Now."

Veer held her gaze for a second longer, like he was checking how close she was to snapping. Whatever he saw there made his shoulders settle just a little.

"You take his legs," he said. "I’ll take his back. Don’t let his head roll."

"Like I’d ever let go of him," Kaya muttered, shifting to hook her arms under Cutie’s knees. Her fingers were shaking, but her grip was iron.

They lifted him together, Veer’s arm sliding behind Cutie’s shoulders, supporting his head with a care that didn’t match the blood on his knuckles. Cutie’s hand twitched, instinctively reaching out; Kaya shifted closer so his fingers could catch her sleeve.

"I’ve got you," she said under her breath. "So don’t you dare pass out just to scare me."

A weak, almost soundless snort left him. It was enough.

As they stepped around the bodies and broken wood toward the door, Kaya glanced once at the dead wolf on the floor and the unknown Sparrow by the wall.

These bastards hadn’t come to play. They’d walked in ready to die.

Her jaw clenched. Whoever sat behind them, whoever thought sending a pack into wolf‑tribe property and spilling Cutie’s blood was a smart move—

Kaya knew the second they stepped into the back corridor that fists and broken chairs weren’t going to save them this time.

The air was wrong. Heavy. Tight. It was the kind of silence that came just before teeth sank in. Shadows crowded the narrow hall, and under the weak yellow lights she could see them—dark shapes packed near the end by the service door. More than before. Too many. A whole wall of eyes and ears and claws waiting in the dark.

Her throat still burned where the mongoose had grabbed her. Her ribs ached from the jackal’s hits. Cutie was half‑conscious and bleeding, slumped in Veer’s arms. And Veer, even as strong as he was, only had two legs and one good arm free.

Hand‑to‑hand meant death.

Kaya’s fingers curled around the gun at her thigh. She hated the feel of it. In her old world it had been the last option, the one you reached for only when there was no other path. When you wanted someone dead, not just on the ground. Ever since she landed in this beast‑filled mess of a world, she’d promised herself: blades, fists, whatever—but no guns unless there was truly no chance without it.

Looking at that tight block of beastmen ahead—striped shadows, hunched shoulders, glints of teeth and claws—she knew this was that moment.

If she didn’t shoot, none of them were walking out.

"Kaya," Veer said low behind her, Cutie in his arms like a too‑heavy child. "You see them?"

"I see ’a lot’ of them," she muttered. Her thumb flicked the safety off. "Stay behind me. You’re carrying the idiot, so I’m doing the killing."

Cutie’s head lolled against Veer’s shoulder. "Rude..." he breathed.

"Shut up and breathe," Kaya snapped, taking a step forward.

The beastmen moved as one.

The first came from above—a tiger, massive, dropping off a rusted pipe like a striped meteor, claws aimed straight for her face. He thought claws beat gun. Cute.

Kaya planted her feet, lifted both hands, and squeezed the trigger.

First bullet.

Bang.

The shot hit the tiger high in the chest, just under the throat. The impact slammed him backward mid‑air. He still crashed into her, heavier than she expected, but now he was dead weight, not a live blade. She staggered, slammed back into the wall, gun arm pinned for a second under his bulk.

"Move," Veer barked.

The corridor behind her shook as he stomped forward a step, using his hip and shoulder to shove the tiger’s corpse off her without dropping Cutie. The body slid to the side, smearing blood across the tiles. Kaya dragged in a breath, forced her arms to steady, and pushed off the wall.

The rest of them rushed.

Boar in front, head down, tusks bared, using the narrow hall like a charge lane. A slim fox to the left, trying to skim along the wall and slip around her. Two jackals behind them. And in the back, she caught a flash of hyena teeth.

"Too many," Veer growled. "We can’t brawl through that."

"Yeah," Kaya said, lifting the gun again. "That’s why I brought this."

The fox darted forward first, faster than the rest, feet barely whispering on the floor. He came in low, going for her knees.

Second bullet.

Bang.

Her shot took him in the shoulder, spinning him sideways. He didn’t drop—slippery bastard—but he lost speed. Kaya met his momentum with her own body, stepping in and slamming her elbow across his jaw. Bone cracked. His head snapped to the side and he bounced off the wall, eyes rolled glassy.

She didn’t waste another bullet on him. A sharp front kick to the chest sent him sprawling over the tiger’s corpse. He wasn’t getting up quickly after that.

The boar had closed the distance by then, swinging a broken wood bar like a club. Too close to shoot without risking Veer. Kaya ducked under the first wild swing, feeling the wind of it brush her scalp, then stepped in tight to his chest. Her knee came up hard into his stomach. It was like kneeing a brick wall, but his breath still exploded out of him in a thick grunt.

He tried to backhand her with his free hand. She blocked with her forearm, teeth gritting at the impact, then jammed the barrel of the gun against his ribs at point‑blank range.

Third bullet.

Bang.

The boar shuddered, legs buckling. The smell of burnt fur and blood hit her nose. He dropped the wood bar and sagged forward. She shoved him aside, letting his body slam into the wall and slide down, becoming another obstacle between them and the exit.

Behind him, one of the jackals used the falling bulk as cover and lunged for her throat, claws stretched. Kaya dropped into a half‑crouch, letting him overshoot by a fraction, then snapped her arm up and back, smashing the hard wood of the gun into his lower jaw.