Chapter 546 --546

A door opened down the hall, and Veer and Cutie finally emerged.

They were practically shining. The layers of dirt, soot, and dried blood had been completely scrubbed away, revealing flawless, tanned skin. The staff had managed to squeeze them into modern clothes—simple dark jeans and fitted t-shirts that stretched tight across their massive, heavily muscled chests.

Veer ran a hand through his freshly washed, damp dark hair, looking incredibly uncomfortable in the restrictive denim, while Cutie kept poking at the soft fabric of his t-shirt with absolute fascination.

Kaya finished adjusting her cuffs and looked up, her sharp eyes sweeping over the two terrifying warlords who had just been defeated by a showerhead.

"Alright," Kaya said, her voice dropping into a cool, professional tone. "You’re clean. Now, it’s time to get to work."

When Veer and Cutie heard Kaya’s cold, professional tone, their predatory instincts instantly flared. Their muscles tensed, their eyes sharpened, and they braced themselves, entirely convinced that she was preparing them for a brutal, modern-world fight.

Instead, exactly five minutes later, they found themselves sitting in a massive, brightly lit dining room, completely disarmed by what lay before them.

The long mahogany table was covered from end to end in a staggering, unbelievable spread of modern culinary perfection. There were massive platters of sizzling, perfectly seared steaks dripping with garlic butter, towering buckets of golden, crispy fried chicken, steaming bowls of rich, spiced curries, and plates piled high with roasted vegetables and fresh bread.

Kaya sat at the head of the table. She didn’t look stressed. She didn’t look like a fugitive. She calmly picked up a piece of fried chicken, took a bite of the perfectly seasoned, crunchy skin, and then effortlessly sliced into a medium-rare steak.

She looked up at the two towering, heavily muscled warlords who were currently staring at the table as if it were a mirage.

"Eat," Kaya commanded simply, gesturing to the feast with her fork.

Veer and Cutie were in a state of profound shock. The aroma filling the room was so intensely rich, so layered with alien spices and perfect cooking techniques, that it practically hijacked their nervous systems. They hadn’t eaten properly in days—between the siege of the Rot-weavers, the adrenaline of the spatial jump, and the sheer stress of arriving in a new dimension, they were absolutely starving.

Cutie tentatively reached out with a massive hand. Being a bear-rabbit beastman, his diet leaned heavily toward hearty vegetation and rich stews. He pulled a massive, steaming bowl of creamy carrot curry toward him and carefully scooped a spoonful into his mouth.

His giant eyes instantly went completely round. He froze. The explosion of flavor—the perfect balance of sweet, savory, and rich, simmering spices—was unlike anything that existed in the primitive beast world. Cutie let out a loud, rumbling groan of absolute culinary bliss, immediately abandoning the spoon and practically burying his face in the bowl.

Veer, sitting next to him, was eyeing a massive, ridiculously expensive cut of premium Wagyu beef. He picked up the heavy, perfectly marbled steak with his bare hands, tearing into the meat with his teeth.

The moment the rich, buttery fat and savory juices hit his tongue, Veer’s predatory composure completely shattered. It was absolute heaven. It didn’t taste like the tough, stringy game of the wasteland. It melted in his mouth.

Any remaining sense of tension, pride, or proper dining etiquette was instantly thrown out the massive glass windows. When two apex predators are starving, manners do not exist. They ate with ravenous, chaotic enthusiasm, tearing through the fried chicken, devouring the steaks, and polishing off the curries with terrifying speed.

Kaya sat back, sipping a glass of iced water, watching the two most dangerous beings from the West utterly defeated by modern takeout and private catering.

When the table was finally reduced to a graveyard of clean bones and empty bowls, Veer and Cutie slumped back in their chairs, clutching their stomachs, completely and utterly food-drunk.

Kaya stood up, wiping her mouth with a linen napkin. "Alright. You’re fed. Now, go to your rooms. Hiro will show you the way. Get some sleep."

Veer’s eyes snapped open, his protective instincts trying to push through the food coma. He gripped the edge of the table, intending to object. He was a Vulture; he didn’t sleep when his mate was in unknown, hostile territory. He needed to stand guard. He needed to patrol the perimeter of this strange, glass fortress.

"Wife, I am not leaving you unguarded in a strange—" Veer started, his voice heavy and slurring slightly from exhaustion.

"Go to sleep, Veer," Kaya interrupted, her tone leaving absolutely zero room for argument. "That is an order."

Hiro, the golden-haired driver, nervously stepped into the dining room and gestured for the two massive men to follow him down the hall.

Grumbling under his breath about stubborn humans, Veer dragged himself up, followed by a heavily lumbering Cutie. They intended to just sit on the floor of whatever rooms they were given and keep watch at the door.

But the moment Hiro opened the doors to their respective guest suites, their plans were completely derailed.

Veer walked into his room and collapsed onto the king-sized mattress.

He had intended to bounce right back up, but the mattress was made of modern, high-density memory foam. It didn’t feel like a pile of animal hides or a bed of straw. It contoured perfectly to his aching spine. The duvet was made of Egyptian cotton, and the pillows felt like literal clouds.

Veer let out a soft, confused sigh as the bed practically swallowed his massive frame. He tried to force his eyes open, trying to remember why he needed to stay awake, but the sheer, overwhelming comfort of modern luxury was too much.

Before he could even form a coherent thought of protest, the terrifying Vulture chief was completely, hopelessly fast asleep.

Kaya stood in the quiet, climate-controlled hallway, listening to the deep, rhythmic breathing emanating from the guest suites. She gently cracked open Veer’s door, watching the terrifying apex predator of the skies completely immobilized by the memory foam mattress, his face buried in an Egyptian cotton pillow. Cutie was in a similar state next door, softly snoring with one massive leg hanging off the edge of the king-sized bed.

She closed the doors with a soft, inaudible click.

The moment the doors were shut, the faint, lingering softness in Kaya’s eyes vanished completely. The relaxed posture she had maintained to keep her two warlords calm evaporated, replaced by the rigid, razor-sharp bearing of a military tactician.

She turned on her heel and walked purposefully down the long hallway toward the villa’s west wing, stopping in front of heavy, soundproofed oak doors.

She pushed them open and stepped into the study.

The room was massive, lined with dark bookshelves and dominated by a large, illuminated tactical table in the center. But it was the occupants of the room that instantly changed the atmosphere.

Standing at absolute attention around the table were six men. They were dressed in sleek, dark tactical gear, their postures radiating the distinct, dangerous discipline of elite covert operatives. These were not the street thugs or local police who had searched for her; these were hardened ghosts of the underworld.