Spoiled By My Nine Beast Husbands (Emma Tibarn) novel Chapter 143

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**When She Opened the Door to the Life She Was Afraid to Live by Nora Vale Kingsley**
**Chapter 143: The Echo of Pain**

Lucien’s head whipped around to face Edric, his gaze sharp and penetrating, slicing through the thick fog of uncertainty that hung in the air. Instinctively, his hand jerked back, as if he had touched something searing hot.

His expression hardened, eyes narrowing as he scrutinized Edric. “There’s something distinctly off about him,” he remarked, a low growl of suspicion lacing his words.

Edric winced, his hand instinctively rubbing at his tail as if trying to soothe a phantom pain. “D*mn it, I hit him, and it feels like I shattered my own bones,” he grumbled, frustration evident in his tone.

Silas, standing nearby, couldn’t help but let his gaze flicker to Edric’s tail. An unsettling realization struck him like a bolt of lightning. Memories of earlier in the front hall surged back—how Marcus had relentlessly provoked Drake, taunting him without mercy, yet Drake had remained eerily calm. For someone with Drake’s fiery temperament, such restraint was almost unimaginable.

“I’ve been mulling that over all day,” Silas murmured, his brow furrowing in thought. “Marcus kept running his mouth at Drake, and knowing how hot-headed he can be, he should’ve knocked him flat. So why didn’t he?” The question hung heavy in the air, a puzzle waiting to be solved.

Later, with a swift motion, a vine shot forth from Silas’s palm, slicing through the air with purpose and landing a sharp crack against Marcus’ shoulder.

The sound echoed in the room, crisp and clear, reverberating with a sense of foreboding.

“Just as I suspected,” Silas remarked, his voice tinged with grim satisfaction. “The more we strike him, the more backlash we face. It’s a twisted game we’re caught in.”

Lucien’s brows knitted together, his voice calm yet laced with authority. “Only pain?” He studied Marcus intently, then added in a hushed tone, “Inflict a small cut—let’s see what unfolds.”

With that, he cradled Emma back from Silas, holding her with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the tension in the air.

Frost coated every wall, glistening like shards of shattered glass under the moon’s ethereal glow. The energy emanating from Marcus was palpable, thrumming in the atmosphere—unstable, unpredictable, and dangerously volatile.

Lucien could feel the pressure of Marcus’s energy pushing against his own strength, and he knew he had no choice but to maintain his grip. If he faltered, the cold would surge forth again, threatening to tear through the entire manor. He steadied himself, tightening his hold on both the barrier and Emma, drawing strength from her presence.

Silas took a deep breath, steadying his racing heart as a vine unfurled from his palm. It twisted and solidified between his fingers, transforming into a slender wooden blade that shimmered faintly in the chilling light.

With a grim determination etched on his face, he stepped closer and swiftly slashed Marcus’ arm, drawing just enough blood to test the waters.

The pain struck him like a lightning bolt. He hissed through clenched teeth as three identical cuts erupted across his own skin, mirroring Marcus’s wounds in perfect symmetry.

Lucien’s eyes darkened as he observed the unfolding scene with intense scrutiny. The pattern was unmistakable.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Silas unleashed his ability, a vibrant green light coiling around him as the cuts on his skin vanished in mere seconds.

Then, to their astonishment, something even more bizarre occurred. The wounds on Marcus sealed themselves, disappearing as if they had never existed in the first place.

Edric’s jaw dropped in disbelief. He stared at Marcus, utterly flabbergasted. “So, let me get this straight. He reflects our pain back at us and then heals himself when we do? What kind of twisted ability is that?” His voice was a mix of incredulity and frustration.

Silas and Lucien exchanged a knowing glance, choosing silence over words.

A surge of jealousy prickled under their skin. Imagine if such an ability were wielded by a soldier on the battlefield; they would be invincible. But on Marcus? It felt like handing a loaded weapon to someone who thrived on flirting with death.

Silas pinched the bridge of his nose, frustration mounting. “When Emma wakes up, we should have a serious talk with her. Maybe we can pack him up with a nice thank-you note and ship him back to Frostveil.”

Edric nodded vigorously, his expression serious. “Absolutely. Even if it costs us dearly, he’s far too dangerous to have around her.”

Lucien sighed softly, his gaze still fixed on Marcus. “If only it were that easy. Inviting a therian in is a simple matter, but getting one out? Frostveil barely managed to cut him loose the first time. They won’t be eager to take him back.”