Villainess is being pampered by her beast husbands
Chapter 113 --113

Chapter 113: Chapter-113

At the mention of his second son—that name—Veer’s father’s face turned jet black. Not with grief, but something harder, darker.

Regret. Rage. And shame.

He had spoiled Veer far too much—everyone knew that. But what choice did he have?

Veer was his long-awaited son. The boy he had prayed for. The one he had raised with pride.

They were twins, yes—but only by time. Born mere seconds apart, they couldn’t have been more different.

The second one—that one—had come into the world sick, twisted, with madness already flickering behind his eyes.

He was cruel in all the wrong ways—reckless, self-serving, and stupid.

He didn’t care about the tribe. He didn’t care about blood. He didn’t care about anyone but himself.

At first, the father had convinced himself:

"This is good. This is what a vulture should be."

Selfish. Unforgiving. Hungry.

But soon, even he couldn’t deny the truth—

The boy wasn’t strong. He was pathetic. A mistake with fangs.

He even tried to kill his own father for the sake of the leadership crown.

That...

That, the father could never forgive.

Veer, on the other hand—

Veer was wild, yes. Reckless? Absolutely.

But he was loyal. Fierce. He protected the tribe in his own strange rhythm.

And more than anything... he cared.

That’s why the father loved him. That’s why he gave him everything. That’s why he let him burn wild without pulling the reins.

But when it came to her—Kaya...

That was different. Entirely different.

He hated her.

Hated her down to the marrow of his bones.

Yes, the second son had been a disaster. But he was still his.

And she—that woman—had dared to kill him.

A filthy outsider. A human. A nothing.

Even now, Veer hadn’t forgotten it. And neither had he.

Yes, he had known—if she hadn’t done it, he might have.

And if Veer had killed that twisted brother?

He could have turned his face. Closed his eyes. Let it pass.

Because if that boy had to die, then let it be by Veer’s hands. By blood. By someone worthy.

But Kaya?

She made it personal.

She made it unforgivable.

She crossed a line she had no right to even see.

And the only reason she still breathed...

Was because of Veer.

Because if not for his son’s obsession—his fixation, his twisted devotion—

He would’ve already flown to her in the dead of night with his family, claws ready and teeth bared.

He would’ve ripped her apart.

Eaten her alive.

From muscle to bone.

He would’ve devoured her until nothing remained. Not even a name. Not even a curse.

But she was still here.

Still untouched.

Still walking.

Because of Veer.

And now, standing here...

Looking at his son—his beautiful, dangerous son—

Wearing black hair instead of brown.

Smiling like a man who burned every rule and danced in the ashes.

The father wasn’t sure what terrified him more anymore—

What Kaya had done...

Or how far his son was willing to go to keep her.

Veer’s father sighed—deeply, helplessly—watching his son.

Before he could say anything, Veer stepped forward, his boots crunching softly against the cave floor. He reached out and gently grabbed his father’s wrist, lifting it between them.

"Dad," Veer said quietly. His voice was softer now, almost like a son asking for understanding, not permission. "I know you have questions... but believe me. This time—I’m not wrong."

His father looked at him for a long second. What could he even say?

He just sighed again, low and tired.

Maybe it didn’t matter anymore. Maybe nothing did—so long as Veer still smiled like this.

His gaze shifted down, lingering on the strange clothes his son wore. His eyes stopped at the leather jacket.

A small smile broke across his face.

He reached out and touched it, fingers brushing over the material with quiet curiosity. "So... where did my little prince get this made?"

Veer gave a helpless smile, rubbing the back of his neck like he wasn’t quite proud of the answer. "From that tribe."

His father blinked, then chuckled under his breath. "that tribe, huh? You’ve made the monkey tribe useful again."

Veer gave a casual shrug. "Threw them some white stones. Told them if they messed it up, I’d kill them."

A beat.

Then they both laughed—one dark, one amused.

His father shook his head. "And they did it."

"Of course they did," Veer said, smug.

For a moment, there was silence. Just the quiet of a cave holding a fragile truce.

Then his father frowned slightly, fingertips running over the material again. "Still... what’s with the design? These seams, these weird lines... what kind of strange idea is this? What made them hug your skin like this?"

Veer grinned, eyes flashing as he placed a hand on his father’s shoulder. "That, Dad, is what’s called fashion."

His father squinted. "fashion?"

Veer nodded with pride. "It fits me. It moves with me. Doesn’t get in the way when I fly or fight. And come on—it looks cool, doesn’t it?"

His father gave him a slow once-over. "...It does."

But just as the compliment landed, his eyes narrowed. Something in the shine of the jacket caught his attention. He leaned in, fingers brushing against the sleeve, then pausing.

"Wait a minute..." he muttered. His tone shifted.

He pinched the edge of the leather, rubbed it between his fingers.

"This can’t be—this isn’t the rainbow leather I gave you last spring, is it?"

Veer didn’t answer.

He just smiled.

Sleepy. Unbothered. And very, very guilty.

Even they, as vultures—trained, hardened, and battle-worn—couldn’t face an Akura alone. To kill just one required a full team effort. And even then, only if that Akura was alone, separated from its pack. The effort, the blood, the planning—it was never easy. So much went into bringing one down. All just to get a leather sheet. A proper leather jacket. Something powerful. Regal.

Worthy of blue crystal stone.

But who would’ve thought his idiotic son would turn all that struggle into... this?