My Three Beautiful Vampire Wives can hear my Inner Thoughts-Chapter 102: Elder Zenaya

Cain gritted his teeth and cursed under his breath, his fingers curling into his palm as the roar of that voice rolled across the forest like thunder.

Who the hell is it that disturbed the only way for me to kill some bugs?

He screamed inside, frustration burning through him so fiercely that for a moment it drowned out even the boiling red aura that had covered the trees.

Both he and Elder Noir turned toward the source of the shout.

Through the towering trunks, between branches that still glowed faintly red from Noir’s earlier rage, a woman stepped forward as if the forest itself parted to make way for her. She did not rush. She did not look hurried. She walked as though she had every right to command the ground beneath her feet.

Her long black hair flowed behind her like silk dipped in moonlight, thick and heavy, reaching past her waist. Her skin held the pale, flawless sheen common to high-blood vampires, but there was warmth to it, not the sickly pallor of lesser clans.

Her eyes were deep crimson, clear and steady, with a faint gold ring near the pupils that made them feel older than her youthful face suggested. She looked to be in her late twenties at first glance, yet the calm in her expression and the quiet weight in her posture made it clear she had lived far longer than that.

Her figure was slender but full in the right places, her presence carrying a kind of mature grace that demanded respect without a single word.

She wore a long dark dress with silver patterns along the sleeves, the fabric hugging her shape before flowing freely around her legs. The air around her seemed heavier, as though even the wind slowed to listen.

Cain’s eyes narrowed.

Elder Zenaya.

One of the strongest elders of the Moonshade family.

It was said that even Rivik the Baron had once asked her to take his seat, and she had refused with a simple smile, claiming she preferred training and wandering over ruling. Now she was known for guiding Faith Moonshade in the real world, polishing her talent like a rare gem.

And here she was.

Elder Noir’s long beard trembled slightly as he turned fully toward her, his old face tightening. "Zenaya," he said, his voice thick with irritation. "What are you doing here?"

Zenaya did not answer at once.

Instead, her eyes slowly swept across the scene. The torn earth. The broken trees. The unconscious and battered Oneal being supported by trembling blood servants. The distant crater where the owl had been buried under layers of blood magic.

Then she released her aura.

It did not explode like Noir’s did. It poured outward like a tide, smooth and overwhelming, pressing against everything at once. The red light that had stained the trees deepened, thickened, as if the entire forest had been soaked in fresh blood.

"Fix your tone!" she demanded softly.

Her voice was not loud, but it carried.

Elder Noir’s expression darkened. "Do not act unreasonable," he snapped. "Look at what he did to my grandson! Look at Oneal!"

He pointed a shaking finger at Cain, his anger rising again. "That fledgeling and his beast crippled him!"

Cain lifted a hand and made a small dismissive gesture toward Zenaya, almost like he was brushing away an insect.

Hurry. Don’t interfere. Leave. I’ll take care of this. Let me have him. Let him attack.

Zenaya’s brows knit together.

She had not seen Cain’s lips move.

Yet she heard his voice clearly inside her mind.

Her heart skipped for a brief moment.

Why can I hear him?

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He stood there with an almost bored expression, as if the entire scene did not concern him. But beneath that calm exterior, she felt something restless, something hungry.

Does he not want me to save him? she wondered.

She had come because Faith had begged her.

Please find him, Elder Zenaya. Something feels wrong.

Faith’s anxious face flashed in her memory. Zenaya had not been able to refuse.

And now Cain was telling her to leave?

Her gaze moved toward Oneal.

The servants had laid him down gently on the ground, their hands shaking as they tried to feed him blood pills and circulate mana into his body.

Zenaya stepped closer.

She crouched beside him.

Her eyes widened.

"His left arm... fractured in three places," she murmured quietly. "Shoulder joint nearly dislocated. Ribs... one, two, three, four... cracked. No, five. The sternum... dented."

Her voice grew slower.

"Lower abdomen... severe trauma. Internal bleeding. His mana veins are twisted. There are claw marks on his back... deep. The skull... there’s swelling here. And here."

She placed a finger near his temple, her expression becoming more and more stunned.

"And this..."

She lifted his chin slightly.

"His jaw is broken."

The more she examined him, the more injuries she found. Bruises layered over bruises. Cracks beneath flesh. Tiny tears in the mana channels that would take months to fully heal.

"How is he even breathing..." she whispered.

Her crimson eyes grew wider with each discovery, and for a moment even she struggled to keep her composure. She had seen countless battles. She had watched people torn apart in wars.

But this was one beast.

One.

And the damage was this thorough.

Behind her, Elder Noir’s breathing grew rough.

"How much..." he began, his voice trembling. "How much resources have we poured into him? How much blood essence did we refine for him? Do you know how many rare materials we sacrificed? The time, the effort, the elders who personally guided him!"

His hands clenched so tightly that his nails cut into his palm.

"He is my grandson! My only grandson! We nurtured him carefully, step by step, guarding him from danger, shaping him into a pillar of the family! And now look at him!"

His voice cracked.

"Look at what that beast did! Look at what that boy did!"

The servants lowered their heads, not daring to speak.

Noir turned back to Zenaya, his old eyes burning.

"Now tell me. Are you still going to protect him?"

Zenaya rose slowly.

"Yes," she said simply.

Behind her calm face, her thoughts raced. Faith cares for him. That is enough reason.

Cain’s mental voice burst again.

Leave. Let him attack me. I want this. I need this. Just go.

His tone was almost pleading now, but not from fear.

From eagerness.

Let him attack.

Zenaya rolled her eyes inwardly.

What kind of fool asks to be attacked by an elder?

No.

There was no way she would allow it.

She ignored his voice completely.

Noir stared at her in disbelief. "You choose him... over blood?"

"I choose reason," she replied evenly.

Noir began to laugh, a dry and bitter sound. "I see. I see. So this is how it is."

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

"I have always remained neutral in the politics of the Moonshade family. I did not care who sat as Baron. I did not interfere in disputes." His eyes hardened. "But now it seems that neutrality is useless."

He looked at her coldly.

"If protecting this boy means opposing Rivik and his branch... then so be it."

Zenaya’s expression did not change. "Go," she said calmly. "We do not care."

For a moment, silence hung heavy in the air.

Then Noir bent down, carefully lifting Oneal into his arms. Despite his fury, his touch on his grandson was gentle.

He turned away.

"Remember this day," he said without looking back.

And then he left, his figure disappearing between the trees, the servants scrambling to follow.

The red aura faded gradually, the forest slowly returning to its natural color.

Zenaya exhaled.

She turned toward Cain.

"I didn’t expect you to be a tamer," she said, her tone softer now. "That beast of yours..."

Her gaze moved to the distant crater where the owl had been buried under layers of blood magic.

"It’s a pity. It was very strong. But now it’s gone. Dead."

The word had barely left her lips when the earth in the distance trembled.

Cracks spread across the surface.

Zenaya froze.

From beneath the packed soil and dried blood, something moved.

A claw burst through.

Then another.

The ground exploded upward in a spray of dirt and broken roots as the massive owl rose into the air, its wings unfurling with a violent rush of wind that sent leaves flying in every direction.

Its feathers were stained darker than before, glowing faintly with dense blood mana. Its eyes burned like twin crimson suns.

Zenaya’s breath caught.

Impossible.

Cain only grinned.

The owl flew down and landed beside him heavily, talons digging into the earth, its body towering protectively at his side.

For a heartbeat, the forest held its breath.

Then the owl threw back its head and screeched, a sharp, piercing cry that echoed across the trees.

"Krwaaaaaaaa!!"