Spoiled By My Nine Beast Husbands (Emma Tibarn) novel Chapter 138

**When She Opened the Door to the Life She Was Afraid to Live by Nora Vale Kingsley**

**Chapter 138: Marry Off**

His voice trembled, a curious mix of laughter and relief that filled the air with an almost palpable tension.

“Prince Marcus, congratulations,” Roshivo announced, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“You’re officially married.”

Finally, the moment had arrived.

Perhaps, with a stroke of fortune, he would remain far from Frostveil for good.

Marcus blinked, his body rigid, as if he had been turned to stone.

With a hesitant, unsteady hand, he reached out toward Roshivo.

“Did you bring the wedding gifts?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes! Yes, of course!” Roshivo replied, his enthusiasm spilling over as he scrambled through the papers in his hands.

He thrust the list into Marcus’s palm with a reverence that suggested it was a sacred document.

“Everything’s here, my prince. Are you pleased with it?”

Marcus unfolded the list and skimmed it with a casual air, though inside, a storm of emotions raged.

He nodded slightly, a hint of satisfaction flickering across his face.

“Guess my old man finally did something right.”

The words landed heavily, like a stone hurled at fragile glass.

Roshivo’s expression twitched, a mixture of concern and disbelief.

“The King said you must stay with your huntress, my prince. Live well with her. No more running off.”

Marcus closed the list and slowly raised his gaze to meet Roshivo’s.

“Where is my huntress?”

Roshivo’s finger shot out, pointing directly at Emma, who stood a few paces away, still grappling with the shock of the situation.

“That distinguished and beautiful lady—Ms. Emma Tibarn—is your huntress.”

Emma was still trying to process the revelation when she caught Marcus’s gaze.

Then, to her utter astonishment, he began to crawl out of the crystal coffin.

He was literally dragging himself out, each movement slow and laborious, as if he were being pulled toward his own funeral.

Emma’s mouth twitched, caught between disbelief and a strange urge to laugh.

Finally, Marcus managed to stand—barely—and stumbled toward her, his steps shaky and uncertain.

Then, with a deep, trembling breath, he dropped to one knee before her.

He extended the dowry list with both hands, his expression earnest.

“Huntress,” he said softly, “can we talk?”

Emma frowned, her mind racing. “Talk about what?”

Was he attempting to negotiate a way out of their union?

That would be perfect, she thought, a glimmer of hope igniting within her.

Marcus’s voice, though weary, held a weight of seriousness.

“Marry me,” he said, “then cut open my beast mark and kill me.”

Emma stared at him, speechless, her mind struggling to comprehend his words.

“You’re insane,” she finally managed to reply, disbelief flooding her voice.

Across the room, Drake snorted in disgust, his gaze fixed on Marcus as if he were a piece of rotting meat.

Marcus turned his head sharply toward the sound, his voice weak yet cutting.

“Yeah, I’m sick. So what? You think you can fix it? Then come kill me.”

Emma blinked, her mind racing as silence enveloped the room.

Drake met her gaze, equally speechless, the tension thickening the air around them.

A faint smile curled at the corners of Marcus’s lips, a hint of defiance shining through his weariness.

“Don’t act tough, lizard. I already gave you a chance, and you couldn’t even kill me.”

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