Raising Beast Cubs to Find a Husband novel Chapter 29

Chapter 29: The Toad’s Bargain.

The atmosphere in the Thistle family parlor was thick enough to choke on. It smelled of swamp water, cheap perfume, and fear.

Marquis Grieve sat on the velvet settee, his mottled green skin glistening with slime. He was eating a bowl of flies—candied, imported flies—one by one, his long tongue darting out with a wet thwip sound that made Cassia gag.

The Thistle family stood before him, looking like they had been dragged through a hedge backward. Because they had.

They were covered in mud. Lupin’s face was still puffy from the hives. Barnaby was trembling. Petunia was weeping silently.

"So," Grieve croaked, swallowing a fly. "Let me understand this correctly. You went to the capital. You found my bride. And instead of bringing her back... you got chased out by a cook?"

"She has allies!" Barnaby wailed, ringing his hands. "Powerful allies! The Wolf Marquis! The Tiger General! Even the Argentis Archduke! They... they blacklisted us, My Lord! We can’t buy bread!"

Grieve’s yellow eyes bulged. "Powerful allies? For a tail-less runt? Don’t make me laugh."

He shifted his bulk, the wood of the settee groaning. "You have failed. You promised me a Thistle bride to clear your debts. I have paid the dowry. I have been... patient."

His gaze slid slowly, wetly, over to Cassia.

"If the failed fox is out of reach," Grieve wheezed, "then I suppose I must settle for the defective inventory. But... a fox with two tails is better than nothing."

Cassia shrieked. She threw herself behind her mother. "No! Father, don’t let him! He’s a toad! Literally!"

"A deal is a deal," Grieve said, standing up. He wiped his sticky fingers on his velvet pants. "Prepare the girl. I will take her with me to the Swamp Estate tonight."

"Wait!"

Lupin stepped forward. His face was swollen, his pride was shattered, but his cunning—the one thing the Thistle family actually excelled at—was firing on all cylinders.

"My Lord," Lupin said, his voice shaking but desperate. "Why settle for second best? Primrose... she is the one you paid for. She is the one who humiliated us. Don’t you want to... tame her?"

Grieve paused. The word "tame" appealed to his cruel streak. "She is surrounded by guards, boy. You said so yourself."

"At the shop, yes," Lupin said quickly, his mind racing. "But... the Harvest Moon Festival is in two weeks."

Grieve blinked. "The street festival?"

"It’s chaotic," Lupin pressed, a nasty smile forming on his bruised lips. "Crowds. Masks. Noise. Even the best guards get distracted in a crowd like that. And Primrose... she’s running a business now. She’ll have to be there. To sell her... treats."

Lupin stepped closer, lowering his voice.

"Why wait for the Snow Ball? Why wait for legalities? You paid the dowry, My Lord. By the laws of the old clans, she is already your property. You aren’t kidnapping her. You’re just... collecting your wife."

Grieve listened. His throat sac puffed out.

"Collect her," Grieve mused. "In the crowd."

"We can lure her," Lupin promised. "We know her weaknesses. She thinks she’s safe. She thinks she won. We lure her away from her ’bodyguards’... and you take her."

Grieve smiled. It was a terrifying sight. Rows of small, sharp teeth glistened in the lamplight.

"I have a cage," Grieve croaked softly. "At my estate. A beautiful, golden birdcage. I had it built for her. It suppresses magic. It stops... running."

He looked at Cassia, who was sobbing in relief, then back at Lupin.

"Fine," Grieve grunted. "I will listen to what you have said. But if this fails, boy... I won’t just take your sister. I’ll take your tails."

Lupin swallowed hard, instinctively clutching his three tails. "It won’t fail, My Lord."

The Toad Marquis laughed, a wet, gurgling sound.

"Good. I look forward to... breaking her."

The "Little Whiskers Daycare" was officially closed for business—at least, the childcare part.

With the Harvest Moon Festival only two weeks away, my shop had transformed from a playroom into a high-stakes production kitchen. I was drowning in prep lists. I had Sun-Root dough rising in every corner, vats of glaze bubbling on the stove, and enough pastries to bake to feed a small army.

I was deep in the zone, covered in flour and stressing about oven temperatures.

I didn’t have time for naps, I didn’t have time for breathing, and I certainly didn’t have time for—

WHAM.

Wood splintered.

I looked down. A massive, serrated hunting knife was currently sticking out of my cutting board, effectively murdering a pile of perfectly sliced carrots.

Attached to the blade was a crumpled, grease-stained note.

I twitched. That was mahogany.

It wasn’t an invitation. It was a summons.

DINNER. TONIGHT. WE NEED TO DISCUSS PROTEIN. -R

I knew who sent this.

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