To Marry A Monster (by Brey Mitchell) novel Chapter 238

Chapter 238

Atasha’s POV

“Take me.”

The words left my mouth before anyone else could stop them. The moment I spoke, everything around me seemed to hesitate. Then, I stepped forward and saw her.

Celeste lay on the ground several paces ahead, her body slack in a way that made my chest tighten immediately. Her skin had a faint discoloration that did not belong to blood loss alone, and her breathing was uneven, too shallow to be natural. I did not need to touch her to know. The poison was already in her system, moving fast, aggressive, and meant to weaken rather than kill outright.

They wanted her alive long enough to make her useful. What cruel creatures.

Behind me, Grace sucked in a sharp breath. “Your Highness,” she said. “No.”

I reached out and caught her shoulders, gripping hard enough to stop her forward momentum. She turned to me instantly, eyes blazing with refusal, but I shook my head once.

“Let me do this,” I said, keeping my voice low yet enough for a few other people to hear. “They are not here for you. They are not here for the North. They are here for me.”

Grace’s jaw tightened. “That doesn’t mean you-”

“I am the northern consort,” I interrupted. “That is exactly why I have to.”

She stared at me, searching for hesitation or fear, and when she found neither, her expression shifted into something sharper and more dangerous. I could feel how badly she wanted to disobey me, to drag me back, to cut down anyone who tried to touch me. But she understood the position I was in just as clearly as I did.

Slowly, she stepped aside.

My gaze lifted to the Demon Fang who stood at the edge of the smoke. He wore a hood, his face hidden, his posture still and controlled in a way that stood out from the others. Most Demon Fangs moved like animals driven by rage or hunger. This one did not.

This one sounded sane.

That realization made my skin prickle.

“Walk,” the hooded figure said, his voice carrying easily through the space between us. “Toward me after you drop your weapon.”

I did not look back..

I released my sword first, letting it fall to the ground with a dull clang that felt louder than it should have. Then I removed the second blade and let that drop as well. I took a step forward, then another, moving exactly as instructed, my hands open and visible.

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The hooded man shifted slightly, watching me with interest rather than urgency. I was close enough now to sense something wrong about him. The air around him felt thin, distorted, like it did not quite belong to the same space as the rest of us.

Then, without warning, he moved.

The blade flashed, fast enough that my eyes barely tracked it. It drove straight into Celeste’s shoulder, not deep enough to kill her, but deep enough to make the message unmistakable. Her body jerked then she was thrown aside like she weighed nothing, hitting the ground hard and unmoving.

“Celeste!” I shouted, my body surging forward on instinct.

Before I could reach her, the hooded figure shimmered.

For a split second, his form blurred, edges dissolving like heat over stone. Then he was gone.

My breath caught. “Witch!” I breathed, the realization snapping into place too late.

He reappeared directly in front of me, close enough that I could feel the change in the air. His hand closed around my arm, grip cold and unnaturally strong. The moment he touched me, a wave of dizziness crashed through my head, like the ground had tilted without warning.

Then, my vision blurred.

When I opened my eyes again, the first thing I noticed was the pressure.

My wrists were tied above my head, forced back against rough stone, and the rope bit into my skin so tightly that my fingers tingled. My ankles were bound too, stretched just enough to keep me off balance, as if whoever did this wanted me uncomfortable but still conscious.

I forced myself to breathe slowly as my vision adjusted.

The place was a cave, but not the kind built by nature alone. The walls were jagged rock, damp in some areas, stained darker in others, and along the sides, there were torches fixed into iron brackets. The firelight flickered, throwing moving shadows across the ground, which made it harder to judge distance. The air felt thick, not from humidity, but from something else.

Smoke.

Not the normal smoke from torches, because this smelled wrong, thin enough that it did not choke the throat immediately but steady enough that it never left your lungs once you inhaled it. I narrowed my eyes and took another careful breath, and that was when the truth landed fully.

Miasma.

A light layer of poison suspended in the air, spread evenly through the cave like a trap meant for anyone without protection.. The poison sat around me like fog, but my body was already doing its job, healing me before it could do any damage.

My jaw clenched as I tested the ropes again, twisting my wrists and shifting my weight to see if there was any give. The bindings did not loosen. The person who tied me knew exactly how to do it. Every movement only

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dug the rope deeper into my skin, and the tightness was intentional enough that I could already feel bruising forming underneath.

I stopped before I wasted strength.

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