To Marry A Monster (by Brey Mitchell) novel Chapter 229

Chapter 229

William’s POV

William followed a step behind as Celeste led the way through the corridor. He kept his face composed even when he caught the edge of her whisper.

“Do not tell anyone about this,” Celeste said without turning her head, as if she was giving an order about dinner instead of the Alpha’s life. “We cannot let the Demonfangs know.”

William gave a single nod, the kind that looked obedient and harmless. “Understood, my lady.”

He understood more than she knew.

Celeste wanted this to be private because private meant controlled. Private meant the story belonged to her before it belonged to the pack. Private meant no witnesses to twist the scene into something that made her look small.

They reached the doors to the Alpha’s quarters, and William stepped aside when the guards moved to let them pass. Even here, in the most protected part of the mansion, the air still carried traces of the border attack. Blood had been scrubbed from stone, but the smell never disappeared fully. It lingered in fabrics, in corners, in the back of the throat.

Celeste entered first.

Atasha walked beside her.

William’s eyes fixed on Atasha in the same instant his stomach tightened. The consort moved slowly, as if she was still recovering, but her gaze stayed steady, and that alone irritated him. She was pale, yes, and she leaned a little too much on Grace when they passed through the doorway, but she did not look confused. She did not look frightened.

She looked like someone who had already decided how this would end. She looked like someone who had been pretending.

On the outside, William remained calm. His hands stayed folded behind his back. His posture remained respectful. If anyone watched him, they would see the same Beta they had always relied on. The man who carried the pack on his shoulders while their Alpha slept.

Inside, his heart was beating too fast.

It was not fear, not exactly. It was the pressure of waiting for the moment a gamble revealed whether it paid out or bled you dry.

He wanted to know what Atasha would find.

He wanted to know if she truly saw the body the way she claimed to, or if Celeste’s letters had been inflated the same way Celeste inflated everything when she wanted attention.

Still, confidence sat beneath his anticipation like an old habit.

This poison had been made for Collin.

Not for a random soldier nor for a common target. It had been tailored to Collin’s system, layered in a way that mimicked fatigue, stress, age, and the natural consequences of war.

Collin had taken it for years without understanding that his strength was being drained in controlled amounts. The physicians had watched him decline and blamed the chest wound, the witchwork, the Demon Fang attack. They had been grateful for an explanation that did not require them to admit they were blind.

So how could Atasha, a girl who had only recently learned healing, possibly see what seasoned healers could

not?

William followed them deeper into the room and felt his pulse spike again when his gaze landed on the bed.

Collin lay there, unchanged, breathing shallowly, his face drawn tighter than it should be. The canopy above him made the bed look more like an altar than a place to rest. The candles near the far wall had burned low, and the shadows they cast made everything feel more private than it had a right to be.

Celeste moved immediately to the side of the bed, putting herself where she could be seen first, as if the room belonged to her by default. “Everyone will stay out,” she said firmly, looking at the attendants and guards. “No interruptions.”

They obeyed quickly. No one wanted to be the person who angered the consort’s sister while the North was watching.

William stepped closer, then stopped at a distance that looked respectful rather than eager. He placed himself where he could see Atasha’s face clearly.

Atasha sat beside her father.

The moment her fingers reached for Collin’s wrist, William’s heart thudded harder, but he did not let his expression change. He watched her hand settle as anticipation tightened in his chest.

If she discovers something, William thought, she still will not know what it is.

She might sense that the poison is unusual. She might sense that it is layered. She might even sense that it is old, but that would not help her. It would only confuse her, and confusion made people reckless. Obviously, reckless healers made mistakes.

And if she tried to force her gift into a body carrying a curse that was not meant to be challenged-

William’s jaw flexed.

He remembered the words of the man who supplied the poison, the one who spoke about it with the kind of confidence that came from cruelty and experience.

Anyone who fights against the cursed will perish.

William had not asked too many questions. He did not need to. It was enough to know that the poison did not simply weaken. It protected itself. It resisted removal. It punished anyone who tried to pull it out without knowing how.

Which meant that even if Atasha discovered something was wrong, the outcome would still benefit him.

If she failed, Collin stayed weak, and the pack stayed desperate enough to cling to William’s guidance.

If she tried and it backfired, if her body paid the price for touching something she did not understand, then Atasha would become easier to control.

A wounded miracle was still a miracle, but a wounded miracle stopped fighting. A wounded miracle learned to accept whatever help was offered, even if that help came with a leash.

William’s eyes flicked to Celeste.

Then suddenly, Atasha’s hand snapped away from Collin’s wrist so fast it looked like she had touched fire. Her fingers curled inward on instinct, and for a brief second, her whole arm trembled as if her body was trying to reject what it had just felt.

The color drained from her face until she looked even paler than she had at the border, and her breathing turned shallow, controlled too tightly to be natural.

Grace reacted immediately.

She leaned in, one hand hovering near Atasha’s shoulder without actually grabbing her. “My lady,” Grace said, her voice low. “Are you alright?”

Atasha lifted her chin, and even with the weakness in her posture, William caught the stubbornness in her eyes. “I am fine,” Atasha replied.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify