Villainess is being pampered by her beast husbands
Chapter 111 --111

Chapter 111: Chapter-111

His fingers lifted slowly, brushing it back. But it fell again, like it was mocking him. That wasn’t the face he wanted to see.

And then—he looked down.

To the hair in his hand.

Black.

Soft.

Still carrying the forest’s scent.

Kaya’s hair.

His lips twitched—just a hint of a smile at first, like something secret bloomed quietly behind his eyes.

Then it grew.

Without a word, he reached for a nearby blade—a jagged stone knife left from older days. Rough. Sharp. Primitive.

Snap.

A lock of his brown hair fell to the ground.

Snap.

Another.

And another.

And another.

Over and over, the sound echoed in the cave like a pulse. Until strands of brown hair covered the floor like scattered feathers.

When he looked back into the water again—his hair was shorter now. Not cleanly cut. But shorter. Messy. Uneven.

Not brown anymore, either.

Black.

He had taken the strands of Kaya’s hair—the pieces he had gathered so carefully—and woven them into his own. Tied with thin cords. Mixed in, threaded through. So close now, they were almost indistinguishable from his own.

He tilted his head. Looked at himself in the water.

Then smiled.

A little wider this time.

He reached down, brushed his hands across the worn animal-hide clothing he wore—mud-stained, tattered, still smelling of wind and sun.

Then he turned away from the pool, stepped into the shadows.

His form shifted again—wings tearing free, eyes sharpening, bones re-forming.

And the vulture took flight once more—disappearing out into the daylight, leaving behind nothing but a floor scattered with brown hair.

Three hours passed.

Then six.

The sun had begun its slow descent, casting long shadows through the forest and dimming the golden sky above the vulture tribe’s hidden cliffs.

And only then—only then—did Veer’s father finally stir from his deep sleep.

He emerged from his chambers, still stretching the stiffness from his limbs, expecting the usual: reports, routine, maybe a quiet meal.

But what greeted him was silence.

No sign of Veer.

No greeting. No footsteps echoing through the hallways. No presence of his son anywhere in the tribe’s territory.

At first, it was confusion. Then suspicion.

Then rage.

Within minutes, a horn was blown.

The tribe gathered.

Wings flapped overhead as every member—elder to scout—assembled around the central cliff.

The air turned heavy with tension.

Veer’s father stood tall in the center, his broad form unmoving, his amber eyes lit with fury barely restrained. He didn’t shout at first—he roared.

"Three hours... six hours... and not a single one of you fools knows where Veer is?"

His voice echoed across the stone, bouncing off the walls and shaking birds from distant trees.

"You call yourselves the kings of the sky?" he hissed, stepping forward, gaze blazing. "And yet you can’t even track one of your own?"

The crowd stood silent. Heads lowered. Eyes averted.

No one dared to speak.

He took another step, feathers ruffling at his shoulders, his wings twitching with every word.

"My son. The young tribe leader. And he vanished under your watch. While you sat around scratching your feathers, my Veer flew off without a trace—and none of you noticed?!"

The last line cracked through the air like thunder.

Some shifted uncomfortably. A few guards tried to step forward but wilted under his glare.

"And you expect me to believe that not one single pair of eyes saw him? Not a scout? Not a sentry? No one?"

A younger male at the edge of the circle gulped and whispered something to his neighbor. The older bird elbowed him sharply, warning him to keep silent.

Veer’s father noticed.

His gaze snapped to them.

"Oh? Did someone speak?" he asked coldly, dangerously calm now. "Or is the great vulture tribe suddenly mute?"

Silence again.

But underneath it all—there was a ripple.

Something wasn’t right.

And for the first time, beneath the fury... there was a flicker of something else in his eyes.

Fear.

Because Veer wasn’t just his son.

He was his everything.

His heir. His blood.

The silence dragged.

No one moved.

Not until a hesitant shuffle broke through the still air—soft, almost apologetic. From the edge of the gathering, a single figure stepped forward.

Veer’s cousin.

Younger. Smaller. Nervous to the bone.

His eyes darted around the crowd before lifting slowly to meet Veer’s father’s blazing gaze. His hands trembled slightly at his sides.

He swallowed hard.

"I... I know where he went," the cousin said, barely louder than the wind.

A ripple passed through the tribe. Heads turned. Wings twitched.

Veer’s father stared at him, unreadable for a heartbeat too long.

Then—he stepped forward, slowly. Deliberately. Each footfall heavy, like thunder rolling in.

"You knew," he said, low and cold, "and you said nothing?"

The cousin paled. His breath caught.

"I—I didn’t mean to hide it! I just—he told me not to say anything! He made me promise!" His voice cracked under pressure. "He said it was only for a short while, and... and that I should make sure you didn’t find out."

The last part hung in the air like a curse.

The elder’s eyes narrowed. His jaw tightened.

"Where did he go?"

The cousin hesitated.

"I... I think... to her."

A pause.

"You think?" the father asked, voice like steel.

"I know!" the cousin blurted, his words tumbling out now. "That woman you told him to keep distance from—he went to her. I tried to follow! I really did! But she—she nearly killed me!"

The words hit like stones.

There was a murmur in the crowd now. Hushed voices, disbelief, the kind of fear that doesn’t come from war—but from the unknown.

"She used something—something like a weapon," the cousin added, voice shaking now. "A thick, green thing like wood but not... She aimed it at my head, uncle. If it had been an inch off—" he stopped himself, visibly shivering.

Veer’s father was silent.

Dead silent.

But his eyes had darkened. A storm building behind them. Not just rage anymore—concern. Real, palpable, dangerous concern.

He took a step back. Stared out past the cliffs, to the sky beyond.

"She made Veer disobey me," he whispered to himself. "Veer."

And then, more loudly, like a verdict:

"She’s a threat."