Villainess is being pampered by her beast husbands-Chapter 388 --.

"All right," she said at last. "You get fifteen minutes. Then we move."

Veer’s eye narrowed. "Half an hour."

"Twenty," she countered.

A rough sound, almost a laugh, scraped out of him. "Fine. Twenty."

Kaya settled in that thin space between them, one hand resting near Cutie’s shoulder, the other flat on cold rock, counting breaths and minutes while the wind slid over the ridge and the sky slowly, slowly began to lighten.

kaya is human while others are beastmen also dont mention same scene liie she ahd already talked about her eyes make the next scene of how injured kaya was too ans now 5gat shw got time to breath she felt all the pain rushibg to her

Kaya sat very still on the cold rock and let it all catch up.

For the first few seconds after landing, she’d been fine. Functional. Checking Cutie, watching Veer, counting the minutes. But now that her body understood they’d stopped—really stopped—everything she’d shoved down during the fight came rushing back at once.

Her left shoulder throbbed where she’d slammed the door open with too much force. The joint felt loose, wrong, like something had stretched past where it should and hadn’t quite settled back. When she rolled it carefully, a sharp spike ran down her arm.

Ribs next. Not broken, she was pretty sure, but the dull ache wrapped around her side like a tight band. Every deep breath pulled at something tender under the skin. She’d taken an elbow there, maybe two, in that mess of a corridor when one of the beasts got close. At the time it had just been noise. Now it was a drumbeat.

Her forearms were scraped raw in places where wood and claws had caught her. The bruises were already darkening, ugly purple-black smears that would get worse before they faded. Her knuckles were split—two on the right hand, one on the left—from when she’d hit bone instead of soft tissue.

And her throat. She touched it lightly with two fingers and winced. The skin was hot, tender, already swelling where fingers had tried to crush her windpipe before she’d put a bullet in the bastard’s chest.

Kaya dropped her hand and breathed out slowly through her nose, testing how much air she could pull without sparking pain. Not much.

She glanced at Cutie.

He slept like the dead, head tilted against the rock, face soft and unbothered. The gash along his scalp—the one that had bled so much she thought his skull was open—had already pulled itself together. A thin layer of new skin stretched over it, pink and fresh. By morning, it would probably be nothing but a faint line.

Beastmen healed like that. Fast. Clean. Their bodies knit back together in hours what would take her days, maybe weeks. Humans heal slower than most mammals—research shows they can take roughly three times longer than other species to close even simple wounds, and soft tissue injuries in humans follow a much more drawn-out timeline than in animals with better regenerative systems.[11][6]

It wasn’t fair, but fairness didn’t matter. That was just how the world worked. He was beastmen. She was human. His body was already fixing itself while hers was only now starting to ’feel’ everything it had taken.

Her hands were shaking again. Not from fear this time—just exhaustion. The kind that came from burning through every scrap of energy and then being asked to hold on a little longer. Her legs felt heavy. Her back ached from sitting rigid on Veer’s spine for too long. Even her jaw hurt from clenching her teeth through the rough air.

Veer shifted on the stone, feathers rustling as he tried to cool down. His breathing was still hard, still uneven. At least she wasn’t the only one feeling it.

"Twenty minutes more," she’d told him.

She counted in her head. They were maybe eight minutes in. Twelve more, then they had to move again. Twelve more minutes to sit here on this cold ridge while her body screamed at her for every stupid, reckless thing she’d done in that corridor.

Kaya closed her eyes for two seconds, then opened them again. The sting was still there, that sharp bite at the edges that wouldn’t go away. She ignored it.

Cutie’s breathing stayed soft and steady beside her. Veer’s chest rose and fell in heavy pulls. The wind slid over the ridge, cold and indifferent.

Her ribs ached. Her shoulder burned. Her throat felt like someone had tried to twist it off.

And in twelve minutes, she’d climb back onto that vulture’s back and hold on for another few hours because there was no other choice.

Kaya let her head rest against the rock behind her, just for a moment, and stared at the grey sky above. "I really hate this place sometimes," she muttered under her breath.

No one answered. She hadn’t expected them to.

Kaya’s eyes caught the small bundle she’d set down earlier, half-hidden against the grey stone.

She crouched and picked it up, fingers slow and careful as she unwound the cloth. The Sparrow lay inside, tiny chest rising and falling in shallow pulls—still alive, stubbornly. His feathers were matted, dull, and a thin line of red streaked along one wing where something had torn into him back in that corridor.

The wound looked better than it had. Not ’good’, but better. Blood still seeped from the edges, dark and slow, but the flow had eased. The skin around it wasn’t as ragged. For a creature this small, even that much was something.

Kaya tilted her head, studying the torn wing, then her gaze dropped to her own palm. The cut there throbbed, still open, still wet. Red beaded along the line when she flexed her fingers.

An idea slid into her mind, cold and reckless.

’What if.’

What if she scratched him. Just once. Let a drop of her blood touch that wound and see what happened.

’Will it kill him?’