His father had always known.
He'd known for a long time that his son was… a little unhinged. A little too intense. But so what?
He was the Vulture Prince.
And if anyone had the right to be a little crazy—it was him.
Not like that other idiot son, who couldn't tell right from wrong if it slapped him in the face. Always selfish. Always corrupt. But Veer?
Sure, he was rough around the edges—loud, sometimes reckless—but he was the one holding the tribe together. He cared, in his own way.
To his father, that was enough. Veer was a good son.
Suddenly, Veer snapped his head toward him, eyes burning.
"Dad, I want to know everything. Everything about that woman. Where she comes from. What she is. Everything."
His father didn't flinch. He just smiled, nodding slowly.
"So do it. We're the Vulture Tribe. If there's knowledge out there—we can get it."
Veer blinked, then coughed. And just like that—he broke into laughter.
Loud, wild, bitter laughter.
